The Case Files of Dr. Wolf: Stormy Night
The Case Files of Dr. Wolf: Stormy Night
Dr. Wolf sat in his favorite armchair in his office reading a new book he'd recently purchased at Ponyville's local book shop. This was something he usually did following his final appointment of the day as a way to de-stress and wind down from interacting with so many different personalities every day before heading home to his family.
There was a knock at his office door and the lupine psychiatrist looked up in surprise. Had he misread his schedule? Forgotten an appointment?
“Come in,” he called warily.
In stepped a familiar-looking young earth mare wearing a deep-blue cloak. What he could see of her coat was a brilliant purple color, complimented by her indigo mane and tail which had pale yellow streaks in it that made him think of lightning. Her eyes, on the other paw, looked rather like gold coins.
Wait. Lightning? Could it be?
“Hello, doctor,” the mare smiled. “Do you remember me?”
Dr. Wolf blinked, laying his book aside. “Stormy Night, isn't it?”
The mare's smile broadened as she stepped further into the office, turned and shut the door behind her.
“I'm sorry, Miss Night,” the wolf added, wishing fervently that he didn't have to say it. “I'm closed at the moment, but if you'd like to make an appointment...”
“Oh no,” the purple pony chuckled softly, “I'm not here for psychiatric help, doctor. I just wanted to thank you.”
“Thank me?” Dr. Wolf responded, taken aback. “For what may I ask?”
In answer, Stormy grasped her cloak in her teeth and pulled it gently off. There, on her flank, was the representation of a book that looked as if it was made of mirrors.
Dr. Wolf blinked again...
...and remembered.
***********************************
When he'd received the request for his services, along with an advanced payment of a thousand bits, he'd been thrilled. It was wonderful to have the opportunity to help someone in need. That he'd been paid in advance just meant things were really serious.
He'd arrived in Filly Delphia in grand style on the train from Ponyville, in first class accommodations. From the train station, he'd been brought in a white carriage to a large estate whose grounds could probably have held the entire town of Ponyville and still left room for plenty of apple trees. He'd been hard pressed not to stare too obviously at the splendor surrounding him.
At the door, he'd been met by a pale gray unicorn whose expression was so serious, the lupine psychiatrist had to admire his professionalism. The unicorn had led the doctor through to a large, well-decorated sitting area and told him to wait. About five or so minutes later, a large, bright-red stallion and a rather petite pale-aqua mare stepped in.
“Doctor Wolf, I presume?” asked the red pony in a commanding tone, tossing his short-cropped, violet mane as he marched forward to offer his hoof. “I'm Fort Night. This is my wife Moonlight.” The mare smiled easily, bowing her head briefly as she settled herself in a nearby chair.
Dr. Wolf shook the stallion's hoof and seated himself.
“So, what seems to be the trouble?” he asked, addressing himself to Moonlight as he pulled a pad of paper and a pencil from his shoulder bag.
“Oh,” Moonlight frowned shyly, looking away, “It's not with either of us. It's our daughter, Stormy Night. She won't get out of bed. She won't eat. It's been nearly a week. I've been so worried.”
“I understand,” Dr. Wolf responded easily, rising and putting his pad and pencil away again. “In that case, if you could please lead the way. I'm eager to get started.”
“Of course,” Fort Night nodded.
They'd taken him up a flight of stairs and down a hallway. There were three doors there, two of which were painted with what could only be the cutie marks of each of the owners. On the first was a field of white containing a stylized blue shield emblazoned with a large, crescent moon. The second showed a field of deep blue on which was centered a large brown telescope aimed at five white stars. It was to the third, which was conspicuously blank, that Dr. Wolf was led.
“Thank you,” the psychiatrist said, turning to his hosts, “I'll take it from here.”
The two ponies nodded and left, the small aqua mare looking back once with her brows furrowed.
Dr. Wolf took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His client would be a young filly, he guessed. Probably worried about getting her cutie mark like her siblings before her. Smoothing the fur on the top of his head, he knocked briskly on the door.
“Go away,” a muffled voice sobbed from the other side.
“I'm a friend,” Dr. Wolf replied. “Your parents asked me to come and help you.”
“You can't help me,” the voice groaned. “Nopony can. Leave me alone.”
Definitely depressed, the psychiatrist thought, pulling out his pad to make a note. Strange, though, it doesn't sound like a filly.
“Well,” he said aloud in his gentlest tone, “would you at least talk with me?”
There was a long pause, during which Dr. Wolf hoped fervently that his invitation to talk was being considered.
“Fine,” the voice huffed at last. “But you're wasting your time.”
Dr. Wolf quietly pulled the door open. As he'd expected, the room was very dark. No lights had been lit and the single window the room boasted had been covered with a large blanket. Suddenly, the psychiatrist was glad he was a wolf and didn't have to wait for his eyes to adjust. He wouldn't be able to see perfectly, the way a cat would, but he would be able to avoid stumbling around, at least.
“Hello, Miss Night,” he offered in introduction, pulling the door shut behind him. “I'm Doctor Wolf.”
The only response he got was a non-committal grunt from a pony lying in the bed with her back to him.
“May I sit down?” the doctor asked politely.
Grunt.
Dr. Wolf found a large stool he could move to the side of the bed. When it was close enough that he could see the pony in the bed more or less clearly, he sat down on it and had a good look at her. What he could see in the bed, what with the limited light, seemed to be a brilliantly purple pony with a dark mane that had light streaks in it, like lightning.
“Would you like to tell me what has you so sad?” the doctor asked, crossing his legs and making more notes on the pad.
“I'm 'sad' because I'm useless. Happy?
“And what makes you think you're useless, Miss Night?”
“Because,” she muttered, “I'm not good at anything, that's why.”
Dr. Wolf gazed around the room, what he could see of it. One entire wall was completely covered in bookshelves, filled with books of varying sizes. “I don't know about that,” he replied finally.
“Don't you?” Stormy snorted. “Let me spell it out for you then. I am Fort Night and Moonlight's eldest foal.” The doctor's mouth dropped open in surprise, but the mare continued, her voice rising with every word she spoke. "My father got his cutie mark during the first week of school. My mother got hers early, too. My younger brother, White, got his the very first day of school. My baby sister, Starry, got hers the day before school. But I... I...” The purple pony began to sob as, with a kick, the covers flew off her flank.
The flank Dr. Wolf saw there was completely blank. On a filly, this would be understandable. After all, many young foals didn't get their cutie marks until they'd been in school a few years. The pony in the bed was a fully grown mare.
“Do you understand now?” Stormy bellowed angrily. “I've tried everything! I've done research. I've taken jobs. I've seen cutie mark counselors and life coaches. Nothing! Works!” She kicked the wall for emphasis.
“Just because you haven't discovered your cutie mark, yet,” the doctor remarked, “doesn't mean you won't.”
“Doesn't it?” The purple pony responded, her voice returning to the earlier listless tone. “All the other ponies in my class graduated from school with cutie marks. They're all... happy.”
“Yes, but each of them had to go through what you're going through right now,” Dr. Wolf assured her, setting his pad and pencil on his lap so he could tent his paws.
“That's not what my father says,” Stormy sighed.
“What?” the doctor exclaimed.
“My father,” Stormy answered in a kind of sing-song tone, “says that a pony with my opportunities and social standing shouldn't still be a blank-flank at my age. He says I'll be a burden on society and, worse, on him, unless I can figure out where I fit in the world.” She sighed bitterly, adding, “I heard him say it to my mother. He hardly talks to me any more. I'm letting him down. I'm... useless.” She drew the blankets back over herself again and fell silent.
“I have a book you might want to read,” Dr. Wolf suggested after a moment's thought. “It's called The History of the Cutie Mark by...”
“Bright Spark?” she finished acerbically, “I've read it. Dozens of times. I could recite it to you. Backward.” She sighed again and put her pillow over her head.
The lupine set his pad and pencil down, then went over and gently took the pillow away, placing it on the floor by the head of the bed.
“Miss Night,” he prodded, “while it's true that your life has been difficult, I really think you're being too hard on yourself.”
“Weren't you paying attention?” Stormy hissed. “Everyone in my family got their cutie marks early.”
Dr. Wolf nodded. “My own family were pretty surprised when I chose to be a psychiatrist.”
She turned to look at him, her golden eyes so wide they made him think of the bag of bits he'd been paid with. “Really?”
Dr. Wolf nodded, pleased to be seeing some progress at last. “Of course, my parents were completely shocked when it turned out my brother, Teric, was a dragon.”
Stormy blinked in surprise, then opened her mouth to speak and ended up yawning instead.
The doctor gently lifted the pillow back to the bed so that Stormy could put her head on it again, “It's getting late. Why don't you rest. Your parents have asked me to stay a while, so we can talk again tomorrow after you've slept.”
Stormy nodded, yawning again.
“If you have any trouble sleeping,” he added, fluffing the pillow a bit, “think about this. The only person you should ever really have to compete with is yourself. Sleep well.” He turned and, retrieving his pad and pencil, left the room.
As he came out into the hallway, he almost bumped headlong into Fort Night.
“Were you able to fix her?” Fort asked in a tone that was so impatient it made the lupine psychiatrist's hackles rise.
“Is that what you think I'm here to do?” the wolf snarled softly, somehow managing to retain his professional demeanor. “ Fix her? Do you realize the damage you've caused? It's going to take more than just one thirty minute session for me to 'fix her,' as you so callously put it!”
“Fort?” Moonlight's voice called from the end of the hallway, causing both males to look away from each other. “I thought we agreed that we wouldn't interrupt the doctor while he was working.”
“He didn't interrupt, Mrs. Night,” Dr. Wolf replied quickly, pulling his voice back to calmness with some effort. “I'm done for the day.”
“Oh,” Moonlight smiled uncertainly as she trotted down to meet them. “Well, then you'll want to see your rooms. I've had a special suite set up for you not far from here. Follow me, please.” Turning, she trotted away again. The psychiatrist followed along behind her across the landing and into another hallway where Moonlight opened a door. The rooms he was given included a sitting area, a bathroom, and a bedroom. Once she'd shown him around, she showed him a rope he could pull if he needed anything, told him breakfast was at eight the next morning and bade him good night.
Never again! he vowed fervently to himself, suppressing a furious growl as he shut the door to his suite. Not for any amount of money will I ever accept another house call. But what to do about his suffering client? Clearly there was more to Stormy Night's problem than just depression. The trouble was how should he handle it?
“You're not going to get your cutie mark by neglecting yourself,” Dr. Wolf had informed Stormy over the breakfast tray he brought the next morning. Grudgingly, she'd begun to eat. She still insisted he was wasting his time on her, but she was eating and that was progress, however slight.
Two more days convinced her to agree to take the blanket down from the window. That, too, was progress. Two more days and he had her out of bed and sitting cozily by the fire in the sitting area of his suite. He congratulated her on the progress she was making and she rewarded his efforts with a wary smile. It was like seeing the sun come out from behind the clouds after a rain storm.
By the end of the first week, Dr. Wolf had his client bathing regularly and taking care of her mane, tail and teeth. It would be a while before these were habit, but he didn't need to remind her as often any more and, now that she was caring for herself, one could hardly tell she was depressed. By then, she'd made so much progress, he gave her a break and told her to go do something she liked to do. Later, he saw Stormy sitting in the grounds with a large book. Fort Night, to nopony's surprise, was watching her from a corner of the mansion as if observing a large caterpillar looking for signs of metamorphosis.
The next two weeks were spent in building back Stormy's confidence. This was made more difficult by the fact that Fort Night began to drop barely veiled hints at mealtimes about how little progress he seemed to be seeing from Stormy.
“He's my father and he's very successful,” she argued one evening. “Wouldn't he know better than anyone would?”
“What he thinks isn't what's important, Miss Night,” Dr. Wolf insisted, leaning forward to recapture her drifting gaze. “What matters is what you think.” Naturally, Stormy accepted this compliment with a healthy amount of skepticism, but it still earned the psychiatrist yet another of Stormy's rare smiles, which were becoming less rare as time passed. “Besides, Miss Night,” he added, “I happen to know three young fillies who would disagree with him on the strongest possible terms. They call themselves the Cutie Mark Crusaders.” He proceeded to tell her in as much detail as he could all of the exploits he had heard about the Crusaders and the number of times one or more of the three fillies had wanted to give up, only to be bolstered by the remaining Crusaders. Stormy listened raptly.
During the next week, Dr. Wolf managed to get Stormy to make a list of all the things she'd tried since she'd started school. She was understandably reluctant at first, but the list was begun and grew longer with each session until, finally, Stormy couldn't remember anything else she'd tried.
Finally, one bright, sunny day, Stormy surprised everyone at the breakfast table by announcing that she had another job offer that she was going to take.
“It's only a bakery,” Stormy informed everypony, “but it's something I haven't tried, yet, so...”
“That's my girl,” Fort exclaimed.
She was gone all day long. In fact, the psychiatrist was preparing for bed when she finally knocked on his door.
“Come in,” he called, walking quickly to the sitting area.
Stormy was covered, head to hoof in flour. Frosting and marzipan were stuck in her mane, which had been put into a bun, more than likely to prevent loose hair from getting into the food. A streak of chocolate seemed to be at war with a glob of jam for possession of her back. A splash of something liquid had turned the flour on her right flank into a kind of dough, which looked like it had been scrubbed into Stormy's purple coat with a floor brush.
“I failed,” she sighed bitterly, sinking into her accustomed spot by the fire and covering her face with her hooves.
“Now, now, Miss Night,” Dr. Wolf said, “There's no need to be so negative. Today was only your first day.”
Stormy rolled her eyes. “Mr. Brulee said I'm a natural disaster and never to come back unless I'm ordering desserts. I failed.” The sigh she gave after saying this spoke so many volumes it could have been an entire library.
“No, Miss Night,” the doctor replied, walking over to take her muzzle gently in his paw. “You've only failed if you give up.”
Stormy smiled.
“Stormina Elizabeth Night!” Fort's voice bellowed from downstairs, extinguishing the smile as effectively as one might put out a cook fire.
“Sweet Celestia!” Stormy stammered, fairly jumping to her hooves.
Just then, the door to his suite flew open and there stood Fort Night, who spat a long piece of paper onto the floor at his daughter's trembling hooves.
“Six thousand bits for damages?” he raged, kicking the paper at her. “What were you doing at Creme Brulee's bakery today? Playing around?”
“Mr. Night,” Dr. Wolf begged, trying to interrupt.
“This is unacceptable, young lady!” Fort Night continued, towering ominously over his daughter, “What? Do you think I'm made of money?”
“Mr. Night!” Dr. Wolf growled, noting with dismay the way his client cringed as her father yelled at her.
“You've ruined my reputation and the reputation of this entire family far too many times,” the crimson pony ranted on.
“Mr. Night!” Dr. Wolf barked, stepping between Fort and the target of his rage. “I spent more than a month building your daughter's confidence to the point where she felt ready to try this. Kindly don't undo all my work in a single minute.”
Fort Night's eyes widened. “That reminds me, doctor,” he added, turning his attention to the wolf. “Gather your things. I want you off my property by tomorrow morning! You're fired!” With that, he stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him.
“I'm so sorry,” Stormy sobbed, collapsing onto the hearthrug again. “I didn't mean for this to happen.”
“It's not your fault,” the wolf replied, sitting down next to her on the floor. “Your father just doesn't understand what getting a cutie mark is all about. You see, Miss Night, finding your cutie mark is a lot like finding your soul mate. Sometimes, it just finds you.” He thought briefly of his family back home and realized he could hardly wait to get back to them.
“Do you really think I can still get my cutie mark, doctor?” Stormy sniffed.
“Definitely,” he replied, “Everypony gets one. Just remember all you learned while I was here.”
***********************************
Dr. Wolf blinked again as the memory faded. So, the confident, happy-looking mare standing before him was that same Stormy Night he'd helped a few years back. He smiled.
“Words can't express how proud I am of you, Miss Night,” Dr. Wolf exclaimed finally, “and I should point out that, in reality, I didn't do much more than give you a push in the right direction.”
“Actually,” Stormy smiled, “You're wrong. Do you remember the story you told me, about the Cutie Mark Crusaders?”
Dr. Wolf nodded.
“Well, after you left, my dad came up and told me I was going to have to work extra hard and get my cutie mark so that I could pay for all the damages I'd caused at Creme Brulee's Bakery. But I remembered what I learned from you and I stood up to him. I told him that's not how cutie marks work. You don't get them by 'working hard.' Then I told him the story you told me about the Cutie Mark Crusaders and how hard they were working trying to get their cutie marks. How they hadn't gotten them, yet, but weren't giving up. When I was finished, I realized that this was what I wanted to do with my life. Share the lessons of life I learned from reading stories in the library and from talking with other ponies. My father always said that storytelling couldn't be more than a hobby for someone of my 'social standing.' But I realized I didn't care what he thought and, in that moment, that's when I got my cutie mark.” Stormy laughed, adding. “My father was standing right in front of me when it happened. You should have seen the look on his face. Anyway, I left home shortly after that. I've been traveling a lot since then. It turns out everyone needs stories for different reasons and I...” She paused as her eyes fell on the clock on the wall.
“Sweet Celestia! I need to go!” she squawked, seizing her cloak and pulling it back on again. “School will be out soon and if I'm not there when they get out I might miss them.”
“Miss whom?” Dr. Wolf asked, surprised.
“The Cutie Mark Crusaders!” Stormy replied, excitedly. “I was in Apple-Oosa when I heard they recently got their cutie marks. I need that story! It's the reason I came to Ponyville in the first place! I arrived early, though, so I wanted to just pop in and say thank you and... here.” With this, she passed him a package wrapped in beautiful blue paper with a purple ribbon around it, tied expertly into a decorative bow. “It was great talking with you, doctor. Thanks again!” So saying, she rushed out of the office at a gallop, slamming the door behind her.
What an amazing success story, the wolf thought idly. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the encounter away with one paw, muttering, “It's good to be helping.” He then picked up the package and unwrapped it. Inside the beautiful paper lay a brand new book, fresh from the printer. The pages had been gilded and the spine hadn't even been cracked, yet. He glanced at the title. The Cutie Mark Chronicles, Volume 1: True Tales of Cutie Marks for Fillies and Colts, edited by Stormy Night. There was even a purple ribbon marking a specific spot near the beginning of the book. Carefully, Dr. Wolf opened the book at the ribbon. It was the dedication.
To my dear mother, Moonlight,
who never stopped believing in me
and to my friend, Dr. Wolf,
who helped me believe in myself.
Yes, Dr. Wolf thought, it really is good to be helping.
Author's Note
I've been stewing over this story for a long time. As I said in the description, it's meant to be a kind of backstory for my original character and also a fan fiction of Dr. Wolf (used by permission from DRWolf001 on YouTube). He gave me the true-to-life perspective I needed for this story. I realize none of the Mane Six or any of the established characters from MLP: FiM are included in more than a peripheral way. However, I hope that you'll read it anyway. Thank you in advance.
