The news came to Fleetfoot like a brick to the face. The day had started out ordinarily enough, like all days did. She’d just been running through a few practice tricks out at the course, stretching her wings before the next big show.
That was where the mailpony had found her. She was an odd sort to be sure. Bubbles on her flank, and eyes which never seemed to look right at you. They just lazed off to one side. Fleetfoot had honestly been surprised that the mare hadn’t crashed landed into anything, with the way her eyesight was. But then again, Fleetfoot had been known to have been taken by surprise by a lot of things before. That was how she’d earned her callsign, Flatfoot they called her.
It had been at one point, where she’d been caught off guard at one point by a statement (She’d honestly forgotten what it was really, so long ago.) from Soarin, and had managed to make up some stupid response in her bewildered state. And so, everypony had seen her caught flat footed, and the name stuck.
Being caught flat footed by the letter she’d been given was a very accurate assessment of Fleetfoot’s emotions at that very point in time.
“Dear sis,” it had said, teardrops staining the letter making it barely legible. But Fleetfoot knew her sister’s hoofwriting all the same. “I… I really don’t know how to tell you this, but… but it’s mom. ...Celestia and Luna above, wish I could really sum this up in a letter. But it’s her condition, it’s getting worse. Last week, she mistook me for her sister. Today, she thought I was grandma, even if we all know High Flyer’s been dead for years. Honestly… the doctors, they want me to put mom in a home, just for ponies with her age and her condition. They say it’s what’s best for her. But that’s the thing, I’m not sure if I can go through with it. At least, not alone.”
Your sister- Night Glider.
Fleetfoot had nearly dropped the letter from her hooves right then and there. She and her sister had known about their mom’s condition for weeks, soon as it first appeared. But they’d always held out hope- even if they knew it was a foolish hope- that things would perk up and she’d get better. But they knew it was not to be.
Fleetfoot, after getting a sympathetic glance from the delivery mare, didn’t know what she wanted to do. Punch the mare in question for delivering that damned letter in the first place, shout and scream towards the gods themselves for doing this to her or just find a place to be alone for a while.
Fleetfoot, as she walked aimlessly around the training grounds, looked towards the sky. It was perfectly clear, and the sun shone down brightly. All in all, it was the perfect portrait of a nice summer’s day. The kind that made you wanted to just go to the beach or kick back in your cloudhome and relax, just let the time float lazily by without a care.
The gods themselves were mocking her, and Fleetfoot knew it. There they were, sitting, laughing, eating and drinking the day away in their thrones high above Equestria, and letting you know they were having a good day by making everypony else have a nice day. Everypony except her, it seemed.
But that was the way things worked, wasn’t it? Life sucked. It sucked badly. If there was a bible to life, it probably said that at some point in your life, something had to hit you like a punch to the gut. Just to remind you that nothing good ever lasted.
Foals and fillies, in all of their innocence believed that life would be just perfect for them even when they grew up. Tartarus, with Princess Celestia watching over them, keeping Equestria’s tranquility from shattering like glass, why should they believe otherwise? Life was good, for the most part.
Until something came along and shattered that illusion.
Fleetfoot wandered aimlessly to the locker rooms and unzipped her flight jacket, before tossing it in her locker. Her eyes wandered to a small picture taped to the inside of the locker, one of her, her sister and -Fleetfoot fought back a sniffle- her mom. One could see the resemblence. All three of their manes were styled in exactly the same way. All three had the same mane color. It was only their fur color that separated the three. While Night Glider’s was a dark midnight blue, and Fleetfoot’s a nice aquamarine color, their mom’s was tan. A nice sandy color, like a dune.
Fleetfoot honestly didn’t know how long she sat there, could have been hours or maybe just a few minutes. But all the same, that was where Spitfire found her. Sobbing. The only way Fleetfoot knew Spitfire was in the room with her was when she found herself pulled into a hug.
Honestly, Spitfire probably didn’t even know why she found one of her best flyers looking the way she did, like somebody had killed her puppy or something. But all the same, Spitfire just pulled her into a hug, and wrapped her wings around her.
It was an unusual, overt display of affection from the commander. Anybody looking at her, would have sworn they were looking at a different pony entirely. But it wasn’t that unusual, anybody on the team knew Spitfire cared for her flyers, even if she didn’t really show it all that often. She was the tough love type of mother, she didn’t hand out hugs or kisses or candy when somepony crashed and burned. She told them to just get right back out there, and try again.
But yet, here Spitfire was, just holding Fleetfoot tight and letting her sob into her shoulders.
Fleetfoot never spoke, she didn’t have to. Not with the letter she’d been carrying around with her. It’d fallen to the floor and Spitfire’s eyes had seen it. They’d read every word.
Fleetfoot was ashamed, Spitfire had caught her at one of her lowest moments. When she’d dropped the cocky, bravado filled mask. Just letting her real emotions show, for just a moment. Celestia, Fleetfoot had to wonder, how many others had caught her like this. Sobbing like a little filly?
But then, Spitfire lifted her chin up with a hoof and spoke three simple words.
“Go to her.”
And then Fleetfoot remembered something, something very important. When you joined the Wonderbolts, they became part of your family. And any members of your family, they were part of that family as well. Fleetfoot, she wasn’t alone. It took some time for her to be reminded of that.
She had the largest family in Equestria, of that she could be certain. If there was one thing she could rely on in the craphole that was her life right now, it was the Wonderbolts. They’d always be there for her, good times or bad.
That was the Wonderbolt creed. Unspoken, but it was there. “Fly with us, you are flying with us. And we’ll fly with you.”
It wasn’t even a matter of a few hours that Fleetfoot turned up on Night Glider’s doorstep, and pulled her sister into a hug.
They’d face things, together, like they always did.
Author's Note
Annnnddd I'm back in the trashy writing bin. Honestly, I don't know what happened here.
To be honest, I really didn't expect all of this melodrama. I just wanted to write a character piece, shows what I know eh? Instead, you get schlock writing.
Some might argue, and probably will that the condition that Fleet and Night Glider's unnamed mother had here should have taken a larger role here, and not have been pushed to the side. But that wasn't the point. The point of this piece was to show another side of the Wonderbolts, and to focus on Fleetfoot.
The reason I had Spitfire act the way she did, was well, to be frank, she's the Bolt that gets the most flack for being uncaring, rude and a whole number of other things to her team. Questioned why she's the team leader in the first place. But I like to think there's another side to her. That drill sarge persona, she just puts it up to intimidate the newbies and keep them in line. Off-duty, she's a completely different pony.
