02 - Andrew and the Girl

Lyra enjoyed living the simple life.

She enjoyed her long walks. Long, simple walks. She enjoyed listening to her Marefriend blabber on about cooking her baked sweets. Hell, she just enjoyed her Marefriend. Not to say she was simple, not by any stretch of the imagination, but she enjoyed life being simple.

A feeling that was ever-so-fleeting.

Life had picked up. Her young years were over. Goodbye, bliss. Hello, taxes.

She enjoyed these simple walks. This was one thing the knocking life couldn't take from her. Not yet, anyway. Perhaps one day when she is old and gray, being ready to leave this ethereal plane, life could have it's way. But not here. Not now. Right now, these simple walks filled her mind with the level of simplicity she so dearly craved.

And things were about to get the opposite of simple. Right now, as she walked down the brick path through the forest, life knocked, knocked, and kept knocking at her front door, demanding to be let in. Something was happening that would change both their lives forever.

And Lyra couldn't wait.

She took a moment, pausing in the forest. The Whitetail Woods were notorious for being entirely safe, and as she looked up into the night sky, she couldn't help but agree as an overwhelming sense of zen filled her veins.

The sky was painted a brilliant, almost impossible purple. Yet another thing life couldn't take away. Splattered paint brushes had long since made the sky's optimistic author bleed a pool of creativity and inspiration for all young colts and fillies to gaze out upon, which thousands were sure to be doing right now.

Crack- Rustle- Bam

Lyra's ear's tilted to the side, her head soon following.

Whitetail Woods was safe. Safe. Nothing was here to hurt her.

So why was she scared?

Whatever it was, it was barely off the trotted path. Maybe only a couple hooves.

Slowly, she walked towards the shrubbery. Using a combination of her magic and hooves, she pushed and pulled on the twigs, moving through the dense bushes. It only took a moment for her to come into a clearing, not much larger than a pony.

Life came knocking. Life made the simplistic complicated. And life was about to get complicated.

Her heart froze.

Blood. Feathers. A filly.

It was the night of Christmas. A howling wind battered against the windows as Andrew sat on the sofa. A warm glow emitted from the fireplace in front of him. In his hands was a letter. A simple, unassuming, and blatantly boring letter. No fancy markings, designations, or extra flair. It was the most simplest, barest, and dull letter one could imagine.

But it's contents would decide the rest of Andrew's life.

Sitting on the sofa to his left, his mother. To his right, his father and little sister. He clutched the letter tightly. Too tightly, perhaps, as his knuckles grew white. His breathing was shallow with anticipation as he fidgeted with it, flicking the lip of the letter up and down, almost teasing the insides.

A comforting hand was laid on his shoulder. He turned his head, looking at his mother's comforting smile. He turned his head the other way, seeing his fathers proud face and his little sister's confused expression.

She didn't understand. She didn't understand why a letter was so important. She might when she got as old as he. Although he didn't look old, he still felt it. He felt old in that moment, older than anybody in the room.

She might remember this night as the night that took her brother away.

He stored away a breath as he ripped open the letter.

Now or never.

In an instant, the battered filly was on Lyra's back. From a distance, a pony might see a black blotch moving at break-neck speeds. A black blotch on an impressionist's rendition of the universe. The purple sky, what once provided comfort, now provided Lyra with a horrible foreboding sensation.

She felt the warm, sticky liquid dripping around her barrel as the filly's wounds only got worse with the jostling of the galloping hooves. She didn't know the first thing about medical care, especially emergency. She didn't know if galloping made her worse or not- if she should have gotten a pony first or not- all that mattered was getting the filly to the hospital as quickly as ponily possible.

The stars were laughing at her as she ran out of breath, slowing down.

Her breaths became ragged, the weight pulling her down. Her hooves aches, her joints felt like wet wood, and she nearly collapsed, there, on the hill.

She blinked the tiredness out of her eyes as she looked up. Looked up to the stars. They were laughing at her... right? It was her last chance. Silently, she made a prayer. To Luna. To Celestia. To whoever would listen. Her mouth moved silently as she prayed.

When she opened her eyes again, the warm glow of the Ponyville General Hospital illuminated her face.

She staggered forwards, bursting through the doors. The nurse at the front desk choked on a mug of coffee.

"Help!"

The nurse didn't need to be told twice.

"I'm going to miss you..." His mom said through teary eyes. Andrew kept a straight and stoic face, his expression unreadable. The harsh reality being that under the surface, any motion of his face would cause a cascade of waterfalls to pour out his eyes. A poor visage put up by a man who didn't want to leave. Instead of hinting at the slightest of emotions, he wordlessly hugged his mother, tightening his arms around her as he buried his face into her hair.

"Will you be back for my birthday?" The little sister asked. Andrew broke the hug, looking down at the girl. Once again, entirely wordlessly, he nodded his head. "Yay!" She shouted, jumping up and down on the spot, like a firework about to take off.

"You take good care of yourself, hear?" His father said. He nodded. "Good. I'll see you around, kid."

Without another word, he turned around and grabbed his suitcase, marching out the front door.

"Get her on the bed!"

"Open Fracture on her Marginal Coverts. It's swelling. We're gonna need to do emergency surgery to close the wound."

"Do we have any records?"

"No, nothing. The mare who was with her in said she found her in the woods."

"Her heart beat is unsteady. It's in a shockable rhythm. Preparing defibrillator."

"Clear!"

"Her breathing isn't right. I'm preparing a magical scan. Potential broken ribs."

"I'm looking. Definite broken ribs. Don't waste your magic."

"Healing spells?"

"Not until we can get her open and fix that."

"She's seizing!"

His walk to the cab was blurry as he felt a thousand miles above the surface of the earth. That was it. The last time he'd ever set foot in his own home. Of course, the home would still be here. Of course, he would still come back to it for holidays, birthdays, celebrations... But it wouldn't ever be his home anymore. It would be his parent's home.

He grew up. Never do that. Never grow up.

His feet barely touched the ground as he opened the door of the yellow cab, throwing his little personal belongings onto the seat besides him. He didn't even see his family waving to him as the cab began to roll away. He made every effort imaginable not to look. He put a hand over his eyes, his sleeve becoming damp as tears soaked into it's surface. Hopefully, he was making the right choice.

For a little girl waving on the front porch, it was the second time a yellow cab had taken away a brother. This time, there was no war to be had. There was no fight to be fought, and no guns to be fired. But she couldn't help but feel- not sadness- but being scared. Scared for his brother. After all, everything would be fine... right?

"She's unstable. Her blood pressure dropping."

"Blood pressure's super low."

"Put in an IV. At least we got her to stop seizing."

"What the hay happened to her..?"

"Looks fall-related. Possible spinal-damage, hence seizing. She's a Pegasus. Potential accident. Not sure how she managed to do it, though, especially considering her above-average wing-span. Makes you wonder how she fell."

"Still no records?"

"Not yet. No records in the files ever described a filly matching her description coming in. In the morning, we'll send somepony down to look through the town hall's file-"

"Doctor, her heart."

"Dammit. Alright- You, go make house-calls. We're gonna need another rotation of nurses."

"On it."

"Alright. Start sedating her. We can't have her waking up during this."

Andrew, of course, woke up, trying to pull in a breath of air. Instead all he got was a mouth-full of viscous, honey-like liquid that dripped and drooled down his face as he sat up, pushing himself up with his arms.

He wiped the fluid off his face, blinking out what was remaining. He finally pulled a full breath of air as he finally took in his surroundings.

Andrew was in a partially white void. The sky was white, but not white like staring into a sun. It was a smooth white, like a huge room perfectly lit by a non-existent sun. It was ominous. Like it was staring back at him. Like he wasn't welcome here. Like he wasn't welcome here. The other half was the previously described liquid. Despite feeling as viscous as honey, the surface rippled and bobbed just like normal waves out in the ocean.

Slowly, taking care not to fall over, he stood up.

Instantly, his clothes were dry. The liquid only came up to his knees, and it still felt wet, but everything that currently was exposed to air turned dry, including his face and skin.

There. Thirty feet away. Standing on top the surface like Jesus, was a little girl.

She wore a dress that covered her feet, extended up to her shoulders in puffs. Although the sky was white, everything was still dark, like it was the middle of the night. He couldn't make out any color, but that didn't matter. What mattered now was getting closer. Why? He had not a clue. He just had to get closer.

So he started walking forwards.

But as he approached, something tugged back. The viscous slime, despite looking like water, only felt like it was thickening every step he took. The ground he stood on started dropping away, as the previously knee-high water started deepening, turning into hip-high water, then stomach-high water, then shoulder high water.

But she was so close. She was so, so close.

"H-Hey!" He shouted, his voice suddenly coming back to him. "Help!"

The girl turned around.

She looked so familiar. So, so familiar. It was almost exactly like looking at his sister... but her eyes. Her eyes were wrong. Instead of the familiar brown, it was replaced with an inhumanly bright red.

"Who are you?" She asked. Despite being in an unholy void, her voice still sounded timid and scared.

"My name is Andrew. I'm here to help!" He didn't know how he would help, but he at least had to try.

"You can't help me."

"Why not?" He asked, the viscous liquid now starting to seep around his neck.

"Because I died."

"Shit! She's flat lining!"

"Starting compressions!"

That took Andrew by surprise.

"You're dead?" He asked. She nodded her head. "Don't worry... I am too. I think." He looked around the white void.

"You are?"

"Pretty sure. Otherwise, I wouldn't have ended up... here." The two sat in silence for a moment. Although Andrew was still sinking into the surface, he kept his face rigid and calm.

"I don't want to die." She said, finally breaking the silence.

"Then don't. Let me help you fight."

"I- I don't know..."

"What's the alternative? Dying?" He chuckled at his own joke.

"I-" Tears started falling down her face. "D-Don't leave me." She said as Andrew began sinking below the surface.

"Then help me help you."

Finally, he slipped below the surface.

She gave in, leaning down on her knees and grabbing Andrew's shoulders from below the water. Then, there was a spark of white light, and reality faded.

"She's back." The doctor pulled down his mask. "Sweet Celestia, she's stabilized."

It was now morning, the sun haven risen hours ago. The two doctors, plus five nurses, all gathered around the bed. Each and every one looked absolutely battered to Tartarus, having went through their own war zone.

Most of the blood had been cleaned up already. She was still dirty, but pray to Luna, she was alive.

It was a small Pegaus filly. Her coat was supposed to be snow-white, contrary to it's current status of rugged dark-gray. Her wings were excessively big for a foal her size, one of them being bandaged to her side, away from harm. The other one was missing a large portion of it's feathers. Her mane was ratty, mostly light blue split up by yellow streaks.

The hospital bed looked too big. It looked like it could fit five more normal sized foals, compared to the one currently residing. Yet despite the size of the bed, machines and operating equipment were towering over the small foal, cramping the remaining breathing room and causing most claustrophobia. A breathing mask was hooked up to her muzzle, a green oxygen canister to one side. White pads pressed against certain areas of her chest, reading out to a slow, but steady heart monitor. It was a disproportionate amount of equipment for a foal her size.

"But she's alive." The doctor repeated. "She's alive.

The hospital staff all looked at each other, bags under each of their eyes.

"She's alive."

BEEP

Hay, Andrew. You haven't left me a message in a while. It's okay, I understand if you're growing too old for these things. Talkin' to your mother. Last time I heard from you was two days ago. Two days! I know I sound like I'm over-reacting, but- You know what, I don't even know why I'm sending you a voicemail. You're probably just busy. Okay, I'll see you later. Byeee.

BEEP