GASP

Spitfire and Redheart were working their way to the chasm. They found the spot where the bike accident had happened and Spitfire flew down, but she couldn’t find anypony down there. Nopony was sick, screaming, coughing, or even wandering in that confused daze Spitfire had seen.

“He wandered off, dammit. He was sick and delirious, and he wandered off. I knew I should have grabbed him when I had the chance,” said Spitfire.

“If you’d have grabbed him you might have caught what he had. We don’t know that he’s in danger, maybe there was someone else looking out for him.”

“He was alone when he bumped into me. He didn’t even say anything. I think it’s worse than you’re imagining, Nurse.”

“I try to imagine the best possible scenario, Spitfire.”

“You know me, eh? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Everypony knows the Wonderbolts.”

“Yeah, but now the leader of the Wonderbolts has abandoned somepony to the wilds of the mountains.”

Redheart peered off the side of the chasm and looked at the ground far below. She squinted as she saw something in the dirt, and she pointed. “Wait, what’s that?”

“What’s what?”

“There’s something in the dirt down there. Can you carry me down?”

Spitfire looked at where she was pointing but couldn’t see anything out of place. She shrugged, then picked her up and carried her down. “I don’t know what you’re looking at, but sure. Is it a bad thing you’re seeing?”

“I hope not, but I’m sure it’s something. It may even help us find this wayward stallion you mentioned.”

Spitfire dropped Redheart on the ground. Redheart walked over to a rock and leaned in to look at a dark splotch on it. She reached into her saddlebags and pulled out a pair of rubber gloves and slipped them on, then reached out and dabbed at the dark spots.

“What is it?”

“It’s not blood, thankfully. Possibly bile or vomit?” She sniffed it, then recoiled. “Woo! Definitely bile! He’s sick, that’s for sure. Or whoever was down here is surely quite sick.” She looked around at the bottom of the chasm and the small passages passing through it. “You said he was walking around down here?”

“Yeah, wandering around like he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He seemed interested in me, but he didn’t say anything to me.”

“Can you fly up and have a look? He may still be nearby, down one of the passages. I’ll see if I can’t find more bile.”

“Will do, Doc.”

Spitfire flew up above and peered around, fluttering above the passages and myriad cracks in the mountain, hunting for any sign of the meandering pony. She kept an eye on Redheart, not wanting to lose track of her, too.

Redheart walked about in small, ever-widening circles, hunting for more signs of effluvia on the rocks. She was pleased and simultaneously worried when she discovered more of it on the rock wall of the chasm nearby. She followed it, keeping an eye on Spitfire above, and kept going deeper and deeper into the rocks. She passed under rock bridges, overhangs, and past fallen boulder and through crags until she came to a small cave.

“I think I found out why you couldn’t find him, Spitfire!”

Spitfire zipped down to land next to her and looked at the cave. “Damn. That would explain it. You think he’s in there?”

Redheart pointed to a small splash of bile nearby. “I’d be willing to bet on it.” She pulled out masks and gloves for them both and slipped her own on. “Will you come inside with me to help?”

Spitfire grimaced, but nodded and took the items, pulling them over her muzzle and hooves. “Yeah, okay. I just hope he doesn’t get too fighty.”

“I’m not sure what he’s sick with, but if he’s choking up bile like this, he’s not going to be in the best of health. He will be weak.”

“If you say so, Doc.”

Redheart made her way inside the cave, looking out for any signs of movement. The further in they got, the louder the sound of breathing became. Somepony was rasping out a weak breath inside, and Redheart followed it. The dim light showed her a small path, though she couldn’t see any more bile, but she smelled something the deeper in she got.

“Hello? Are you in here?”

There was no response, but she could hear the clop and scrape of hooves inside. The illumination inside the cave was low, but she stoically made her way further inside.

“Sir, please. I just want to help. I’ve seen the emissions you left outside. Please come out, and I can get you some help, you can get your illness fixed, and you’ll be fine. I promise.”

Spitfire remained quiet, letting Redheart do all the talking. There wasn’t much she could say, but not knowing how the stallion was going to react kept her wary. Something had seemed off about him when she had seen him before, and the poor nurse didn’t look like she could take care of herself if a fight broke out.

There was the sound of hooves on rock, a scraping sound of stone on stone, and out of the darkness flew a silent stallion’s body.

He landed on Redheart, and Spitfire was on him in a flash. Her own hooves pulled the stallion off Redheart, wings beating to drag him into the air where he wasn’t going to have a grip. She hovered in place above Redheart while the other mare pulled herself off the ground. The stallion was swinging his hooves and gnashing his teeth, spittle and bile dripping down his muzzle.

Redheart rolled away and collected herself, then stood and turned to look. “Oh, dear Celestia. You poor thing.”

“Poor thing—” spitfire grunted at the stallion’s struggling “—indeed! Seems like there’s a lot of life left in him yet!”

“For now. I think that whatever he’s got, it’s driven him into a crazed frenzy. I’m not sure he’s in his right mind.”

“Well, whatever’s wrong with him, can we take him somewhere? I don’t know how long I can hold him!”

“Yes! Yes, of course! Bring him outside!” Redheart led the way, digging through her saddlebag, while Spitfire dragged a raging, frothing pony out of the cave entrance. “Now hold him still.”

“This is as still as he’s getting, Doc!”

“Okay, I’ll manage.”

Redheart approached the two. Spitfire’s wings were beating frantically and erratically as she carried the extra weight flailing in her hooves. The stallion was trying to get out of her grip, but she had him tight in her Wonderbolt grip. Redheart took out a needle, filled it with a strange fluid, then held down the pony’s right hoof. She sank the needle into his leg, injected the fluid into him, then pulled away, depositing the used needle in her bag.

“Now we wait.”

“Yeah, okay. Nnnf! How long?” As soon as she said it the stallion calmed down. His flailing stopped, his body relaxed, and he went limp in her hooves. She gently placed him on the ground when she was sure he wasn’t going to keep fighting back, and landed.

“Got him knocked out?”

“Yes. That’ll last a good few hours, I think. Enough time to get him to the hospital, checked in, and restrained,” said Redheart as she pulled out her pager. She sent a message to the hospital and Dr. Hang to send her an emergency carriage. She put the pager back in her bag and turned to Spitfire. “Can I get you to help me and this fellow up to the medical tent? Him first.”

“Sure thing, Doc. Be right back for you.” Spitfire picked up the limp stallion and dragged him through the air up and out of the chasm. She soon came back for Redheart, and she was dropped off at the medical tent.

“Thank you, Spitfire.”

Redheart adjusted her gloves and mask and began to give the stallion a regular checkup while he was comatose. He was nude, which wasn’t unusual, but his hooves were scuffed and split, as though he wasn’t running on good ground. Either that or he was harming his hooves with pointless exertion. Either one was a possibility during this festival.

Spitfire cleared her throat. “You still need me, Doc?”

Redheart turned, blushing at having forgotten the other mare was there. “I’m sorry, Spitfire, I got caught up in my work.” She smiled and shook her head. “No, I will be fine when the emergency carriage gets here. We’ll get him to the hospital, so you can go focus on your luge.”

Spitfire smiled wide. “Excellent! I’ll leave you to it, Doc! I know he’s in good hooves.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so! Later, Doc!”

Spitfire leaped into the air and took off for her own tent. Redheart waved a hoof and watched her go, then went back to her examination of the patient.

He was sick, that much was clear, and there was some minor bloating, but for the amount of bile that was coming up, he wasn’t nearly as bloated or swollen as she had expected. His lymph nodes were normal, his tongue was normal, everything was normal.

She fanned a hoof in front of her masked muzzle.

Everything except his breath. His breath was terrible. Somewhere far beyond where it should be. It smelled like he had something of a mixture between halitosis and a dead fish in his stomach. The odd thing was that it didn’t just stink when he breathed out, it was rancid even when he wasn’t breathing, so the culprit likely lay with something he had eaten.

If he had eaten something, it had been laced with poison of some kind. He was acting like he was rabid, but he had no external bite marks. No swelling from snake bites or insect bites, no fang marks from coyotes that might have been in the area. There was nothing. No, whatever was making him act this way was in his stomach.

The ambulance arrived with a squeal and a siren, and Redheart gave them the information she’d collected. The paramedics nodded as they worked to strap him to the gurney and lifted him into the ambulance. She told them he wasn’t critical, but he should get his stomach pumped right away, and she climbed into the back. She looked back at the empty medical tent as they drove off and silently promised them she would be back as soon as she could. The doors closed, and they were off.