Plaid Stripes could barely contain her excitement as she marched towards the kitchen of Carousel Boutique, a small unwrapped box balanced atop her back. Another surprise gift—and arriving so soon after the last one, too! She hadn’t a clue what she was going to do with them yet; she hadn’t even had time to tackle the last gift that had been left for her on the doorstep of the boutique. But she had never had this much inspiration and encouragement back in Manehatten, except from maybe her dad. It was good to be appreciated.
The grin on her face had doubled in size by the time she reached the kitchen, and was in danger of growing further still when she opened the door and the warm scents and sounds of breakfast flooded from the room. It was true that she still might have the occasional—well, no longer hourly at least—disagreement with Rarity since starting her apprenticeship under her, but she loved the older mare’s breakfasts without exception. Even though she rarely had more than a piece of buttered toast, Rarity always made sure that the table was elegantly brimming with cereals, pastries, fruit and juice for Plaid. It was like she knew—and appreciated—that to make such amazing and inspired designs Plaid needed to start the day like a queen Maybe her dad had had a quiet word with Rarity on the matter.
Rarity was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and a buttered crumpet hovering beside her as she skimmed through the stack of mail between her hooves. Her blue eyes flicked up as Plaid entered, appraising first the young mare and then the box she was carrying on her back. She took a few hurried sips of coffee, before her lips pressed together in a thin smile.
“Check it out, Rarity!” Plaid pushed the small box across the breakfast table, scattering plates and food, and lifted the lid with a flourish. “You must have missed this when you collected the mail this morning. What do you think I can do with them?”
Her expression that of a pony who was questioning some of her life choices, Rarity lowered the crumpet and leaned hesitantly forward. Within an instant she was gagging. Leaping from the table, her own cup of coffee almost spilling as it followed her movements, she waved a delicate white hoof in front of her muzzle.
“Gah! Well, firstly, darling, you can replace that lid and take it away from the table while we are eating.” Rarity turned to rummage in one of the cupboards, producing a bundle of scented candles, which she then began to distribute around the room. When she had finished, she looked back at Plaid, eyes narrowed. “After that, I’m afraid I really have no idea. Bury them, perhaps?”
Rolling her eyes, Plaid pulled the box back towards her and lifted out one of the dead fish from inside.
“I can’t bury them!” The fish dangled between her orange forehooves as she studied it. “It would hurt Gabby’s feelings. She is trying to help me come up with fresh new ideas, after all!”
“Well she’s giving me ideas, and not pleasant ones!” Rarity picked up her crumpet, sniffed it, and then put it back down on her side plate with a sigh. “Look, how about you put them outside for now? I have to open the boutique shortly, and I do not want the place smelling of fish.”
“But just imagine how many griffons you’d get coming to your store if you di—” On seeing Rarity’s expression, Plaid swallowed down the rest of her sentence and swiftly replaced the lid. However, she made sure her pout was visible as she opened the back door and placed the box of dead fish outside. She didn’t want Rarity to think she could get her own way completely.
“I think that it’s awesome that she tries so hard to inspire me,” she said, re-entering the kitchen. She swiped a couple of pastries and crammed them in her mouth, before glancing at herself in the long mirror opposite the table.
She nodded, satisfied. Despite what Acid Test had said to her at fashion school, Plaid thought she was the spit of what an avant garde designer and business owner should be. Her large cerise eyes and broad smile were warm and welcoming, and her bushy purple mane was telling the world that here stood a mare who had so many awesome ideas she could barely keep them all in her head.
Rarity was lowering the used plates and cups into the sink. She looked over her shoulder with an eyebrow raised. “Excuse me, dear. I couldn’t help but notice that you said ‘awesome’?”
Plaid fluffed up the feather collar of her jacket so that it contained just the right balance of sass and edge. “I did… Oh, wait. It’s… weird?” She watched Rarity’s encouraging nod and slowly copied it. “Yeah, it’s weird, that’s right. But still pretty awesome.”
Her eyes grew wide as a thought came to her. “Oh, idea! I could skin ’em and make a fish suit out of them.”
Rarity’s white coat turned a shade whiter. “Oh, Plaid! Why, that’s simply vile! Why ever would you want to do something like that?”
“I’m glad you asked!” Plaid leapt forwards, her muzzle pressing against Rarity’s. “What’s a fish good at? Swimming fast, right? And what are ponies not so good at?”
Rarity sighed, pushing Plaid back a step with her hoof. “Swimming fa—”
“Bam! Instant market!” Plaid’s hoof smashed down on the table, knocking over the remaining cups. “Do you see how quick that was? Gabby’s definitely my muse or something.”
Lifting up the cups so that she could check them for cracks, Rarity returned to the sink. “Yes, well, perhaps you could save that particular idea for when your apprenticeship here is finished and you’re back in Manehatten? There’s probably more of a—ah—market there.” Before Plaid could respond, Rarity had glided past her, pausing only to smooth down her collar, and onto the shop floor.
“Now come along.” Her usually melodious voice sounded tight. “We’ve got a number of ponequins that still need finishing off, and the stock on those hat stands need rotating, before we can open.”
Plaid dragged her hooves as she followed Rarity onto the shop floor, and watched with a frown as the older mare fussed over fabric spectrums and complimentary colour schemes and other strange sounding concepts. Plaid had enjoyed working with her over the past month, but honestly? Rarity had far too many bizarre ideas for her liking.
After pinning back the loose translucent ribbons on a range of particularly lavish gowns, Rarity looked about the room and nodded.
“There. We’re just about ready, I believe. Now, Plaid. Can we please remember to this time make sure that your designer labels are clearly attached and on display?” She looked over shoulder. “Oh, come now, don’t give me that look—it’s just, well, I would simply hate to take credit for such… unique ideas.”
Plaid pursed her lips, and moved to stand beside her—bijou, Rarity had called it—section of the shop floor, tucked nicely away in the corner. Behind the rail of sale items. And the extra-discount bins. And the hundred-year-old Prench four-panel screen that Rarity had conveniently dug out of the attic the same time that Plaid had begun to sell her designs.
It took her a few moments to find the optimal position from which to glare at Rarity.
“Yes, Daddy would be very unhappy if I told him that I wasn’t selling anything, and that my apprenticeship was suffering as a result.”
“Oh, I can imagine I would never hear the last of it.” Rarity appeared beside the Prench screen and quickly folded it away, flashing Plaid a wide, but not too sincere, smile. Then she trotted back to the front door, sniffing the air as she moved. “Honestly, fish. Doesn’t it seem like a step down from Gabby’s last gift?”
“What, the clarinet?” Plaid shook her head. “No way! Different, sure, but you don’t want two ideas that are exactly the same. That’d be redundant!”
Rarity slowly shook her head. “Well, its… inspirational qualities notwithstanding, the clarinet did make for a charming gift. I remember Gabby talking about how much she enjoyed making it, not to mention playing it.” She sighed, almost wistfully. “How that griffon could make such art from but a few notes is beyond me.”
“Well it’s going to good use,” Plaid replied, stifling a yawn at Rarity’s reverie. She spun the ponequin nearest to her around, and lifted up the plaid neckerchief that hung at the top of the dress. “I got the perfect idea from it—check it out!”
Rarity stared at the dress for a long time before responding.
“Well, that certainly looks, um, unique, Plaid. Is that red stitching on brown too?—My, so… bold!” She finally managed to tear her eyes away to look at Plaid. “It’s very you. I’m delighted that you’ve managed to find your… style at such a tender age.”
Plaid set her teeth together in a wide smile. “They’re soundtrack clothes!” she announced. “Clothes that have musical instruments sewn into them. Perfect for when you want your entrance to have a little more pizzazz.”
“For goodness…” Rarity shook her head. “Pizzazz, darling?”
Plaid pulled the clarinet free from under the neckerchief and played a few notes. Her eyes met Rarity’s triumphantly.
“Pi—zazz!”
“Oh yes, you can really hear it now.” Rarity trotted towards Plaid, plucking several dresses and suits off the rails as she did so. “Well, as you will—hopefully—learn, a well-made garment will make an entrance sublime, captivating, and unforgettable, without the need for such low-brow alterations.”
She knitted her brows as each item of clothing floated in front of her, before selecting one and presenting it to Plaid.
“This cerulean number, for example—”
“Definitely needs a flute.” Plaid tried to emulate the look of concentration Rarity had worn when she had studied the dress. “Or maybe a triangle.”
With a plastered grin falling off her face, Rarity marched back to the shop door and opened it.
The morning brought with it as much success as every other morning had since Plaid had been allowed to try and sell her designs at the boutique. Which was to say, very little at all. It was a friendly enough town, all things considered—certainly friendlier than Manehatten had been to her at any rate—and Plaid had fallen in love with the colourful and hodgepodge buildings and streets. But the locals here were far too fussy and far too unadventurous, particularly when it came to clothes and accessories.
“Please, ma’am, just slow down a second,” she cried after a departing customer. “I know you wanted a dress with subtle accents, but just think how you would sound with a tuba! It compliments your size!” she added desperately as the shop door closed with a bang.
Rarity was at her side in an instant. “Plaid Stripes, what are you doing?” she hissed through her teeth. “Remember what I told you on your first day. The customer is always right.”
Plaid stamped a hoof on the floor. “Except when they’re not! We’re inventors, Rarity. Visionaries! Customers are just ponies looking up at the stars, but we’re the ponies who glued them there, or taped them, or something. Anyway, we definitely know what’s best for them.”
Rarity opened her mouth to retort, but the only sound that escaped was a strangled sigh. She stalked away between the rails and ponequins, muttering under her breath. Plaid watched her go with a scowl on her face.
Why hadn’t somepony told her that the world of business would be this tough? Her dad should have for a start, and if it wasn’t his fault, it was Rarity’s. Or maybe those fashion-blind ponies who kept staring at her clothing range as if she wasn’t a genius or something.
Turning to look at her meagre collection, Plaid felt all of the anger and accusation escape with the sigh that crept from her lips. Perhaps she could have a go at arranging them by colour or something—it was worth a shot, surely.
She had just lifted an orange hoof towards the display when her vision went dark, and something hard, warm and scaly was pressed against her eyes.
“Guess who?” The voice was light and chirpy, and almost carried away by its own melody. Grinning from ear to ear, Plaid grabbed the talons in her hooves and spun around. Behind her stood a griffon her own height, covered from head to paw in charcoal grey feathers, save for some patchy cornflower markings on her face and throat.
“Gabby!” she cried, jumping on the spot.
The griffon’s eyes were like sunlight reflecting on water. “You got me!” she giggled, pulling Plaid in close. “That’s twenty-two for twenty-two, right? I think you might be the best pony at guessing in all of Ponyville!”
Plaid instantly felt the dark mood lift from her withers as she gave her friend a tight hug. “It’s so great to see you,” she replied, “but what are you doing here today? I thought you were taking the day off to write back to your friend?”
“That’s exactly what I was doing! But I think I overestimated how long it would take me, ’cos I finished writing it in an hour.” Her pupils, which hadn’t settled on a single point for longer than a second, suddenly diluted. “Oh, I hope that doesn’t mean I’ve left anything out. I’ve learnt so much from working here, I’d be a terrible friend if I forgot to pass some of it on to Gwendolyn.”
Plaid giggled as Gabby wrung her talons, a look of concern on her avian features. The griffon was one of the most kind, helpful and supportive creatures she had ever met, and she considered herself lucky to be able to call her a friend. It had been several weeks since Gabby had turned up at the boutique, asking Rarity if she could help out around the store. She had explained that her friend in Griffonstone, Gwendolyn, was trying to start up a clothing business, and Gabby wanted to get enough first-talon experience to help her grow it. Plaid had been initially frustrated by how the griffon managed to always say and do the right thing, it hadn’t taken long for the two of them to become firm friends.
“So do you wanna go for lunch?” Gabby’s wings rippled as she turned to look around the boutique. “This place looks like it’s been really busy today, so you’ve gotta be hungry, right? Right?”
Plaid felt a shiver of anticipation run up her spine. “Sounds great! Can we go to Crouton’s this time, though?”
Gabby was already bounding to the door. She padded back, her eyes blinking and her head tilting sharply. “You mean that really fancy Prench place that makes those lovely fondants and always looks so cosy and romantic?”
“Er, sure?” Truth be told, Plaid didn’t have a clue what they sold or what the vibe there was. All she knew was that she had seen the glasses they used for serving their orange juice and knew they were the right size to try out her latest invention.
“W—Wow! That sounds great, Plaid! Do you have a reservation then?” Gabby’s head bobbed as she spoke. “Though it’s totally okay if you don’t. I helped out there last summer by designing their new menu, and Crouton himself told me there would always be a table for me.”
She grabbed Plaid’s hooves in her talons, her laugh becoming a surging trill. “Oh I can’t wait! This is gonna be so much fun I could just explode! Come on, let’s go!”
“Hang on a sec.” Plaid braced herself against Gabby’s insistent tugs, and craned her head around ponequin beside her. “Hey, Rarity! Is it okay if I go for lunch a little early today?”
“Of course! Take an extra hour too if you’d like, my dear.” Rarity’s singsong voice carried back to them before Plaid had even finished speaking. “My treat.”
“So, tell me about your day!” Gabby pecked enthusiastically at the cob of corn in her talons. “I bet you’ve sold loads of your things, right?”
Plaid stretched her upper body across the table as she sipped her orange juice. She kept her eyes on the straw that coiled from around the glass to form a bracelet around her foreleg. The flow of the orange juice had been fine, if a little slow, but it didn’t seem as though this was the best position to have to be in during lunch or dinner. Her eyes drifted upwards, and she realised that Gabby was watching her expectantly.
“It’s been tough,” she replied. “The ponies here are so shortsighted when it comes to new fashion ideas—well, except Pinkie Pie, I guess.”
A waiter drifted by them then, and as Plaid tracked his movement she found herself taking in the rest of the restaurant. It definitely cosy, and the baskets of colourful, sweet-scented flowers that were suspended from the vine-courted rafters, coupled with the shelves of wax-caked bottles and rural-flavoured ornaments, made Crouton’s feel even smaller. The shadows of landscape paintings flickered and lurched in the candlelight that radiated from every table.
Truth me told, Plaid thought the place seemed pretty cheesy, but Gabby seemed to be enjoying it. The griffon hadn’t stopped talking about it since they had arrived, pausing only to make the occasional pleasant birdsong at the couple sitting at the table beside them.
“I think you’re being far too hard on yourself.” Gabby tapped the straw bracelet wrapped tightly around her own arm and beamed. “Your ideas are always inspirational, and just so much fun. Seeing what new and wonderful things you come up with is my favourite part of every day!”
“Well it’s good to know someone does,” Plaid replied. She slurped noisily at her straw, ignoring the stares from the other customers.”
Gabby’s blue eyes darted across the room. After a moment, a smile found its way back onto her beak.
“Just remember what Rarity said: ‘Find the product for your market, not the market for your product’.
Plaid sat upright. “Hey, when did she say that?”
Picking up her corn, Gabby took another few pecks. “A few weeks ago, wasn’t it? When she was giving us both that training about showcasing new dress lines.”
Plaid huffed. She remembered that morning only too well. Rarity had been so enthusiastic, and she had even brought along Princess Twilight Sparkle, who had been even more enthusiastic, to help and model some dresses. Try as she might, though, Plaid just couldn’t make any of Rarity’s concepts and ideas stick in her head, and it didn’t take long after that for her interest to move on to her own designs. Which is when she accidentally stuck that pin in Princess Twilight’s flank.
She studied the plate of hay fries on the table between them and sighed. She tried, she really did, but all of that serious practical stuff about running a business was so dull and boring.
“It’s not fair.” She turned her gaze away from Gabby’s questioning stare to the couple sat next to them, who were drinking cider straight from their glasses like bland fools. Clearly too unorganised to bring a straw, and too shy to request one, they were stuck trying to manipulate the delicate, ornate glasses with their hooves.
“I couldn’t even sell one of my soundtrack garments,” she continued, turning back to her friend. “Sorry, Gabby. I really wanted that idea of yours to take off.”
“W—What are you saying?” Gabby’s wings twitched, and she drummed her claws against the tabletop. “It was your idea, and a great one at that! A—And anyway, I’m just happy that my clarinet gave you such inspiration.”
Plaid furrowed her brow. “You mean, you don’t mind if the idea was a flop?”
“I’m just saying it’s okay with me that you haven’t been able to sell it.” Gabby’s voice dropped to a mumble. “You can always keep it, that way.”
Plaid reached across for a hay fry, and popped it her mouth, thinking about Gabby’s words as she chewed. She had a point. Perhaps the soundtrack clothing line was a little too daring for Ponyville, but she still had the clarinet. That meant that she could use it again on something bigger, better, and most certainly bold-er.
“Thanks, Gabby,” she said, smiling at her friend.
The griffon’s head snapped to one side, her eyes wide. “Huh? What for?”
“For being awesome!” Plaid took one of Gabby’s slender talons in her hooves, her sour mood being dispelled by the glow spreading from her chest to her cheeks. “I told Daddy about you in my last letter back home. He’s always said to me that great friends are harder to come by than a miniature hot tub. You’re always supporting me and cheering me on, and you never tell me that my ideas—” she swept the part of her mane that had been separated into a ponytail by a jazzy scrunchie, and fluttered her lashes “—need more refinement, darling.”
Gabby’s cornflower-flecked chest started to rise and fall quickly, her eyes roaming the room in jagged angles. Plaid studied her for a moment, before giving her talon a squeeze.
“So thanks,” she added. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re a great friend.”
The words seemed to have a strange and sudden effect on Gabby. Her body froze, her wings becoming stiff planes. For a few seconds, the only movement was the bobbing of her throat.
“Great… friend.” A shadow passed across her eyes, and she laughed tremulously. “Well, that’s me! I’m always happy to share some griffon-y love and support with my favourite pony.” As silence again fell across the candle-soaked ambiance of their table, she started to fiddle with the corn husk on her plate. “So…”
Plaid cocked her head, waiting. When Gabby didn’t elaborate, she twirled a hoof. “So, what?”
Gabby continued to stare at the table, running a claw down the length of it. She inhaled deeply, then looked up, her eyes shimmering and bright.
“Sodidyoulikethepresent?”
Plaid recoiled, then snorted out a laugh. “The fish? Gotta be honest, Gabby, when I first saw them I thought it was a little strange.”
“Y—You did?”
“Yeah, but only at first.” Plaid waggled her eyebrows. “Then I sussed out what you were thinking!”
Gabby looked as though she was having trouble breathing. “Youdid?”
“Of course I did, who do you think you’re talking to here?” Plaid leaned back in her chair, a satisfied smile on her lips. “It was obvious once I stopped to think about it. Lucky cat magnets, yeah?”
“Lucky…” Gabby shook her head, and the motion seemed to bleed some of the light from her eyes. “Cat… magnets?”
“Bingo!” Plaid dipped her head to take a pen from pocket of her jacket, and pulled a napkin close. It might have been an upmarket restaurant, but there were idea thieves lurking everywhere these days. She was already wondering whether the intentions of the waiter, who had been standing a little too close their table since they had arrived, were entirely honorable.
“So listen,” she continued, speaking around the pen as she scribbled on the napkin. “Everypony is always talking about having bad luck, right?”
Gabby frowned as she watched Plaid work. “They are?”
Plaid looked up. “That’s what they say to me, anyway. So check this out! When a black and white cat crosses your path it means good luck, right? So what you do is attach some fish to a cord and wear it around your neck. When a black and white cat comes to eat the fish it crosses in front of you.” She slammed a hoof down on the table so hard it made Gabby jump. “BAM! Instant good luck!”
Gabby moved her gaze between Plaid and the napkin. “Don’t you… Don’t you want to eat them?”
“The cats?”
“No! The fish!”
Plaid pulled a face. “Eat the fish? Gross! I’m bold, Gabby, but I’m not that bold!”
Gabby’s mouth worked soundlessly as she fixed her eyes on some point above Plaid’s head. “They’re pretty tasty, if you give them a chance,” she replied eventually, drumming her talons against the table. “A—Also, those are rainbow sticklebacks. They’re rare and… special. Hard to catch.”
Plaid waved a hoof in dismissal. “No thanks. I’ll take Mom’s borscht any day of the week.”
Gabby looked sharply at Plaid. “What’s that?”
“It’s the best soup ever, full of beetroot and all sorts of vegetables.” Plaid felt a disquieting lurch in her stomach as she thought about her home and family back in Manehatten. “Some ponies find it a bit sour, but it always cheers me up. It’s my favourite thing to eat.”
“It is?” Gabby drummed her talons, looking thoughtful.
“Plaid Stripes! Could you please come downstairs this instant and explain… this!”
Plaid fought against her thick duvet and the early morning sunlight, and stumbled from her bedroom to the boutique downstairs. Through the sleepy haze she could make out Rarity standing by the front door, her expression part shocked, part curious and all scandalised.
As Plaid approached, Rarity pulled the door open a crack, and peered out before shutting it again, apparently satisfied with whatever it was she had or hadn’t seen. She looked over her shoulder, her narrowed eyes shifting between steely accusation and pure befuddlement.
“Now, I don’t know whether this is another one of your unique ideas,” she began, her voice a whisper, “but I simply cannot have items like this left on the boutique doorstep. Ponies have certain standards and expectations of us that must be maintained.”
Taking her cue from Rarity, Plaid stepped up to the front door and opened it. Just outside the boutique, wreathed in an early morning mist that embraced the pinks and purples of the brand new sky, stood a small brick stove. On top of it, a pot bubbled, spilling the scent of its contents like badly kept secrets. Catching the scent of something familiar, Plaid inhaled.
The air was so sweet and tangy! Plaid could taste the beetroot and sour cream, and for a few seconds she was transported back home, on the day when she had returned after the first day of school, exhausted and sad, and her mother had made borscht to cheer her up. Plaid’s throat became tight, and her chest was filled with an incomprehensible warmth.
“Plaid? Plaid Stripes, are you feeling okay? Why you look as white as a ghost, darling.”
Plaid blinked, pulling her gaze away from the stove. Rarity was staring at her, concern sparkling in her blue eyes.
“I… uh,” Plaid shook her head, and some of that warmth dispersed. “It looks pretty weird, right?”
Rarity held her gaze for a moment, before nodding. “Yes, well, I’m pleased to see you’re learning,” she replied gently. “Come along now, you can move it away after breakfast.”
“It’s okay, I’ll do it now.” Plaid trotted out and lifted the pot with her forehooves. Swaying gently on her hind legs, she staggered back towards the boutique. Rarity watched her, eyebrows raised.
“I hope you aren’t thinking of—”
Plaid laughed. “Relax, Rarity. I’m just going to eat it.”
It felt as though the pegasi had been saving all of the rainclouds in Equestria especially for today. Plaid Stripes darted through the deluge, ducking under awnings and sheltering in doorways despite how well her kind of-patented, rain-be-gone coat had been bearing up.
Ponyville had practically disappeared behind the turbulent haze, but Plaid had made the trip to Sugarcube Corner almost every day since she had arrived, and could now find her way there with her eyes closed.
She was just approaching the building, its colourful fascia standing like a beacon in the dull, rain-slicked light, when she thought she heard her name being called. Pausing in the street, Plaid strained her ears against the smacks of water and the whispering breeze.
“Plaid!”
Plaid blinked, then looked up just in time to see Gabby swoop down towards her. With a squeak, she tried to move out of the way, but the griffon tilted her body at the last moment, slicing through the air and launching into a bone crunching embrace.
“Oh, it’s so good to see you!” she shrieked, giggling. She was wearing one of Plaid’s rain-be-gone coats, her wings sticking out of haphazard slits in the side, and the water from it quickly soaked into Plaid’s face. A strange fragrance—kind of like perfume, only not—clung to her, and as she breathed it in, Plaid found herself having to blink away white spots from her vision. As she pulled back a step, she found herself looking into Gabby’s shining eyes and broad smile, and her breath momentarily caught in her throat.
“So what are you up to?” Gabby’s eyes moved quickly from Plaid to the various houses on the street. “Have you finished work already? Ooh, wait, let me guess. Coffee run, right?”
Plaid pulled a damp lick of purple mane back beneath her hood. “Same as every day, Gabby,” she replied, grinning. “You coming with?”
“Same as every day!” Gabby balled her talons. “Why would I miss out on an opportunity to hang with my favourite pony?”
Plaid leapt up the steps to the door and threw it open. A cascade of warm, inviting smells, and the sound of ponies laughing over a cheerful polka tune, flooded out to embrace her. Plaid felt her already high spirits lift further. Sugarcube Corner had been a wonderful whirlwind of chaos and joy for as long as she had known it, and it was by far her favourite place in town.
The place was packed with ponies escaping the rain, and Plaid and Gabby had to press through the crowd to reach the counter, where Pinkie Pie was busy serving. She beamed at the pair as she worked, her forelegs a blur as she slid servings, took bits and scribbled down fresh orders.
“Whew, if I didn’t know better, I’d say that the Cakes had become weather witches to drive up sales or something.” She tossed a stack of pancakes and ice cream, which promptly landed in a neat line in front of some appreciative colts and fillies.
“Now, what can I get you?” Pinkie cocked her head, pencil in mouth. “Hey, you girls are in here almost as much as I am. You’re not thinking of stealing my job are you?”
“No way!” Plaid grinned. Pinkie Pie was a cool pony, one of the coolest she knew.
“Ah, I’m just kidding. Rarity would go nuts if I stole her most promising apprentices. Or bananas. Not that I wouldn’t love to see what you could whip up in a kitchen, of course. Your ideas are always great! Anyway, the usual?”
Plaid waved a hoof. “It’s Frappachino Friday,” she replied, smiling. “No point reinventing the wheel, right?”
“Uh-oh, they’re getting to you, kid,” Pinkie giggled as she pulled out some cups and started to fill them. “Stay original! Do you want one too, Gabby?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Plaid wrinkled her muzzle at the sharp edge to Gabby’s words. In all of her weeks of knowing the griffon she had never once heard her talk so bluntly. She wondered whether Gabby was having a bad day, or was maybe burnt out from helping Gwendolyn.
If Pinkie had picked up on anything, she didn’t let it show. She continued to pour the coffee, her eyes bouncing between the liquid and the growing queue.
“So I’m thinking you definitely want a shot of something in here, right?”
Plaid inhaled the rich aroma and smiled. “No thanks, Pinkie, plain is good.” She caught something else in the air then, something tangy beneath the coffee and the pastries, and sniffed herself. Had Gabby’s perfume rubbed off on her or something?
“See what I mean? It’s happening already!” Pinkie flashed a toothy grin as she finished filling up the last of the cups. “So come on, what do you think? Caramelberry? Moon Nutmeg? Sin-amon—ooh, maybe you’re still a bit too young for that one.”
“Thanks, Pinkie, but I’m—”
“Oh, what about this new Black Cherry—?”
“She said she’s fine!” Gabby’s voice, shrill and biting, sliced through the jovial atmosphere. Her feathers had become puffy and ruffled, and had started to peek out at odd angles from inside of her coat.
Pinkie stared at the griffon for a few moments, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. Then she leaned across the counter towards Plaid, a pink hoof cupped across her muzzle.
“I don’t think she likes black cherry!” she whispered loudly.
Plaid smiled at her, then turned to Gabby. The griffon’s eyes were bright and watchful, and kept darting between the two ponies. Her talons were flexing, her breathing rapid.
“Er, are you feeling okay, Gabby?”
Gabby’s gaze snapped round to bear on Plaid, causing the young pony to take a step backwards. There was something wild and desperate about those eyes, despite the shaky smile that almost reached them.
“O—Of course I’m fine,” Gabby said, gasping out the words. “Absolutely fine. I’m fine, you’re fine, Pinkie Pie is fine. The two of you seem a—absolutely fine.” She held their surprised gazes for a moment, then laughed.
“Sorry. It’s been a long week and I’m really beat. I turn into a real a cranky chick when I’m tired.”
Plaid’s muzzle crinkled. “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you grumpy, Gabby, tired or not. It’s actually one of the best things about you.”
“It… It is?” Gabby blinked, then rubbed the feathers that had been bunched on the back of her head. A nervous giggle escaped her beak. “Well that’s me! Your bubbly, irrepressible, happy-go-lucky friend!”
Plaid watched Gabby narrow her eyes again at Pinkie when she thought nopony was looking, and felt something chill and uncomfortable worm its way into her stomach.
“Here you go!” Pinkie slid the cups across the counter. “Three super-boring frappachinos in one super-fun withers carry-tray.”
Before Plaid could lift a hoof, Gabby had swept the tray up in her talons.
“I’ve got it,” she chirped, ducking her head under the strap and lowering the tray gently until its weight was taken. She looked at both the ponies and grinned.
Plaid prodded the tray, her eyes dancing with excitement. “This is amazing!”
Pinkie Pie waved a casual hoof. “Ah, just a little thing I threw together. You know, the first time you watch a pony almost break a leg after spilling a drink and slipping it’s funny. The fiftieth or sixtieth time? Well, lemmie tell you, lawsuits and cross-examinations can get booooor-iiiing.”
Plaid chuckled. Beside her, Gabby frowned and turned back to the counter.
“I’m getting these! How much do I owe?”
“Ah, this one’s on me,” Pinkie replied, her mane dipping to snatch a couple of napkins and deposit them on the counter.
Gabby’s eyes narrowed, and her talon gripped the counter so hard that thin swirls of wood bucked and arched around the claws. “I said I’m getting these!”
Pinkie blinked slowly, her eyes rotating between Gabby and Plaid, and then up to the chalkboard sign hanging above the counter. She lifted a hoof to point at it. “Um… It’s Free Frappachino Friday, Gabby. They’re all on me.”
Gabby looked up at the sign, her eyes widening as she read the looping cursive. A strange trilling sound escaped her throat, and her wings pressed against her barrel. Then she grinned.
“That’s a really nice idea, Pinkie Pie, so generous!” She pulled Plaid Stripes into a tight embrace, and again the young mare caught that almost overwhelming aroma of vanilla and citrus, and of the summer sky itself. “Come on, Plaid, let’s go. It’s still raining, and I want to get out of her and use this awesome coat of yours as much as possible!”
Pinkie Pie watched the griffon bound out the door, then glanced at Plaid, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “I watered down her coffee. That girl’s had enough.”
“Ow! Hey, watch the muzzle, bub!”
Plaid Stripes stumbled sideways, spots of light exploding across her vision as she clutched her face. She had been in such a hurry to duck into the shop that she hadn’t seen the pony on the other side of the door until they had collided with one another.
“Oh sorry, I didn’t see—” Plaid blinked, bracing herself against the grocery-laden shelf beside her. “Apple Bloom! How are you doing?”
Apple Bloom shook her head, then smiled. “Hey, Plaid. I’m jus’ dandy, thanks for askin’.” She lifted a hoof to smooth out the bow in her thick red mane. “How’ve you been? Applejack asked me to invite you over for dinner this Friday if I saw you about. We’re all lookin’ forward to hearin’ what you’ve been workin’ on.”
Plaid beamed, her frustration and concern easing away in the company of the filly. She enjoyed spending time with the Apples—they had an honesty that she appreciated, and had always seemed approving of her ideas. Applejack had invited her over the day after Plaid had arrived in Ponyville, struggling under the weight of her saddlebags, and since then the whole family had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome. Her relationship with Apple Bloom had only strengthened since Gabby had returned to Ponyville, and the discovery that the griffon was also friends with the youngest Apple.
“That sounds great! And I’m doing fine… sort of.” Plaid ran a hoof through her purple mane. “I’m learning stuff from Rarity, which sounds like it’s going to help, but I just want to get back to making and selling my own stuff again. I’m on a ban at the moment.”
Apple Bloom’s face became sympathetic. “Oh, yeah. Sweetie Belle said somethin’ about Rarity not likin’ your cat magnet idea.” She slapped a hoof against Plaid’s withers. “If it’s any consolation, I thought it sounded neat. We definitely need some good luck around the farm, what with the big harvest comin’.”
Plaid felt a giddy rush of pleasure at the compliment. “Do you want one? I can give you a cut-price deal!”
“Er, how much we talkin’?” Apple Bloom wrinkled her muzzle as she gestured towards the nearby shelf. “I’ve been savin’ up my allowance for one of these here harmonicas. My old one dropped in some pig swill and I’ve not been convinced by Granny’s methods of cleanin’ it.”
“I really need to speak to you about my soundtrack garments then,” said Plaid, grabbing Apple Bloom by the shoulders. “But you can have one of the cat magnets for free—Rarity is always telling me I should offer more free samples.”
Her eyes caught the shadow of movement through the glass-fronted door of the shop, and her blood chilled in her veins. It had disappeared within a moment, but Plaid didn’t need longer than that to link the fleeting image with what it represented. She leapt behind a rotating postcard display, and peered through the sunlight-dusted window. Outside, a colourful spectrum of ponies were going about their daily business in the street; Plaid’s eyes roved between market stall vendors haggling with their customers, and friends prancing between shop displays. She couldn’t see Gabby, but she knew she was out there—just knew it.
Her throat was dry and tight as she scanned the rooftops. Where had the griffon gone? Plaid had to find out, or she’d be pounced on before she even took two steps from the shop. And Plaid wasn’t sure how much more pouncing she could take. Or dead animals being left outside the boutique. Or Rarity shouting at her because there were dead animals being left outside the boutique. Or her dad shouting at Rarity because she shouted at her because there were dead animals being left outside the boutique.
“You, uh, okay there, Plaid?”
Pulled from her thoughts, Plaid looked down at her friend. Apple Bloom, who was now holding a harmonica by its price tag in her mouth, had arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it’s just…” Plaid studied her friend as an idea began to take shape. “Tell you what, you can have a cat magnet for free if you do me a favour.”
Apple Bloom laughed, the harmonica clattering to the floor. “You ain’t very good at this hagglin’ lark, are you?” she replied, turning the instrument with a hoof to make sure it wasn’t broken. “But sure, anythin’ to help a friend in need. What’s up?”
“It’s, er, about Gabby.” Plaid’s eyes pulled back to the window as she spoke, half expecting the griffon to have been summoned by her name alone. An unpleasant cold sweat settled on her coat.
“Gabby?” Apple Bloom dipped her head to pick up the harmonica, and gestured for Plaid to follow her to the counter. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing!” Plaid cringed as every pony in the store reacted to her exclamation. She kept her eyes on Apple Bloom, avoiding the concentration of gazes focused on her. “I mean, nothing,” she continued, lowering her voice. “But don’t you think she can be a little… weird?”
Apple Bloom let out a mirthful snort. “A bit pot and kettle, that, Plaid? Anyway, weird like how?”
Plaid rubbed a hoof across the back of her neck. “So, like, she’s started following me around—”
“Well, yeah, I know you girls have been hangin’ out.”
“—a lot.” Plaid waited as Apple Bloom paid for the harmonica, trying to figure out the best way of explaining the problem clearly. As the salespony rang up the transaction and took the bits, she worked it out.
“I think Gabby’s a stalker!”
Apple Bloom’s mouth fell open, and the harmonica again dropped to the floor, this time with a wince-inducing crack. In the silence that followed, she looked from the remains of her purchase to the salespony, who merely shrugged. She glared at Plaid until the enormity of what had been said had again sunk in.
“A stalker?”
Plaid nodded. “I think. I mean, I thought she was helping me come up with some cutting edge ideas at first—you know, a musical instrument here, a box of dead fish there. Small stuff, right?”
After a moment, Apple Bloom nodded, though her expression suggested the act was less about agreeing with Plaid and more not knowing what else to do.
“But get this, she got really angry with Pinkie Pie when we were talking about her withers carry-case idea last week, and yesterday I was speaking to that nice farmpony, Golden Harvest, about her awesome carrot planting contraption. Gabby appeared out of nowhere, glared at her, and then spent the rest of the day in the tree opposite the boutique watching me through the window.”
Apple Bloom frowned. “That does seem a little odd. But stalkin’ you? Why would she want to do a thing like that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Plaid exclaimed. After deducing from Apple Bloom’s expression that it perhaps wasn’t that obvious, she threw her forelegs up in exasperation. “She’s worried that I’m going to get new ideas or inspiration from other ponies. She’s become a stalker-muse!”
“Well, uh, have you tried speaking to her?”
“I’ve not been able to!” Plaid dropped onto her flank and massaged her temples. “I never get the chance. The second she sees me, she’s crushing me with hugs, or dropping dead squirrels on my head, or singing that weird griffon song to me.”
As she spoke, Plaid became aware once more of the strange feeling that had been sitting in her stomach for the past week. She fiddled with the collar on her jacket and sighed.
“I haven’t been able to hang with her—like we used to—for ages. I just want my friend back.”
Apple Bloom’s features softened, and she wrapped a foreleg around Plaid.
“Hey now, I’m sure we can work out what’s spoilin’ the cider,” she replied cheerfully. “Sounds as if she’s gone a little bit kooky from trying to help you so much, and if there’s anypony who can deal with a problem like that, it’s me and the rest of the Crusaders. We’ll just speak—”
“You can’t speak to her about it!” Plaid’s eyes were wide. “If she gets it in her head that you’re trying to get between me and my ideas, it might make her even more, um, helpful.”
“We can’t speak to her? Horseapples, you ain’t makin’ this easy for us, Plaid.” Apple Bloom rubbed a hoof against her chin. “Well, as it happens, I think I know a way round that. Might take a bit longer though. I’m sure we’ll have some idea of what to do by the time you come round to the farm for dinner on Friday.”
“But that’s the end of the week!” After a moment, Plaid shook her head. She had been able to hide from Gabby—mostly—for a week now. She could manage a few more days if it meant she could get her friend back to normal. “Okay,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “Thanks, Apple Bloom.”
As Plaid climbed back to her hooves, Apple Bloom cleared her throat. She nodded towards the rack of harmonicas hanging on the shop wall. Plaid grinned ruefully, and reached into her saddlebag for some bits.
Something else to blame on Gabby’s weird transformation, she told herself. At least things couldn’t get any worse.
The next morning, Plaid Stripes awoke with the realisation of two things: First, that the soothing and melodious birdsong that had roused her was coming from the wrong side of the bedroom window.
Second, that her mouth was full of straw and twigs.
Spluttering and coughing, Plaid flailed her limbs as she pushed herself upright, rising panic forcing her body free from the embrace of sleep. Wide eyes swept the bedroom, and as they began to adjust to the haze-soaked light, Plaid’s shock quickly gave way to incredulity.
A giant nest had been built around her bed.
Plaid’s mouth fell open. It was an actual, real nest—with leafy twigs coiled through lengths of hay and straw, and tufts of wool and down packed in the gap between it and the frame of her bed. She looked down at the spot against which her face had been pressed and began to prod it with a hoof. It was so delicately made, yet so solid. But where had it—?
“Hi! Good morning! Did you sleep well?”
Plaid yelped as a head appeared in her peripheral vision. A mass of unruly feathers, blue eyes that were reflecting a jaundiced light, and a smile that was a little too wide, blurred as Plaid scrambled towards the other end of the bed. Her chest heaved as she pressed herself against the side of the nest, and she glared at the interloper.
“Gabby!? W—What in Equestria are you doing?”
The griffon was perched on the edge of the nest, grinning. Her claws tightened their grip as she threw her head back and released another burst of song. It clung to the walls and furnishings like a brittle glass web, and Plaid would have found the melody quite beautiful if she wasn’t so terrified.
“I’m just singing a little griffon-y song to my favourite pony, of course,” Gabby replied, her eyes darting between Plaid and the nest. “I just wanna make sure that you get the very best start to each and every day.”
She winked and stepped down into the nest. “It’s the ‘good morning’ song we used to sing every day at my aviary club when I was a chick—pretty nice, right? It always made me feel great whenever we sang it, like I could take on the whole week at once, you know? Oh! Maybe I can teach you it and you—”
“W—Woah, Gabby, time out! Can you just stop for a minute?” Plaid scooted away from Gabby as she approached, her panic suspended in the warm maelstrom of the griffon’s eyes. This was all starting to feel very wrong now. She could feel it taking shape in the pit of her stomach, pushing out the last traces of sleep from her body and replacing it with a prickling dread.
Gabby stopped in her tracks, her eyes momentarily betraying concern. They moved quickly over Plaid and, along with the way her throat was bobbing and her wings were trembling, gave the impression that the griffon was in danger of exploding like an overfilled balloon.
“Sodidyousleepwell?” The question flew out of Gabby’s mouth faster than one of Plaid’s pegasi-magic powered toothbrushes (perfect for when you’re running late and your hooves are already busy making breakfast and brushing your mane). Her body sagged from the release, and her eyes finally grew still. “Do you… like the nest?”
“The nest? It’s, uh…” Plaid reached out a hoof to steady herself against the structure. The room was feeling even warmer than it had when she had got up, and the air seemed to be thinning.
“It took me ages to save up enough down,” Gabby chirped. Her chest heaved as she spoke. “I could have plucked a load out in one go, but it would have been really obvious then and spoiled the surprise.”
Plaid swallowed. “Gabby—”
“I mean, it feels really comfy to me, but I—I’ve never made a nest for anyone before, so…” she tapped two of her claws together before stepping forward. “Was it nice to sleep in? Cosy? Do you think y—you could get used to it?”
Plaid shrank back. Her mind was racing, trying to recall whether Gabby had always been this large, this formidable. Up close, she blocked the hazy light coming through the window, becoming a silhouette in the process. A silhouette with suns for eyes.
“L—Listen, Gabby—”
“Look I… I know this is all probably really strange to you, it’s the first time for me too,” Gabby’s eyes momentarily lost some of their lustre as they searched Plaid’s face, “b—but it’s been a few weeks now, and it’d be really really nice to have an answer.”
“Gabby stop!” Plaid pushed her forehooves against the griffon, shoving her off-balance. She pressed past her, moving to the other side of the nest. Her breath escaped in ragged bursts as she watched Gabby turn around to face her.
“Plaid, what’s wrong?” The griffon looked confused. “Are you alright?”
Plaid pointed a hoof. “You’re scaring me is what’s wrong!”
Gabby tensed. For a minute, the only movement came from her eyes, reflecting the dull light as they speared various parts of Plaid’s face and body. Then she cleared her throat.
“I’m… scaring you?”
Plaid’s hind legs gave out from beneath her, and she slid down the side of the nest. She sat amongst the down, gasping and nodding.
Gabby tilted her head at a near-impossible angle. Then she laughed. It was a fragile sound, one that set off goosebumps over Plaid’s body. “You’re pulling my tail, right? There’s no way you’re actually scared of me… right?”
Plaid turned away from the almost pleading look on Gabby’s face. The griffon was her friend, there was no way she would add to the griffon’s turmoil by confirming that fact. But she knew she couldn’t deny it either. So instead she just kept her eyes fixed on Gabby’s tail, and waited.
A mournful cry escaped Gabby’s beak. It made Plaid think of rainy days, or her first day of school. It made breathing painful. The griffon slumped against the side of the nest, wringing her talons. Her wings were pressed tight against her body, as though they were attempting to shield her from harm. Her eyes, no longer looking bright and powerful, eventually found Plaid’s.
“I—I messed up?”
For the first time, Plaid began to feel the embers of frustration choke out the fear and concern. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Gabby—I don’t even know what to say! I’ve been hiding from you for the past week precisely because of that!”
Gabby’s brows knitted together. “Hiding from me?”
Plaid took a deep breath before climbing to her hooves. “Gabby, I’m sorry. I just—” her eyes moved to the corner of the room, where her latest design idea lay in pieces on a cupboard. She pointed a hoof towards it “—It was getting so bad I couldn’t even concentrate on finishing that. I was too busy trying not to get pounced on or finding dead animals in my saddlebags.”
“O—Oh…” Something seemed to deflate inside Gabby; the griffon’s breathing slowed to the point where her chest didn’t even look like it was moving anymore, and her tail curled tightly around her hind leg. She clacked her beak, the edges of her eyes beginning to gleam in the weak morning light.
Plaid stared at her friend, feeling a scratch in her throat. She had a vague feeling she had said something wrong, but she was also starting to feel a little angry. She just couldn’t fathom why Gabby was being so cryptic with everything. After all, they were supposed to be friends.
Drawing in another deep breath, she stepped forward and placed a hoof on Gabby’s talon.
“Hey, are you alright?”
Gabby snatched her talon away as though she had been stung. She stared hard at it for a moment, before smiling. “I’m okay, don’t worry,” she replied, her voice sounding almost joyful.
Plaid frowned. “Are you sure? You don’t—”
“No, no, really I’m good.” The burst of laughter that followed was like a window breaking. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy, Plaid. I’m really really sorry I keep disturbing all of your creative time though. I’m, uh, I’m just gonna go.”
“Wait, what?” Plaid reached for Gabby’s talon again, but the griffon sidestepped away towards the window. “No, Gabby, I don’t want you to go anywhere! I just want to talk!”
“It’s fine, Plaid, don’t worry. I—” Gabby shook her head, and pulled the window open. Looking over her shoulder, she flashed a grin. “I’ll see you later. Toodles!”
Plaid Stripes could only watch as the griffon scrambled out of the window, her form vanishing in seconds amongst the buildings and trees of Ponyville. She stared at the point where her friend had disappeared for several minutes before slumping down onto her flank. It felt as though Gabby had taken all of the warmth out of the room with her, and as her eyes drifted back to her incomplete design, Plaid felt her stomach contract.
The first time she had tried to perfect it, she had been left with singed eyebrows and burnt hooves. Gabby had been with her then, and the griffon had made sure her injuries had been tended to within minutes. Even the injuries to her pride and confidence. The more Plaid thought about that, the more her heart began to ache. Gabby had always been there for her, even when she wasn’t in the best of moods. She had never once just left Plaid alone with her darker moods, or hid from her.
Her eyes moved back to the window. Then, decision made, Plaid Stripes rose to her hooves.
Her muse needed her. She wasn’t going to let her down again.
Plaid Stripes galloped out of Carousel Boutique and straight into Apple Bloom’s face.
“Ow! Hey, watch the muzzle, bub!”
Picking herself up off the grass, Plaid rubbed her sore face. “Sorry,” she gasped, moving past her and onto the street. “We need some kind of muzzle air bag necklace or something. I’ll have to think about that later though—I need to find Gabby!”
Apple Bloom shook her head, as though she was trying to clear it. “I thought I saw her fly towards the clubhouse just now,” she replied. “Wait a minute—does that mean she told you?”
Plaid ploughed her hooves into the dirt. She looked over her shoulder, a frown on her face. “She hasn’t told me anything! She built a great big nest in my bedroom, whilst I was asleep, but she didn’t make any sense when I asked her why she did it!”
She felt her heart slam against her chest; it hadn’t stopped since Gabby had flown out the window.
“I need to speak to her though, Apple Bloom. I think she’s upset.”
“That’s not all she is,” Apple Bloom muttered. When Plaid stared at her, the younger filly’s cheeks turned the colour of her mane.
“Come on,” she said, breaking into a canter. “If I know Gabby, there’s goin’ to be a real small window between her gettin’ upset and her flyin’ back to Griffonstone.”
Plaid dodged around a cart full of carrots, falling into pace beside Apple Bloom. “Wait, she’s going to go home?” The thought alone was enough to send her stomach into spasms. “We have to stop her!”
“I know a shortcut, this way.” Apple Bloom turned down a thin track running between two rows of houses, which became a colourful blur as the two ponies galloped past. She looked across at Plaid. “There’s somethin’ you need to know, though. ’Bout Gabby. It’s why I was comin’ over just now.”
“Did she tell you what’s wrong?”
Apple Bloom’s eyes narrowed. “No, because you told me I couldn’t speak to her about it. In case it made things worse, remember?”
Plaid’s face grew warm. “Oh, right. Not my best idea, huh?”
“You’ve had better,” Apple Bloom replied flatly. She held Plaid’s expression for a few moments before grinning.
“So I went and spoke to Princess Twilight instead. She came to our school once to give a talk on griffon culture. I don’t think Miss Cheerilee had been expectin’ her, but Twilight kept talkin’ about all of this research she had done for some sort of trip to Griffonstone. Said she may as well share what she had learnt, seein’ as she ‘clearly wasn’t allowed’ to go and visit the place firsthoof. Come to think of it, she was really grumpy that day. I thought she was just gettin’ into character, you know? ’Cause griffons are supposed to be—”
Plaid cursed as she ran face first into a wet sheet that was hanging from a clothesline between two of the houses. She fought her way through it, and caught up with Apple Bloom, who was still talking away to herself.
“So what did Princess Twilight say?” she interrupted, hoping to get the conversation back on track.
“Well, first she got real excited, and then she forced me to sit through a two hour lecture on griffon courtin’ rituals—with a multiple choice exam at the end to ‘make sure I had been payin’ attention’.” Apple Bloom’s expression had twisted into a scowl. “So you owe me for that.”
Plaid felt a dull ache growing in her lungs by the time they reached the end of the track, the countryside opening out before them. Gentle hills rolled like waves towards Sweet Apple Acres, but Apple Bloom turned away from the farm, angling her gallop at a point where patches of long grass and pastel heather met the borders of a small wooded area.
“Please, Apple Bloom,” she gasped “This is important!”
Apple Bloom rolled her eyes, though her lips were turned up in a smile. “She’s sweet on you, you dolt!”
Plaid Stripes gasped. “Princess Twilight?”
“No! Gabby!”
“Gabby?” Plaid felt what little air remained in her lungs surge free. “Gabby is… What?”
“That’s what Princess Twilight reckons.” Apple Bloom grinned in pleasure as she splashed through a small brook that crossed their path. “She told me that griffons usually show they’re interested in somebeast by provin’ that they can provide for and look after them. All those things she was givin’ you? Gifts.”
Plaid felt the colour drain from her face. “So she really did want me to eat the fish!?”
“That’s what you took from that?” Apple Bloom looked over, her expression incredulous.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just…” Plaid shook her head. “What about her getting angry with other ponies then? You mean that wasn’t her getting jealous that they were trying to inspire me?”
“Er… not quite. Turns out griffons can get pretty territorial. Even the nice ones.”
Plaid ducked under the low hanging branches of the trees that made up the border of the wood. Inside, the canopy was anchored to the forest floor by pillars of morning sunlight. The dew-flecked ground was thick with roots and leaves, and both ponies slowed their pace as they traversed it.
Looking around, Plaid felt some of the warmth leave her cheeks, though the cool, damp air failed to work the same magic on her cluttered brain. She tried to focus her thoughts on what Apple Bloom was saying, but it was proving poor competition for what had already been said.
“Gabby likes me,” Plaid said softly to herself as she trotted behind Apple Bloom. “Gabby… likes me.”
A giggle cut through the still air, disturbing birds and squirrels alike. It took Plaid a few moments to realise that it had been hers.
Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder. “Er, you doin’ okay back there?”
“Yes!” Plaid took a deep breath, and her muzzle was filled with the scent of sweet pollen, berries and fruit. For a moment it sobered her, and she found herself thinking about her argument with Gabby over the nest. “At least, I hope I am.”
“Well that’s good,” Apple Bloom slowed to a halt at the edge of a clearing, “because we’re here. And, by the look of it, so is Gabby.”
Plaid trotted to her friend’s side, and peered out through the foliage. The clearing was large, and bathed in warm sunlight. A natural path led up to the gnarled old tree that held the clubhouse in its branches, bordered on either side by long grasses and fragrant heather.
Every couple of seconds, Gabby paced past the windows. From this far out, Plaid couldn’t make out the griffon’s expression, but it was clear from the way she moved that she wasn’t very happy. Much like it had done earlier, the realisation left Plaid feeling slightly nauseous.
Apple Bloom plucked a stray twig from her mane. “Well, I guess she’s all yours, Plaid.”
Plaid pulled her gaze from the clubhouse. “You’re going back?”
“Didn’t you hear what I jus’ said ’bout griffons with googly eyes bein’ all territorial? Plus, I’ve got no time for this sappy stuff; there are trees needin’ buckin’ back home.” Apple Bloom looked over her shoulder as she trotted away from the clearing. “It clear slipped my mind before, but Gabby was also invited for dinner on Friday, so if you two could sort it all out before then that would save an awkward conversation at the table. Good luck!”
Plaid nodded as her friend disappeared between the trees, but within seconds the excitement that had been building up within her body had dispersed. She willed her body to move, but it was like she was standing in treacle. As she stared up at the clubhouse, her mind was beset with thoughts of what might go wrong. It was obvious they hadn’t been communicating too well on the important things. What if that happened again?
Plaid snorted. No, she told herself, the excitement was still there. It was just being drowned out by fear. But Gabby was probably feeling scared too—scared and awkward and probably embarrassed too, if Plaid’s own experiences were anything to go by..
Fixing her gaze dead ahead, Plaid trotted up the gangway and towards the front door of the clubhouse. Drawing breath, she gently pushed the door open and craned her head round it.
“Uh, Gabby? Can we talk?”
With a startled shriek, Gabby leapt her own height off the ground. Her wings whipped out, but either through shock or fear they remained stiff and unmoving, and the griffon stumbled back to the floor with a crash.
As she watched Gabby pick herself up, eyes wide, Plaid wondered whether it was what she herself had looked like earlier that morning. She tried to ignore the sensation that somepony was sitting on her head, and lifted a foreleg.
“Hey, Gabby.”
Gabby’s chest heaved, but after a few moments a smile spread across her beak.
“Plaid! What are you doing here?”
Plaid stared at the griffon’s smile until it disappeared. “I was going to ask you the same thing!”
Gabby’s tail snaked around her talon and up her arm. “W—Well this is the clubhouse. Perks of being a Cutie Mark Crusader, right? I was just—” her eyes started to scan the room “—er, about to replace some of the wooden boards here. Apple Bloom was saying that some of them had cracked.”
Plaid dropped down onto her flank, and inspected the interior of the clubhouse. Gabby was acting strangely still, but it wasn’t making her scared like before. It was making her sad.
“Gabby, I—”
“Oh, but now that I think about it, I need to go get some paint first.” Gabby moved towards the window, her face fragmenting with every step. “And some nails and, uh, wood. Y—You know, I think it’s gonna take me a while, and I don’t want to keep you from your work with Rarity, and your… ideas…”
On instinct, Plaid opened her mouth, but then clamped it shut as she tried to work out what it was she wanted to say. She needed to cut through Gabby’s bluster; something that would keep the griffon grounded, and from bolting out the window. Most importantly,though, something that would release the terrible pressure that was filling her head and making it—
“AppleBloomsaidthatPrincessTwilightoldheryoulikeme!”
Plaid froze as the words tumbled from her mouth. That wasn’t what she had planned to say at all.
It did, however, have the desired effect. Halfway to the window, Gabby went rigid, the tips of her feathers becoming delicate grey spears that pointed accusingly at the world. Her eyes, as wide as dinner plates, moved to meet Plaid’s, and her thin tongue whipped across the edge of her beak
Plaid kept her gaze neutral. “Is… it true?”
Gabby gave the window one last forlorn look, and then sighed. Her body sagged as her hindquarters found the floor. “Yeah… it’s true.”
Plaid’s world spun at Gabby’s confirmation; she blinked away dazzling clusters of stars as she replayed the words over and over again. After the tenth time or so she got up, and trotted up to the griffon.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was!” Gabby’s throat bobbed once. “At least, I thought I was.”
Plaid dropped onto her flank. She looked at her friend and cocked her head. “Gabby, I’m not a griffon.”
She felt Gabby’s body stiffen beside her. “Y—Yeah… I know that. But you’re so cool and different—amazingly different—that I didn’t think it would bother you.”
“Huh?” Plaid’s eyes widened. “No! I mean, I’m not a griffon; I don’t understand all these weird things you do when you… like somebeast. It freaked me out a little, and before that I just thought you were helping me come up with awesome new ideas.”
“I guess I knew that.” Gabby’s laugh had a nervous edge to it. “I wrote to Gwendolyn when I realised how I was feeling; she told me to take things slow, but I guess I got a little excited. I’m sorry.” She ran a talon through her headfeathers before glancing across. “I really do like helping you come up with ideas, though.”
“Yeah, I like that too.” Plaid smiled. “I’ve been kinda thinking of you as my muse, you know?”
She lifted a forehoof and rested it on top of Gabby’s talon. The contact unleashed a swarm of butterflies inside her stomach—butterflies that were armed with needles and pins. Gabby looked down at the hoof and swallowed.
“But I realised when I was hiding from you that I missed doing those things that weren’t about my ideas,” Plaid continued. "You know, like all those fun coffee runs, and that time we made those huge paper boats we took racing down Whitehill Rapids? Things like that.”
Plaid bit her lip. “I should have remembered that sooner. I wasn’t a good friend to you Gabby, and I’m sorry.”
Gabby’s face had regained some of its warmth. She trilled a light melody and wrapped an arm around Plaid’s withers. “Don’t apologise.”
Plaid sat there with warm cheeks and a fluttering stomach, wondering what to do next. It felt important to be true to herself, and leaning her head against Gabby’s chest seemed like a pretty out-of-the-box thing to do. So she did, smiling as the soft, warm feathers—an amazing blend of blue and grey hues when seen this close up—tickled and caressed her muzzle. She could pick up the griffon’s scene again, though it was more muted than before, and her heart fluttered as she breathed it in.
She tapped Gabby on the talon.
“Just for the record, I wouldn’t have a problem dating a griffon. I never really thought about it before, but I’ve never really thought about dating in general much either. This, though… This I could really dig.”
“Seriously?” Gabby’s voice trembled, and Plaid could feel one of the griffon’s wings press against her as it attempted to unfurl. “You’re being honest, right? You’re not just saying it to make me feel better? Because I’d—”
Plaid opened her mouth to speak, but laughter tumbled free instead of words. It felt like the weight she had been carrying around on her back for the best part of a month had finally slid away, and she couldn’t help but laugh until her sides hurt.
Gabby’s body had initially stiffened, but as she looked down at her, Plaid could see a blush forming beneath the feathers on her face.
“S—Sorry,” the griffon said. “But you can’t blame me being just a little bit excited, right?”
Plaid grinned. “Gabby, you’re so amazing. Please don’t ever change.”
Gabby giggled and gave Plaid a tight squeeze. In the silence that followed, her tail began to lash and whip the floor. “So… what do we do now?”
Plaid looked up, eyebrows raised. “I, uh, don’t really know. Date, I guess?”
A thoughtful look transformed Gabby’s features. “Well, it’s just… When a griffon accepts, it’s traditional for the couple to go on a special flight together.”
“Really? That sounds fun.”
“It’s supposed to be wonderful.” Gabby sighed wistfully. “We’d fly really really high, and then free-fall back towards the ground in each other’s arms, until the very last moment. It’s supposed to show the trust, commitment and passion between the two griffons.”
Feeling her heartbeat quicken uncomfortably, Plaid sat up and looked at Gabby.
“Er, maybe we could try that a bit later on?” She ran a hoof down Gabby’s chest, marvelling at the way it sank into her feathers. “Perhaps when we’ve found out how to turn some of this into a decent pony flight-suit.”
Gabby shuddered at the contact, though she couldn’t quite hide the disappointment on her face. Plaid noticed it, and smiled reassuringly.
“How about, until then, we have a go at the pony way—you know, going out for food? Giving chocolates and flowers?”
“Okay.” Gabby’s eyes shone as she pulled Plaid into another bone-crunching embrace. “You got a deal!”
Plaid Stripes could barely contain her excitement as she marched towards the kitchen of Carousel Boutique, a small, neatly wrapped box balanced atop her back, and a bouquet of sweet-smelling flowers in her mouth.
Rarity was sitting at the table, a cup of coffee and a buttered crumpet hovering beside her as she skimmed through the stack of mail between her hooves. Her eyes flicked up as Plaid entered, moving from the young mare to the box, and then the flowers. She took a small sip of coffee before offering Plaid a pleasant smile.
“Good morning, darling. I must say, you’re looking quite the smitten kitten.”
Plaid laughed. “Check it out, Rarity!” She dropped the bouquet onto the breakfast table, before tipping the box off her back and unwrapping it. Her heart thumped against her chest as she teased the pretty ribbon off and lifted the lid.
“Flowers and chocolates?” Rarity’s horn lit up as she lifted the flowers to her muzzle. “Oh my, they smell divine, and so complimentary too. That’s so lovely of her, Plaid. Why, Gabby must—”
“Be back to her awesome best!” Plaid exclaimed. She looked down at the dark swirls of chocolate and praline, glossy and resplendent in their delicate rows, and grinned. “I wonder what they’re going to inspire me to make?”
Rarity stared at Plaid for a moment. Then, with a shake of her head, she returned to her crumpet, a small smile on her lips.
Author's Note
Thank you for reading. You can find a retrospective about this fic here, if you enjoyed it and wanted to find out a little more about how it came to be.
