Carnificina

The journey through Ponyville wasn’t long. It was, after all, but a quaint little town. Cherilee’s house was on the eastern side, bordered on both sides by trees and, a few hundred feet away, neighboring houses. The yard was substantially large, even for one in as small a town as it was. From the back a garden stretched its rows far beyond the width of the house. The air was pleasant and homely, and a bright mixture of green and white decorated its siding.  To Scootaloo, it felt like home.

“Here we are!” Cherilee beamed, reaching the steps to the door.

The orange filly lifted her head and sniffed the air, taking in the smells of the environment.  It was so pleasant, so peaceful.

Her memory faded to her own home; Dismal, uninspired. It was dull, colourless, and the air was often stagnant.

Cherilee giggled at the filly’s current posture; eyes closed, ears pinned back, nose stuck high in the air.

“Coming in, dear?”

Scootaloo’s eyes snapped open, and she blushed slightly.

“Y-yeah.”

The inside of the house was warm and welcoming. The wallpaper was vibrant and colourful, and the tables were filled with trinkets and framed photographs from foals that Cherilee had presumably taught. The sitting room was at the immediate right, complete with a large couch, several adjoining chairs and a coffee table. Scootaloo found herself being led into a kitchen at the far end of the sitting room. Cherilee motioned for her to sit at the kitchen table as she set about preparing the stove for a pot of water.

“I’d like you to try some herbal tea, Scootaloo. I think you’ll find that it is an excellent way to relax yourself,” Cherilee sang. Her voice hummed around the room in a sort of sing-song manner as she bustled around, bringing out cups and a tray of assorted snacks. Every so often she cast a glance at the filly sitting at her table and studied her for a moment before continuing her work with a hum. Before long, the water began to boil, and the older mare procured two steaming cups which she brought to the table.

“My mother used to make this when I was a filly. It used to make me feel so safe.” Cherilee hummed, dipping her muzzle into the cup.

Scootaloo did the same, feeling the warmth touch her lips and the flavors envelop her tastebuds. She sighed deeply as she felt relaxation waft over her at the heat of the pleasant liquid which flowed down her throat.

Cherilee chuckled as she took another sip of hers.

“So what should we do this weekend, Scootaloo?  She asked.

The young pony paused for a moment, but she knew her answer.

“Well…I was hoping that tonight we could just…talk.”

Cherilee nodded eagerly.

"That's a very grown up thing to do. Talking about the way you feel is an excellent way to help understand it."

“Understand what??” Scootaloo quietly inquired.

“The way you feel. Your emotions.”

Scootaloo nodded, dipping into her cup once more. For a moment, Cherilee seemed to hang on to something she wanted to say. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak, lowering her voice. Her sing-song tone completely void from her speech.

“So, do you want to talk about what happened to your wrists? Why you felt that way?

Setting down her cup, the orange filly closed her eyes and sighed. A silent stillness filled the room for several moments, enveloping it, creeping into every nook and cranny. The melancholy filly shifted her gaze from the floor; speaking slowly and quietly.

“Because I was sad, Miss Cherilee. And...I...just wanted the pain to...go away.” She hung her head, hiding her face.

The teacher nodded reassuringly.

“But, you know, there are other ways of getting rid of the pain, Scootaloo. Of coping with it, I mean. Look at how far we’ve come today; you’ve told me so much and let go of what you’ve been holding in. And now you’re sitting here enjoying a cup of tea and talking with me. Doesn’t it feel better?”

The filly looked up.

“Sort of...I want to be better.” She bit her lower lip, looking away.

“And you can! You and I can do this together. I’m here for you as a friend rather than your teacher. I want to show you how you can learn to face your pain and make it past it. Believe it or not, I was in your position once; I lived my life much like you and I was also very sad like you. But I found out how to deal with it: through hope, and finding something to believe in. A pony can learn to live after dealing with it, Scootaloo. You can make it through this.”

Smiling sadly, the little pony who once thought herself completely alone now found herself in awe of the mare she didn't realize she hadn't truly known before. She felt at ease around her, as she always had, but for the first time in her life she felt truly understood by somepony. Her heart was warmed with a small bit of happiness.

Some moments passed as they sipped their tea, sitting around the small oak table. Outside, the sun was beginning to set.

“Do you ever feel like nopony understands you?” Scootaloo asked suddenly, her voice still hinting to her inner grief.

“Hm, that’s an interesting question. I teach foals, so whether anypony understands me or not, they know who I am and what I do, and how long I’ve been doing it. So as long as they accept me, it isn't necessary to that they understand me. Does that make sense?”

Scootaloo cocked her head to one side, pondering what she had just heard.

To be accepted…that’s all she ever wanted. It would be worth it for that.

“It does... I like thinking that... If everypony could accept me... even if they can’t understand me.”

Neither pony spoke after that. The only sound was that of the clanging of cups as they enjoyed their drinks. The air between the two was peaceful, yet simple and wordless.

Cherilee took one final sip and set her cup down. She looked at Scootaloo with a slightly tilted head, contemplating something. The mare waited until the filly finished her drink before she she spoke.

“Why don’t we go for a walk? I know a great place where we can sit and talk…”

“That would be nice.” Scootaloo agreed, rising from her table as her teacher did the same. She was momentarily being led out a door on the back wall of the kitchen and into the vibrant yard outside. The first thing she noticed was the variable sea of colour as a result of the combination of the diverse garden and the calm forest which sat on the edge. Across the garden and onto a small, worn path was where they traversed, and before long they emerged into a quaint little meadow. A steady breeze wound its way through the tall grass and the fur of the two ponies that walked amongst it.

The sun had begun to make its descent. The sky was a shadowy blue, littered with the voices of a million stars. The passion of each and every one lit up the meadow with a dim haze.

In the center of the meadow sat a single tree. Oak, larger than any in the forest around it. Yet in this one plant sat the stories of a thousand lives, intertwined into its gnarled bark like the age that defined it. Eternity had created it, and like the sun it had probably always been there, a testament to the time which passed it each day.

As they neared, Cherilee’s steps slowed, taking in the surroundings as well as the massive tree itself. She came to a stop, and turned her head, preparing to speak, but shut her mouth when she saw Scootaloo. The orange filly had come to a sitting position, eyes cast onto the night sky. She was in perfect serenity at that very moment.

Cherilee, smiling, laid herself down beside the filly, resting her body atop her bent legs in a position characteristic of ponies. She watched patiently as her student continued to watch the stars. A thought crossed her mind, remembering what she had been told earlier.

“You’re quite fond of nature, aren’t you?”

Breaking her stare with the sky, Scootaloo turned to look the mare in the eyes.

“I’ve always loved it. Whenever my parents fight, when I get in trouble, or when I just need to get away from things, I come to nature to just be alone. It’s always been so special to me.”

“That’s excellent. You know, having something to believe in is the best way to cure sadness. When we are lost in our thoughts, it’s important to have something to turn to in order to comfort our fears. I’m glad you have something, Scootaloo.”

The orange filly became fascinated with the grass while she hung her head and spoke with a gentle whisper

“I never thought of it that way. But I can…”

She looked back up to the sky

“…I can rely on it.”

She laid herself down, bending forward and tucking her legs underneath her torso.

“Can I tell you something?” She asked.

“Of course, dear. You can tell me anything. If it’s bothering you, I encourage you not to keep it to yourself”

Scootaloo paused, moving her eyes back and forth across the meadow and finally resting them on the purple mare.

“I enjoy this time we’re spending together. I’ve never felt really loved before, even by my own parents, but when I’m with you I feel like you really care.”

Cherilee said nothing, smiling broadly. Gently, she shifted towards Scootaloo, who leaned against her favorite mare in the whole world. Burying her face inside the purple fur, the orange pony closed her eyes and listened to the gentle heartbeat of her mentor. Peace wafted over her, the fears of days before washing away.

Gently, Cherilee lifted her head and placed it over top of the younger pony’s. She knew perfectly well she had done exactly what she needed to, and that she could and would be there for her young student.

And the days wafted by. Time; life as it were. moved on through it's regular course. And the young pony knew rebirth. Relief from pain. Honesty and truth sprang from hardship.