Hay Fever

Withania made her goodbyes to Epoch at the edge of the Everfree forest. The doe would be walking further around the edge to find another road through to the far side and home, while Withania had a shorter journey to make.

“Sorry again about using up your entire trip!” Withania repeated, bowing her head guiltily, “I didn’t realise it could take so long to regrow somepony!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine!” said Epoch, “I’ll have another chance to come and visit! And plus, that whole experience was… just, wow. If we could do that again without it taking three days…”

Withania had not mentioned her moment of possessive mania to Epoch. The doe had awakened in Withania’s garden none the worse for wear, and with little sense of how much time had passed. The ride had been extremely enjoyable, and Withania didn’t want to spoil the memory by mentioning how close Epoch had been to indefinite entrapment - or perhaps she felt too guilty to own up to it. Either way, once again a potentially perilous situation had righted itself in the nick of time. She also didn’t want to send Epoch away, yet Withania was almost grateful that she could now take the time to think over what had happened, rather than have to pretend that she’d been fully in control for another day or so. She managed to fake a happy smile as she waved goodbye to Epoch and watched the doe trot away up the path.

Withania back-tracked a little way and followed the main path into the forest. She needed to pay a visit to Zecora for common supplies anyway, but after these events she felt like she needed some more wisdom. She would probably write to Princess Twilight as well, but somehow Withania felt that Zecora would be more level-headed. Twilight seemed like the kind of pony to forge ahead and fix any mishaps afterwards - a luxury that the Element of Magic could afford, but Withania could not. It was time to talk about a real cure for her status. Zecora’s magic was much closer to the earth pony magic that Withania felt inside herself - a passive magic that was channeled through action and method, rather than the more direct zap of a unicorn horn.

Yet as Withania trotted down the worn track that could barely be called a path, she couldn’t help but remember the incident with the Timber Wolf the last time she had come this way. Without her present abilities and nature, she would not have survived so easily. She might not have survived at all.

“That’s a lotta ‘what ifs,’ Withania,” she said aloud to herself as she continued determinedly on, “Maybe this whole situation would be a lot easier if I just stopped eating ponies!”

But that was like expecting a Venus not to catch and feed on insects, she thought. The Tegmen plant was evolved to lure in prey and form a relationship with them - an evolution that was now entwined in her own nature. Was she even making the conscious decision to eat others? Was it her choice at all, or just instinct? The Tegmen didn’t hurt its prey, and so far neither had she. But no-harm-no-foul was not an excuse. No, enough was enough, she was better off not leaving it to either temptation or nature. Arriving at the brightly decorated hut of Zecora, she knocked twice and sat back on her now diminished - although normal-sized by any account - rump.

Zecora’s enigmatic, but always friendly face appeared in the doorway. “Withania you have returned! I wonder how much about yourself you have now learned?” she asked, stepping aside to allow Withania over the threshold.

“Well, I mainly came to buy some more of your Sweet ‘n Sour Solution, it’s that time of the year and it helps my garden a lot,” Withania explained. This was a half-truth, she regularly came to Zecora to buy or sell supplies, but both ponies knew that this was merely an alibi for this visit.

“My Sweet ‘n Sour Solution removes pH pollution,” said the zebra, walking over to a cupboard and rummaging through her stock of reagents, “But if my knowledge is right, wouldn’t your garden prefer a slightly acidic bite?”

“That’s correct, but the fast-grow formulas I’ve been testing bring the acidity up too high - I’ve found that your potions counteract it perfectly so the soil stays just right.”

Zecora raised her eyebrows, clearly surprised by Withania’s resourcefulness. She gathered up a few more bottles of additives, and began to mix everything up in a small cauldron on her work bench.

“So uh, has Princess Twilight said anything to you?” Withania asked tentatively, “About me, that is…”

A knowing smile curled the corners of Zecora’s mouth. “What would it matter if she did? Your own perspective I would find much more candid.”

Withania pouted. “Well I feel completely out of control right now. And just as I feel like I’ve settled out, and maybe I’m even getting used to… all of this,” she said, gesturing to her green mouth, “I then go and do something I didn’t mean to, and that goes much further than the pony I’m with agreed to. And yes, before you say it, everything does seem to work out each time - but that doesn’t make it ok.”

The zebra did not reply immediately, stirring the concoction with both hooves on a ladle in a slow and steady motion. It was moments like these that made Withania wonder if Zecora paused for dramatic effect, or for the amount of time she needed to come up with another rhyme.

“Your breath was previously quite intense, but it seems you now have control of that powerful incense.”

Withania self-consciously inhaled slightly through her nose. Her body no longer breathed of its own accord, but just as when reminded of blinking, she moved her diaphragm experimentally. Somehow she knew that her breath was much more toned down - after all, she had to exhale in order to speak. “I’m not sure how that happened… I think my body goes into certain phases, like a plant budding or flowering. I get the feeling that I can control that, but I’ve no idea how, it’s like moving a muscle you didn’t know you had. I just seem to do it when I need to.”

“That sounds an awful lot like progress,” said Zecora, “if your more troublesome traits you can now suppress.”

“I get where you’re coming from, but I really think it would be better to go back to being an earth pony,” said Withania, studying her foreleg and the plant-fibre it was formed of. At a glance the average pony couldn’t tell, but Withania could see it as clearly as night and day. “I have ideas about how it might be possible, but I think what I really need first is something to… suppress myself. Maybe something to keep my uh… libido down? I think that would probably help.”

“I have spoken much to Twilight Sparkle regarding this whole debacle. Between us we have uncovered a great deal about earth pony magic in ways that would avert situations quite tragic…”

“That’s great!” exclaimed Withania, her eyes lighting up. But something about the way Zecora wasn’t delving into details, as well as the fact that she hadn’t told Withania this right away, implied that she still felt that Withania was rushing for answers. “Well, I think it’s for the best anyway. I’m sure Twilight finds this all very fascinating, but I’d prefer not to be the test subject.”

“I can respect that my dear, I would not ask you to endure that which you fear. But if you liken this to an illness, I think that of your own accord you will have recovered before any pony-made cure is discovered.” Zecora spooned the concoction into a wide-necked bottle, moving in easy and practised motions that didn’t spill or dribble even a drop. She held out the bottle, and as Withania took it in her hooves, Zecora leaned in and plucked something out of her mane in a single swift movement.

“Ack!” exclaimed Withania, not in pain, but surprise. Zecora had taken a stray tendril of green from Withania’s terracotta mane. A leftover from Withania’s last regrowth that had escaped the hair brush. Next, the zebra picked up a conical flask from the shelf containing a clear liquid of some kind and threaded the tendril through the neck. The liquid began to turn the same green colour, spreading out like paint into water until nothing else could be seen.

“Zebra magic lies in potions, unicorns in arcane notions. Earth pony magic is hard to measure, but often born of pleasure.”

“In my defence-” began Withania, holding up one hoof.

“Pleasure for their craft,” continued Zecora, with a sly smile, “As I say, it is difficult to measure. But you are a walking example, and we can observe your changes with every sample. Bring this to Twilight.

“Huh. All right then…” said Withania, looking doubtfully at the flask as she added it to the carry pouch she had brought with her. “Thanks, by the way. I do appreciate your help - it just feels like I’m more worried about this than anyone else.”

“Earth pony magic always works within your own alignments, Withania. Your love created the Tegmen flower. It uses that as the source of its power. That is all that lies within you.”

As kind as this sentiment was, it didn’t feel inline with the temptation Withania had faced yesterday. But she couldn’t bring herself to say this to Zecora. It wouldn’t matter soon anyway, if Twilight really had been working on a cure. “Thank you, Zecora. I’ll be around soon as usual,” she said, opening the door to the hut. “Don’t forget to let me know what you need in supplies this month so I can repay you.”

“Withania,” replied Zecora, “Monstrous is something you do, not something you are. Remember that.”

***

Withania marched toward town, straight as an arrow. At least she had a legitimate excuse to bother Twilight again. The Princess could fix anything, but Withania was pained to bother her with the problems of a Ponyville botanist when she was more accustomed to dealing with saving Equestria.

Or should she march straight up to the castle without writing first? Was there even a protocol for this? Withania stopped on the southern bridge that seperated Ponyville proper from the fields surrounding it. She leaned on the railings and peered down into the river, and then quickly shifted her weight back to her hind legs as the wooden rail creaked in protest. She kept rushing off to other ponies like Zecora and now Twilight to fix her own problems, perhaps she should just go home for now and cool off. Clear her mind, write to Twilight and send the sample that Zecora had plucked in the post, let the Princess of Friendship respond as and when she had the time.

“Cloudy! Hurry up, don’t lag behind!” came a voice behind Withania. She glanced to her left over the bridge and saw a young colt clatter onto the rickety beams and jump up onto the railings with his hind legs on the lower beam and forelegs grappling the higher. She winced, but surprisingly the much neglected wood held up.

“I’m not lagging behind!” he called back to his mother, “I just wanna look in the river, I saw a squid!”

“Squid live in the ocean honey,” called the mother warily from down the road, “Hurry up!”

Withania went back to her brooding. I should never have grown that stupid giant Tegmen, she thought to herself. She felt uncomfortable for having said it, but also like it was a thought she needed to voice. Regret was a useless notion. A scant few weeks ago she’d been a normal earth pony, albeit one messing around with magical potions that allowed her to feed herself to other ponies and creatures. No, she thought, This was bound to happen sooner or later. It wasn’t about the flower, it was me taking everything too far. I should’ve just bought a vibrator like a normal mare.

She instinctively turned her head to face the bright lunchtime-sun with her eyes closed. The warmth and energy felt good, as if it were burning away her sour mood. Just more confusion. Pleasure, hassle, pleasure, turmoil - Zecora had been right from day one when she had told Withania to seek balance. However, Withania had no one to look to, no example to follow and no idea what insane ability her body would pull next.

Her ruminations were interrupted by a loud crack of wood as the rail the colt at the end of the bridge was standing on gave way. Withania turned and saw the colt fall onto his back with a thud that Withania felt shake the bridge.

“Are you alright?” she called out, rushing over to pick him up. He didn’t appear injured - young pegasus colts were tough, used to taking a fall while they found their wings. There was a clatter of hooves as the mother began to make haste back to the bridge. The colt stuttered, looking about ready to burst into tears. “It’s okay!” said Withania brightly, quickly changing her tone to try and avert a meltdown. “No broken bones!”

“Cloudy!” shrieked the mother, skidding up to the edge of the bridge.

“He’s okay! Just a bump on the rump I’d say!” said Withania, scooping up the young pegasus under her foreleg and carrying him to the end of the bridge.

“Oh honey,” she said, fussing over the colt, “What have I told you about climbing on things! We’ll have to call into town hall and report the damage!”

“I doubt they’ll care,” said Withania, picking up the splintered hoofrail, “I’ll just break this clean so there’s no sharp bits. They should replace the bridge really.”

She grasped the remaining part of the beam and gave it a firm pull, aiming to pull the nails out - no hoofrail was safer than one that might skewer somepony. The nails screamed as they were unceremoniously torn out, forcing Withania to use her mouth for extra pull and put her weight into it. With a final scream, the beam came free and Withania stumbled back, her hooves banging back onto the bridge with an ominous crack. In her mind, she knew exactly what the sound meant, but as so often is the case, knowledge came much quicker than reaction. The wooden planks under her split, and with a sickening lurch she fell through the slats.

She heard the gasp from the pegasus mare and colt alike. A sharp knock shook her brain as her head caught the planks, and then a gut-punch of the supporting beams under the bridge breaking her fall. Ow, she thought, her vision shimmering with head-rush. There was no pain, but as she wiggled her hooves to find her orientation, she realised something was terribly wrong. There was a wet feeling all over her midriff, but she knew she hadn’t fallen into the river. She felt deflated somehow, and rather than the liquid centre of mass in her nectar-filled belly, something hard poked deep inside.

She glanced down, and saw the broken hoofrail sticking out from the barrel of her chest, just below her ribcage.

“Oh…” she whispered, before passing out.