Goats of Summer

Chapters

It Ends With Goat Pies
A Light Dusting
Kids Will be Kids
Goatpocalypse Now (Getting the Goats) / Goatpalooza
Goat It Done

It Ends With Goat Pies

Streaking through the sky.

Falling...Descending at a cantilevered angle.

Down.

Swooping past.

My campers clambered for cover, hooves pounding. Heads of most, save those of... was it... four gawkers--yep, four, tightly turned down. Not-so-tightly-stuffed hats flew into contrail updrafts, their brown and green ephemerally painting color against our oppressively cloudless blue sky.

"Woo-hoo!" called the perpetrator, preparing another pass.

I waved my ten-gallon hat at the menace. She dived for its white blur.

Good.

I tossed it away. 'Course the bird-brained menace followed it. Delightful. She snatched the tall hat out of the sky and tossed it back to me with a quick look over her shoulder, then buzzed the grass and ascended again.

On her next descent, I tossed my hat again. My campers, gawkers included, had made it into their tents... at least the tents that had been well-secured. A couple shelters were flyin' toward the lake. Tarnation. I glared at the white-teeth-baring beast that flew and chomped tight on my chapeau's brim again. A shimmy over her shoulder and she tossed it back. 'Course I caught it--Buckball forwards're good like that. Just cause I never played professional didn't mean I couldn't show hotshot cousin Brae a thing or two when he came a swaggerin'. And If I could show-up Brae then this wouldn't be--

The beast ascended again.

Would she go for the hat a third time?

I threw it. Go, she did. An' she snatched it clean before it or she hit the hay bale. A couple pieces fluttered up, but no big deal. Then, she tossed it back t' me, flashin' a crap-eatin' grin.

While she ascended, although there wasn't much time, I considered my surroundin's. Knew 'em well I did. I'd counseled here at the camp for two years previous an' I'd been goin' to it for years before then. We had the tents, the fire pit, the lake, the goat pasture an' the poop pits. Well, ya' get a stinker, ya' treat 'em as one, my family often said--ma' had a lotta enemies.

I tossed my hat again and the beast responded with a constipated laugh. "Yo' not so awosome." She barely sounded like she was speaking Equuish. She didn't retrieve the hat and, due to updrafts from her repositioning, it fluttered short of its goal. "It's nawt like I'm a dawg."

I must've looked pretty perplexed 'cause she laughed again and gawked: "You're so funny looking. Maybe youse a dawg? Hare. Fetch this." Breathing hard, she whipped around, grabbed one of the campers' denuded hats and tossed it toward the lake. I didn't move. "Gawt a problem?" She flicked a hoof on the underside of her jaw and pouted--an insult.

I rolled my eyes.

"Goat gawt yer tongue?"

I grinned, though I wanted ta' cuss. "Not exactly." The goats wouldn't let this beast--this pegasus--get away with harassing them. And unlike us, they weren't here for friendship and they could stack. This pegasus would regret that. But first, I had to approach things the polite way. The friendly way. The friendship summer camp way. Keep the heat and the windigoes away from coverin' Equestria in eternal cold by embracing in hot summer hugs, or somethin' along those lines. B'sides, I had ta' think a bit about the effects of the diversion on our hosts. They could deal with it, shore, but it'd be better if I didn't threaten the treaty.

I reminded the pegasus of the purpose of our joint camp.

"Yeah, friendship," she laughed. "Nice to meet yoo, friend." She spat on a hoof and offered it to me.

Filthy pegasi. ... To be fair, us earth ponies walked in the dirt and the mud and the muck--what was a little more contamination? Only unicorns stereotypically had a 'thing' about keeping their hooves sanitary--although I avoided spit when I could, unless it was wit' a friend--an' my friends knew better.

I didn't take her hoof.

"Gotta problem?" She sneered, quirking an eyebrow.

"Maybe we'll be friends and maybe not," I said. "The best way to ah-mity is ta' stop harassin' my campers."

"What?"

"Don't scare 'em into their tents."

"I'm nawt scary," she puffed out her chest. "Come on out!"

"Stay behind flaps!" I raised my voice. A couple heads poked out of a couple tents. "Now!" The flaps fluttered back flat.

"Youse gotta problem, Madam."

"That problem is you. Just who are you and what are you doing?" While reasonin' with her, I kept squintin' ta' see if any goats were around. But they weren't. Probably enjoyin' the lake before campers took it over. But somethin' else was in the goat lane, covered with a little hay. From up close a pony could smell and probably see what was hidden, but from afar....

"I'm the best pegasus counselor!"

Cow pies, or rather goat paddies, I s'ppose they were, given our hosts. An' in that instant, I knew how ta' deal with this posturin' mustang.

"Great. I'm the head earth pony counselor," I retorted.

"Nuh-uh," she gawked and shook her head.

"Uh-huh," I nodded.

"Nope," she said.

"Yup," I replied.

She chewed something over, then smiled. "'K. Watch this." She did an aerial trick. I forced my face to remain unmoving, although it was a pretty impressive twirl and roll.

"Cool, huh?" she posed. "I'm gonna make the Wonderbolts."

"The who?" 'Course I knew the Wonderbolts were the premier pegasi aerial performing troupe, but I wanted ta' keep this mustang off-center, make her think like an uncertain greenhorn. A risk though, since one couldn't control greenhorns or mustangs but at least greenhorns were usually too confused to be maliciously destructive.

"Youse earth ponies don't know about the Wonderbolts. Whoo!" She shook her head. "Backwater mud ponies."

I rolled my eyes.

"The Wonderbolts are the fastest, the most daring, and the best pegasi that ever lived--"

I cut her off since I could tell where this was going. "That's why you're not one?"

She scrunched up her nose. "That's why I'm gonna be one. They don't let students join."

"Oh," I shrugged. "Okay."

Silence.

"You going back to your campers now?" I asked.

Pegasi this year. It was supposed to be unicorns but sometimes plans shifted. Last year was solo camp, just earth ponies and goats. Two years ago: pegasi. An' now they were back again. Which meant... blushing simpering Snowflake--oh no. But. Was he aged out? I shook my head out of contemplation. Even if he wasn't--it was just embarassin' an' my own fault. He wasn't a pain. He was awkward and weird and I shouldn't have kissed him and I didn't think I'd have ta' see him again but-nope-nope-nope. The other pegasi, though, they were true pains, like this mustang.

She looked at the sun, stubbornly slowly drifting past the apex. "In a bit..." She grinned. "Ya' wanna train ya' campers to set up their tents real strong. I'll give them a good buzz before I sets off."

We already had some tents to restore. Supplies scattered around our camp. Would there be s'mores? Would we have time to set the fire before dark? "No," I told this pegasus: "Don't."

"It's fine--" she started.

"Would the Wonderbolts do that?" I was desperate.

"Sure," she smiled. "It's fast."

"They do tricks too, right?" I looked at a target. "Maybe blast a few haybales?"

She considered the goats' hay--their neatly stacked meals. "I could do that. Get your campers out to applaud."

I'd rather not have, but I called them.

The pegasus drew herself up, puffing out her chest. "H'llo mud ponies!"

The campers grumbled.

She laughed. "Sorry--don't youse call yourselves that when youse farmers don't have pegasi to protect youse from the rain?"

"No," I frowned. "It's always an insult. You must be thinking of 'dirt ponies'--which still can be a bit obnoxious. And not all of us are from farms. Earth ponies are tradespeople, merchants--we do most anything. Many hail from Canterlot an' other big cities."

"Yeah, that was it," she chuckled. "So, dirt ponies, prepare to see the opening show from your co-campers, the pegasi! Presented by your greatest pegasus--Lightning Dust!" She propelled herself into the sky, wings beating hard, going up until she was just a speck.

She came down and blasted past one, then two hay bales. Then there was the third... which wasn't really a hay bale at all.

Ponies dug latrines for waste. We had dug ours earlier in the day. Goats did not do that. Goats stacked theirs. Shovel and stack and cover with a thin bit of hay to sorta' mask the smell. Repeat campers knew that. Earth ponies came here almost every year, outside of occasional sojourns to wherever the unicorn camp was temporarily placed. We couldn't walk on clouds so the pegasi always came to us. But this pegasus hadn't been here two years ago. And she hadn't been oriented, or hadn't remembered that detail.

She sputtered the leavings from her unsanitary encounter and ascended, then veered toward the lake.

A great "baaa"-ing carried over the wind. Ponies weren't expected at the lake today. For the pegasus, her crash into goat-ridden water was a smelly ba-ad end.

"Fiddlesticks--Fiddlesticks! Should we get a shovel?" A lime green pony with a reddish mane asked me, with big eyes.

"I suppose the goats will prefer for their pile t' be aesthetically restored..." I sighed. Nopony understood goat art but we had been encouraged to politely not complain and to tell our proud host goats that it looked good or, if that could not come out believably, then at least it was "very goat".

Looking back at the lake, I glimpsed a rapidly-ascending water-shaking Lightning Dust angrily retreat from the bleating goats to the clouds. My purpose was accomplished. A bit distasteful, but nevertheless a success. Very goat. Very goat indeed.

A Light Dusting

Four of us sat in the counselors' hut, the Drover Room as the goats called it since we were herding students like a goat drover herded its herd. Me, Lightning Dust--cleaned up but glowerin' at me, my junior counselor--whatshisname, and Snowflake. He wasn't supposed to be 'ere. An' he wasn't 'Snowflake' anymore. He was goin' by a different sobriquet. I couldn't deal with this.

After shifting like I needed shittin', I got up and left the room.

We'd done introductions. It'd been... a lot.

"What's wrong Fid-" my junior counselor stood.

"Headache," I said. "Back in a bit."

I stumbled outside, around the back of the building and looked to my left, my right, my back. Just a single grizzled goat chewin' grass. I bucked the back of the building, cussin' up a rage an' stompin' at the grass an' spittin'. Then I looked down at the musical note cutie mark at my thigh and took a deep breath. One. Two. Three. Four. Four count time. Measure by measure. Fine. No need ta' bolt. I walked back into the room.

My junior counselor was laughing when the door opened. Laughter cut off and they all stared.

"How's your head?" Snowflake asked in sotto-voce.

"Mezzo-forte," I mumbled.

"Not fortissimo... strong?"

"Not as much."

"Wha?" Lightning Dust screwed up her face and looked over at my junior counselor.

He explained: "Fiddlesticks fancies music. Note her cutie mark," he indicated the treble clef--a G-clef--on my hip. "And Neightalian terminology."

Lightning Dust moved back in her wooden chair. "Wow. Nerd."

I ignored her and met Snowflake's eyes. "Hey," I said and went to my chair.

Lightning Dust squeaked a hoof so it sounded like I farted when I sat. I fixed her with a disgusted expression.

"Ugh," Lightning made a face. "Didn't wipe yahself when you went?"

"I had a *headache*. Not a bathroom jaunt."

"Meh. Heard youse kicking dirt, covering it up."

"We have an outhouse."

"Thought that was just for city ponies?"

"Who in Celestia's name deemed you qualified to babysit foals at camp?"

"Same pony who appointed me," Snowflake spoke up, with a gruffer, harder voice than I remembered him having. And devoid of stuttering, now that I thought about it. He'd had an impediment when I'd known him. Good that he'd gotten over that. He'd been teased mercilessly--unfairly so--but kids were kids--jerks.

"Why... why are you here?" I asked.

He took a deep breath, then growled. Maybe the growling covered up any slipping of the tongue. "I may not be here the whole season, but the counselors... had an accident."

"Trying to save an Earth Pony," Lightning Dust yawned. "She was wandering in the Everfree Forest by herself, looking for her parents."

Looking for her... Oh Celestia. I'd been warned about one of my campers. The lemon-coated one with the red mane--Apple Bloom--a distant cousin of mine. Her grandmother had told her that her parents had been "lost" an' the filly took it literally. Then she got herself lost. Her big brother and sister went looking for her and some pegasi joined. The pegasi hadn't fared too well in tha' Everfree Forest an' my cousins were payin' for their medical bills... not out of requirement but out of duty.

"And I was EEA-approved." The Equestrian Education Agency (EEA) licensed our counselors. "I'm older than my majority, you're right." He fixed me with a gaze that seemed to question my skepticism. "But this is the best they could do on short notice." He looked away, at the wall, but I could tell his face had flushed.

I looked down, hiding my own blush. Celestia-be-damned, I didn't wanna deal with this tha' whole season....

"But pegasi will be fine despite Bulk Biceps' infirmity." Lightning Dust smirked and indicated Snowflake's tiny wings, little appendages on a body that had bulked up significantly since I'd sighted Snowflake two years ago, when his name was... Snowflake. But now he was "Bulk Biceps"... an' I couldn't take that name seriously. C'mon. Really. "Bulk". Nearly laughed. But I also wanted ta' cry. I'd left his letters unanswered after camp two years ago. I'd kissed him and hugged him and left him behind. An' I was never gonna see him again. But he was here.

He stared at me with a neutral expression now. My mouth was dry. The room was silent.

"I can fly," he said, meeting my gaze. I stared at his body. Ridiculously buff compared to where he was two years ago. He'd been a bit stocky when I'd known him--good for an earth pony--less so for pegasi who needed streamlinin'. He'd been teased and picked up and tossed into th' lake. He couldn't swim. I got the water out of him and took him back to the Drover Room. And the counselors hadn't been around. And we'd been talkin'. And touchin'. My tick'lish G-spot--the indicative part of my hip-borne cutie-mark G-clef, y'know--I was so young then. An' there weren't many days left at camp.

"Fly?" I had nothin' else to say.

He nodded and came off his chair. He beat his tiny wings--so out of proportion to his body and an eighth the size of a normal pegasi's--faster and faster like an out-of-control oscillating fan. And he rose into the air. Puffing out his cheeks, he rose and gained height. His body, muscled and strained, more like that of an Earth Pony's than a pegasi's. He rose from the ground and fluttered around. He was making it work--an awkward fly--but it functioned. Then he alighted back in his chair.

I was wide-eyed: "Congratulations."

He acknowledged with a slight nod.

After we got through the counselor's meeting, we found the young'uns hadn't gotten up to too much trouble. The goats who had been watchin' them masticate their dinner from afar nodded to us and hoofed back supervision. Nary a word, but the goats liked it like that. A few bleats, a few nods, a few stomps--all they needed to convey what they wanted--which was mostly bits an' to be left alone.

Camp was lightly staffed, just four counselors. If a problem arose, we had a semaphore to signal for help. Celestia had convinced the EEA ta' let this camp be a developmental place--youths only--to find themselves. It was special... And I loved it.

But this year was... somethin' else.

We roasted s'mores and taught camp songs an' I played my fiddle. Even pegasi joined in the dancin', albeit in air moreso than on the ground. Even Snow-Biceps joined in. He didn't look much at me though. Blearily through the smoke of the flickerin' fire, I watched him move more elegantly than he had two years ago. Last time he'd been unsteady--gawky. I'd helped him wit' the traditional earth steps: the cotton-pickin' line, the foreleg over foreleg, the fetlock raise, the twist, the cocky chicken dance, the ... stuff. We'd been sweaty, happy... Not important.

Tha' pegasi joined tha' camp on tha' ground for sleepin' in solidarity. Happened every year. I forced our campers a'sleep as early as possible 'cause we all needed a bushel of rest 'cause every time the pegasi slept on the ground it was the same drudgery the next day.

Bright an' early our campers rose--tha' pegasi especially complainin' about their backs from sleepin' on hard dirt instead of soft clouds. A few ponies roused resting compatriots who failed to heed the breakfast bell.

"Ya' softies!" I'd called. "Gonna prove yerselves today then ya' can go back to them clouds if ya' want." Last time, most pegasi spent their nights in the clouds--except Sn-Bulk Biceps. That gave us lots'a chances ta' talk.

My promises and threats stopped the campers' whining. Pegasi snapped to attention.

But there was a problem.

For our team-building hike up the goats' premier mountain, we were traditionally paired mare to stallion (when possible--there were only three stallions among earth pony campers and four for the pegasi). That meant as counselor-guides 'Bulk' Biceps was to be my partner. But I didn't want that awkwardness. So, stupidly, I approached Lightning Dust.

"Veteran with newbie,' I'd laughed an excuse.

"Youse loves me," Lightning had winked, surprisingly chipper despite her bleary eyes--her experience on the ground had been no different from her charges'. Our campers heard and they oohed and awwed. One started a supportive cheer of "Mare Mates! Mare Mates!" Lightning laughed at the japery.

I shuddered. Never with that mare. We set off.

Lightning Dust threw away the map.

I couldn't bawl her out in front'a the campers. Well, I could. Could'a called her a bird-brained cloudy-puff. But I shouldn't. So I didn't. Not that time at least.

"Where'd you toss it?" I asked, with gritted teeth.

"Intaw a pond."

No way ta' recover that. Ponds were too muddy. And mucky. Even if we found it, it'd be a miracle if it was usable.

I'd closed my eyes. "Fine. I remember this path. It's overgrown, but we need ta' go right."

"I'll fly to scout," Lightning Dust suggested.

"That's against tha' spirit of our orienteering--" I held out my compass ineffectively.

Dust was off, fast, into the sky, doing tricks and slides along branches as she ascended above the canopy. Soon, she returned, to cheers and claps of eager campers.

"This way!" Dust exclaimed and darted up the left path.

"Wait!" I counseled. But the campers raced after Dust.

Much later that night when it was dark, we returned covered in brambles and briars. To her credit, Lightning Dust and her pegasi hadn't abandoned us earth ponies. But she was the one who'd gotten us lost and completely off the pony-made trails onto some nightmare of a game or goat trail that had an unsteady cliff-slide.

Bulk Biceps approached us, frowning. "Are the campers safe?" he asked.

"No thanks ta' this bird--" I tossed my head at my nemesis.

She scoffed. "I got us back."

"She ditched tha' map."

"And scouted out--"

"Which was prohibited--"

"Youse was guessing. You'd have gotten us into trouble."

"And you didn't?" I pulled a prickly branch off my haunches.

"Worse trouble," Lightning Dust clarified, scratching herself in a place that maybe disturbed some small parasitic critters that had al'most certainly hopped a ride onto her.

"And the campers?" Bulk Biceps asked.

"I don't see how some barely-qualified city pony's allowed ta' even be with tha' campers--" I'd shouted.

My assistant, who had apparently gone to look after the youths, returned and reported to Bulk Biceps about their scrapes, ailments, and assorted woes.

Bulk--I'll call him Biceps since that was the only way I could think about his new name--had grunted, loudly, and taken out a small notebook--one I recognized as him having used as a journal two years ago. And he wrote in it.

"You're writing us up?" Lightning Dust surmised.

Biceps shrugged, "It's about the campers."

"What'd ya' write?" Lightning Dust was persistent. "Youse got a problem, just say it."

Biceps shook his head. "It's private. You two might consider being... a bit kinder. A bit more conscientious." He walked off.

"Conscientious?" I'd shouted. Then I'd clapped a hoof over my mouth.

Lightning Dust cocked her head at me. Then she took off behind Biceps, who hadn't looked back, despite my ejaculation.

Later.

Lightning Dust sidled up beside me hoverin' with a thick-as-thieves look on her face. "I got what Bulk Biceps wrote. It didn't have anything to do with either of us."

"You stole it," I observed.

"From his bedroll."

"Uh-huh."

"I know. So, youse can rest at ease." Lightning Dust winked.

"You're gonna put it back, right?"

Lightning Dust grinned and held the journal aloft.

"Right?"

She shook her head. "Gonna read it."

"Invasion of privacy! Not friendly behavior--" I started.

She tsk-tsked and started to fly away. I couldn't let her. Biceps had written in it when we'd had our... hugs and kisses... and it might mention Biceps thoughts about me. If not for myself, then for Biceps--poor Biceps--I had to get the journal. I raced forward with a jump, grabbed it in my teeth, turned, and ran.

Lightning Dust was on me in an instant. We tousled and rolled in the dirt. She kicked sand in my eyes, tore into my neck with sharp teeth and I dropped the book.

"Heh-heh. Dusted!" Mealy-mouthed, she declaimed, spitting out some hair. And she took off and flew straight into Biceps' barrel chest with a whomp!

Later.

I held a bag of ice over one o' my eyes and another on my neck. Lightning Dust held her head in her hooves. Momentarily, she looked up at me, an expression of slight terror across her face. "He's probably not gonna write anything to the EEA. It'll look bad that we're not getting along." She tried to convince herself.

I focused on my own strategies. I could tell Biceps I was just tryin' to get the book to give it back to him.

When Biceps emerged from the Drover Room with his journal, he just stared at me. No blush, just a frown. My assistant delivered the decision. Biceps didn't want to talk. T' be fair, I wasn't worthy of talkin' to him.

We stared into each other's eyes, barely able to make each other out due to the clouded darkness and lack of stars or moon overhead, hearing the bleats of our host goats in tha' near distance.

Tonight was supposed to be another s'mores roast. And music. But we were in time out, supposed to talk things out. Friendship detention.

I spoke up first. "Lightning Dust. Why're you such a jerk?"

"Why're you so mean?"

"Me: Mean?"

"Youse heard me." She sneezed as some dust blew into our faces. The wind was picking up.

"What've I done to you... unprompted?"

"Youse insult me all the time."

"Same from you."

Silence.

"Look," Lightning Dust sighed. "Bulk Biceps is gonna wanna see some progress was made, so why don't we kiss and make up?"

"What?" The nerve of her. "Yer speaking evocatively?"

"No," she shook her head. "Nothin' real, but something obvious. A light dustin' of kisses. Bites on the neck, right?"

I tilted my neck to display what violence she had done to me earlier.

"This is more than enough."

"Nope," She grinned very white teeth. She breathed short, anticipatory breaths.

I responded, breathing longer heavy expulsions, listnin' to tha' crickets and tha' wind. Tonight wasn't gonna be quite as hot a night like tha' past few.

"Just a few nips'll sell that we made up." So smug.

"--that how they make up in Manehattan?"

"Sure,"

"'S not how we do it here."

"Sex?" She'd asked.

"What?"

"Do it. Makeup sex?"

"No!"

Lightning Dust shrugged. "I wasn't askin' for some. I was askin' if that's what farm ponies did. Youse have a lotta relatives. Lotta kids. Like youse got three cousins at this camp alone."

"That's because many don' practice birth control--but no--I--biting my neck?" I took a sharp intake of breath. "You like me!"

"No, no," she vigorously shook her head. "I'm just--it's the simplest way. They'll think we're love-hate."

"It's hate-hate."

She nodded. "Yeah."

Goats bleated.

"Just like I hate that sound," she expanded on her thought.

"It's our hosts."

"Why are we even here?"

"Punishment."

"I mean here. On goat property. This camp, root-brain."

I humored her. "Pegasi, on your off rotations meet with griffins, right?" She nodded. "Unicorns' community service goes in border areas where they become better acquainted wit' donkeys, mules an' cows. We got the goats."

"Why goats?"

I shrugged.

"Why pegasi? Why unicorns? Why anything?"

"What?"

"Why are we trying so hard to be friends? Like, country earth ponies can't even fly. We'd probably never see each other if we didn't come here."

"Windigoes." Legend had it that if the pony tribes stopped being friends, the windigoes would come and freeze the world in ice as thick as the hatred in ponies' hearts.

"Fairy tale. But I guess if the tribes don't work together, there'd be more conflict. Pegasi are self-sufficient, though--can move to warmer pastures. Better than youse rich dirt ponies and unicorns. We'd be fine."

"Where does your food come from? Those farms you're lookin' down on?"

"... I suppose. But we can hunt." She grinned that carnivorous pegasus stare. Some ate fish. And there were rumors of other consumed meats. My vegetarian-friendly stomach rumbled, pondering that.

"And you give us requested weather," I acknowledged the role of the pegasi.

"I guess."

"Whether we're rich or poor."

"All youse farmers are rich."

"What?" She'd stated that before but it hadn't quite registered.

"Youse are rich. You've got land. You own your houses. Like Cloudsdale pegasi."

"You're from Manehattan?"

She sniffed.

"You don't own your home?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Manehattan's great. Lots of places ta' party. But we've got congestion and flying rules and a pony can't just go to the outskirts to fly unless there's supervision--loads more rules in Manehattan than in the country with youse rich ponies."

"We're indebted to insurers," I explained. "We could lose the farm on a couple of bad harvests."

"Least you've got food--"

We went back and forth for a while. Then, still thinkin' about it, we lay back on the ground. Goats bleated aggressively.

"What are they bucking doing so loud this late?" Lightning Dust asked.

"Sex."

"Bucking no."

"Yup."

"Huh." The bleating went on. "Should we move?"

Hooves were stamping. The bleating cadence was rising. "Nope," I said.

"Um. But they don't know ponies are here. We're supposed to be at the fire."

"Just be quiet."

"You like hearing that?"

I whispered. "We have to stay. This is our punishment... not these precise sounds but...goats only sleep about five hours. They're out and about when we're restin'. If we move, though, we'll be in bigger trouble."

"Uh." Horns were locking. "Sounds pretty intense... are they harming each other?"

I rolled over on my side and didn't answer. Cows did similar things on the farm when bulls visited. These weren't new sounds to me.

"Um," Lightning Dust's voice quivered. "Are they hitting each other? That can't be right."

Sounds certainly implied they were. Goats had horns to an extent that non-unicorn ponies did not. And culturally, they loved smacking them around. "Yeah,"

"Isn't that hurting--like illegal? Should we get a-police?"

"They're goats. They do this. It doesn't hurt."

"I'd, um..." she trailed off. A few minutes later she finished her thought. "I'd want ponies to go to ... police if that was my..."

I can sometimes pick up on subtext.

"That happen to someone you care about?"

"Uh,"

I hugged her. She didn't shrug me off. And she was shaking. "Usually, mares dominate. It's embarrassing. Celestia--I should shuddupaboutit!" She sobbed. "But... yeah. Let's stop this."

"They're goats, Lightnin'. They're not in pain. This is what they do." This hug was bringing back memories...of Biceps. I bit my lower lip. I was... really, this caring instinct of mine. This was why I'd become a counselor. Well, I wanted to heal with my music--use my cutie mark--but I couldn't have that here, so I fell back on older methods...

"I don't wanna hear it."

I held my hooves over Lightning Dust's ears. She whimpered and tucked her head against my body. I felt her snort quite a lot at first, but her sniffling subsided... although it left me sticky.

Eventually, the goats went to sleep.

I detached myself from Lightning Dust and rubbed the stickiness on the grass. Then she reached for me. It was getting colder, so I accepted and pressed closer against her. I really hated her but this punishment had been more intense for her. Sleepily, she turned to my face and held me, muttering something about "Cumulus". And we slept... more or less... hugging.

The wind blew and a light dust settled over us as we dreamed, Lightning Dust twitching from a disturbed dream or a chill every now and then. The calm probably wouldn't last.

Kids Will be Kids

In tha' morning we were still entwined and Lightning Dust was snoring, so I carefully disentangled my forelegs and my hind and made my way to a private place ta' use as an outdoors outhouse--in other words--a pit to sit.

A couple younger goats--kids was it? They were stirring nearby and jumped with surprise, then ran off. Squintin' tha' sleep out of my eyes, I saw that they had been worryin' a couple of mountain laurels flowerin' out of the waste piles. The leaves and fruiting pods were chewed. My mouth was a bit dry and the uneaten ones were wet with morning dew an' it was maybe still a little early to return to camp. Although city ponies might turn up their nose at eatin' flowerin' fruit from manure--tha' nutrients actually make it taste better. So, driven by thirst and grogginess, I trespassed... gingerly steppin' over a low fence and, scrunching my nose, went over to try some.

Once I did, I started shaking and... I blacked out.

Lightning Dust and Biceps were standing over me and there was the sound of campers whispr'in-but-not-whispr'in as they are wont to do. Lightning Dust and Biceps were rubbing my lips with a wet cloth. My stomach cramped.

"It's okay, S-Sticks," Biceps cooed in-between a stutter. It seemed he hadn't completely gotten rid of that impediment.

"Sticks?" Lightning Dust sneered. Biceps ignored her, but he flushed a bit and didn't use that pet name again.

"Gotta hurt in my side," I said.

"Can you get up?"

"Maybe."

He and Lightning Dust took up position on either side of me and helped support me to standin' position. Then they helped me back over the fence.

"Goats aren't going to be happy," Lightning Dust mused, indicatin' the crossed fence with a glance.

The campers oohed and awed.

"I shouldn't have. Was thirsty."

"I think those were f-funny beans..." Biceps pondered.

"What?"

"C-came across them in a d-ietary book." Biceps looked down at his bulging chest. "M-mentioned goats grew them... although the f-funny beans are illegal."

"Why funny? I don't feel funny... maybe in a bad way."

"Funny beans?" The campers chirped.

"Goats tremble and hallucinate when consuming them... but ponies pass out and cramp up."

"Aren't you an experienced camper?" Lightning Dust challenged. "And you ate them on purpose?"

"These looked like a different variety of what we have on tha' farm in tha' manure. Never seen... not-so funny beans..."

"They make your belly feel 'funny'," Biceps postulated an explanation for the name.

"Ah," I paused. "Ah... I'm gonna hurl."

Lightning Dust immediately dropped away from supporting me and the bile rose in my throat. Biceps heftily positioned me into a reasonable position, and I spewed. The campers keened. Thank Celestia there wasn't much to expel. Then Biceps wiped my mouth again. "Let's get back to the cabin."

We returned. He never asked if Lightning Dust and I worked anything out.

When I was better, a day later, I was disappointed to find the campers bullying each other. A pegasi and earth pony fight again about who contributed more to Equestria--exactly the type of dispute we shouldn't be having at friendship camp. To be fair, though, it was a bit more nuanced. And personal.

"Pegasi like Lightning Dust aren't just faster--they're smarter!"

"Fiddlesticks is plenty smart! She can play the fiddle like nopony else!"

"And she's caring too! She sat up all night for two nights with Wind Runner when she had the feather runs."

I shivered. The feather runs weren't just the runs as experienced by earth ponies and unicorns. Their feathers also secreted sticky, smelly, liquid for a couple days that got into everything. Pegasi diseases were disgusting.

"But she's such a dumb dirt pony that she ate dirt and got sick."

"We're earth ponies! Not dirt ponies!"

"Grow things in the ground! Synonyms! It's all the same."

"She didn't eat dirt! I was there! Counselor Bulk Biceps said it was funny food."

"Was she laughing?"

"No."

"Then what makes it funny?"

"Pegasi are stupid--Counselor Bulk Biceps doesn't know what he's talking about."

"You take that back!"

I should have intervened earlier, but at least I came in soon enough to stop more of the shoving.

"Behave yourselves," I ordered. "Act like friends."

"Why?" An earth pony sneered--seriously, one of my charges.

"Because this is a friendship camp!" I punctuated the word 'friendship'.

"You n' Lightning Dust wrassle all tha' time!" Assenting murmurs all around at the comment from my distant cousin--ugh.

"I-" I did. But... "We worked it out."

"Y'all are still mean to each other even after Counselor Bulk Biceps punished both of y'all."

Not untrue. "We're working on it."

"So are we," a pegasus said.

I huffed. "Try something more constructive. Work together on a project. That's your punishment. You--you--and you--and you--and you two." I pointed at the ponies who had been gathered around... conveniently three earth ponies and three pegasi. Grumblin', they hoofed off.

Then I waved down Lightning Dust.

She came to a stop just short of me, blowing dust into my face. I didn't flinch.

"Lightning Dust... we need to stop fightin'." I sneezed. At least I'd been able to keep tha' dust out long enough to say my bit.

"No hoofs were thrown," Lightning Dust smirked.

"Verbal wrasslin' is still wrasslin'."

"Verbal what?"

"Wrasslin'."

"Wrestling?"

"No. Wrasslin'. Fightin'."

Lightning Dust snickered.

I narrowed my eyes. "Wasn't so funny for you at night when you were shiverin' and callin' for your cumulus!" I shouldn't have said that, but it made me feel good.

Lightning Dust looked to a side and crossed her hooves as she hovered. "I didn't say anything about a cumulus cloud."

"It clearly isn't a cloud."

"Yeah it is."

I led Lightning Dust away from the campers' surprisingly agile ears. "The kids were fightin' today."

"So?"

"About us."

"Who won?"

"You know that's not right. You're a licensed EEA counselor--act like one!"

Lightning Dust rolled her eyes.

"About that cloud again?" I asked in hushed voice.

Lightning Dust curled her upper lip.

"You're clearly coming from some trouble--"

"What do you know about that?"

"Those goats weren't hurting each other--at least non-consentually--an' most ponies would be a mite upset but--that was a panic attack." Against my better judgment, I placed a foreleg around Lightning Dust's shoulder.

"You coming on to me?" Lightning Dust sneered, but she didn't remove my foreleg.

I sighed. "Lightning... we're both licensed counselors. We both know what to look out for. If you won't talk about that, then what about how you came to work here?"

"I applied."

"And got accepted."

"Yeah."

"Simple as that?"

"Yes."

"But you weren't the first choice--she got injured in the incident."

"So I was the second choice for female counselor, so what?"

"I'm... just guessing here... but you mentioned you didn't have a lot of opportunities ta' fly free."

"Yes."

"Your parents worked late... or maybe there was only one... after a time."

Silence. Lightning Dust stared and bit her lower lip. Then she shook me off her shoulder.

"Youse think youse so wise--farmer girl--country wisdom helpin' a city girl. Try to--try--try to keep up! Truth or dare on Thursday. Maybe I'll tell you then if you're so clever." And she broke off.

She didn't give me much trouble for the rest of that week.

The campers were asleep--probably. They'd had a swimming day, and I'd played my fiddle for jig dancin' so they were prob'ably tuckered out. It'd been a good fiddle performance. Even a couple o' goats had stood mesmerized a ways away, swayin' and cooin' at the sound.

But now us counselors had our weekly meetin' comparin' notes and plans over firelight. Then it was time for team building. It was Lightning Dust's chance to choose the activity and she'd chosen probably the most childish and stupid option available--truth or dare.

I expected her to come at me... but she threw me off-balance. She winked bloodshot eyes at me, and, still staring directly at me, chose whosit, my subordinate counselor.

"I dare you," she said. "To kiss the most beautiful pegasus at this fireplace."

Even if whatshisname was interested in stallions--and he wasn't--Biceps probably wouldn't have been winnin' that race. He had muscles, sure--great for an earth pony but his face was a bit weird too. I wasn't into muscles, which made it all the weirder that of all the pegasi, I'd been with him. Of course I was glad his muscles helped him get airborne more often. As far as looks went, though, I preferred something sleek I could get myself around like a musical instrument--a bit rare in earth ponies but more common in pegasi. Nope. Well... tarnation yuppers, Lightning Dust could be considered beautiful by my standards. Dangnabit.

With the only realistic option for him being Lightning Dust, utterly bland well-built whosit smiled a tight grin and moved over. She went airborne and dropped down on his lips with a backwards kiss and... I looked away.

Some time later, Biceps and myself were humming to cover the smacking sounds and the two of them finished their...time and it was Biceps turn. He looked at me and asked--"Truth: do you sometimes not answer your letters?"

By Celestia. That had bothered him. He was talking about his letters to me. I had ignored them on purpose. I reddened.

"She doesn't wanna answer--do a dare instead," Lightning Dust was right on the opportunity.

Biceps sighed. "I-I'm sorry. I-I wanted to know for sure."

I waved him off and said: "Dare instead."

"Um..."

"Dare her to--jump in goat waste!"

Biceps frowned at her.

"C'mon. She's gonna have to do it since she didn't do the Truth! She can shower right after."

"That's a health hazard."

I smiled. Biceps wasn't gonna make me get dirty.

"It isn't anything she didn't make me do."

"What?"

Oh no.

"On the first day--Counselor Fiddlesticks here had me fly into a pile of goat pies."

Biceps and my subordinate looked at me. I looked to a side. I bit my lower lip. "I need ta' go-go-um," I got up.

Biceps stood too and cleared his throat. Lightning Dust darted over and blocked my path.

"There was a reason--" my excuse didn't sound good.

Biceps sighed. "On the first day?"

I kicked at the dirt. "She was--deserved it."

Biceps shook his head.

"Tit for tat--sister!" Lightning Dust laughed.

I should have explained more but I was really--really wrong-hoofed.

"Would this make things even?" Biceps asked. "Reduce animosity?"

Lightning Dust covered her chuckles with a hoof. At least she was tryin' not ta' wake our charges. "Sure. Why not?"

"You mule of a pony!" I shouted.

And there was silence.

"I um... shouldn't have said that. We had a mule who was a real jackass who worked for the farm and--"

Biceps blinked. "I wasn't inclined to--this Truth or Dare game is terrible--and we are focusing on friendship with all types of creatures. But--" he looked around at all of us. "Do it. Dare."

"Oh Celestia--"

Biceps turned his back.

I stiffened and walked toward the goat pie mounds. The others followed, firefly jars illuminating the path as we made our way to the place where my animosity with Lightning Dust had begun. She took into the air to watch. "Just a running jump--" she goaded.

I took a deep breath and aligned myself. I hated Lightning Dust. Hated her so much. And I ran. And I was covered in it, and the pile tipped over and narrowly missed covering me--crushing me--suffocating me.

There was a slow clip-clop clap of hooves, started by Lightning Dust and joined by the others.

"Let's get Fiddlesticks to the showers--" Biceps suggested.

"Wait," I said, dried waste toppling off my shoulder as I walked. "I haven't had my turn. Lightning Dust--Truth!"

Lightning Dust, alighted on the ground and illuminated by her jar, rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"What is 'Cumulus'?" The uttered expression from her terrified night.

"A type of cloud," she laughed. "That was easy."

"The other Cumulus. A pony?"

"No."

"You liar!"

"I t-thought this was going to s-stop," Biceps swallowed, then hollered: "YEAAAAHH! Stop it!"

We stopped.

"Get cleaned up," Biceps led us back to the showers. "Everypony's too tired."

Under the water, I was alone, my goat filth contaminating the ground. I had been there a while.

Lightning Dust, with her tired, bloodshot eyes, was at my side: "Fiddlesticks,"

I jumped and kicked out. "Don't bucking startle me!" At least it was just my nemesis and not some goat-horn murderer from a campfire horror story. "Come ta' jest at me?"

"No," she shook her head. "Since you did it, stinky sis, I'll be fair," she swallowed and the sneer went out of her. "The truth about Cumulus.... Youse already guessed most and I know ya' kept Derecho's secret and stayed up with a pegasi camper who had the feather runs. Youse gonna keep quiet, though, right?" She tapped a hoof under one bag-heavy eye in a symbol of secrecy, I suppose. Some city thing, I guess.

I grunted.

"Okay. Cumulus. I should have brought her. She's my cozy. For hugs. Probably that's why I hugged you. I was upset. You're right. I couldn't have slept otherwise. I haven't been sleeping, actually. Thanks.... Sis. For that. Not for the other crap you started. But thank you for that. Youse didn't have to do it."

I was dripping wet, and I still smelled, but I cried. Something horrible had happened to Lightning Dust and her family and maybe she was just fronting and trying to build herself up when she'd arrogantly put my campers in danger on the first day and many times thereafter. I choked back tears. She had put children in danger. Our special mostly helpless charges. I sniffed. "Fine."

She looked to a side, then up. "Okay."

"I hate you. But I won't bring it up. Even ta' hurt you. That's who I am."

"I can tell," she said. She even sniffed. After a long dripping pause: "How were the drugs?" The goats'. We'd reported the presence to older goats and, presumably, those elders would remove the illegal plants. At least the plants we had seen were gone.

"...terrible."

She nodded. "Overdosing isn't great."

"You would know?"

"Um. Good night." She left.

Author's Note

The author bases the goats' interest in mescal beans on some possibly dubious articles. Even if the articles are not completely true, let's assume things operate a little different in Equestria. The hyperactivity seemed important.

Goatpocalypse Now (Getting the Goats) / Goatpalooza

Lightning Dust and that assistant-of-mine stallion had kissed at the Truth-or-Dare and a lot of times since then. I made a point to sleep in the tents rather than in the obnoxiously overstimulated cabin and Biceps kept to the skies at night.

So tha' campers came to me when they had a problem.

It was a penitent-looking group of six: three earth ponies and three pegasi.

"Counselor cousin, ma'am, Fiddlesticks, ma'am," Apple Bloom started.

"We made a bit of a mistake." One of the pegasi elaborated.

"Go on," I said.

"We were workin' together, like you said."

"And were on a quest--something productive and fun!"

"An' we went an' were out-of-fences, like you done did."

"What?"

"When you were fallin' over 'cause of tha' funny fruit."

"We wanted ta' find more of it for our herbal scavengin' badge."

Celestia-buck-me.

"And... all of you came back safe?"

"Yep." Nods all around.

"And the mistake is? Trespassin'?"

A gulp. "More than that, Ma'am."

"We found the plant!"

"Muh ... friends scouted, holdin' us, an' we sniffed it out. There were lots o' mounds o' goat dung."

"Of course."

"An' tha plants were growin' in some an' we harvested them--an' some goats chased us!"

"But then they snatched up an' ate what we dropped an' they started shakin' and actin' weird an' we waited an' watched. Then they were runnin' backward!"

"Into their herd!"

"Which stampeded."

"So many goats."

"Coming!"

"Here!"

"Coming here!"

"A goat stampede?"

"Yeah." We did not have a lot of time.

"Get to high ground. Rally the others. Don't delay." I rushed to our campsite and scanned the skies for Biceps or Lightning Dust. Pausing for a moment to haul my fiddle out of my tent, I saw her. "Lightning Dust!" I waved fiddle and bow over my head. She came tumbling out of the sky and stopped far enough from me to *not* cover me with dust.

"Goat stampede. Coming this way. Warn the campers! Get them to high ground."

"They're really scattered--" Lightning Dust met the crisis without joking, without messing around but with a surprising objection.

"You fly--fly fast," I insisted.

"We don't know where everypony is. But the stampede is all in one place. I'll lead it away."

"Wait. Goats aren't cows. You can't just herd 'em with a few nips at their heels."

"I'll dust them."

"It's not that simple... but maybe." I raised my fiddle. I'd grabbed it to make a loud sound to summon the campers, but now I had another idea. "Music soothes."

"Nogoat is gonna hear that."

"Drop me near them."

We heard the sound of hooves approaching. Lightning Dust grabbed me up and I held my fiddle and its bow and we sped She huffed and puffed--flying wasn't hard but holding a sturdy earth pony while doing so was certainly more than her normal training regime. We overflew the lead stampeders and veered to a side of the canyon they were racing through, then she dropped me on an outcropping.

"Don't die!" She called back then started circling around and around, building up dust and dirt in a whirling cyclone.

Hoof upon hoof clattered against the earth and their sound reverberated. Good acoustics if I aimed right. I played a few untuned discordant notes and shifted ever-so-slightly in turns around the canyon till I heard something back. Then I went to work. A sample from the wildest bit I knew: The Fiddler Went Down to Tartarus. Focusing on the song, and singin' loudly with the music, I didn't see what was happenin'. If it was workin'--it was. If it wasn't--I couldn't fix it.

I heard 'bout what happened later from Lightning Dust who was sort of a reliable narrator for this very specific circumstance. She had whirled around and around and the goats in front came to a stop. The ones in back ran into them and there was stacking and brayin'; sorry, braying, Lightning Dust said. She geared up for another spin, and the goats, pushed from runnin' goats behind, but stubbornly stayin'...staying upright got ready ta'--tooh run again. Celestia. Lightning Dust's accent's awful.

Anyway, from Dust's words: at the chorus with: "But if you lose, Ti-rAk gets your soul." The sound broke through. The goats' ears shot up. The ones in front shouted to the ones behind "QUIET MOTHER-----ING SHEEP----ERS! DON'T BE BAAA----AAAD!" I'd repeat the full words but they're not appropriate for campers--camper's'll say as close as they can get to them anyway but if they cut out on some of the sounds, then maybe it's a little better. Probably.

Braying blasted out the sound. Lightning Dust raced to the rear of the herd and zipped back and forth over the running goats, dangerously weaving among them and causing some to stumble. She took a horn in her haunch, lacerating it, but she kept bloody going--if she hadn't, she'd have been trampled. She threw the back rows into disarray so they weren't pushing forward and instead they were pushing all around.

And I played.

I had a hundred--more--goats listening. My largest audience. I looked up for a breather at the end to see if I'd done anything. And oh how had I. Lightning Dust complimented my sweaty triumph.

That's enough a' Lightning Dust-isms--I saw the rest. I played again an' again for tha' goats and they calmed and after like an hour 'an a half dispersed. My neck hurt. My limbs hurt. Lightning Dust flew me back ta' camp. We'd worked together. Our friendship-work had saved tha' campers. (Note, at 2:05)

I was downin' water. Gallons of it. An' restin'. Lightnin' Dust an' me. The campers had congratulated us. Said they'd throw a party tomorrow. Were givin' us space for the night. Too soon, camp would be done. I loved camp even though it was exhaustin'. A final prelude my final year of school. Then gotta figure out what ta' do with my life. Had my cutie mark, but that just pointed a vocation, not specifics. I hadn't liked playin' for big crowds--I'd thought. But maybe if I kept my head down like today, I could enjoy it.

"Hey Fiddlesticks," Lightning Dust said.

"Yeah?"

"Gotta pee." She'd also been drinkin' prodigious amounts.

"Then do it. ... Outside."

"But after... we gotta talk."

"Fine."

She shuffled out rather than flyin', displaying her bandaged haunch as she retreated out of the room.

When she came back, I challenged her: "Workin' your courage up to talk or just teasin'?"

"Bit of both," she shrugged, then climbed upon her bed. "I'd rather be on a cloud. But I'd rather be here."

"What?"

She sighed. "Finally got to read Bulk Biceps' journal."

She goaded me. I did not respond. After all we'd done--selflessly--still she was tryin' ta' get my goat.

"Youse don't wanna let summer pass without resolvin' things with him."

"What do you mean?"

"You know. He doesn't show it, but he's under-the-moon disappointed. And even though he's a pegasus who can barely fly--his opinion matters. Youse keep runnin' from confrontation. And rubbING off on me--by Celestia. Anyways, a few words mighthaps help in the long fly, y'know. You never know when youse might encounter him again."

I didn't say anything for a long time. Neither did she. The campers were chatting outside. "Did you put it back?"

"He'll never be the wiser."

"How much did you read?"

"He didn't give me a great evaluation. I probably won't be a counselor next year."

I harrumphed.

"It's my own fault. Fair. 'Too childish.' But you really screwed him up. For some pony who didn't actually screw him, that is. Though you did get him--"

"You have such a kind way of puttin' things." Sarcasm dripped.

"Jest think about it," she said in her infuriating Manehattenite accent. I hated her so much. She saved all the campers' lives and was injured and kept goin' and did all the right things and I wanted to hug her for her sacrifice but now I hated her so very much.

Goat It Done

I said my bit to Biceps.

I was wrong ta' not respond to his letters. I was thinkin' we'd never see each other again since the camps would be separate for the next few years and he was older and both of us would be aged out before pegasi and earth ponies came together again.

I wasn't that into him when we'd been together. I'd pitied him. I'd been curious about some things. I had a lot of heart--not a lot o' wisdom--and had wanted to help him since everypony made fun of his looks and his stutter. And I hadn't been thinking of what my kindness might lead to.

And when it happened, I was afraid. He said he loved me and I panicked.

And this year, I didn't want an awkward conversation. I didn't want to make it worse.

I'd led him on.

I respected him now.

And I acted like a foal.

I cried.

And he buried his head in his hooves.

I just wanted him to know that I cared about him and I respected him and years ago, I'd felt him respond very... strongly to my hugs, my caresses, my everything and it was too much and I'd been embarrassed.

He forgave me. He said it made him be a better stallion. Camp. That is. The teasing. The terrible, horrible, no-good very bad days he had. He couldn't change other ponies. So he changed himself.

And I cried again. That wasn't right at all.

But the world wasn't right, he said. He could leave, he could change, but he couldn't change anypony else... though as a counselor, he could influence. So, he'd studied. He'd practiced. He got licensed. But he couldn't fly. So he couldn't serve as a pegasi counselor. He talked his way inta' the unicorn camp and they laughed at him and he told 'em that's exactly why he was supposed to be a friendship counselor--they needed to learn better acceptance.

And tha' unicorns accepted him.

That's why he was a senior counselor here. He'd never mentioned it. I just assumed that in an emergency the pegasi had slim pickin's for licensed stallions, an' I rambled and made a jackass out'a myself. ... He would've critiqued me for the donkey-slur... gotta work on that.

I'm cryin' again now. Sorry. I'll be back.

Some time later.

He'd done the unicorn camp and further developed his plan to work on his body--by exerting himself even more maybe he could fly. He worked out: harder and harder. He pushed himself again and again--developed rippling muscles. And he flew, higher and longer despite his miniature wings. He was such a better stallion than me. Pony. Better pony.

I hate me.

I told Lightnin' Dust I'd...

"Lightning, I ... talked with Biceps. I'm so sorry about that."

"It's fine," Lightning Dust said. "It didn't hurt me."

"You know what I did."

"From his point of view."

"That's what matters."

"Maybe."

"What?"

"Maybe what matters is what you--and Bulk Biceps--do with it."

"I hate myself."

"Don't go sayin' that," she drawled... really... and pat me on a shoulder. "Plenty of other peeps are gonna hate you. Don't ever hate yourself. Ugh. I hate seein'--I caused this," she looked away. "Don't feel sorry for yourself."

I bit my lower lip and sat beside Lightning Dust.

"You know the most of it," I started. "He'd been bullied incessantly for his wings and his stuttering and was dunked under the water. I saved him from it--maybe from drownin'. An' I brought him back ta' the cabin for medical attention an' he wasn't so bad off. An' I hugged him. An' he hugged me. An' he was cryin' an' I rubbed his back and told him what a kind, good camper he was and how any earth pony would be glad to be as moral and righteous as him an' how he should be the most popular pony in the pasture. An' I held his foreleg an' he calmed down. An' he started complimentin' me. An' my ears burned red. An' then we kissed and rolled. An' then he fell out--y'know."

Lightning Dust--that minx--looked at me with a tilted, confused head.

"He fell out o' the pocket that keeps his... bulk... contained," I explained, using country slang for the impregnation anatomy. The slang that meant I couldn't take the first part of his new name seriously. Sure, 'bulking up' meant getting fit and growin' muscles, but the lewd image of somethin' else grew in my mind.

Lightning Dust's face lit up. "That's why you--"

"Shush--" I wanted to continue before I grew so beet red that I couldn't. "So he was out an' rubbin' on me an' I didn't stop it. We didn't have a sowin' and plantin' session, but a lot happened. An' more tha' next time. An' the next. An' then, real soon, we parted. An' I didn't write because I didn't love him. I was embarrassed. When it happened, I just--I liked makin' him feel good. He was more confident--stuttered less. He was already startin' ta' work out--had a theory about force and mass and his wings that he'd developed an' I encouraged him only half-understandin', and after he said he... wished he could be as big and strong as an earth pony an' then that he loved me... I wanted ta' bolt."

Lightning Dust nodded and offered me a hoof. I gave her foreleg a squeeze.

"I mumbled--stupid--had to go. Complemented him ta' be polite but my thoughts were mud. I complemented him on his figure except I was thinkin' too much about a part I wouldn't be seein' again. I said he had a great growing bulk--Celestia--that was--I couldn't even look after that. He must have taken that to mean his muscles, though..." I swallowed. "With him--sweet Snowflake, I loved feelin' like I was makin' a difference. But it was too much. It wasn't right."

"Okay," Lightning Dust said, squeezin' my foreleg one more time, then releasin' it.

"Okay? That's all?"

"Yeah. Whaddaya want?"

"...I don't know."

"So, okay."

"Okay."

I changed the subject. "You know my secret. Give up yours. Somethin'. Somethin' never made sense. You said you're poor. But, you always go clubbin'."

"That makes sense."

"Charity clubs?"

"Some... but nah."

"Were they letting you in free because you were so awesome or somethin' ridiculous like that? These clubs another lie?"

"Nah. I got in. But it didn't cost me bits."

"Favors?"

Lightning Dust bared her teeth. "Friendly bites, nips on the neck for bouncers, y'know."

"I've never been to a club."

Her face filled with such a look of pity. "You and youse fiddle never performed for a crowd?"

"Harvests. Festivals. Bars. Restaurants. A herd of out-of-control goats. But not in a fancy city."

"I'll take you to one."

"Okay." Not likely.

"That why you keep offering me nips?" I reflected on her obsession.

"Well..." She shifted, uneasily. "Nips don't mean much."

"I'm not wholly ignorant. I've been to 'that' museum. Only to age appropriate halls, but still."

"'That' museum?"

I sighed, "'That' museum in Fillydelphia."

"Which one? Fillydelphia's got loads: Museum of the First Republic, Museum of Liberty Belle, the Banned Classic Lit Museum, the B-" louder "C-L-I-T" softer "-M-that it?"

There was no way Lightning Dust didn't know which museum I was talking about. Especially when she listed all those others. An' that had been a suspicious mangling of the BCLM's proper abbreviation. But I elaborated anyway--always a fool for tryin' ta' help. "It's tha' one where ya' enter through a vulva. Surely you've heard of it."

She shook her head, pointedly looking away.

"You have definitely heard of it. Tha' Museum of Adult Anatomy. Celestia's health initiative. If your school h'aint already entered it, y'all will be goin' in soon."

"That's starting to... grow... a memory..." Lightning Dust mused. "Is it the one with the--the--Celestia--oh--the sculptures with the giant pneumatic d--" Then she broke out laughing.

I whacked her muzzle.

She rubbed it. "I deserved that. I was just seeing how... deep you'd go in describing it."

"Anyway," I continued. "Nips can... excite ponies."

"Yeah. That's why they let me in."

I looked at her, this constant requestor of nips from me, very incredulously. "Do you like me?"

"It didn't mean a thing when I did it to them."

"But you wanted me to nip you."

She bit her lower lip.

I looked at her like I'd look at a mound of dirty dishes after a herd of guests left.

"I wanted to feel good... and--yeah--manipulate youse a bit... and every time you turned me down, it made me want it more," she hung her head. "I'm sorry."

"But why? You don't like me."

"Manipulation doesn't mean I like yah, but yeah. Later it was 'coz yah reminded me of my mother when she wasn't backing down--wasn't bein' stupid. It's stupid."

"It's... not." A weird association, I felt, but maybe not?

"I dunno. I respected you and it was a game and I kept losing and I like to win."

"You felt like you were losing? You pranked me successfully again and again and again--"

"Wasn't getting what I wanted."

I sighed. "So it *was* a love-hate thing."

"Like-hate, maybe. If I got a nip, I might have given up."

"No," I said. "Not givin' ya' one now."

"Figured," she shrugged, her manipulation foiled. But I shifted my body closer to hers so we were touching. She sighed.

"What'd you do in these clubs?" I asked.

"Some are dug deep in the ground. Others are in hollowed out skyscrapers--let us fly to the top and do tricks. Not as good as in the open air, but the City has its regulations. No tricks. Speed limits for the safety of others. Traveling flight lanes. Our local weather team manages it so good we've got predictable gusts and thermals. There's no freedom outside flying clubs."

"These aren't dancing clubs?" I guess pegasi ponies liked pegasi-centric clubs. Most pegasi I knew were from Cloudsdale so they didn't need enclosed structures for flying, except the weather factory's wind tunnel.

"Dancing, flying, flydance--we have it all."

"But only for pegasi--"

She shook her head. "In flydance we pick ponies up and toss them around--"

"Dangerous!"

"Padding's on the ground."

We shared a laugh and Lightning Dust mimed dropping me off on the rock outcropping amid the stampede.

"What's more dangerous though is what's in the hearts of ponies. I don't--I don't want you ever repeatin' what I've got here. Can I trust you? Like our campers trust ya'?"

She could. I nodded.

"I know you'd respect it..." she trailed off. "An' don't argue with it--after tonight--don't argue or think less of me. It's bucking important."

I nodded. Later, she continued. "I wanna be a Wonderbolt. Perform with speed and agility at the top of the game. Wonderbolts can't do drugs. I did. I won't again."

"Okay." I wasn't sure why she was telling me this.

"I like nips. I redefined them. They're mine."

"Okay."

"My friends and I got into a club with my ministrations on a puffed-up privileged unicorn of my age whose parents owned it--he was being trained and let us slip in and he hooked us up with tranquilizers and--I'd done them before."

She looked around, then whispered the next bit. "My marefriends were out. One hundred percent. I did less. Only half the injection. I wanted it all, but if I got addicted, I couldn't try out for the Wonderbolts. I wanted it bad. Both. And that unicorn made a visit to us. And I was awake--not fully coherent and I just sort'a wet myself, but awake. And he was on top of me. And he asked and I said yes. I wanted it. And it happened. Celestia."

I didn't have words.

"I was supposed to fly during my first time. I was dull. The tranquilizers..."

She looked down at her hooves, then stared into my eyes.

"I bled and he wiped it up. Had a towel already in place. I didn't tell anyone. My marefriends had been out. Couldn't support my story. I even barely remembered. If I hadn't bled, I wouldn't have. I guess. Doesn't matter."

"You--police--I--"

"No," she glared. "If I talked to them, they'd know about the drugs. Then: no Wonderbolts."

"But--"

"And I had no witnesses."

"Maybe somepony else in tha' club--"

"His parents totes gonna buy them off."

"But the blood--"

"He wiped it up. But I felt it. A half tranquilizer wasn't enough."

"Forensics--"

"Whatever. He wore protection and even if he didn't: it doesn't matter! Drugs equals no Wonderbolts."

"He could do it again--to somepony else!"

"Not my problem.... you gonna make me really regret telling youse?"

"You have to tell--"

"I'm telling you because I think it will help."

"With what?"

Tears came to her eyes. "You're not stupid. Just focus on the point."

Tha' point was-- I didn't even know anymore.

"I'm here. I'm gonna be a Wonderbolt. What happened doesn't matter except how it did to Biceps." She used my shortened moniker for him. "Control yourself."

"That's so sad."

"It's life."

I didn't have an unassailable answer to such a horrible crime and my assistant was unhelpfully informin' us we needed ta' take our turns checkin' on the campers. I didn't have an acceptable answer for her an' I had to drop the point an' not bring it up again.

Tha' only reason I'm relatin' this now is, years later, she said I could since she couldn't get inta' tha' Wonderbolts. An' maybe she thinks she made tha' wrong decision? But, am I right? For her... did she? But it's about more than just her, right?

We left to make our rounds among the campers.

The goats, meanwhile, had begun making alterations, along with labor assistance provided by our six instigatin' campers. They, and our campers with plugged noses and sturdy shovels, moved their greater collection of goat pies closer to camp where we could keep an eye on if them funny beans were growin'. At least that was the goats' stated reason for tha' relocation. ... But there was more to it.

The concentrated smell, especially when there wasn't a cool goatstream breeze blowin' would keep our campers farther away from meddlin' in their fields.

We--the earth ponies--were lucky to not have our contract broken for next year. A little odor assailing our campers' lungs and especially whoever was sent to the reflection pasture was a small price to pay. It'd build character.

Anyway, next year I'd be aged out of the counselor position, barrin' any disaster like tha' one that befell the pegasi. So I wouldn't have ta' put up with tha' consequences of my leadership failure ta' instill in tha' foals ta' not trespass. Ah, I was already thinkin' like an adult. Summer friendship camp had done its job.

In fact, friendship camp was almost over.

Lightning Dust nodded at my wistful comment. "Yeah, I know. I broke up with that stallion assistant of yours."

"Really?" A stupid response when speaking with most ponies, but given Lightning Dust's obnoxious tendency toward mendacity it just uttered aloud what concerned my heart. I followed that with: "Why?"--a better question.

"I was usin' him. Didn't have Cumulus y' know an' Bulk Biceps isn't an option cause... y'know. And... You hate me."

Silence.

I looked over at Lightning Dust and hung my head. Then I turned away and, although I was exhausted from the events of the day, played on my fiddle a sad song, just for the two of us. It smelled pretty bad. The goat piles, disturbed by relocation, gave off an overwhelmingly manurey aura. At least that would subside over time. Pleased with the campers' work, elder goats had inspected and deemed the placement "goat enough".

The campers had put in the work coming together as something more than pegasi campers or earth pony campers. All of us, in friendship, were pony campers! And goats. ((REF at 1:18)). Friendship: they'd goat it done. Though difficulties arose--an' I wouldn't call our time a resoundin' success--our experience, similar to that of the goats' smelly sculptures, at least had been "very goat". I chuckled. After so many years of camp, I was finally assimilatin' tha' goats' expressions.

Although sweatin' buckets from tha' still oppressive early-night heat, I only played a few sour notes--my companion probably didn't notice. I goat it done.

"Can we be friends?" Lightning Dust asked when I was finished.

I put down my fiddle, spat into a hoof and offered it to her... dirtying it, but she'd offered me one like that once before. I hated that, but I wanted ta' let her know I remembered.

So, as filthy and biologically destructive as the relational activity was, I offered hoof to her and I sighed: "Yup."

Author's Note

If you want more Bulk Biceps, check out his Season 8 incarnation here:

EAn Entire Encyclopedia on The Comprehensive History of Equestria, Featuring Autumn Blaze and Bulk Biceps

An entire encyclopedia on the comprehensive history of Equestria, featuring Autumn Blaze and Bulk Biceps.

SparklingTwilight · 7.2k words · 49 2 · 1k views

And here is an index of my stories, associated by show season, in case you wish to read my stand-alone tales chronologically.
For someone else's work that may be notable for fans of this one: the following is an interesting encounter between Coco Pommell and Lightning Dust. Their business interaction builds on the Washouts episode:

ECoco Powder

Lightning Dust has everything ready to get the Washouts started. Everything, that is, except flight suits.

PaulAsaran · 19k words · 105 2 · 1.1k views