Ask Politely, Until It is Done
The cottage had its own music, something which filled her ears on a calm summer morning. There were chirps and chitters, mews and barks, snippets of song and, if she was in a particularly imaginative mood, the intrusion of phantom lyrics. On this particular morning, she was also picking up a few soft hisses, all of which had been preceded by a round of oversized back paws thumping against the wood floor. Because it was a quiet morning, one of the very few: the early feedings were finished, there were no sick animals to tend, not a single emergency was being hosted by the cottage -- it all gave Fluttershy a chance to simply bask in the sunlight which streamed into her sitting room, doing nothing more than meditating on the flight of dust particles as they sparkled their way through the warm beams.
It was peaceful. It was almost quiet, at least once you overlooked the constant background noises (and according to every last one of her friends during all of the failed overnight stays, sleeping through them required a mark). But it was the sort of peace which needed maintaining, and some of the cottage's youngest felines saw a resting Fluttershy as only two things: a source of food and in the warmth of a summer day, an overlong, overfull tail which was simply begging to be pounced.
They were the source of the soft hisses, and those noises were triggered by the thumping. Angel was beating the bounds: the little white rabbit rushing at any cat whom he felt was getting too close, expressing displeasure with the thump of paws against wood and an implication that soft pink noses could so easily be the next target. It was aggressive, an open display of dominance, it was supposed to be for her benefit while still allowing him to show off, and that was just Angel all over...
But the caretaker wasn't about to chide him, because she was simply enjoying the peace: something which never lasted for long. Actually, she was in the exceptionally rare position of hoping it didn't last, not beyond a single day. The next sunrise would see the launch of her annual summer Adopt A Companion drive -- posters, carefully spellchecked and printed by Twilight, were already on every notice board on town -- and she would be hoping for two kinds of traffic: quite a bit of it incoming, and a doubled number departing.
That was tomorrow, though. For now, there was peace: newborns playing, adults watching, and so many simply basking in summer warmth. It was rare to have the cottage this relaxed, and so she was simply enjoying it while it lasted, because --
-- the background music changed.
It did so from the outside in, and she immediately recognized the nature of the shift. There were birds in the trees which overlooked her main approach path, and they had a very distinct way of changing their song: something which was both instinctive reaction and warning. There was a message in that tonal shift, one meant for their mistress, and it simply said 'There's a stranger on the road.'
She sighed to herself, because it was never peaceful at the cottage for very long. Started to get up, hoping the emergency would be one which came with a ready, life-sustaining solution --
-- and then the outside birds went silent.
Soft yellow ears perked. Twisted a few times, listening all the more closely.
The warning avians weren't singing. The normal animal noises from the outside had stopped. All she could hear was the susurrus of the stream, and -- footsteps coming over the bridge. Heavy footsteps, something which came with more of a metallic clink than she would have expected from even the heaviest of hoof-nailed shoes, and the beat was wrong...
...no. The notes sounded by what felt like a careful, almost hesitant approach were, in their way, perfectly normal. It just wasn't a beat in four-time. There were but two impacts against the path, carefully repeating, pausing at one point before making themselves go on and --
-- there was a knock at her door.
Three careful raps, none too loud. Timed, exactingly polite, and also rather higher up on the wood than would be normally expected.
She hesitated: she often did. But then the outside birds began to sing again, if in an initially uncertain way. She remembered that any stranger on the path could mean a companion in trouble, a desperate search for help...
The knocking repeated, with carefully-measured force. Nothing excessive, not enough sound to disrupt any who might be within. Just a polite notice that there was a presence on the other side of the door.
It was the politeness which got her moving as much as the need to see if something was wrong, the desire to help. Her quickening pace took her ahead of Angel, always and forever trying to follow. Teeth gripped the door's lever, she pulled in as she stepped back and sunlight tried to stream in through the new opening, only to find a significant barrier to brightness in the way.
Fluttershy looked up at the biped, and it could be said that the first thing she truly saw were the arms.
She imagined that the dominant hue of the armor might have been green once, but... she conducted just about all of the repairs on the cottage and with so many young teeth and claws looking for ways to test themselves, those repairs were frequent. She knew what patch jobs looked like: trying to maintain some form of integrity with bonding agents and desperation. There were bits of embedded color at the bottom of some terrifyingly deep gouges, but -- that was just about it.
The biped was extremely tall: not so much as Iron Will, and the lack of horns emerging from the helmet suggested a further subtraction of mass. But its body felt much more balanced: legs in better proportion to the torso, muscular development considerably more even. However, it would still need to duck a little to get inside, and she didn't know how it felt about that. She couldn't be sure how it felt about anything, because she couldn't see its face. The front of the helmet was amber tinged with blue, much less scratched than anything else -- but nowhere near truly transparent. And even if it had been, this was a species she'd never seen before. Facial features she didn't know how to read.
Still, there were forms of posture which translated. The slight hanging of the head, more than what was just necessary for looking down at her, when she was craning her neck up. A little shuffling of weight from foot to armored foot. Arms straight down, hands open, with fingers limp. It all suggested a fundamental, unspeakable level of awkwardness -- something merged with desperation and, in the set of the shoulders, fervent hope...
But it was the arms which caught her attention.
The armor wasn't complete: failed patches, or perhaps even by some strange design. Portions of the arms were exposed. And she was a healer. She'd seen some zebra potions at work: things which forced the body to repair itself at a faster rate than usual, when the time needed to wait for normal healing was more than what the patient had left. It did strange things to the scars. And that was what she saw in the exposed flesh: rents which had been slashed open, burns which had heated muscle to the point of snapping -- and then been forced to heal. Far too quickly, so that there were rivers of scar tissue winding across the skin, and then those scars had been attacked, there had been healing again, new scars, the patterns overlapped and twisted within each other, layered until you could barely find a single cell which had never been seared...
The biped's arms, more than anything, told her that the being's life was pain, and the time spent at the cottage door was but a brief interlude before the agony resumed.
And it was alone. No companion, and that was the most common reason for a stranger to be on the road.
"...um..." she said, because that usually bought her time to think of something else.
It seemed to be looking at her -- no, it was looking at her, because there were times when its movements brought the faceplate into better alignment with the sunlight, made portions of it just clear enough. She could see its eyes. Smaller than she was used to, oddly piercing, and --
-- longing.
It looked at her. Past her, into the depths of the cottage. Back to her again.
She was trying to find words, if suitable words existed at all. But there had been something on her mind before she'd heard the alarm, and so that was what slipped out.
"...are you here to adopt a companion?"
Hesitantly, the biped nodded --
-- which was when Angel got past her.
The little white rabbit put itself between her and the biped in a second, back legs already starting to thump a furious warning beat against the path. Daring the biped to make a move against his mistress, running a bluff he couldn't possibly execute, not even if he managed to somehow get his teeth into the rivers of scars. He was trying to make himself look as big as possible, his fur puffed out and his forelegs reared up as dark eyes tried to glare through the faceplate --
-- everything changed.
Perhaps only the two of them would have known it, looking at him. The widening of those eyes as all of the white fur almost seemed to slam flat against the small body. The shaking of tiny muscles, a twitching in tail and nose...
He made a sound: something caught between cluck, sigh, and purr. It was a noise born from recognition, from longing, and he reared up on his back legs as much as he could, brought forepaws to rest against the armor as dark eyes stared up and pleaded, she'd never seen Angel plead in her life for anything other than food or a moment of --
-- the biped knelt, slowly and carefully, shifting its center of balance so as not to disturb the one who was braced against its left leg. Shaking hands reached forward...
There was a way to hold a rabbit, if you were a biped: she'd had to instruct a few. You had one hand supporting hindquarters and back legs at all times. The lapine was cradled vertically against the chest, so that forepaws had a firm surface to rest on. One hand could slowly, gently stroke the fur, always with the grain. But you didn't go near the ears immediately, not until they were just about lying flat. It was telling a prey species that you weren't a threat, everything was all right, and you would do everything required to protect it. They were safe. You promised that on your life...
It wasn't a natural posture for a biped to adopt. She'd spent hours making sure some new partners knew how to hold their companions. And this one did it on instinct. Every movement ideal, with Angel (her Angel, hers!) supported perfectly. No one could do that without thought unless they'd loved rabbits all their life...
She could see the biped's eyes again, behind the faceplate. They were almost moist.
"...he can't know you," she whispered. "He's been with me since he was a baby. He can't..."
The biped shook its head. Cradled the warm bundle of love with its head lowered, and stroked white fur as if that was the only thing it ever wanted to do. And Angel, defensive and angry and sworn foe to all who would seek her attention, was snuggling.
"...but he does." She had to recognize it. She just didn't understand. "How? There wouldn't have been any chance. He was only a few weeks old when I found him, right after he lost his warren. He wouldn't remember..."
Snuggling. Her Angel, her first, acting in a way he would have only granted onto --
-- a companion...
With just about everypony else, the next thought would have been instantly dismissed. Treated as a sign of stress verging on insanity, kicked away because holding onto it too long felt like a path to madness. But she was a Bearer, and for all her fears... she'd made herself face more than most. There had been knowledge gained from those encounters. Things which opened the door to possibility.
She didn't want to believe it -- and that unwillingness to accept the only real option didn't make it any less true.
"...he knows you," Fluttershy whispered. "He knew you before he was born, born this time. He was your companion before..."
The biped nodded. Wide shoulders shook, and she watched as guilt seemed to compress the large form from without and within. Centering it around the warm white bundle of life.
Softly, "...I think you'd better come inside."
Another nod. She moved back, and the biped ducked.
They were sitting on the cottage floor together, the biped and pegasus, facing each other from about two body lengths apart. Angel was resting between she and he. (It had taken a while for Fluttershy to realize it was a male, but a look at the descending armor during the sitting motion had done it.) The biped had three sleepy kittens on his lap.
It had taken a few seconds before the cottage residents had dared to enter the sitting room: a new presence, a new species and all of the foreign scents he had brought. (The biped smelled of sweat and dried blood, with hints of sulfur and the ionization which came after a thunderstorm.) But once they had made themselves approach... he was just good with animals. Careful, gentle, always allowing them to make the first move, silently admonishing any whose curiosity tried to express itself with nips. The only odd thing he did was glare at anything which approached within a certain radius of Angel, at least if the other animal was larger. Fluttershy put that down to his not knowing how the cottage worked.
There were times when Angel looked up at him, and the dark eyes were heavy with mist.
Mine.
"...how did you find him?"
The biped paused in the middle of a fur stroke: the irritated kitten yawned with discontent. A large hand reached down to the right side of its waist, touched a pattern of scratches --
-- there was something in his hand (and she noticed a few of the scratches in the contacted area were gone). A flat, glassy disk on top of a rod, both mostly brass. But they were heavily stained, and she couldn't tell what had produced the distortions. And there was something about the curves which made it hard to look at, as if they were trying to phase away from her sight.
It would have been easier to look at the grip, except for where he'd taped some brown fur to the base.
He held it out towards Angel, rotated the whole thing in his palm so that the flat side of the disk faced the rabbit, made a dramatic gesture --
-- nothing happened.
The biped glared at the disk. Shook it a few times. Nothing continued to happen, only with somewhat more smugness than before.
He raised his left hand, palm forward and up. Quickly shifted the thumb to point towards the cottage's still-open door, carefully displaced protesting kittens, got up in a single smooth motion, and strode outside. Out of sight.
Fluttershy waited, because she'd understood the gesture: back in a minute. Looked at Angel, who was hers --
-- there was a screech.
At first, she thought it was something like that of a vulture. Then her quivering ears notified her brain about the unnatural harmonics, the sudden drop at the very end as all hopes for future sounds were terminated, along with their own desperate desire to never hear anything like that again.
The biped strode back in, with an increased scent of sulfur accompanying him. The thin grey-green limb, with its mottled, almost molting ragged skin and claws where fingers should have been, was being carried over his left shoulder. The recent dismemberment allowed it to swing more or less freely.
Fluttershy swallowed.
The biped sat down again. The disk and rod came out, and the bone stub of the removed unnatural arm was jammed into the disk.
The joint melted into red fire and near-electric sparks, sunk into the glassy surface. Bright green lines appeared and by the time the elbow had vanished, they were forming a grid pattern. Claws powered a small white spark into existence, and then the biped proudly held out the rod as that strange fire danced around it, forming something much less than a halo.
She tried not to pull back, because she had to see. And as he extended his arm, the white spark centered itself in the grid --
-- there was another glow in the room.
Angel, attention drawn by the fresh source of light, looked down at himself. Saw the white, twisting, intertwining and glowing vapors which made up the light of his soul, found them boring, and began to fall asleep.
The biped brought the rod back, wiping off the other, now empty hand on the armor. Touched the device to his waist again, and the scratches multiplied.
It was, to Fluttershy, final proof of a legitimate claim.
"...he really was your companion," she reluctantly admitted, and he nodded -- but then flipped his right hand over. "...oh? I don't quite see what you mean. Reversing? You were his -- oh! Her! Angel's previous life was a doe!"
He nodded. But there was still a problem.
Mine.
Angel had been companion to both. He loved the biped: Fluttershy could see that. But there was only one of him. And in this life, he was hers.
"...so how can we settle this? I know you came all this way, but..." Her wings spread, dipped. "...he's been with me for years. I'm not going to just give him up..."
A certain spread of the arms and set of the shoulders suggested the biped was willing to work things out. A slight narrowing of briefly-visible eyes stated that he also wasn't leaving until matters had been resolved.
Mine.
How could she deal with the biped? If she went into town to seek help from friends (bringing Angel with her, because she wasn't stupid), he would probably follow. Twilight was unlikely to have any books relating to possession being nine-tenths of past-life law and even if those somehow existed, Fluttershy suspected the biped was from well outside Equestria's jurisdiction.
...she could always just ask him to watch the cottage while she went into town. She'd hardly ever seen anyone accepted so quickly by the residents...
...no. She had to settle this quickly, and preferably without giving anypony the chance to tell her that under Subclause Whatever, she was supposed to be packing Angel's toys. That was a chance she couldn't take. But how was she supposed to...?
Yes.
It was, in some ways, a cruel idea. It was putting him up against her greatest strength, and he would never know that until it was too late. But it was also for Angel.
"...would you like to settle this with a game?"
The light of competition rose in the biped's eyes.
She explained the rules, because that was only fair and besides, she'd already won. He started to help her set up the impromptu arena. And as she cleared her side of the sitting room, she made sure to nuzzle Angel, almost completely hiding his body under manefall.
He was hers. And in a few minutes, once the biped finished arranging his own fatal trap...
There were no animals in the room now. A few had tried to watch from the many cubbyholes and shelves which almost littered the area, but they had been made to move. There could be no potential interference with the game.
Two sapients were in the sitting room, each resting on the floor. Looking at each other. And that was it.
There were no animals. Sunlight came in through the windows, made the dust dance. The dust was just the only thing moving. Ribs barely shifted on equine and biped. It was hard to tell him if the biped was even blinking behind the faceplate, and as for the mare... she could hold on a visual target for a very long time.
There was no true Stare, for that was not part of this game. But she made sure to keep looking at him, through that one exposed eye. He was presumably looking at her, and she regularly checked the minimal movements of his chest to make sure he hadn't fallen asleep.
His arms failed to shift. Her tail didn't twitch.
The rays of sunlight visibly changed angles as the atmosphere grew more intense, then threatened to solidify.
After some time, the biped's right hand moved, fingers bending into a prearranged signal. She nodded.
He got up, silently strode past her. It only took him a moment to find the kitchen.
About a minute later, he was kneeling down in front of her. She looked at the clear, cold contents of the lowered mug, then watched as he repeatedly tapped his fingers against the sides. Several dislodged air bubbles floated to the top and burst, because the biped played fair.
He straightened, returned to his first position and sat again. Each nodded to the other, and both drank. For the mare, it was just the normal use of the hoof loop: with the biped, the mug was tipped against the surface of the faceplate, and the liquid seemed to go through. She supposed it helped when trying to refresh on the run.
Each lowered their mug. Neither burped.
Dust began to settle across two sets of shoulders.
Dozens of cottage residents, all of whom had been told to stay out of it, measured the strength of the instructions against the growing void in their stomachs.
Finally, the mare's wings flared out, curled slightly: another prearranged signal. The biped tilted his head slightly to the right in curiosity, then nodded.
"...this won't work," was the first thing Fluttershy used the timeout to reluctantly admit. "...we're both too good at Shhh..."
The biped solemnly nodded.
"...and it's about time for some of the afternoon feedings anyway," she sighed. "We would have been interrupted soon, or they would have made themselves sick trying not to. So we have to find another way."
Another nod. He got up, began to stretch. The armor near his left shoulder creaked, and he spent a few seconds adding lubricant.
I thought I'd win within ten minutes.
He looked like he was ready to sit there forever.
With purely internal irritation, That armor probably even has some kind of urinal built in.
"...but what else can we do?" Fluttershy asked the world. "There's only one of him!"
The biped shrugged, and a split-second of altered posture suggested pride in the armor's renewed silence. The helplessness came in right after.
"...well, there could be two," the pegasus mused. "But that just never works out..."
He looked at her. Carefully strode forward, knelt and crouched as best he could until he was just about on her level. Waited for clarification.
"...um," Fluttershy said.
Was it an answer? It seemed possible. But she understood something about how it worked, after the previous disaster had given them all the opportunity for an education. 'Possible' was the best of it. And if it failed...
"...it's... something local," she reluctantly told him. "You've probably never seen anything like it. I'm willing to try, but I'm not sure it'll help anything." A new thought occurred, and her wings twitched. "Besides, unless I go to get help, we'll never even get in..."
You couldn't describe it as the life of Tom, because Tom wasn't alive.
The boulder didn't know about the role it had been asked to serve. The boulder was incapable of knowing anything. It rested in one place, fully unaware of what existed behind what it was blocking. It didn't recognize that small portion of the outside world which still touched one of its surfaces, and it certainly had no idea about the journeys it had taken in life to reach this point. It didn't have a life.
It was a hunk of rock which had once been mistaken for a diamond. Some time after that, somepony else had decided it would make for an excellent door, as long as the central requirement for 'door' was 'you can never, ever open this, and good.' It had been jammed into place with enough force to polish a few of its surfaces against the borders of the entrance and ever since then, it had done what rocks were truly good at. Resting in one place and never, ever moving again.
The boulder didn't know about the job it was doing. It didn't understand how important it was. It didn't, and couldn't, know anything.
So it was also blissfully unaware of the huge, green-glowing ball of energy hitting it.
Recognition of the cracks which rapidly spread through it would have required possessing the capacity for recognition in the first place.
So when the boulder exploded, you couldn't describe it as the death of Tom, because Tom had never been alive. The boulder still existed. It was just that instead of existing as the blockade to a deep place filled with unstable magic, it existed over there. And over there, too. There was also some up against that wall, but it was best not to touch the parts which lined the entrance tunnel because those were still glowing red with heat.
The boulder didn't die. Boulders can't do that. But if it helps, try to see it as the birth of a bunch of rocks. And a tea set.
We'll get to the tea set.
The really large -- the extremely big -- Fluttershy was aware that there was probably a perfect name for the weapon, but she wasn't sure how to ask what it was -- metal thing which had seen a sizzle and blast of energy emerge was tapped against the armor again, and then it was just a pattern of scratches. If she squinted, it was just possible to make out the shape...
She waited a few seconds, then reluctantly searched the area until she found a pebble with a little natural metal in it. The first hoof contact made static discharge from every feather at once.
"...we really have to close that again when we're done," she told the biped. "...it's too dangerous to leave it open. Any ideas?"
He casually pointed up at the now somewhat-more-unstable roof of the tunnel.
"...as long as it doesn't collapse while we're in there..."
The scratches became a weapon. A glowing symbol on the user-side facing was displayed to her, and then the scratches resumed their existence.
"...I guess that means you can still use it again." He nodded. "...all right. So let's go down..."
They went into the tunnel. There was a brief period of darkness before the destination's unnatural glow reached them, but the biped had a surprisingly powerful flashlight built into his left shoulder. Also, there was still some heat glow coming off the fragments, which helped.
The two sapients went into the deep place alone, and only one knew to be afraid. She hadn't brought Angel this far because... because even if it was the answer, it meant asking him to go in. She'd had him wait at the cottage until after she showed the biped just where it was, allowed him to decide whether they were going to take the chance. And she knew it would be harmless to Angel, she knew that, but she was already having visions of not being able to tell and the fear was rising...
They moved down the natural (or unnatural) ramp together, into the deep place. Something which was only safe as long as you understood its rules, and those were different for every warp made to the world. She'd never wanted to come here --
Mine.
-- it was for Angel.
The biped stopped at the edge of the pool. Looked down at the reflection born from the strange light, something which didn't quite seem to be cooperating with the usual 'full and accurate image' requirements. There were distortions in a surface without ripples, and it served as a preview.
"...so this is it," she told him as she crossed the last of the distance, being careful not to touch the liquid. "But..." Reluctantly, "...I want to be honest with you. It isn't perfect. I'm not sure it could ever be, because the magic can't be tamed or controlled. But there's times when it comes really close. ...well, one of them. As far as we knew. So if you want to try..."
He kicked one of the smallest pebbles into the water, and it sank without a ripple. The resulting posture suggested some level of disappointment, and she wasn't sure just what the emotion was directed towards.
"...testing?"
He nodded.
"...I didn't lie to you," she quickly followed up. "Anything dead has to go in with something living. Or a spirit. I think one of the legends says it works on spirits. So if you want to test it before we -- think about Angel, we'll need something like -- a flower. But I'm not sure it would work on the glowing ones here, because they're growing with this water..."
The biped raised his right hand again, and she sat down to wait. Watched as he strode up the ramp, through the tunnel, and out of sight.
She didn't like being alone with the pool. Being alone with the pool meant 'alone' was one clumsy move away from becoming a short-term proposition.
She didn't like having been alone for more than a few minutes.
...how long did it take to find a flower, anyway? They'd just come out of the forest, in summer. Even if he was bringing some soil along to keep it alive long enough to go in -- oh, she should have told him to do that...
...she almost didn't hear the screech of rage and pain. Or rather, she almost didn't hear it because the sound made by what might have been the world's most powerful firework rocket going into rock nearly drowned it out.
Fluttershy jumped, and only the fact that she was so close to the water allowed her to do so backwards. But she could hear rocks falling down now, a small cascade of hot mineral debris was rolling down the ramp, the screech got louder and there was a smell like sulfur and carbon and rot, two glowing green lights appeared in the tunnel and then the biped was carrying the monster in front of him like a struggling toddler who was refusing to be put to bed. A toddler which happened to have glowing green eyes set in an exposed skull.
On the rather dubious bright side, it wasn't a full skeleton or rather, it was, because the raw strips of muscle had to be anchored to something.
There was metal on its back, partially extending across the chest and then lifting from the shoulders, forming tubes which looked like nothing so much as the launchers for fireworks. (Those had recently been bent backwards, with the openings squeezed into distortions.) Little helpless spurts of flame emerged from the metal above the bottom of the spine, which was perfectly easy to spot because she could also see its spine. And the biped just marched with the monster in front of him, relentlessly moving forward as it screeched in a way which made the glowing plants dim, as it cried out in rage and hate for all which existed, twisting metal and flailing limbs longing to end every fraction of life it saw, just so everything else could share its pain --
-- she pulled back. She tucked herself into a curl, because she didn't want to see it any more. It was more than wishing for it to go away: it was hoping, pleading with the world to make it so that the monster had never been --
-- an armored hand gently scritched the base of her ears.
There was a splash.
Slowly, Fluttershy uncurled. Forced herself to stand on the biped's left, looking at the still surface of the mirror pool.
"...it's not coming out," she eventually observed. "Maybe Pinkie used up all the magic? Or it just doesn't work on --"
The warped metal tube erupted from the water, lashed out towards the biped's feet --
-- his body dropped, a big hand grabbed the protrusion, lifted the monster from the water with one arm, and threw it into a wall.
It hit. Dropped, slid down as flame sputtered from every crack in the metal. Tried to get up, and he closed in --
"...oh," Fluttershy eventually said.
He nodded.
"...um. So. Um. There's ponies who say that... somepony who's really stupid has their head. In their. Um..."
Again. There was some rather visible amusement in it.
"...so I guess... with a really flexible sphincter and outside assistance? Because that one didn't have any skin constricting it, so... do they always just -- fall apart like that after? Oh. They do. So..." She tried shaking out her wings for the fifth time. "...that was the original, I think. I recognized the nozzle bend on whatever the shoulder things were. So maybe it just doesn't work on --"
A skeletal hand came out of the pool.
The bones of the palm landed on a piece of the former boulder. Fingers gave the fragment an irritated flick, and then the rest of the monster climbed forth.
It looked around, with its green-glowing eyes. Then it sniffed. Fluttershy wasn't entirely sure how it was doing that. There didn't seem to be any lungs present and in any case, the lack of external nose structure should have made sniffing impossible. Sniffing with disdain felt like it would have been even more so, but the monster had still found a way to pull it off.
The thing looked around at the cave. Ignored biped and mare, for the most part, because there was another problem in sight. A much more immediate one. In fact, the problem was everywhere, and no one was doing anything about it!
Another sniff. The monster adjusted its apron straps, checked to make sure that the front drape of fabric was perfect, then reached into the oversized front pocket and began to fulfill its purpose.
Biped and mare watched for a while.
"...you missed a spot," Fluttershy finally risked, pointing a foreleg at the same time.
The monster gratefully nodded, then swept the overlooked fragment of boulder into the dustpan.
"...imperfect copies," she sighed as it continued to tidy up. "Sometimes they're really imperfect." Thoughtfully, "But I guess that with a monster, imperfect could mean... not a monster any more?"
The biped rather casually shrugged.
"...it's not as if it's acting like anyone's enemy. Um. Except for dirt. I think it really hates dirt. So. Now that you've seen what the pool does, do you want to ask Angel -- um. No. I didn't think you would."
The monster had paused over one piece of boulder. Carefully, it picked the fragment up, and the small claws which tipped bone fingers began going to work. After about a minute, it had a hollow carved out of the top.
It leaned slightly forward. A metal tube arced over its right shoulder, and steaming brown fluid flowed from the nozzle.
The creature thoughtfully sipped. The results strained themselves through bone, and it went back to its carving work.
"...so," Fluttershy finally asked as the monster finished the first cup for its tea set, "...what did you want to do with... that?"
Eventually, they brought it some sugar.
And a toothbrush. Sugar was going to be horrible for exposed bone.
There wasn't all that much day left. Biped and mare were sitting next to each other on the cottage's grass-and-sod roof, looking out across the land as the glowing orb overhead began the last part of its normal journey.
She'd flown, he'd climbed. (She'd noticed he was very good at climbing.) And a sleepy, happy Angel was resting between them.
The biped was looking out across the green, growing, quiet landscape with rapt attention. It was almost as if he hadn't seen anything like it before. Or rather, she felt as if he hadn't seen it for a very long time.
Every so often, he would reach over to one side and pet Angel. Perfectly.
"...we can't go to court," Fluttershy finally said. "I don't think we could ever explain. And even if we could... it's like divorced parents fighting over their foal. It's worse for the foal..."
He nodded, and gently stroked the rabbit's back.
"...he's so happy," she whispered. "I can hardly remember ever seeing him this happy. Because it's you. Because you're here..."
He was mine...
And just before her waking mind fully processed the presence of the past tense, the biped shook his head. Pointed at her, and she understood.
"...because it's both of us," she softly sighed. "Because it's like that foal getting both parents back. You -- you can't stay? You could always visit whenever you wanted. I wouldn't mind. You're -- you're good for him. So if you just -- moved here..."
Large shoulders slumped, and he shook his head again. Stared up at the sky.
"...what do you have to do out there?"
Hands immediately broke a phantom monster's neck.
"...oh."
And they sat for a while.
"...what was her name? Angel, I mean. When he was your rabbit."
He casually reached out to his left, picked a flower from the roof's sod, and held it before her.
"...Daisy," she whispered. "It's a nice name."
Birds flew overhead. A few touched down on the roof some distance away, began to peck into the sod.
"...I know you loved her." There was still a little reluctance in the admission. "You're so good with animals. I saw that from the first moment you held him. And then when you were helping with the afternoon feedings, before we went to the pool. You're a good companion. One of the best..."
Silently, the biped touched his right hip. Lifted the rod, and she looked at the strands of brown fur which had been taped against it.
"...she died?" Quickly, with all the apology she could muster, "I'm sorry. I know she died, or Angel wouldn't be here. But it would have never been anything you did..."
His hands clenched. Another invisible neck snapped.
"...the monsters," she just barely breathed.
And he nodded.
"They're still out there. You're killing the monsters who killed her..."
His breathing became deep, slow. His head slumped forward, and the faceplate just barely allowed her to watch his eyes close.
"...I'm sorry..." And she knew it wasn't enough.
They were quiet for a while. It was the sort of silence which ignored other sounds, such as the fight which was starting in the middle of the sod.
Biped and mare didn't pick up on it, both lost in thought and regret. But the rabbit looked up. Thumped against the roof and, when the sod didn't give him the sound he wanted, headbutted his mistress.
She looked up. Then around, and spotted the quarreling birds, neither of which was willing to give up the most vital seeds. They were squawking at each other, something which came with little lunges. It was seconds away from going to pecks --
-- the shadow fell over them.
"Stop that."
Both avians instantly looked up. Saw the single wide, staring blue-green eye, and responded in the only way they could.
Fluttershy watched for a few seconds, making sure they were continuing to fly in fully opposite directions. Trotted back to where she'd been sitting.
"...sorry," she told the biped. "That happens..."
He was looking at her. Just... looking, and a shift of sunlight allowed her a glimpse of widened eyes. Shifted to Angel, who was standing rather smugly near her left forehoof. Back to Fluttershy.
"...oh," she realized. "...that's -- part of his job, really. He lets me know when something's happened, if I get too lost in my own head." With a little smile, "He's even helped me become more aggressive, I think. By example. Just a little, when I really need to be..."
The armored hands came up. Covered the faceplate as shoulders began to shake. And once again, standing in the presence of pain, an agony which her mark had told her to confront over and over again as companions passed on, she understood.
"...she taught you how to be gentle."
He nodded. And then he stood up.
The biped looked down at Fluttershy, from that towering height. Focused on Angel, and his entire body shook --
-- he turned. Began to walk away.
She followed. So did Angel, and she'd expected that. But for herself -- she wasn't sure why. She knew what the departure meant: that he was relinquishing his claim, that Angel was hers. All she understood was that he was hurting, and in the face of such pain...
"But you still need that! I -- I don't want to give him up, but... maybe you're still fighting, but there has to be a part of you which is just like it was before, or you wouldn't have come! At the core of your heart, in your soul..."
He spun, faced her, and big hands began to jab at scratches which were just another kind of scar, one after the other.
Metal fell to the roof, over and over, until the pile of weapons matched her height.
She stared at them. The dents. The stains. The blood, and knew that nearly all of it had been his.
"...that's who you have to be now," she whispered. "But you stop sometimes, don't you? Go home, sleep. Rest. Or you wouldn't be able to keep going, because no one can do it forever unless they have a chance to stop..."
He looked down at her, a statue of flesh and pain. And then he nodded.
"...maybe you don't have to fight forever," Fluttershy softly wished. "And when you come home... you should have someone waiting for you -- no, don't leave!" Her wings flared and she had so little speed in the air, but she was upset and that always seemed to make her a little faster. Quick enough to get in front of him, just before he finished turning. Maintaining the hover. "I know what you're thinking, because it's the same thing everyone thinks when they lose a companion! That it was your fault! I feel like that over and over, whenever a treatment doesn't work, whenever I'm not in time! It's that, isn't it? Just that!"
His arms began to spread. A gesture of helplessness --
"-- but you didn't know the monsters were out there, did you? There's no way to protect when you don't know. You know now. You know how to fight, you have all those weapons, and you still know how to be gentle! You're fighting because you loved her, because you'll always love her and fighting is one more way to mourn, but you can't mourn for the rest of your life and --"
Angel was there now, because a rabbit had his own way of approaching through grass in silence. The white body reared up, planted forepaws on the armored leg. And as they both looked down, dark eyes pleaded.
"-- there it is," Fluttershy whispered. "Right there. She loved you, as much as you loved her. He loves you still, loves you after death and life again..."
His hands came up again, covered the faceplate for the last time. Pain radiated from every kind of scar, the agony of failure...
She nuzzled him. In the only place he could feel it, where the flesh was so twisted.
"...you only get that kind of love," she told him, snout pressed tightly against scars, "if you give it. You have so much love. Someone needs to feel it. And... she never would have wanted you to mourn forever..."
He was silent for a while, under a slow-dipping sun.
And then she felt him rub the base of her ears.
In a way, she considered the summer program to already have been a success. The first pet had already been adopted.
The bunny was tiny in his arms now. (The fur was being gently stroked, calming the young kit, and he was holding her perfectly.) But it wouldn't be long before she would be a lot bigger. She'd matched him with a Prench Giant: one of the most gentle rabbit breeds known -- but they were also the single largest lapine species. Adults could be larger than many dogs, and Winona had once discovered that the hard way: the border collie was still confused. That size allowed them to deliver devastating kicks at need, and she thought it was best to also match him with strength.
She watched him slowly walking away, moving a little more freely now. And just before he went over the bridge, stepping into the hues of sunset, he carefully knelt down and plucked something from the grass.
Even from the doorway, she recognized it. A sign of luck for some cultures -- but not a snack for the road, because you couldn't hold a rabbit like that unless you'd loved them for a lifetime and that meant he'd know it had a chance to give her gas. And in fact, all he did was carefully tuck it against her black fur. The granting of a name.
She wished him luck, because he deserved that. She hoped to see him again: divorced parents needed to meet every so often, if only for the sake of the foal, and they'd certainly parted on good terms. But when it came to the future of his new companion...
He crossed the bridge, walking through the natural chorus of sunset, then veering off towards the mirror pool because a tunnel had to be sealed and a newborn servant required a proper home to look after. She watched him go, and she wished him luck. But when it came to luck for his companion... being loved by that biped was all the good fortune the bunny would ever need.
Clover was going to be all right. And she knew that one day, when the fighting finally ended... so would he.
