A Mare's Image

by ZOMG

Rating: everyone
Tags: Spitfire, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Romance
Length: 4936

Spitfire wonders how important appearance is as she watches Rainbow Dash change hers, and wonders what truly makes a mare.

Appearance, talent, or attitude? Which is more important? What truly makes a mare who she is?

Spitfire asks herself these questions as she watches Rainbow Dash change her image to join the Wonderbolts. But does she really want to let the young pegasus she's admired for her skill and integrity change who she is because of a silly rule?

Preread by Fahrenheit, and Timaeus.

Cover art by viwrastupr.

Published 2016-03-21 17:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-03-21 17:50:01 UTC

Substance and Style

Spitfire leaned against the barber shop’s fluffy cloud wall and smirked. “Y’know, if you keep staring in that mirror and playing with your mane, I’m gonna start thinking you’re better suited for modeling dresses, Rainbow Dash.”

Predictably, her favorite former cadet and newest Wonderbolt fidgeted in the barber chair and struggled to hide the blush that colored her cheeks. It was cute, really, seeing her so uneasy. It almost made Spitfire want to nuzzle between her ears and tussle her mane.

Who was she kidding? It was downright adorable, and the only thing stopping her was the fact that Rainbow Dash looked like she was seconds from bolting already.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Rainbow replied. Her ears drooped as she ducked her head low. “It’s just … it’s my style, y’know? Hard to give it up after all these years of having my own look.”

Chuckling, Spitfire nodded. “I know, Dash, but it’s Wonderbolts’ regulation; you can’t have your mane trailing past your shoulders.” She shrugged and nodded to a stallion with graying blue mane and pale yellow coat. “Cloud Shear’s just gonna give you a little trim to get it down to proper length, and that’s it. We’re not gonna give you a buzz cut or anything!”

Rainbow gave a low whine, her eyes flitting to the stallion in question, then back to Spitfire. “I know,” she said with a sigh. “I guess I’m just worried that I won’t look cool or something. Silly, right?”

Silly? A younger visage of herself flashed before Spitfire’s eyes. Smiling crookedly, she had sat in that very barber chair while Cloud Shear set about cutting her beautiful fiery mane, trimming it back over her shoulders until it was proper length. Each metal snip like a reminder of how she sacrificed her unique look to join the Wonderbolts.

“Relax, Private Dash,” Cloud Shear said, jarring Spitfire out of her memory. He wrapped a clean barber’s apron around her and smiled. “The Wonderbolts have been coming to this shop since my great-granddaddy opened it up. I know all about making sure your mane looks cool and stays within regulation.”

Giving a rather forced smile in return, Rainbow maintained her gaze with Spitfire.

Spitfire glanced down at her blue Wonderbolts hoodie and traced the gold stitched name with a hoof. It was worth it in the end. I made it.

She nodded once. “Wouldn’t bring you anyplace else. He’s the only stallion I let near my mane with a comb and a pair of scissors.”

Cloud Shear bowed. “An honor I cherish with every fiber of my being, Captain Spitfire,” he said with a note of mock gravitas in his tone.

With a snort, she stuck her tongue out. “Just shut up and trim her up, you old cloud snorter. We young mares have places to be!”

“Of course, of course.” He chuckled, then turned to regard Rainbow Dash. Humming, he brought a wing up to touch the ends of her beautiful mane. “You have a very pretty color to you, Rainbow. I don’t think I’ve seen anypony with a mane like yours.”

“Thanks.” The young mare’s cheeks colored a dusty pink. “I get it from my dad.”

Spitfire wrinkled her snout and thought a moment. She tried to conjure up Rainbow’s almost trademark … well, rainbow mane on anypony else.

She shook her head. No, those colors couldn’t look that good on just any other pony. No offense to her dad—whoever he was—but as far as Spitfire was concerned, Rainbow Dash was one of a kind in every way.

I’ve never seen a pony who can be so cocky and still manage to have more character than some of my veteran flyers.

“Wonderbolt regulation mandates that I have to cut your mane so none of it falls below the midpoint of your shoulder,” Cloud Shear said, pointing to the spot on Rainbow’s shoulder. “I can cut it however way you want it as long as I don’t let it hang lower than that. Actually, I could cut it a bit shorter if—”

“Just cut it to regulation,” Rainbow interrupted him. She bit her lip and fidgeted in her seat. “Not too short … please.”

He gave another nod, then moved to take hold of his clippers. “Whatever you want, Rainbow. I understand how important a mare’s image can be to how she feels about herself. You just tell me when to stop.”

The words gave Spitfire pause. Image was important to any mare, regardless of what they said. Some wanted to look as beautiful as the princesses so they could find a good partner or turn heads wherever they went. Others sought to keep themselves looking natural, either for their own opinion on beauty or to show that they were hardworking mares.

Either way, it was all about how they presented themselves to those around them. Whether through makeup, perfume, mane styling, and shining coats, or a coat of dirt, the sheen of sweat, and the scent of a hard day’s work upon their very being, mares liked to make an impression.

And what better way to do so than appearance?

An image of Spitfire in her younger days flashed before her eyes. Her mane had been long and flowing, like a trail of liquid fire flowing free off her form as she streaked through the sky.

A hoof leapt to her shoulder. Spitfire frowned as she fluffed an imaginary bit of her old mane, the trademark messy curls fresh in her mind.

I’d just turned nineteen when Cloud Shear cut it for the first time.

Fire still blazed through the sky whenever she soared, but she didn’t quite feel the satisfaction of being able to flip her mane or primp her curls whenever she wanted to show off for her friends. She’d become uniform when she joined the Wonderbolts.

Spitfire shook her head and banished those thoughts, turning her attention to Rainbow and Cloud Shear as the latter brought his scissors up to snip away the first bit of mane. Rainbow’s ears laid flat against her scalp, her eyes screwed shut. A tiny whine escaped her lips as the stallion took the purple and blue locks of her mane in hoof and maneuvered them into the mouth of his scissors.

If a mare’s mane was part of her image, Rainbow wanted hers to embody just how “cool” she aspired to be. While a much younger Spitfire desired to appear like she had fire flowing from her while she cut through the sky, Rainbow looked more like she washed her mane in liquid rainbow every day.

When Rainbow Dash flew, the sky was like a light show—a beautiful display of color trailed off her with every turn, every picture-perfect barrel roll, and those heart-stopping dives.

How many times had Spitfire caught herself stepping forward with her wings flared, ready to take off at a dead sprint to stop her favorite prospect from crashing, only for her fears to be unfounded as the young mare pulled up at the last second, just in time for her tail to flick the blades of grass?

Far too often. A smile spread across her muzzle. Each time she had, naturally, disguised concern with her “stern captain” persona—a long running gag she still had to kick Soarin for—and given Rainbow a full rundown of the technical mistakes she’d made throughout the drill, all the while fighting the urge to box the grinning little punk over her adorable blue ears for startling her so.

The distinctive snip of scissors cutting through mane jolted her back to reality. Spitfire watched as purple and blue strands floated to the floor, then flitted up to regard Rainbow Dash herself.

Her eyes were screwed shut, she sucked her lips in as though she were afraid she might break down in tears. The poor mare was losing the image she’d worked so hard to craft for herself.

Another snip made Spitfire’s ears flick, she flinched away. Then another. And another.

With each snip of Cloud Shear’s scissors, her eyes followed the strands of Rainbow’s beautiful mane as they were so carelessly cut and discarded like yesterday’s trash. Her mane, her very image, everything that made Rainbow Dash the brash, daring, and cool mare she wanted to be was being cut away from her just so she could be molded to fit an image dictated by silly regulations and tradition.

Just like Spitfire had been years ago.

A snarl tugged at her lips. She ground a hoof into the floor and forced herself to look away for a moment. Spitfire drew in a deep breath through her nose and held it while she counted backwards from ten. Slowly, she released it through her mouth and dared to glance back at the atrocity taking place before her very eyes.

Cloud Shear had already taken away half of the cascading rainbow locks that fell past Rainbow’s shoulders, and he’d done it with hardly a care or hint of ceremony.

Spitfire pushed herself off the wall and took a step close, an order for Cloud Shear to stop fresh on the tip of her tongue.

She stopped short. Her eyes flitted to Rainbow’s face, lingering on the way she bit her lip and furrowed her brows, but stayed quiet.

Rainbow wanted this. It was her dream to be a Wonderbolt, and she had to accept all the sacrifices and rules that came with the honor.

Sighing, Spitfire looked down at the floor for a second. It wasn’t her place to step in. I can’t step between a mare and her dream just because I think she looks good with her mane the way it is, not even if I think she looks pretty. Especially not one who’s gone above and beyond everything I asked of her.

The corners of her lips curved into a smile as memories of Rainbow’s accomplishments flitted through her mind. From the first time the pair had met at the Best Young Flyers Competition, to when Rainbow had stormed out of her office at the Academy, and even to competing against one another at the Equestria Games, Spitfire had watched her grow from a cocky little punk into … well, a cocky little punk, but one with the skill and character to back up all that attitude.

There was just so much to the mare behind all that bravado. Watching Rainbow interact with her gaggle of friends and supporters, especially the little filly she’d adopted as her surrogate sister, never failed to bring a grin to Spitfire’s muzzle. She was just so genuine in how she acted around them. Hay, even when she got her big day with the Wonderbolts after the Best Young Flyers Competition, Rainbow treated them with respect, despite the fact that she was almost squealing and bouncing in place.

Soarin and Fleetfoot still loved teasing her about how badly she blushed when they threw their hooves around her and pulled her in for a quick photo.

And there just wasn’t enough Spitfire could say about her flying.

If there was ever a mare with more raw talent than Rainbow Dash with the same dedication to her training, Spitfire would shave herself bald and fly through Manehattan singing the national anthem. Or better yet, that utter butchery of Cloudsdale’s anthem that little dragon sang at the Equestria Games.

A shudder ran down her spine at the mere thought. Spitfire gave her head a shake, and redirected her attention to Rainbow and Cloud Shear, just in time to see the latter brushing Rainbow’s newly cut mane and testing out the style.

“There, we’ve got you well within regulation,” he said as he ran a hoof through her shortened locks. With a few deft flicks of his comb, Cloud Shear had her mane looking rather close to Fleetfoot’s style: windswept, but a bit too perfect for it to be natural.

Spitfire tilted her head and raised a brow, looking at Rainbow as if seeing her for the first time. She looked good. Different, certainly, and it would take a while to get used to seeing her without that trademark flowing mane, but good.

Slowly, Rainbow cracked open her eyes and dared look at her reflection in the mirror. She jolted upright, her ears standing ramrod straight. “I … don’t look lame?”

Before Spitfire could speak, Cloud Shear scoffed. “Lame?” he repeated, bringing a hoof to his chest. “You wound me, Rainbow Dash! I’ve been cutting manes since long before your daddy bounced you on his back!”

“Oh, quit your posturing, you cloud-snorting windbag!” Spitfire teased. She trotted over to stand before Rainbow and took a closer look. Her feathers fluffed, she had to fight the urge to let her tail swish.

Rainbow’s “look” had always epitomized everything she wanted to be: cool, radical, and utterly awesome in every sense in the word, not to mention rather good-looking. With her long, flowing prismatic mane and tail holding an almost natural windswept and messy appearance, she had a sort of athletic beauty to her. She didn’t have to worry about styling, she just flipped her mane and grinned, and made ponies’ heads turn—Spitfire’s included.

With her mane cut short, Rainbow’s face seemed a bit … fuller. She looked less like a young tomcolt in her teens, and more like a mare ready to blaze down the track and steal the hearts and minds of crowds all over Equestria.

Spitfire licked her dried lips. Hot dang, there was a marein her just waiting to be brought out! Her eyes lingered on the way Rainbow’s bangs had been brushed and tucked behind an ear. She wrinkled her nose. Doesn’t look right with them like that. We’ll just have to fix it later.

Again, she had to shake herself out of her stupor. Spitfire laid a hoof on Rainbow’s shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze. “You look good, Dash. Top of the line, in fact!”

Rainbow ducked her head, her cheeks colored pink. “R-Really?”

Nodding, Spitfire reached up to tussle her mane. “Yup! No foolin’, girl! You’ve got the look of a proper Bolt, now!” She paused and raised a brow, then leaned in to whisper, “But I think we need to touch up this mane a little bit. Cloud’s good, but he doesn’t quite have a mare’s touch when it comes to these things, y’know?”

Rainbow covered her mouth to muffle her laughter, her eyes shining with mirth. She gave a nod and hopped out of the chair, sucking in her lips as she tried in vain to hide a smile. Once she’d gotten herself under control, she turned to Cloud Shear. “Thanks for the trim! Uh, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I don’t charge new Wonderbolts for their first mane cut. Think of it as my own little way of extending a welcome.”

Her ears perked up, and a bright grin nearly split her muzzle. Rainbow let out an excited squeal and leapt forward to catch the stallion in a tight hug that sent him staggering.

Spitfire stifled a bout of sniggering and tapped Rainbow on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get out of here before you strangle the old stallion.”

Rainbow quickly disentangled herself from Cloud Shear and darted over to stand with Spitfire, grinning sheepishly as the pair chuckled at her.

With a roll of her eyes, Spitfire gave Cloud a hoof bump, then turned to Rainbow and started toward the door. “Let’s head back to base. You’ve got your stuff moved over from your house, right?”

“Yeah, the girls gave me a hoof,” Rainbow replied as she pushed the door open and stepped out onto the cloud patio. “It’s gonna be kinda strange not seeing them every day.”

Wincing, Spitfire nodded. It was a bit easier for her, since most of her friends who hadn’t joined all lived in Cloudsdale, but even she went through a struggle to make time to see them. “Yeah, it can be tough, but you can still visit on weekends when we’re not out on tour or have them come up to base. And you can go back when we’re on the offseason in the summer as long as you show up for our weekend practices.”

“That’d all be nice. What’s the ruling on spontaneous parties?”

Spitfire raised an eyebrow. “We’ve had our fair share—I mean, we’re a team of athletes, Rainbow. Half the time I wonder if we’re a flight team with a drinking problem or a drinking team with a flight problem.”

“Fair enough,” Rainbow said with a snigger. “I’m just asking because I’ve got a friend who likes throwing parties for … literally anything.”

Oh, Celestia, please tell me Surprise doesn’t have a cousin. Spitfire forced a smile. “As long as it doesn’t get too crazy, it should be alright.” She unfurled her wings and gave a little waggle of her eyebrows. “Up for a little race back to base? It’s been a while since I smoked your flank.”

Rainbow sucked in a breath through her nose, she stepped in close and fixed Spitfire with a challenging glare. A cocky smirk graced her face. “It. Is. On!”

Spitfire’s heart skip a beat. The mare before her was full of confidence, ready to show her who the better flyer was.

She had the attitude and the talent, and far more to her than just a mane.

Fixing Rainbow with a matching smirk, she turned her attention to the open sky. “On go. One … two … three … go!”

The pair took off, cutting through the sky like a knife through butter.

Spitfire stole an idle glance out of the corner of her eye, her smirk melted into a genuine smile as she watched the wind play with Rainbow’s freshly cut mane. She looked good, but the style was a bit too much like Fleetfoot’s.

An idea leapt to the forefront of her mind. I think I know a way to fix that … after I whip her tail in this race.

“I totally would’ve won if that cloud-shaper hadn’t swerved in my way!” Rainbow huffed, flicking her tail. “I had to go the long way around that dang house!”

Spitfire scoffed. “In case you didn’t notice, he got in my way, too. I just happened to have the presence of mind to veer around him instead of panicking like a rookie!” Grinning, she booped Rainbow’s snout and added, “But I’m sure you’ll get on my level some day!”

Rainbow fixed her with a deadpan stare, but the effect was ruined by a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Oh, gee! That would be just swell! Do you really think so?”

“I know so,” Spitfire replied, turning toward the locker room door and flicking her tail across Rainbow’s nose. She pushed it open and trotted inside. “Come on. We’re gonna fix up that mane a bit more.”

“I thought you said it looked good!”

Spitfire winced at the hint of betrayal in Rainbow’s tone. Glancing over her shoulder, she gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “It does! It just … well …” She raised a hoof, her smile strained. “You look a bit too much like one of Fleetfoot’s obsessed fan fillies. That mare’s head is already big enough, I don’t wanna listen to her crow about how she’s got fellow Bolts matching her style.”

A shudder ran down her spine. She shook her head. “Sorry, but that’s just not happening on my watch. Besides, new Dash mane cut means we’ve gotta find a new Dash style. If you want my opinion, that is.”

Rainbow tilted her head, her brows furrowed together. She ran a hoof through her mane. “I like it,” she said. “But I do kinda miss how I had it before. It looked more naturally windswept.”

Spitfire’s ears twitched. Huh, imagine that. With a smile, she motioned Rainbow to follow her to her dressing space and sat the mare down on the bench so she was facing the mirror. “My thoughts exactly. So let’s see if we can bring a little bit more of that back.” She opened a drawer and fished out a brush. “Little more Rainbow Dash in the style this time, eh?”

“I thought you said Cloud Shear knew what he was doing,” Rainbow quipped.

“I love Cloudy like the crazy uncle I never had, he knows how to cut manes like no other.” Gently, Spitfire began running her brush through Rainbow’s mane. “When it comes to styling, he’s like a fish out of water, if you ask me.”

Rainbow sniggered and fluffed her wings. “And you’re a pro?”

Idly, Spitfire eyed those cyan feathers, then blinked to refocus. Oy, no getting distracted by pretty feathers.

“Well, I don’t like to brag,” she said, giving her mane a toss. “But I’ve always been known to have a certain flair to my style. Besides—” she stopped brushing for a moment, sliding her hooves down to squeeze Rainbow’s shoulders while she leaned in to whisper in her ear, “When it comes to getting the right look for a mare, there’s nothing better than a mare’s touch.”

“You sound like a friend of mine.”

“Oh yeah?” Spitfire hummed as she resumed brushing. With a few quick flicks of her wrist, she had done away with the unnecessary “fluff-cone-thing” that Cloud Shear styled Rainbow’s mane into. A small measure of satisfaction filled her as she noted that there would be one less Fleetfoot lookalike in the world. Take that, Fleety!

Rainbow nodded, a fond smile making its way across her muzzle. “Yeah, she’s pretty great when she’s not trying to sucker me into going for a hooficure or something. Spa dates are nice and all, I guess. But nopony’s touching these babies!” She gave her forehooves a little shake. “But she always tries to get me to let her style my mane—ha! I barely let her touch it for the Grand Galloping Gala!”

There was that confidence! Just as it should be!

Chuckling, Spitfire began playing about with Rainbow’s mane. A quick stroke here and there to give it a little bit of fluff toward the ends, making them flare out a little to give them that windswept look Rainbow liked.

“So I should consider myself honored then, huh?” She sniffed and tilted her head to the side, giving a meaningful waggle of her eyebrows. “Just think, I could fly all the way to Ponyville and tell everypony that I got to style their pretty little Wonderbolt’s mane while they could only look!”

Spitfire froze in place, her hoof stayed in mid stroke as she went back over her own wording. Her eyes went wide. Biting her lip, she cursed herself and sent silent prayer to Celestia that Rainbow wouldn’t freak out.

“Heh, yeah, yeah,” Rainbow replied, rolling her eyes and grinning cheekily. “Call it the biggest moment of your career or something!”

A sigh escaped her lips. Spitfire felt the tension in her shoulders relax. “Right. I’ll be sure to have a medal made to commemorate the honor.” She finished brushing Rainbow’s mane, allowing herself a smile as she surveyed her work—multicolored locks were combed until they were silky smooth, with a little bit of fluff and bounce at the ends. Giving a satisfied nod, she tapped Rainbow on the shoulder. “What do you think? Like it this way, or do you wanna try something a little different?”

Rainbow hopped off the bench and gazed at her reflection. She let out a happy hum, swishing her colorful tail. “Dang! You weren’t kidding! This is a lot more me—with one little adjustment!” She ran a hoof through her bangs, deftly brushing them until they hung just over her eyes. A broad grin crossed her muzzle as she posed in front of the mirror, flaring her wings out wide like she was ready to take off. “Aw yeah! This is perfect!”

Spitfire couldn’t help but let her eyes linger on Rainbow’s reflection. The exuberance, the cocky posing, everything from her toothy grin to the way she flipped her mane as though to see just how sassy she could be made her breath hitch in her throat.

She’s got the look, she’s got the attitude, and she’s certainly got the skill to be one of us. Spitfire licked her lips again. She’s one heck of a mare.

“So what do you think?” Rainbow’s voice brought her out of her thoughts.

“Huh?” Spitfire blinked and shook her head.

Rainbow gave a playful roll of her eyes. “I said what do you think?” She tilted her head just slightly to the side and brought a hoof to her chest, fixing Spitfire with a half-lidded stare and a small smile. “Cool enough for the Wonderbolts or what? I bet I’ll have to beat ponies off with a stick, eh?” She cast a wink. “Or at least a bunch of hot mares!”

Spitfire’s ears twitched and stood up straight. The last bit repeated in her head.

She’s attracted to mares, too? Slowly, a smile spread across her muzzle, she felt her cheeks burn. “Yeah,” she replied, crossing her left hindleg over her right and giving a rather forced chuckle. “We’ll have to keep you real close to make sure they don’t steal you away to their little love nests or something.”

“I know, right?” Rainbow gave a wistful sigh. “But what a way to go! Kidnapped and loved by a bunch of smoking hot mares—I don’t even know if I’d be mad!” She brought a hoof to her chin and thought a moment before adding, “I think I’d rather have both that and being a Wonderbolt though, so they might have to compromise.”

Spitfire snorted. “So you want a stable of hot mares to go along with being a Wonderbolt, huh?” She stepped closer, sidling up to Rainbow so she could give her a little shoulder bump.

“Best of both worlds! But I’ll settle for one if she can keep up with me!” Rainbow grinned and nudged Spitfire back. “That aside, thanks for sticking with me and giving me a hoof with my mane, Cap!”

Again, her ears twitched. “No problem. And you can call me Spitfire when we’re not drilling or performing, Rainbow. We’re the Wonderbolts, not the Army.”

“Oh, okay then! Spitfire it is!” She threw a hoof across Spitfire’s withers and pulled her in for a tight hug, their cheeks pressed together.

It was only by the grace of Celestia that Rainbow didn’t notice Spitfire’s cheeks burning like the runway on a hot summer day. Why the hay does my mouth feel so dry?

Rainbow pulled back a little, freeing Spitfire enough so she could turn her head and meet her gaze. “So, be honest,” Rainbow began. “Mare to mare, on scale of one to ten, how do I look? It suits me, right?”

Suit her? The only pegasus in history to pull a Sonic Rainboom? The same one who carried a rinkydink town like Ponyville to a silver medal at the Equestria Games, finishing just a nose behind Spitfire herself?

Yes, it suited her just fine. She looked every bit as awesome as she claimed to be, though perhaps only half as much as she actually was when she set her mind to it.

Spitfire felt herself lean in closer, her snout touched against Rainbow’s. Warm breath washed over her face as she let her nose circle around Rainbow’s, her eyelids drooped.

A bright blush colored Rainbow’s cheeks. “Sp-Spitfire?” she stammered, her playful smile falling.

For a moment, Spitfire waited, giving Rainbow a chance to pull away if she wanted.

She didn’t. Rainbow stood stock still, gaping at Spitfire.

Pluck my feathers. In for a bit, in for a pound. Spitfire tilted her head to the side and pressed her lips against Rainbow’s. She felt the mare gasp and tense up, but then Rainbow relaxed. Cerise eyes fluttered shut as she pressed forward to deepen the kiss.

Spitfire let her hoof touch Rainbow’s, giving an affectionate squeeze before she pulled away. She stayed close, her snout still touching Rainbow’s as she said, “Eleven.”

Rainbow blinked owlishly. “Huh? Wha?”

Chuckling, Spitfire nuzzled her nose. “On a scale of one to ten, you’re an eleven, Rainbow.”

A deep blush colored her cheeks. Rainbow gave a crooked smile and fidgeted in place, her wings unfurled and fluffed.

The pair stood in silence for a moment, shifting from one hoof to the next, letting their eyes wander away before glancing back and meeting each others’ gaze.

Spitfire rubbed a hoof against the back of her head. “So …” she began. “Wanna go out sometime? Dinner, maybe?”

“Uh … I …” Rainbow clenched her eyes shut and shook her head as if to wake herself up. “I like Istallion.”

“So do I.” Spitfire smiled. “You free tonight?”

Giving a shy smile, Rainbow nodded.

“Hungry now?”

Another nod.

“Cool.” She pecked the end of Rainbow’s snout, giggling as she watched her wrinkle her nose and squirm. “So am I. I know a place on Commander Hurricane Avenue called Carmine’s. It’s a little pricey, but—” Stealing another kiss, she added, “I think I can afford it for a mare like you. If I’m hot enough for you, that is.”

Rainbow’s ears laid flat against her scalp. She ducked her head low and gave a nervous chuckle, then another nod.

Not gonna give me any more ammo, huh? Smart girl.

Grinning, Spitfire threw a wing across her withers and led her out of the locker room.

A date with a mare who had the personality and skill to match her look? There were worse ways to end the day.