Chapters 1 - Nickers, Barks, and Clicks
Snip. Snip-snip.
“Rarity? Could I ask you something?”
“Why, of course, dear. I take it one of my ensembles has left you suitably impressed?”
“Well... c-can I try this dress on?”
The pair of working scissors snipped one last time. For a solid five seconds, it was the last sound to grace the boutique.
The dressmaker lifted her red-framed working glasses up with the same grip of magic. “Sea Swirl, why in Equestria would you ever think to ask that?”
“I... I don’t know.”
“Dear, of course you can!” Rarity set the scissors to the side. She stepped away from the half-clothed ponnequin, out from behind her privacy screen, and toward Sea Swirl on the shop-room floor.
The mulberry mare had been petrified: her withers fell in recess, and she laughed weakly. “Yeah, I guess that was a silly question.”
“You’re quite alright, darling. Though, I must ask, and please, don’t take this the wrong way, but...” Rarity pulled up alongside Sea Swirl. “Why this dress in particular?”
For a long time, Sea Swirl didn’t budge. It gave Rarity a chance to fiddle with her work-rustled coiffure, which she’d allowed on account of Sea Swirl being a comfortably local customer: less time on her hair, more time on the fabric.
Which... Sea Swirl was really quite fascinated by.
Rarity gave the rose-eyed mare a look, but she was surprised to see that those very eyes were tucked away; Sea Swirl’s eyes remained draped shut, even with all the shuffling Rarity was doing.
Eventually, Sea Swirl opened her eyes. She turned, a light smile gracing her muzzle. “I think it’d look good on me.”
Rarity smiled back, but couldn’t help herself from giving the dress a sidelong glance. “Why, yes. In a ah, turquoise, I believe, that would work wonderfully for you... but...”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it.”
“...You can still try it on, if you’d like.”
Sea Swirl gave it another, evidently longing look. Then, she shook her head. “No, no it’s fine. It’s for somepony else, I’m sure. I wouldn’t want to ruin their dress.”
“Well, this particular piece was made to-order for an upcoming... event, yes.” Rarity’s voice was curt, and while she hadn’t intended to say more than that, she had to; it was in her nature. “But if you like the style, I’d be more than happy to draw something up for you.”
“Like I said, it’s fine. Thank you, Rarity. Really.” Sea Swirl sighed. She briefly dipped her head. “It’s a wonderful dress. I know it’ll make the mare who wears it some very happy memories. A real day in dreams.”
“I hope so, too, dear.”
Sea Swirl turned, thanked her quietly, and started for the exit to the Carousel Boutique. Rarity watched the mare from where she’d left, smiling and waving, but unmoving all the same. The bell chimed as the door opened and shut. Then, Sea Swirl fell away, until finally, the last bit of her blue mane had disappeared into the corners of the front door’s little windows.
Rarity turned back to the conspicuous dress. “Opal?”
A meow echoed from the other end of the room.
“I forgot to thank her, didn’t I? I haven’t done one of these before. She was the first to appreciate my efforts.” She pursed her lips. “I suppose it can’t be helped, now.”
It didn’t take Rarity long to scrounge up her stray thoughts, recompose herself, and think to start back for her work. Although, it did take a bit of convincing to move her eyes away.
But ‘after all’, she told herself, she could admire the dress in full at the wedding.
Sea Swirl never took a straight road home.
Maybe it was that long-sunken desire to explore, or maybe it was just because she was a little more stubborn than she liked to admit, but she couldn’t bring herself to take the same route all the time. She looped all around Ponyville, making sure she was seen and had seen as much as she could, before ultimately finding her way back home. She’d been in Ponyville for a few months by now, but she still had yet to totally memorize the layout of the dirt roads: she hardly paid attention to anything more than the ponies around.
It was on one of these forays into town that she first met Morning Flame.
‘Reckless’, as her nickname implied, had caused quite a stir. The ‘event’ that had been had produced nothing short of awe in Sea Swirl, as she’d never quite seen a pony who was large enough to compete with the scale of the princesses’ forms, and especially not one who’d behaved with... destructive grace. There were quite a few ponies in town who she was sure had a little giraffe in them (if that was even possible!), but they didn’t have the body weight that Reckless did. Even for that stallion on Sweet Apple Acres, Sea Swirl was sure he’d have to put up a decent fight to have any chance at beating Reckless. And if it wasn’t mass that was the deciding factor, then it was surely technique.
But Reckless subduing three armored Royal Guards with her bare hooves was neither here nor there. In fact, she was one of the most friendly ponies Sea Swirl had ever had the pleasure of meeting, and she was surprisingly quiet, too.
Sea Swirl trot up to the ‘home’ of her friend. The door had been freshly painted, albeit with too-thin a coat. Still, for as dry as the wood seemed, she opted against knocking on the pink. “Reckless! It’s Sea Swirl!”
There was indecipherable speech from within, but it wasn’t for Sea Swirl’s lack of trying: Reckless’ first language hadn’t been Equestrian, and it was unlike anything else. That was just one of the many facets that really had Sea Swirl close to believing some of Reckless’ most far-fetched, and otherworldly, claims.
The self-proclaimed ‘warhorse’ was at the door in moments. The top portion swung out slowly, and with it came a chestnut hoof, and its natural white sock. Craning her neck down, the large mare peered out muzzle-first, her lips pressed into their usual flat, resting line.
Sea Swirl smiled earnestly. “Hi, Reckless.”
“Hello.” The mare nodded, and retracted her hoof. “You here early.”
“Yeah, I figured I’d come check on you.”
Reckless nodded again. It was kind of her thing. “Good. Can see Screw Loose, now.”
Sea Swirl cocked her head. “You know you can go to Ponyville General whenever you want, right?”
This time, the warhorse shook her head. “No. Doc bring her here. Say keep eye on her.”
“Wait, really?”
“Yes.” Reckless pushed the lower half of the door open with a lazy kick. “Come.”
Sea Swirl stepped inside the warmly lit home. Her hooves clicked against the wood, and she stopped just a few more hooves in. Behind her, Reckless finished closing the door.
“Screwy!”
The mare sitting on the couch looked at Sea Swirl with a wide-eyed stare. Her neck moved, but her hooves kept her as stiff as a statue.
Smiling brightly, Sea Swirl made her way across the carpet, past the other couch, and to Screwy’s side. “I heard you caused a lot of trouble the other night, filly. But clearly, they must’ve been wrong, right? Because you’re a good pony!”
Screwy’s stare lasted for a lot longer than most ponies would find comfortable, but Sea Swirl had the patience to match.
The light blue earth pony blinked her cherry eyes, then broke out into a full smile. She bounced to her hooves, reared up, and wrapped her forelegs around Sea Swirl. The unicorn was well-prepared, and had already swung her horn out of the way.
“I’m so happy to see you again,” Sea Swirl whispered. Lifting a foreleg to half-match Screwy’s hug, she leaned into the mare’s bath-softened mane.
Reckless approached from behind, stopping beside them both. The corners of her mouth twitched slightly before she spoke. “She okay. No trouble.”
“That’s always a good thing to hear.” She glanced at Reckless. “Did Doctor Horse say anything else?”
“Yes.” This time, Reckless used her trademark eager nod: two fast, full nods, but brief. “Keep eye on Screw Loose. Don’t leave alone. Help with bathroom. Earlier, I try.” She gave Sea Swirl a flat look. “I not best at toilet.”
Careful to avoid spooking Screwy, Sea Swirl only just managed a restrained giggle.
As she continued, Reckless slowed to enunciate her words. “Continue work on behavior and habit. Talk like pony. Treat like pony. Act like pony. Also not say d-o-g.”
Sea Swirl pat Screwy: the mare loved her hugs. “The ‘d’ word, huh?”
“Yes. That how doc say.” Reckless paused, mulling over her thoughts on her own. “Doc also say nurse visit. Snowheart. She come check-up, every day. Noon.”
Sea Swirl couldn’t see the kitchen clock from within the living room, and she was still a little predisposed. “Is it noon already?”
“Yes.” Reckless even managed to predict Sea Swirl’s next question. “But Snowheart come in morning with doc.”
“Ah, well that’s nice.” Feeling Screwy getting a little shaky against her, Sea Swirl slowly eased her down to all four hooves. The mare was beaming, and immediately rushed over to Reckless. “I’m going to guess that means you’ve both had plenty of time to catch up.”
“No.” Reckless leaned down for a moment, brushing her neck against Screwy’s own: the little mare was practically on her tippy-hooves trying to reach. “Screw Loose sleep. Dream, but not nightmare. Rest good. She wake when you come.”
“Then that means it’s time to get her out and about to stretch those hooves.”
Reckless looked down at the little pony working up against her, then to Sea Swirl.
“What? Don’t give me that look. It’s a good idea.”
“You not lie?”
Sea Swirl gasped. “Reckless, I would never! Especially not to my best friends.”
“...Okay.” The big mare peered down. “Screw Loose. We go outside.”
Screwy’s lips wavered for a moment, but the words—or more likely, sounds—died right then and there. Instead, she nodded, and slinked back over to Sea Swirl. Her tail was working ever-so slightly, but hey...
Sea Swirl leaned over. “Screwy... guess what?”
The mare froze, crouched slightly, and tweaked her ears high.
“No more leash.”
And that was all it took to get the mare yapping like a pup.
It took two minutes—with both Reckless and Sea Swirl working together—to calm the mare down. It took another two to assess the chance that Screwy would bolt the moment the front door opened. A final two for them to be sure that the doctor would approve.
“She’s not going to get better if we don’t try.”
One by one, the three mares stepped out into the Ponyville afternoon. The streets were alive, and for all intents and purposes, the day was still young.
Sea Swirl kept a wary eye on Screwy while she trot alongside Reckless: with her long stride, Reckless could certainly run Screwy down, but none of them wanted a pony pancake. After a full minute’s walk from the home, Sea Swirl finally joined up on Reckless’ other flank.
“You girls want to go for a swim in Saddle Lake?”
“Not swimmer.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fine. I know plenty of spells on the water. Don’t you trust my magic?”
“...No.”
“I bet I could swim across the lake faster than you can run around it.”
Reckless squinted at Sea Swirl.
Sea Swirl grinned back.
“We go lake.”
With that, Reckless was gone.
Gawking at the galloping mare, Sea Swirl turned to look at—
She did a double-take.
“Hey!” Groaning, Sea Swirl forced herself to run after the two mares racing neck-and-neck. At least she’d be getting some practice in for the Running of the Leaves...
Author's Note
Thunk.
Another bucket worth of apples descended from yet another tree on just another hill of Sweet Apple Acres.
The red stallion’s hindlegs clamped back down on the earth. He turned around, silently hemming at the length of grass clenched between his teeth. His eyes traced over every last section of the tree. Eventually, he shifted the piece of grass to the other side of his mouth, and started forward for the bucket he’d filled.
His ears pricked up high, and he stopped where he stood. Turning, his eyes landed on a fresh set of ears coming up from the hill’s yonder edge. The chestnut-coated ears swiveled his way long before two brown eyes and a white-blazed muzzle could appear.
Big Mac stared at the big mare. He pushed the grass back to its proper place, and continued chewing.
The big mare stared at Big Mac. Her visage was pressed into a perfectly unreadable line, but her ears bounced with each purposeful step she took.
She came to a stop not too far from him. She was taller than him by a healthy margin.
She blinked. He blinked.
It was then Big Mac realized she was holding a bucket. In fact, it was a bucket he was intimately familiar with: he would recognize his repair work on the banding from leagues away... were it not for the profound impression the big mare had left in her wake. It was clear: the soft blaze that trailed up the big mare’s muzzle was impressively distracting. Doubly so, considering he’d had to cast his eyes up to enjoy it in full.
She walked past him. He blinked again, turned in place, and watched her go.
The big, beautifully blazed mare set her bucket down at an un-kicked tree. It drew Big Mac’s eyes right down to the sleek white socks that trailed up from her hooves to various lengths: they were another set of natural pigments in her coat that left him rooted in place.
The mare looked up into the branches, eyeing up the tree in a way not too dissimilar from his own prospecting.
Then, she turned, and delivered a buck so quickly that it caused him to ever-so slightly lift a foreleg off the ground.
The precisely placed buckets he’d left were filled by flowing waterfalls of red delights. But the one the mare had placed had no such luck.
He approached after a moment, and they both looked up into the tree. There was a suitable patch of apples for the bucket, but they hadn’t fallen.
He lifted a hoof, and pressed it to the tree. From the corner of his eye, Big Mac could see the mare’s watchful gaze.
He heaved on the tree once. Twice. Three times.
Plonk, plonk, plonk.
The last apple fell neatly into place.
The mare snorted. But it was a quaint kind of snort, one Big Mac felt from within. It carried no sense of annoyance, or feelings of belittlement. In fact, it left him feeling... proud. He set his hoof back down, and looked at the mare.
“Big Mac?”
“Eeyup.”
She nodded. “Reckless.”
He chewed over his grass, then nodded back.
“I carry apple. You help load?”
He looked over the buckets of apples. It took quite a lot of experience to get used to the weight, experience that most extra farmhooves didn’t have.
But he didn’t have to look back at Reckless to find himself an answer; he already knew that this mare knew how to carry a thing or two. Or even four.
“Eeyup.”
“No stopping her now, sugarcube.”
“Yeah. I can see that.”
Applejack laughed, tilting her stetson. “Heh heh. I’m not so sure I could put her to work, but if I ever need a pony to watch over Winona for a while, granted Fluttershy couldn’t, then she’d be the next pony on my list.”
Sea Swirl frowned, but said nothing. Instead, she continued watching with Applejack.
Screw Loose was in her element, galloping at a furious pace to keep up with the bounding hound before her. Winona yipped playfully, and Screwy barked back with joy.
“I need her to get better. If she keeps acting like this, then she won’t.”
“I don’t see the harm in it.” Applejack shrugged her withers. “She seems happy.”
“But she’s acting like a dog. She’s a pony, not a dog.”
Applejack scuffed at the dirt, then frowned for her own. “Well, yeah. I s’pose that is a mite too much.” She sighed, then straightened back out. “Well, shucks. I don’t know what to tell you, sugarcube. We need ponies who can work well-enough on their own. A little supervision is all proper of course, but this is, well... I’d trust Winona with a hammer before I did with your friend, here.”
Sea Swirl glared.
“Just being honest.”
“Yeah. It’s kind of your thing.” After another bitter moment, Sea Swirl relented, shaking her head to herself. “Right, sorry. I know it’d be a lot to deal with. It was already too much to ask.”
“Aw, nonsense. I didn’t knock down the main orchards on my own, least this year. That’s why I let Reckless mosey on up to Big Mac when you asked if she could work. Ain’t no harm at all in getting and asking for help.” She paused. “Though, I did just learn that the hard way...”
“You’re fine, Applejack. You’re totally in the right, and I’ve gone too far trying to push this on you. I’m sorry for asking.”
“Now wait just one apple kickin’ minute. I wasn’t trying to win some kind of argument with you, Sea Swirl. I just... I need to know more.”
“More? Like?”
Applejack shot her an understanding look. “You were pretty determined to get her to help out with fixing up things around here, but why exactly do you think she’d be good at any of that? I can’t imagine her shingling roofs, dealing with squeaking hinges, or fixing the boards on the porch. Least not when she’s like... this.”
Sea Swirl gave Applejack a long, long look, then turned back to the two noisemakers. “Screwy, come here! Please?”
The mare scrambled to a stop. Winona lapped around, slowing, but still wagging. They stopped, and instead of parting as dogs would, Screwy managed to pet her instead. Smiling broadly, the perked-up mare left her new friend to come up to Sea Swirl and Applejack. At a full sprint, of course. She skid before them, panting.
Sea Swirl stepped forward, and closed her mouth with a gentle push from her muzzle. Standing beside Screwy, she let the mare lean into her. “She wasn’t always like this.”
“I used to see her in town all the time. And she was always like this, then. One day, she came to Ponyville. And then some day after the other, she disappeared.”
“That’s because somepony took her to Ponyville General.” She took a breath, then pressed back into Screwy, who had closed her eyes, and set her barrel to rise and fall in eased motions. “Somepony who knew she needed help.”
It took Applejack a moment. “Oh.” She clutched her stetson again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that... she was doing so poorly.”
“It’s okay. I’m sure most ponies thought the same thing. ‘Just another quirky pony, best leave her be’. But she has a problem. And like some problems, if you leave it alone, it’s only going to make things worse.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” The farm mare let her hat flop back out and returned her hoof to the dirt. “But uh, what is this problem? Where’s it from, I mean. I see the problem. Heh. No offense.” She smiled awkwardly.
Sea Swirl giggled. “It’s okay, I can do worse. I was going to say she was screwed up.”
Applejack’s face twitched. She couldn’t decide whether to laugh along, or simply live with the pain.
“Just being honest.”
It took Applejack a second. She shook her head back and forth, snorted, and looked at Sea Swirl with a cocktail of emotions. “Sugarcube, that’s awful.”
“I know.” Sea Swirl combed her snout through Screw Loose’s light gray mane. “But so is her story. I was lucky to even have the chance to hear it, because she’s obviously in no state to share it.” She kissed the top of Screwy’s head, and in turn, the shut-eyed mare waved her tail. “Her father was in town a couple months ago.”
“He was in town?” Applejack’s mouth worked wordlessly. “He just left her?”
“He tried over and over to get her to stop, but by the time I finally worked up the courage to intervene, she’d already run off to the next part of town. She wouldn’t listen to him, no matter how much he called her name.” Sea Swirl licked her lips, resting her head against Screwy’s, with one ear propped against another. “He was... lost in his own way. Eyes so distant you’d think he was in a different world altogether. Body so pulled apart by stress that he was... well, at least for a pony who couldn’t be all that old, graying like he’d been around for a lifetime.” She pursed her lips, then looked down. “I think he needed help, too.”
Applejack’s silence prompted Sea Swirl on.
“I asked him for his story. He gave me one. A story about a stallion and his daughter. Two ponies, practically alone, who lived in a quiet village in northernmost Equestria. But they were happy.”
“I think I’d like to hear more of that story.”
Sea Swirl nodded, and closed her eyes. For a moment, she was in a different time. “The father was a carpenter, and he focused on furnishings for the village’s homes. The daughter was a pioneer, and she loved to create all sorts of things. She wasn’t quite as good at making furniture, but when it came to bringing them together, she proved her worth in making it happen. Anvils, forges, casts, she put metal bindings of all kinds together to make her father’s furniture sturdy, and last. She wasn’t strictly a blacksmith, but her talents reached as far as her mind wandered, and metals happened to be her favorite kind of material to work with.”
“They even managed to strike it rich, or at least, as rich so far as the village was concerned. They turned their good fortune great. A traveling tradesmare acquired their wares in exchange for the ones she brought, and the village prospered as the father took to delivering their new wealth as gifts. Soon, by word of the tradesmare, ponies flocked to the village, settling back home with their families instead of seeking purpose elsewhere as they’d tried before.”
“The father helped build new homes from the ground up, helped mold the village leadership, and helped to bridge the community together. Meanwhile, the daughter toiled away, taking up the mantle of creating goods for trade, as new patterns and inventions always found worth with the tradesmare. It was a new era for the village, and the two ponies found themselves at the head of the little age of prosperity.”
“Then, the daughter made a mistake. The father didn’t know what had happened, but in the act of forging her latest project, something about her efforts had... changed her. He came across her in her workshop, tools scattered about, and smoke still rising. By all means, they were signs that she was hard at work. But she acted nothing like the daughter he knew. She responded to her name, and her name alone.”
“The next day, the tradesmare arrived, and instead of being greeted by the new wonders the daughter had surely crafted with care, she was greeted by the father, who begged her for a solution. The mare offered her help immediately, and together, they managed to bring the daughter aboard her traveling wagon, and off they went, straight to Canterlot.”
“But they never made it to Canterlot. Just below the peak of the Canterhorn, despite pulling the wagon in turns, they halted to rest for the night. The father and tradesmare awoke, only to find themselves without the daughter’s presence.”
“He searched, and his search did take him to his daughter. But it was then he realized that she no longer recognized him. And to his eyes, she appeared happier now than ever before. Instead of being confined to the workshop to toil day and night for the village, she moved freely, and lived without worry. The tradesmare offered her help once again, but he had no answer. He didn’t know what to do.”
Sea Swirl opened her eyes. “He was gone before I could find him again.” She looked again at Screw Loose, who had since fallen asleep, and was still leaned against her. “But I wrote down his story. For her sake.”
Applejack had her tilted her head down, staring right down at the ground. Her ears were pointed right at Sea Swirl, but as the world went on—with the air occupied only by the sound of the day around them—her silence furrowed deeper and deeper.
“...It was too much, wasn’t it? I always put too much thought into what I say.”
“No. You don’t.”
Sea Swirl glanced up. Applejack’s eyes were shadowed by the tilt of her stetson.
“You said she won’t get better if she... stays this way. I see what you mean, now.” Applejack took a deep breath. “You really believe in that stallion and his story?”
“I believe that Screw Loose could be more. I want her to get better. And I want her to be with a pony I can trust. Twilight told me there was no better friend for that than you.”
Applejack turned to Screw Loose, but this time, there was no mirth in her eyes. She looked over the sleeping mare. She chewed the inside of her mouth. “I...” She trailed off, briefly, but turned her eyes back to Sea Swirl. “I’ll do my best.”
“You... you will?”
“Like I said, I’ll try. I really will.”
“Applejack... I hope I’m not muscling you into this.”
“Sugarcube, you’ve said enough. I believe you.” After another pause, she continued. “Have you tried to do anything with her that ain’t... playing?”
“Um... not exactly. She helped Reckless fix her coffee table. Which they smashed.” She let that fact hang in the air. “Reckless said she didn’t know what half the pieces were, but Screwy knew what went where.”
“Well, it’s a start. I can work with that.”
“...Thank you, Applejack. Really. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
For a moment, they both stood there, watching Screw Loose rest.
In the distant hills of the farm, the sounds of hooves cracking against wood echoed down.
“Whew. Well, Sea Swirl, you sure know how to put some weight in the air.”
Sea Swirl let out a weak, nervous laugh. “Yeah... sorry.”
“Listen, I know what it’s like to be all... jarred up. There’s no need to be sorry.”
“But—”
“Hush. Let go, sugarcube. It’ll all work out. I promise.”
Sea Swirl sighed. She really needed to get a better grip on herself. This was exactly why she never wanted to stick around other ponies for long. There was always too much to unpack with her.
“Okay.”
At least tomorrow would be a little better for her friends.
Author's Note
In keeping with the theme here, I’ll be honest:
“Oh! Good afternoon, Miss... Sea Swirl, was it?”
“Yes, that’s me. You must be Nurse Snowheart.”
“That I am! Just Snowheart is fine.” She leaned back slightly, and looked around. “Is Reckless not here today? She doesn’t usually leave her accommodation.”
“No, she’s helping the Apple family. I think she’s probably out in town.”
“Well, that’s good. Great, even! I assume that you’re the one watching over our special little pony, then?”
“Yeah, she’s been waiting for you. Please, come in.”
“Thank you!”
The yellow-coated mare stepped forward, and Sea Swirl shut the front door behind her. She led her a few steps out of the doorway, and right into the living room.
Snowheart smiled when the occupied couch came into sight. “And how are we doing today, Screw Loose?”
The mare in question was all to excited to have company. With a lighting-quick kick, she launched off the couch, and soared to tackle Snowheart.
The nurse reared up, and easily stopped the mare in her tracks. She grunted briefly under the effort, but was soon full of bubbly laughter. “Very well, it seems!”
“She’s been doing a lot better out here than in the hospital, that’s for sure.”
“Oh, don’t you say that. We’d love to have her back.” She winced, and gave Sea Swirl a sorry look. “Well, I mean, in a good way. She keeps ponies’ spirits up when she’s not making trouble.” Screwy rolled her tongue back in and whined through her throat, drawing Snowheart away again.
“I just worry that she’ll relapse.”
“That’s what I’m here for, Miss Swirl.” Her eyes narrowed into a focused look. Screwy dropped back onto all fours, and cocked her head. “We have plenty of behaviors we need to work on, yes, and those will certainly take some time. But some of the more... physically detrimental tics have moved on.”
“And you’re sure they won’t be back?”
Snowheart gave Screwy a few more moments of scrutiny before sending her off with an approving nod. As the mare scrambled back for the couch, Snowheart adjusted her nursing cap. “She may be Ponyville General’s toughest case to date, but we’re doing all we can to keep her on the right track.”
“...Sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? We should really be thanking you for bringing her in.”
Sea Swirl looked at the floor and scratched it with a hoof. “I just wish I could do more.”
She was surprised to find her muzzle tilting upwards, forced to meet Snowheart’s eyes.
“Look... Sea Swirl. Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Her hoof clopped back down. “Here, how’s this. I’ll talk to the other nurses about letting you in after visiting hours. Screw Loose will be coming back sooner or later. We have to take foalsteps. And her recovery is going to rely on the company of ponies who support her. Doesn’t that sound good?”
Sea Swirl just nodded.
“Thank you.” Smiling again, Snowheart gestured behind her with a short bob of her head. “There are some little things we need to keep track of, observations I’d like to record, activities and exercises for her to try. Do you think you could help me with that?”
“Yeah.” She took a breath. “Yes, yes I can.”
“Perfect,” Snowheart uttered with warmth and heart. “It’ll help me, and it’ll help Screw Loose in the long-term. She’s going to get better. But it’s not going to happen overnight.”
“I understand.”
“Alright, then right now’s the best time to get started!” Leaning her head down, she allowed her hat to fall into her hoof. Using her mouth, she plucked out a small writing pad, and a well-worn pencil. “First of all, let’s talk about getting her out more...”
Sea Swirl couldn’t help but giggle. “She’s way ahead of you.”
With two full baskets of apples balanced on her sides through a girth and strap, and a tremendously overloaded cart behind her, Reckless was as comfortable as she could be.
Lugging her cargo alone through town, she sank no time into observing the world around her. It had taken her a long while to adjust to her new vision, but that was neither here nor there: she kept her focus on the task at hoof, pulling ahead with purpose. The cart was a significant upgrade from her days of hauling variable loads, but the worst sections of terrain she encountered were the sloping cobbles of the bridges placed about Ponyville. It was hardly the kind of environment that promoted a tough can-do attitude.
Pulled out of her own world at the peak of her career, it went without saying that she found herself unfulfilled, underutilized, and underachieving.
But working while ponies watched on in awe brought its own degree of pride.
She’d been given a short order for this particular run, a two-way trip she’d run once: deliver the cargo to the front line; return and await further orders.
In this particular scenario, there were no rampaging artillery shells being lobbed about, or comrades, bloody and wounded, reaching up for her aid. Instead, she had to contest with her inability to discern the difference between the various buildings that made up the village of Ponyville.
Coming to a stop, she garnered some extra attention from a passing pony. The mare stared, and Reckless stared back.
“Where Sugar Corner? Need go.”
The mare blinked, then brightened with a gentle, tittering laugh. She pointed with a hoof. “Sugarcube Corner’s right there.”
Reckless followed the aim of the mare’s hoof, right over to the building she’d stopped in front of.
“This Corner?”
“Yup, that’s it!”
Her eyes wandered across the ‘building’. The place looked like it belonged more on an officer’s buffet than on the street. She nodded at the mare. “Thank.”
“Sure thing. Have a nice day!” With a happy hum, the mare continued on her merry way.
Reckless gave the crowd around her a look, then swiveled her cart through one last turn.
As she approached the building, she pulled to the side of the single pink door, and the rocky steps that led up to it. There didn’t appear to be anyone—or anypony, for that matter—around to unharness, or even unload her. She’d been strapped in by Big Mac, but rather than try to learn how exactly a pony could equip themselves for hauling, she’d spent her time getting him to fit her in a more comfortable way. She’d long since given up on trying to use her natural movements to communicate with the ponies: Big Mac had come close, but she’d still had to rely on her new voice to get things done.
So, she spoke up.
Knowing better than to start with any ‘primal noise’ the ponies deemed strange (at least, now she did), she instead rose her voice. “Deliver!”
Stomping her hoof, she snorted, and looked down. She’d walked herself into facing the building, and she wasn’t about to start backing the cart up. And while she’d try and remove the baskets, they were laid over the banding of the cart’s wooden arms, so it wasn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world.
Reckless waited.
It didn’t take long for the front door to open, and a pony to come out for a peek.
“Oh! Hello there!”
The pudgy, cerulean blue mare bore an apron. It was covered in something Reckless was all-too familiar with: confectioner’s sugar.
“Sugar Corner. I deliver.”
“I can see that,” the mare tentatively laughed. “Gosh, you’re a big pony... Um, could you take that cart around back for us? I don’t want to carry in all the ingredients through the front, if you don’t mind.”
Reckless nodded. “No trouble.”
Backing the cart easily—and not particularly caring if anypony was in her way—she swerved to the side. The pony at the door ducked back in.
Rounding around the Sugarcube Corner, Reckless was greeted on equal terms: the mare was stood on a ledge near the back door, and she smiled warmly. “Thank you very much, Miss...?”
“Reckless. Come from Sweet Acre.”
“Of course. I figured Applejack must have sent you.” Stepping down, she approached Reckless’ side. “Do you need help getting out of that harness? I would appreciate a hoof in getting all these wonderful apples inside.”
“Yes.” She jostled her back. “Take baskets.”
“Mhm. This isn’t my first rodeo either!” She reached a hoof out, and Reckless recognized the gesture after a second: she reciprocated the hoofbump. “Chiffon Swirl. But you can call me Mrs. Cake.”
“But Swirl good name.”
Mrs. Cake giggled. “Yes, but it’s really for Carrot, er, my husband’s sake. You know how stallions are.”
“No.”
“...Oh.”
“They promise foal when retire. Did not get stallion. Did not get foal.”
Mrs. Cake blinked.
“Maybe not retire long enough.”
The mare’s face contorted in all manner of ways, before she finally settled for sympathetic. “You’re still young, dear. You have plenty of time.”
Reckless stretched her neck to look over Mrs. Cake.
The mare fidgeted, and pinched her ears back.
“Wish you good foal.” Nodding, she brought her attention back to her harness. “We work now, yes?”
After a moment, Mrs. Cake returned the nod, then went to work removing the baskets. She was quiet, and a little slow. But Reckless waited patiently while she worked.
When the baskets had been removed, Reckless felt a hoof rest against her back.
“It’s twins,” came the murmur. “We weren’t going to tell anypony yet.”
Reckless turned her head. “Classified, yes?”
Mrs. Cake had a tiny, but significant smile. “Secret. Thank you.”
Weaving her body through the door, Reckless found herself standing in the backroom kitchen of Sugar Cube Corner.
She’d been here before. But only in dreams.
The unimaginable scents here were sown directly from the bounty of the Elysian Plains.
A quiet gasp came from her left, and she looked to meet the sparkling eyes of the pink pastry mare extraordinaire.
Reckless’ stony visage was something she’d developed over years of tenure in service. She’d waged her own internal wars to develop the fortitude to match the wiles of the world. She’d always been the same mare, but the real character in her was something she reserved for those she truly trusted. It wasn’t too easy to break her, especially for a stranger. But this mare... this one right here?
For Reckless, it was like stepping ten years into the past.
She smiled broadly, ears perking high. “Pinkie Pie!”
“Reckless!” the party pony whispered. She swung her head around the room in a great big display. “I’d love to talk, but I have to keep working! I messed up big time!”
“Pinkie Pie, I already told you—”
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cake! I’m working,” she wailed, “I’m working !” She turned back to her mixing bowl, and resumed whisking with gusto.
Mrs. Cake sighed. “Don’t mind her, she’s not in trouble. She’s still stuck in a rut about the ‘baked bads’ fiasco.” She gestured Reckless on with a hoof. “This way with those baskets, dear.”
While she’d been brought in to help, Mrs. Cake soon disappeared back into the front—which Reckless assumed had something to do with the voices of ponies in the background—with a promise to help Reckless back into her harness when she was finished. Even then, unloading the goods into the surprisingly sizable pantry didn’t take long: back and forth Reckless went, ferrying load after load.
And on each trip, her eyes lingered on Pinkie Pie for longer, and longer.
When she’d run dry on apples, she stepped back inside. Her standing orders were to return to Mrs. Cake, but internally, she commanded herself to steer for Pinkie Pie.
The mare was fit to burst with how swiftly she was working through the goods. By now, an armada of sweets and baked treats filtered along every little spot of space that could possibly be occupied.
Dipping out of the oven with another tray, Pinkie Pie gasped, leaving the tray suspended in mid-air. “Reckless!”
“Pinkie Pie!”
Somehow, the pink pony perked up further. Her ears quickly wilted. “Ooo, give me one second.” She grabbed back onto the heating pad wrapped around the tray’s edge, and carefully placed the tray down to cool. She turned back around to Reckless, and lightly bounced in place. “Hi! What’s up?”
Reckless looked around at the food-filled room, licked her lips, then gave Pinkie Pie a nod.
Pinkie Pie returned with a serious look. Then, she nodded back. Reaching into her mane, she retrieved her prize, and in pristine condition.
“I made it just for you, sergeant.”
It was a simple treat, from a simpler world: glazed only by white vanilla frosting, it consisted of so little flair that it was almost hard to believe that it was the work of the same Pinkie Pie from Sugar Cube Corner.
And yet, it was perfect.
Reckless leaned forward, and plied it gently from Pinkie Pie’s grip.
Swish!
She tilted her head back in one slick motion, tossing the cupcake high. It arced, soaring like the road of a rainbow—which she accounted for with two steps back—before descending to its rightful place in Reckless’ gaping maw.
While she savored the delight with her slowed, mushing, and noisy chewing, Pinkie Pie adopted a salute. “Are you ready for game night again soon, Sergeant Reckless?”
The warhorse eagerly nodded, and swallowed. “Yes. Bring more poker chip. I find more pony play poker. Make more winning.”
“Yes, ma’am! With sprinkles?”
A mischievous glint filled Reckless’ eye, and gut. “Extra sprinkle.”
“Go fish!”
Rainbow Dash groaned. “Pinkie Pie, you’re not getting me with that one again.” She tapped the table, and slid her voice smoothly. “I check.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow as much as she raised the stakes.
Rainbow snorted. “That the best you’ve got, cowgirl ?”
“I sure did add more to the game than you did, pony girl .”
“Allll in !” Pinkie sing-songed.
The two bickering mares turned abruptly, and stared with wide-eyes.
Having already folded for the round, Reckless munched away on one of her poker chips. “Oh. Brave move.”
Rainbow’s voice cracked. “Brave? There’s nothing brave about that! Brave is the trick I was showing you yesterday, remember?”
“Dangerous, yes.” She nodded firmly toward the beaming party pony. “This brave.”
“What?! But you—”
“I fold.”
The boisterous rainbow shifted her gaze from Reckless, and right back to Applejack. “Are you serious? I bet Pinkie Pie doesn’t even have anything!”
“Ain’t nothing wrong with folding, Rainbow.” She adjusted her hat and leaned back. “It takes a big pony to know when to fold.”
“I’ll show you a big pony, alright.” With a grunt, she laid her forelegs on the table, and pushed her stack of poker chips forward. “Call!”
The air was thick like dripping molasses as Reckless leaned forward. The other three ponies at the table watched on, all in various states of anticipation, although Rainbow’s anxious hoof-biting and wing-flutters overshadowed the others. After a moment of struggling, Reckless finally flipped the last card on the table.
“Ooo!” Giggling, Pinkie laid her cards out for everypony to see. Her beam was infectious, and it spread to Applejack, then Reckless. “That’s a good hoof right, Applejack?”
“You said it, Pinkie.” The ‘cowgirl’ leveled her grin on Rainbow Dash. “Well?”
“...I lost.”
Applejack snorted and laughed. “You’re still in, sugarcube.”
“But I lost to Pinkie Pie!”
“Yes.” Reckless crunched, and swallowed. “She take your chip all time.”
“She does not!”
Pinkie giggled. “I do, silly!”
As the poker table devolved into yet another round of playful banter, mostly predicated on Rainbow Dash’s woes, Sea Swirl laughed.
“I can’t help but point out that Reckless is eating the poker chips.”
Turning to Nurse Snowheart, Sea Swirl smiled. “They’re crackers. They play with them.”
“Oh. That explains the sprinkles... slightly.”
“Yeah...” Sea Swirl sighed in warm reminiscence. “Pinkie Pie started bringing them after Reckless ate an ante’s worth.”
“Of actual chips?”
“Yup. It’s just one of her things.”
Snowheart held a hoof to her head. “Please, do let me know if there’s anything else she’s been eating.” She looked around with worry (there really was no need, the only other pony close enough to listen was Screw Loose, who was presently residing in her office within the blankets of the couch), and leaned in. “That’s one of the things we were monitoring for while she was in the hospital.”
“I don’t understand why she was in there to begin with. The guards didn’t lay a hoof on her, she laid into them .”
“Well... I really shouldn’t say anymore.”
“Oh, right, patient-doctor confidentiality and all that. Of course.”
Snowheart sighed, and looked back to the game. She tried to smile; Sea Swirl could see the very real effort the mare was putting in. “She’s better now, and with friends, she’ll get even better.”
Sea Swirl shuffled in her seat. “That’s my hope, too.”
A pause passed. Intermittent laughter echoed.
“...but I suppose, you are her friend. Maybe... we can trade.”
“Trade?”
Snowheart made a little motion with her hoof. “I’m not the doctor.”
“Oh.”
She tittered, then went on. “And Reckless doesn’t really mind the talk. She’s very open about her past. Proud, even. But... it’s not exactly something you approach her asking. She paints, well, broadly.”
“Like how when it seems like she’s not being vague, but she really is.”
“Mhm. It only comes naturally. We don’t want to force it, but we can’t exactly treat her if she doesn’t come out of her shell.”
After a quiet round, the poker table surged with lighthearted bickering once again.
“So, what are you offering?”
“Collaboration, really. You just so happen to be the perfect pony to help her on the path. We’ve painted a wide enough picture to see that there’s a lot buried in her thoughts. But it’s not all ‘within reach’, so to speak.”
“She was in a war,” Sea Swirl stated flatly. “She saw things nopony should’ve had to go through. Of course she has a lot on her mind.”
“We know. But how she acts now is just her hiding. And it’s not healthy.”
Sea Swirl tilted her head. “She’s been getting along fine. She just met Applejack the other day, and here they are putting Rainbow Dash down as a team.” She frowned. “If she’s pretending to be the pony she’s not, then she’s doing an impeccable job.”
“Well...” Snowheart tapped her forehooves together, and leaned back into her cushions. “Yes. She’s stonewalled, a mare of sheer will. And that’s what worries us.”
“Meaning?”
“She needs to find a way to be on her own. She relies on others to give her purpose, and follows orders to the letter. That’s why we have her and Screw Loose in this living space. They’re both a short trot away from assisted-living for the rest of their lives, do you understand?”
“Assisted living?” Sea Swirl blinked, and allowed her eyebrows to curl with open worry. “But... I thought she was getting better?”
“She is getting better. But she needs a push more than ever. If we could figure out where her trauma lies...”
“She’s not traumatized.”
Snowheart took a moment to relax her withers. “She actively represses her memories. If she never gets the word to face them, then she’ll never accept it as a part of who she is.”
“Then maybe this is her second chance. Look at her right now. I see a pony who fits right in.”
“And I see a mare who’s content to keep her fight to herself.”
Sea Swirl turned to Snowheart. The nurse was watching Reckless, her face stretched by no small display of pain.
“All I ask is that you talk to her a little more about her history. But not about the land she claimed to live in, because we’ve exhausted our options there. She needs help working through who she believes she is.”
“Who does she think she is?”
“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be sharing our worries with you.” Snowheart stopped briefly, then lowered her head. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.”
Sea Swirl took a deep breath. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really hope you’re wrong.”
“Don’t be. That’s more than fair.” Snowheart put on a tight, throat-locked laugh. “I would love to be wrong about this diagnosis. But it’s a situation we’re not properly equipped to deal with. Something better dealt with between friends.”
“I can’t make any promises. Not ones I can keep.”
“And I can’t force you to do anything. Again, I’m only asking that you think about it.” The nurse ran her hoof along the inside of her foreleg. “So please, give it some thought.”
Sea Swirl didn’t manage a real reply—she nodded, and that was that. Snowheart was a good mare, and her heart was definitely in the right place: Reckless did need a friend to help her. She just needed the right kind.
The mares watched as the table’s argument came to a finality. The table was set upright, the hooves were dealt, and the blinds were paid.
Below her sea of blankets, Screw Loose kicked away, whining slightly in some foreign dream.
Sea Swirl quietly excused herself from Snowheart, and moved to comfort the nightmare-addled mare. She knew those dreams. Evidently, Reckless did, too.
As Sea Swirl’s hoof smoothed over Screwy’s covered back, she whispered soothing nothings. She tried to make them meaningful, to be more than cooled words. In a few spare moments, the kicks wound down. For the moment, the nightmares peeled back to puppy-dog dreams.
Sea Swirl leaned back, her rump placed square against the floor, and silently watched over her friend. She wished she had the strength to do more; she needed the same kind that kept Reckless brave in the face of so much hardship... and trauma. Sea Swirl’s gaze wandered back to the game.
Maybe, all she had to do was ask.
“Now, sugarcube, can I trust you with this?”
Applejack hefted the hammer up. She wasn’t gripping it, but as it lay in her hoof, she could tell the mare in front of her was more than ready to lay her open mouth on the hammer. Bits of saliva drooled down from Screw Loose’s gaping maw; it wasn’t much, but it was enough to unnerve Applejack a tad.
All the farmer mare could do was remember Screwy’s story.
Sighing, she pushed her hoof forward. When Screwy’s tight mouth-grip wrapped around the hammer’s handle, the circular sashay of the mare’s tail doubled in vigor.
“Alright,” Applejack said tentatively. “Just like I showed you a second ago, y’hear?” Once more, she leaned down, hefted her own hammer, and reached for one of the boards in the pile of wooden planks. Plonking it before her, she flipped it until it was nail-side up. A quick clean motion had the nail plucked from the board. She stepped back, and set the hammer back down. “Just like that. No fuss at all.” Applejack gestured with an open hoof. “Go on, give it a try.”
Screwy, still wagging, continued as if unbidden. Just as Applejack was beginning to question her own patience, the dog-hearted mare stepped forward and pawed out a board.
For some reason, Applejack felt her heart racing. “Nice and easy...”
Screwy nosed the board to face her.
“Nice...”
She reached down, unclenched her jaw, and wrapped her teeth around the hammer.
Applejack took a breath.
With a stretch of her surprisingly muscular neck, Screwy wedged the nail in the claw of her hammer. She set her hoof down on the board for support.
“And easy...”
The whole of Screwy’s body locked itself in place, and with a firm tug, her head popped upwards. She flexed in a strange disjointed way of stretching, before eagerly presenting the hammer to Applejack. Low and behold, the hammer came with company: the nail had been pried clean.
“Well I’ll be.” Applejack pushed at the edge of her stetson. “You really had me going there.”
The moment Screwy opened her mouth to start panting, the hammer fell, nail and all. It landed with a soft thud in the dirt between them. It at least wasn’t too coated in saliva, but the dirt that clung to it wasn’t exactly the grip Applejack was hoping to have turned back to her.
Picking the damp tool with a hoof instead, Applejack nodded. “I’ll go through a few more with you, sugarcube. We’ll have a good set of withers on you, yet.”
Screwy gave a joyful yip, and Applejack replied with an awkwardly slanted smile.
Big Mac wasn’t a stallion of many words.
Neither was Reckless.
There were many different kinds of apples grown on Sweet Apple Acres. This particular section of the orchard had a later harvest cycle than most of the farm. Despite being a small part of their annual growth, there was still plenty of work to be done.
But they’d done so much already, to the point that Big Mac couldn’t help but find himself enjoying a break. He certainly wasn’t planning on straining himself again... Although, if he did, he had it well ingrained by now that this new mare would certainly be the big pony the Ponyville Apples could rely on to get the job done.
So here he sat, plied with his back to an apple tree, straw in mouth, and eyes cast over the rolling hills of Sweet Apple Acres.
The view beside him wasn’t too bad, either.
For the longest time, Big Mac had fancied himself a pony predisposed to the littler ones. He’d always been ahead of the curve in his growth, and a good part of his actions came down to ensuring the ones smaller than him were safe and well. He was no stranger to bearing the weight of the world on his withers, if only for a moment.
It was plain for Big Mac to see, then, that Reckless carried similar burdens.
There were pains buried beneath the surface for both of them, and for the first time in a long time, Big Mac felt the urge to reach out to somepony beyond those closest in his care.
This mare may well have been family.
And while she was remarkably quiet, she could just as easily be wordy when her interest was piqued. She was even closer to his heart than he first realized: not just in actions, but in words. That left him wanting to know more about the mare he’d certainly be working with for the foreseeable future.
It was awkward, then, that the stallion of few words had to be the one to say something.
“So,” he started, his drawl thick with disuse. “Ponyville?”
Reckless’ reply was immediate, almost as if she’d been waiting for him. “Here some time.” She stretched, arching her neck toward the noon-day sun. “You live Ponyville long, yes?”
“Eeyup.”
She was silent again. His eyes traced her. Waiting.
The hard-working workhorse was tempting him into speaking something fierce.
“You know princess?”
Big Mac blinked.
“Sun princess, not moon sib,” Reckless elaborated, this time shaking out her front fetlocks. “She nice mare. Moon mare, too.”
“Eeyup.”
“She help me find friend. Family. Send me Ponyville, give me work.”
“The princess gave us Apples the land. You could say she gave me work, too.”
Reckless paused at the remark, then turned to face Big Mac. The white blaze striping down between her eyes was a bit sooty with dirt, but it didn’t dissuade her smile. “You like work, yes?”
Big Mac’s lips twitched into a tiny smile, and he nodded firmly toward the leaves of the tree overhead. “Eeyup.”
“Can tell. Work so hard.” For a moment, Big Mac felt the horse’s eyes rolling over him. Reckless rolled her withers, then looked away. “You know best part?”
“...Nope.”
“Can tell you not want me. Is good to work with stallion who not want foal.”
Big Mac’s eyes widened, half-expecting a laugh to leave the mare. But no such grace erupted. With each second, the silence somehow grew worse. His lack of a proper reply sent his mind reeling toward the edge.
“Ee-eyup.” He winced, and turned away; he’d failed to hide the stutter.
“Maybe when work slow, we do different fun.”
Big Mac began to sweat like the air wasn’t the cool autumn it was.
The boards creaked beneath Sea Swirl.
“Seems like somepony’s a bit nervous.”
The rocking chair mare creaked just as much.
“I guess,” Sea Swirl replied noncommittally.
“You guess?” the older mare hooted. “Well now, I haven’t seen a filly more nervous in all my time in Ponyville! You’re as nervous as a groundhog around their shadow!”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Only for so long as you keep teetering on my porch, filly.”
Sea Swirl stopped doing just that. Her hooves thud against the wood. “Thank you.”
“Aw hay, no need to thank me. Just remember that you’ve got four good hooves, and they were made for trotting! Keep yourself grounded, that’s what I say.”
Earth pony wisdom was something Sea Swirl found herself more and more attuned with. “Grounded. Got it. But really, thank you, Granny Smith.”
“Now what did I just say, filly?”
“...Sorry.”
“I’m just pulling your tail.” Granny Smith sighed pleasantly, and continued bobbing in her chair. “If’n somepony oughta be sorry, it ought to be me.”
“Why?”
“When you said you wanted to help, I should’ve known that you wanted help, too.”
Sea Swirl glanced back at Granny.
Spread out before them, the sprawling landscape of Sweet Apple Acres was a cozy sight to behold. Nearby, the sound of the coop and barn elicited sharp plucks along Sea Swirl’s ears, though she’d since become accustomed to them after all her time on the porch.
She’d initially stopped by to see how her friends were faring, but she’d had yet to see anypony else beside Granny Smith: Applejack and Screwy were definitely close by, but out of the way; Big Mac and Reckless were no doubt at work in the orchard; and the scarce Applebloom was off to the Ponyville Schoolhouse.
That left Sea Swirl to house chores with Granny Smith. Her use of telekinesis was a surprisingly welcome allowance, given that Granny had insisted on doing a great many things by hoof—Sea Swirl wasn’t entirely sure jars could be ‘jarred’ by ‘magical jarring’—but it had been an easy way for Sea Swirl to find comfort in doing something useful.
“What do you think I need help with?”
“Shucks, don’t go putting it like that, filly.” Granny Smith slowed in her rocking. There was an audible smack as she wet her lips. “You want a family, don’t you?”
“I... I’m sorry, but I don’t see—”
“It’s a yes or no.”
“...Yes.”
Granny Smith sighed. “I hope you’ll take this kindly, then, when I say that you’ve got yourself a happy troupe.”
Sea Swirl trot over, and seated herself rump-first beside Granny Smith. “But we have monsters in us.”
“What? Monsters? No, no. No monsters, filly, just nightmares . Everypony has nightmares.”
“Then how are we supposed to face them?”
Granny Smith slowed to a stop, Sea Swirl took every movement in.
“It starts with finding yourself a family.”
“And then?”
Granny leaned in conspiratorially, her chair and body creaking again. “Being a mite bit selfish.”
Sea Swirl tilted her head at the mare, her face contorting with confusion. “Selfish? Selfish how? And how’s that supposed to help?”
“Well, you’re already working on doing right by them, aren’t you, filly?” When Sea Swirl found no way to reply, Granny Smith hummed, and hewed on. “Now, I think you should show your friends your talents... and enjoy it, to boot. And I won’t lie, it won’t be easy. But it’ll be well worth it.”
For the tender quiet that passed over them, Sea Swirl raised a hoof, and laid it on one of Granny’s resting forelegs. “Thank you for your advice, Granny Smith... I think I know where to go next.”
“O’course! You’re welcome back anytime, filly.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer more often than you think.”
“Reckless?”
Thunk. “Sea Swirl.”
“You never told me you didn’t like dogs.”
Ka-thunk. “No.”
The pause stretched, broken only by another hollow thunk of firewood in the fireplace. Reckless slowly reached to the metal stand aside the stoked flames, her long and muscled neck bulging on display for her friends across the way. With the fire iron clenched in her sturdy mouth vice, Reckless continued to tend to the ever-warmed hearth. Her voice was silent, and to be completely fair, Sea Swirl knew she shouldn’t have asked.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to dredge up any bad memories.” Sea Swirl turned her eyes away. Her hooves had long since found purchase grooming along the resting form of Screwy. She smoothed out the tuckered mare’s blanket, and placed a gentle scratch between her ears with the tip of her hoof.
After another moment, the fire iron clinked. “Not what mean.”
“But Granny Smith told me about the way you’ve been acting around Winona.”
“Winona?” Reckless tried the name. She shook her head and started making her way over to her own couch. Her eyes stayed glued ahead. “No, no. Like dogs, now.” She paused in thought. “You... maybe we talk.”
Sea Swirl didn’t exactly like the warhorse’s demeanor—it worried her to see her speak without eye contact—but she still relished in the small satisfaction that came from hearing those words. “I’d really like that, Reckless.”
The couch aside creaked as Reckless settled in. Screwy fussed slightly in her dreams, but the moment passed. The crackling of the fire took control of the space.
Sea Swirl wasn’t one for fire, but she watched the lapping flames in the reflections of Reckless’ eyes; Reckless would always be there, but it was a blessing like no other to see Morning Flame.
“But no need make doc talk. Know story already. Trauma, they say. Disorder. No... I know orders.”
Sea Swirl shuddered. “How do you... know?”
“Doc not think I listen. But I hear all.” Reckless’ ear flicked. “Pony not know war. Maybe different choice, work more. Maybe find... new marine.”
“Would you really want that?”
“Would be happy. But happy here.” Reckless breathed heavily, then turned to look at Sea Swirl.
Those eyes... it was enough to make Sea Swirl’s breath hitch.
The hurt finally shone through.
“No like carry soldier, Sea Swirl. Blood, no blood, it not matter. But carry soldier, because carry soldier my purpose. Why I here. If not fight, who fight? Who carry you?”
“...But who carries you when you need help most, Reckless?”
The ex-sergeant’s eyes softened. “I carry. If was good marine, would not be alone.”
“You...” Sea Swirl paused, then sharply inhaled. “You could teach me to think the way you do. I wouldn’t mind being your voice, if you’ll be my eyes and ears.”
“How mean?”
Sea Swirl slowed in her ministrations, causing Screwy to let loose a low groan. When she replied, she turned her hoof in slow circles across the blankets. “I don’t want you to carry that weight all on your own. You may have had the company of others when you were in the ‘Marines’, but you didn’t have a way to tell them you needed relief. They just had to know. But now, now you can tell somepony. And I want to be that somepony.”
Reckless’ upper lip curled and twitched the longer she looked at Sea Swirl.
Sea Swirl stared right back. “I mean it, Reckless. I really do want to help you, because you already help me. So please, let’s sit down, and really make sure we’re doing this together.”
The warhorse puffed from her nostrils.
“Please?”
Outside the defrosting window pane, ponies in the snow passed. They hurried along with bright smiles, all while more snow stuck close to the yarns and thread across their backs. Screwy’s ears perked at the sound of their laughter, but she didn’t open her eyes, or budge an extra inch.
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
Sea Swirl leaned back, but she patiently awaited the next words out of Reckless’ mouth. The warhorse was slow to start, but the thoughts in her head were the kind that kept the princesses awake at night.
“Many marine. So many, many, marine. Not know them, then. They find me. Take me. Then, no more race. But... still train. Different train. Step for war. Hoofcamp. Step for marine. Doc. Gunny. Lieutenant. Race for them.” Reckless seemed to lose her speed somewhat.
Sea Swirl briefly stepped back in. “But what happened to your family? Your old family, I mean. Surely that hurt?”
“Family?” Reckless paused, and then much to Sea Swirl’s surprise, made a very pony motion: she rubbed at her jaw with the back of her fetlock. Her lower lip flapped loosely, save for when she spoke again. “Yes... not happy. But necessary. Had to leave, fight. Go so family live.”
That was better than nothing. “Did you ever see them again?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It okay,” she breathed deep, and topped it with a snort. “He knew he would not see me.” Reckless turned her head down. “But still happier to train war.”
“You didn’t have a choice, did you?”
“No choice. Only owner make choice.” Reckless’ hoof tapped against her couch. She looked up to meet Sea Swirl’s watchful gaze. “Was good owner. Feed me. Name me. Teach me... Love me.”
Sea Swirl swallowed thickly. Love, but... “Your family... h-he owned you?”
“Better owner than no owner. Korea not so safe, then. Even when go, not so safe. Hard time everywhere. Hard life for all man. But luck give me and him chance for better life, even if mean... lose family.”
“For a new one,” Sea Swirl corrected.
“For new one, yes.”
Sea Swirl didn’t think it so bad, until she realized that Reckless had likely been sold off to her new family. “I... see.”
She realized then, that understanding her friend’s world was going to be a life-altering journey. Her preconceptions of the way things were just wouldn’t hold water to the wounded warhorse.
“You see?” Reckless’ ears flopped as she looked about the living room. “See what?”
“I meant that I understand what you mean. You both did what you had to.”
“Yes. We serve. Fight for what matter.”
“...Friends?” Sea Swirl hazarded a guess.
Reckless smiled, and firmly nodded. “Friends.”
Holding onto friendship was important in a world that saw war. That didn’t mean it wasn’t as important, here. But Sea Swirl could tell that this was a tenuous path for Reckless, and it needed to be followed.
But she had to move slowly. Steadily. Uphill.
Sea Swirl returned the smile, and gently replied. “I’m glad we’re friends, Reckless.”
Author's Note
Reckless wishes you a good Memorial Day.
“Ponies not know better.”
“Because they can’t know exactly what you’re thinking.”
“Yes. I no help, too. Don’t say what think. No word... best word, most time.”
“It’s a really good practice to speak up and vent, Reckless.”
“That why you here. We here.”
“Of course.”
Ponyville was quiet today. Sea Swirl rather liked it that way. There were so many exciting days and moments in the town: earth ponies definitely knew how to have fun, and the constant wave of new arrivals made sure every interaction was a memorable one.
Of all those episodes, Sea Swirl was glad to have settled into life with Reckless and Screwy.
“It’s nice to be out of the way, don’t you think? To settle back, and just do... nothing.”
“Yes. But retirement not so close, Sea Swirl.”
“I just moreso meant taking a break, Reckless.”
“No room for break in war. Always fight.”
“Then it’s a good thing there’s no war here, right?”
“Only war of heart. Hearts.”
Sea Swirl felt the immediate twist of pain. “Reckless...”
“No,” the warhorse suddenly broke. Her brown eyes gleamed as she laid her sights on Sea Swirl. “Your heart hurt most. You much help, yes. We friend. You best friend. But friend can hurt. I fear...” Reckless paused. She lowered her gaze, licked her lips, then tilted back up again. Her whisper was sharp. “Will hurt your heart when try fix mine.”
The ocean-hearted mare, for as tumultuous a life she lived in her mind, didn’t fight back. “Okay.” She flexed her fetlock, and brushed against the head of Screwy, sprawled out across the floor before her. “I’m sorry.”
Reckless’ forelegs slid across the living room carpet. She laid herself flat and turned away. “No. No sorry. This just life. Life I live, now.”
For a moment, they both clung to their own respective carpets. Sea Swirl felt herself tempted to slide down and join Screwy in her curled up dreams, but that would leave Reckless out of the equation. A peek now and she could see her warhorse friend sulking, her mane just poking out above the coffee table. Below, her head pressed deeper into her fetlocks. The weight of everything was bound to leave an imprint in the carpet; she was tiring herself out pushing into the floor. Was it some kind of comfort? If it was, it wasn’t nearly enough. Reckless wouldn’t be satisfied until she lived in a different world.
Sea Swirl wished she could give it to her. It was a dream.
But dreams weren’t fulfilled without motion.
If she wanted Reckless to live in a better world, she needed to act.
So, she didn’t reply. She let the warhorse tire herself in that isolated, desperate bid for comfort. If she wanted to say something more meaningful, she needed to think. Reckless was not a thinking mare. She was smart, brilliant, almost certainly a trained tactician... but she didn’t have the same experience Sea Swirl did in workings of the heart, and dreams. Yes, Reckless was a simple-minded mare, but she didn’t understand just how big her heart was.
“Reckless...”
Above the coffee table, the rounded ends of Reckless’ ears twitched.
“You’re a good mare. I really think you should know that.”
She heard a breath from below.
Sea Swirl leveraged herself forward. “And you’re a good marine. That never stopped mattering.”
Reckless shifted her legs, but didn’t raise herself. Her face remained in her fetlocks.
“You’re such a strong fighter, but you also have a strong heart. You fight for the purpose of helping, protecting, saving others. You work so very hard not for the sake of the reward, but for the sake of lives. You’ve spent so long fighting without mind for life, but you know you can have it. You deserve it. Everypony deserves a good life, and you are owed one no less or more than others. You remember so clearly the details of others, of the steps you need to take to keep them on the path. You draw them out with you, leave them safe, and dive right back into the fight. Your fight.”
Reckless raised her head. Her eyes and ears were narrowed right at Sea Swirl.
“You don’t have to fight alone. You never did. And you never have to.” Sea Swirl rested her hoof against Screwy’s form, and wound a slow circle. “I know what it’s like to feel like you’re at the end of the world. For you, it was the end of the war. For me, it was the whirlpool’s edge.”
“Whirlpool?” Reckless tried the unfamiliar word.
Her ploy to distract Reckless having worked, Sea Swirl nodded. “Whirlpool. It was a vortex, actually. I should’ve seen it was bad while on the ship...” Sea Swirl trailed off with a little smile. She was getting ahead of herself.
Reckless swallowed. “Don’t like ships.”
“I don’t like ‘em too much, either. But I love the sea.”
Slowly, Sea Swirl’s smile shrank. Not afraid, nor sad. Serious.
“But when I was a filly, for a while there, I feared the mean ‘ole blue.”
Rapt with attention, Reckless leaned her head against the coffee table. Screwy’s tail traced a path against the carpet, and her ears peaked. The eyes of her friends were on her.
And for the first time in a long time, Sea Swirl felt ready to share her story.
“Stepping into the water of the sea for the first time is kind of like traveling to a different world. All these new sensations on your hooves, the water clinging and tasting like no lake you’ve been in before? Yeah, when my parents and I lived by the Celestial Sea, I wanted to spend my whole life in those waters.”
“Every time, it was like I got a little further and further. Then, it turned out I was getting further. I wasn’t a filly like the others, with lots of siblings to rein me in, I just had parents willing to be there for me. But I swam out, and the waves crashed in, and I just... I wanted to keep going.”
“I dove under those waves, and the world just expanded. All those little shells and wash-ashores I’d see? Well, they lived and breathed in the blue beneath. And I really wanted to stay there. But I held my breath, kept my eyes open, and bobbed straight to the surface. Kicked my way back to the beach and my parents. And went home.”
“And there, with my mom still drying me, I asked to see the sea.”
“It wasn’t a cruise, just a little accompanying voyage out with my uncle on his fishing trawler. And it turned into a whole series of little trips. My parents are unicorns, but my uncle... he’s an earth pony. It made my mind go crazy whenever I was with him, because I’d always be asking him about all the earth pony ways. But well, Uncle Cerulean had a lot of tales about the sea. He’s more sea pony than earth pony, really. I loved him for it, and still do. He was stood like me, glimpsing into a different world.”
“His view didn’t exactly rub off on me, though. Oh of course, I listened to Uncle Cerulean. How could I not? He had such a way of telling tales. Such a way of living life. Lonely, but filled with knowledge of the wonders of all the world’s details. From little facts about the fish he caught, all the way to meetings with foreign warships. He was a well-lived pony, well-caught in the life he lived, but rather than feeling trapped and withheld, he enjoyed living with the boundaries of his world.”
“Little me didn’t want to be like that. I wanted to be an explorer. I wanted to go past the barrier between our worlds. I wanted to step aboard those warships, to follow the fish home, to find new lives... to dive into the deep blue.”
“I was stood up on the edge of Uncle Cer’s ship. I peeked down into the white wake of the whirlpool. It was fascinating. Like a portal into a different world.”
“So I climbed the railing, took a deep breath, and I jumped.”
“...I didn’t expect the sea to punch the life out of me.” Sea Swirl closed her eyes. Coolness pooled in around her ears. She shivered. “It was so quick. Slipped and pulled away from the surface, like the sands so far below had snatched me with feral grains. My eyes were open the whole time, but my bubbled breath just blocked my whole view, and the panic in my heart blinded any thinking I could do. So the whirlpool, that mean vortex, he took me and pulled me as far as I’d ever been from the world I knew.”
“I’d only had a taste of the sea from looking in. I’d not had so much time to explore, I’d only dreamed I’d enjoy exploring. But after a bit longer, it let me up, and I was left to look around. And all I saw was a fathomless void. Nothing to see, nothing to latch onto. It was all nothing. Open blue, and the darkness grasping me from below. And then I realized I was sinking. Just sinking. So I tried to swim, to pull myself up, and the vortex dragged me back down. I was stuck there, Reckless. I thought with my little heart, my little mind, ‘this is it.’”
“I did give up, there. My life ended.”
“I couldn’t remember much of what happened next. Experience, now, tells me that I blacked out. But then, I woke up. Woke up to a new life.”
Sea Swirl flexed her fetlocks again. She loosened the tightness of her shut eyes, and smiled. “I remember waking up to the feeling in my hooves. It was so sleek. Not slimy, but... smooth. Not like bubbles bursting against my coat, but like a cool brush easing against me. I opened my eyes back up, and there it was. A dolphin. My hero.”
“I was so excited, then. I’d only seen them distantly when I was stood in the shallows, and here I was in the deep blue. I wasn’t alone anymore. I hooked my hooves so quick around that dolphin, and he lifted me up with a few good clicks. And then there was another. And another. And soon enough, a whole pod of the most beautiful heroes the world had to offer were there for me. I clung so close to them, because they were all I had in the void of the deep blue.”
“I was back on the surface so quick. These fascinating creatures I’d never met... they saved me. A minute later, I was stood up on deck, Uncle Cer holding onto me, and my hooves over the railing again to yell my lungs off at dolphins. They gave me the chance to do so. To scream my thanks and love for them. In that moment, all the fears I had... quieted. They called back up to me, and I felt like I was where I belonged. It wasn’t the world I lived in that mattered, then. It was about the ones who I shared it with.”
Sea Swirl opened her eyes. She looked around the living room. Reckless and Screwy were still with her. Their eyes locked right on her, ears perked high. They listened to her story just as she’d listened to many before.
And so she went on, taking them with her.
“I got my cutie mark on the ship, at the edge of two worlds. I was told I had a purpose, and maybe a talent. I didn’t know what it was, there. And while all the stories I’ve heard and lived through have taught me a lot, I’m still not there. But I know that if I cling to the heroes I have, here, I can stay in this world a little longer, and maybe, just maybe, find that feeling. That purpose beyond life.”
She smiled so gently. “And so I hope—I really hope, and always will hope—if we keep close, our worlds will intertwine, we’ll realize our dreams, and we won’t ever fear living a purposeless life alone.”
Author's Note
“It was almost hard to believe it was over as quick as it’d come. You’d almost think it was an hour-long, episodic nightmare. That it wasn’t real. And we would wake up, eventually.”
“But it was very real.”
“Mm. It dug up... a lot for me and my friends. Things that going back to sleep can’t make you forget. That was probably even more real.”
“I’m sorry it keeps happening.”
“It’s okay. I’m working through it, this time. We’re working through it. Together.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you’ve made some friends here in Ponyville, Sea Swirl.”
“Me too, Sparkler. I really don’t think I could get here without them.”
“You know how much I’ve always prided myself on my plans. But no matter how much planning you do, without others to back you up, best laid plans can fall right through. It’s much the same for dealing with the kind of life you’ve lived.”
“...I’m still really happy you’re here, Sparkler.”
“You always needed more than me. I’m just one grumpy, organization-savvy pony.”
“But you never let me fall right through. Me, the worst laid pony.”
“I’d never considered that angle.” Sparkler smiled, then bowed her neck down to Sea Swirl. “But I could never let the sea drown in her own sadness.”
Sea Swirl met her neck hug in kind.
“I might be a semi-permanent Ponyville mare, now, but that doesn’t mean I’m a semi-permanent friend. Do you remember why I recommended Ponyville to you in the first place?”
“Of course I do, Sparkler.”
“Then you know just as well that there’s no better time to get out and make some more friends.”
“This is just your way of telling me you’re busy again.”
“Oh, come on, Sisi, when you put it like that...”
Sea Swirl giggled. “I’m joking, Sparkler.”
“Aw, you’ve got a little joking side to you, now? That’s not the Sea Swirl I know! You’re either snippy and sarcastic, or all morose.”
“Well, you have to act, if you want to live in a different world.”
“Wise words.”
They both stood. The breeze stroked gently across their backs, carrying the sound of a town in rest and recuperation: hammers thudding, carts wheeling, laden hooves plodding. It was a peace, at least. There was purpose, and there was the aura of hope for a better future. A bounce back to the state Ponyville had looped itself back to time, and time again. The state of a village over a hundred years in the making, ready to make, and make again.
“Sparkler. A year or two ago, when you first brought up Ponyville... I wasn’t really sure it was the best idea.”
“And today?”
“I don’t think there’s ever been a place to stand to make me as hopeful as I am right now.”
“I wish I could really show you just how glad I am to hear that, Sea Swirl.”
“You taking time to find me after everything that just happened was enough trust earned.”
Sea Swirl pulled Sparkler into another hug. Her Canterlot visitor came without fuss.
“You’re gonna make me cry, you silly, silly sea pony.”
“It’s good for you,” Sea Swirl whispered back.
When they separated, Sparkler wiped at the corners of her eyes with a fetlock. She laughed lightly. “Next time, I’ll be sure to add more time for you. I’ve got a lot of organizing to help out with, still.”
“I promise I won’t keep you for so long, next time.”
“You didn’t, and you wouldn’t, Sisi. What else are friends for? As long as we’re together, we may as well have all the time in the world.”
It hurt Sea Swirl, then, to watch her friend start to go. A thousand paths crossed her mind: ways to continue their mutual exchange, to continue to invest in each other in that moment. She’d let her go, once, even though it was at Sparkler’s suggestion, and even ended up being one of the most positive seeds for growth in Sea Swirl’s life. At yet another seemingly crucial moment, did she want to—?
“Sea Swirl?”
She blinked at her friend standing there, not even twenty hooves away, leering back with a smug grin.
“If you’re just going to be moping around the rest of the day, then at least come mope around town with me.”
Yes... She could put off the anxiety waiting just around the corner.
For now, things were good.
“Who that pony was?”
“That would be the pony from the neighboring farm: Miss Carrot Top.”
“Carrot house?”
Big Mac nudged Reckless. He grinned at her glance. “Eeyup.”
Applejack laughed. “Okay, slight correction: that would be the carrot mare, with the carrot house.”
Distantly, a great chattering whine and retort sounded from the Sweet Apple Acres’ farmhouse. The three ponies at present paused to listen, all ears raised high, and hairs on end.
“Granny not happy,” Reckless bellyached, lowering her head and scuffing the earth.
“Maybe. I don’t rightly believe she’s too upset, by the sound of things.” By compare, Applejack squinted off, at the farmhouse, head high. “Are you afraid of Granny, Reckless?”
“No. I just respect much.”
“I see...” Applejack turned back to Reckless and Big Mac, and found herself pausing. She squinted at the two of them.
Both of them were low to the dirt, now. She’d always seen a bit of similarity in some of their behaviors, especially with Reckless and Screw Loose spending more and more time on the farm. But more curiously, Big Mac was... whispering to her.
When Reckless let out an honest to earth giggle , and—without obvious smoke and mirrors—bashfully bumped against Big Mac, with her ears tweaking themselves back to a relaxed state, Applejack let a brow raise high.
“You got something funny to share with me too, Big Macintosh?”
The big red stallion rose sharp and quick. “...Nope.”
Reckless rose slow and proud, a warm tinge across her next words. “Your brother... share funny words.”
“Oh, really?” Applejack knew when there was more truth to be found. But she levied her suspicions on the one pony present that she could really doubt; Reckless was anything but a privy sort. She stared at Big Mac. “And just how long were you planning on keeping that between you and Miss Reckless?”
Big Mac, hewing on his straw, managed to keep the red in his face at a normal level. “...A while.”
“Is this something I need to send you to Granny for?”
Surprisingly, Big Mac’s brows furrowed. “Well, it’d make more sense to go to Granny.” He steadied his stance. “If she were in charge of paying out bits for labor and the like.”
“What?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
Oh boy. Applejack tugged on her stetson. “Aw, hay. You? Thinking? What’s it in your head this time, Big Mac?”
“Well, ’specially after all this ‘Discord’ business, I think the mares we have working on the farm ‘ought to be paid a fair bit for their work.”
“When Sea Swirl introduced them to us, she was asking us a favor.”
“And right now, they’ve been doing us a favor.” Big Mac shifted, adjusting himself to put himself right before Applejack. “Do you think rejamming, reboarding, and rebucking on Sweet Apple Acres is doing them any favors in Ponyville? I know you were mighty occupied, but be real honest, Applejack. Did we Apples take it the hardest?”
“Well...” Applejack glanced around at the orchard. It took less than a moment for her to settle, because the truth was long standing. “I reckon not.”
“We... not have much.” Reckless stepped up, easing Big Mac out of the way. Her voice was soft, but not too reserved. “Ponyville take good care, yes. Hospital, best. But Sea Swirl work much. Lately, not so. Would help for...” She turned to Big Mac. “How you say?”
Big Mac’s eyes didn’t stray from Applejack. “A fair pay.”
“Not want ask. But Big Mac say should.”
“I don’t...” Applejack sighed and shook her head. “Big Mac, just what are you planning to do with this poor mare?”
“Planning nothing. Maybe I just want my own friend to stand for.”
The two siblings stared one another down.
...
“Fine. I’ll... work something in for them.” Applejack chewed over her bottom lip. She leaned back. “Honest work deserves honest pay.”
“Eeyup.”
Reckless bowed her head gracefully. “Thank, Applejack.”
“Don’t thank me, sugarcube. Thank Big Macintosh, here.”
“I have.”
Applejack decided that she’d done enough thinking in the last five minutes, and there was no room to consider those two words.
“Phew. Okay, let’s get back to it, you two. Twilight and the rest of us might’ve untopsy-turvy’d things, but there’s plenty more to set right.”
Screw Loose was having the best time ever.
Yesterday, arguably, had been the worst time ever.
But no, today... Oh yes! Today was definitely the best time ever!
“Move yer caboose, Applebloom!”
The filly in question, stopped briefly to giggle back. “I’m trying, Granny, I’m trying! Screwy’s just too good!”
Running circles around her camp-stove and pot with ladle in mouth, Screw Loose soaked in the extra joy from hearing others around her. It always felt good to not feel alone. It felt even better when they were doing things! And even better when it was the same thing!
“I reckon we might just keep Screw Loose on the farm, and have you come visit from time to time!”
“Granny!” Applebloom whined from around her own ladle. “Don’t say that!”
A moment later, Screw Loose heard the familiar ‘pat-pat-pat-pat’ of paws behind her. She didn’t dare open her mouth to greet the fun friend that was Winona. But Winona barked twice, and joined her in their little run around.
Round and round they went, never sickening, never tiring. Just having fun.
This was the life for Screw Loose. Good company, and good fun. A good time.
Even as she finally did slow, cantering away to rest in front of Granny Smith, she earned a good brush of her mane, and a cooing compliment by the old mare.
Sometimes, especially in times now long past, it’d been hard to understand what her hoof-walking friends were saying to her. But ever since she’d come to the fun place—the “farm”—she could hardly stop herself from thinking all the time about every little detail. With Granny Smith, and certain things Applejack brought her, work could be fun! And with her bestest friends Winona and Applebloom, they could just be fun! There was hardly a moment on the farm where Screw Loose didn’t see herself having a good time.
That was probably why the worst time of every day was leaving the farm.
It wasn’t that it wasn’t fun with just Sea Swirl and Reckless; together, they all understood each other, and knew just how to make each other feel better! But to Screw Loose, deep down, it felt like she lacked... something. She could feel it in the way they looked at and spoke to her sometimes, when they thought she wasn’t paying attention. Never bad, but always worried. Screw Loose didn’t like being a disappointment. She wanted to be a good...
Granny Smith leaned forward again in her chair, and once more brushed the sitting Screw Loose. “Aren’t you just the sweetest little pony?”
Sea Swirl didn’t thump her tail. Nor did she bark for joy. Instead, she smiled, and leaned into the goodness.
Yes, a good, sweet little pony. That was something worth striving for.
And if it made her friends happier for her to be that way, then it was something to definitely accept looking into.
Incoming, Incoming, Incoming
The sun broiled in through the window.
“Incoming.”
An awful wave of rolling thunder rattled through the floorboards. It was chaotic to the core: the tremors shifted up from the floorboards, leapt high to the walls, where it threatened to displace every loose piece it could. But it didn’t. It hungered voraciously for the discomfort in the home, and just that.
A wispy whimper aired through the rattling living room.
“Shh, it's okay,” Sea Swirl cooed.
Screwy wrapped her tail around hers, but she continued to whimper.
Sea Swirl closed her eyes and pulled Screwy even closer.
The tremors stopped. Briefly.
Reckless spoke. But it was the same warning she’d been repeating for as long as they'd been here.
“Incoming.”
The world shook again.
And the moon took hold of the sky.
8 - Smoking Sentimental Cigarettes
Author's Note
My grandma passed away yesterday. This chapter is for her.
8 - Smoking Sentimental Cigarettes
Thunk.
Big Mac’s ears folded back. He glanced down the way he’d come. The board on the stairs creaked back into place, and he gave a mighty sigh of relief.
“Which room?” Reckless’ voice was as bold as ever.
“To the right,” Big Mac replied.
His nerves were on the fritz. As Reckless nudged muzzle-first into the rightmost room, Big Mac took a moment to breathe. He flexed his front fetlocks and closed his eyes. Again, he reassured himself; the wintry farmhouse was empty.
Granny was dozing on the porch, Applebloom was still at school, and Applejack—and Screw Loose—were hard at work by the coop.
Big Mac grit his teeth for a moment. Then, he relaxed, allowing his withers and jaw to loosen in one motion.
Tentatively, he followed the warhorse into his bedroom.
He was prideful of the place, no doubt. He kept his side of the Apple family home clean and organized to a degree that rivaled that of Applejack: it had been a long-running competition between the brother and sister, although the fire had dimmed slightly since their early Ponyville years. Regardless, everything was just as it should have been. There were no prying eyes or nosy sisters, just a cleanly pressed bed, an arranged display of family history, and a well-toned warhorse.
Big Mac snorted as he pulled the door shut. The door bounced off its broken latch, and he snorted again.
Reckless had pulled ahead to peer at the top of his dresser. Owing to Big Mac’s lack of clothes, he’d spent the years transforming it into a vessel for the Apple family’s history. Each drawer, starting from the top left to the bottom right, was its own chronological piece on an era of the family. A nice little project of his that he was more than happy to share.
It was a little disappointing to Big Mac, then, when Reckless quickly moved on.
The sorrel mare met the open window with full force. A breeze rumbled softly through the drawn curtains, and straight across his visitor’s visage. Big Mac’s own experience with short styled manes left him well-aware that Reckless wasn’t accustomed to her grown out mane. A majority of it pooled past her ears and down her neck, but just enough of the tan-orange spilled out as a sharp wedge. She snorted, gave her head a shake, and turned around to face Big Mac.
“You want the window shut?”
Reckless’ resting look slid up to a small smile, and her eyes brightened. “It okay. Fun when high up. Good air.” She glanced around the rest of his room, then shifted to him. “Also fun when inside place where should not.”
Big Mac swallowed. “That might be what I’m afraid of.”
“Afraid? You brave soldier, yes?”
“...Nope.”
“Ha.” Reckless raised a hoof and prodded at Big Mac’s neck. Without his yoke, her touch was tender. “You funny.” With that, she moved past him again.
Big Mac took a breath to clear his head, then returned with Reckless to his dresser. Much to his embarrassment—which was thankfully spared from Reckless’ awareness—he was happy to have her take proper interest in the converted wardrobe.
Reckless pulled at one drawer with her mouth, then peeked in. “You have many things! All yours?”
“Eeyup.” He paused, gave his dresser a stern look, then shook his head. “...Nope.”
“Huh?” Reckless tilted her head, but her newly formed squint stayed honed on the dresser. “What yours?”
“Bits and pieces,” Big Mac drawled. He came up alongside Reckless, and brushed past her to reach in with his own mouth. The small book came up easily. Stepping back, he held a hoof out, and put the book down. “I have a room in the cellar for developing photographs.”
Reckless blinked. “Developing... photographs?” The words were new to her tongue.
Big Mac settled himself on his haunches. “Making pictures.”
“Ah! Picture!” Reckless gave an eager nod. She nosed the drawer shut, and quickly sat on the floor with him.
“Eeyup.” After sparing a smile for her enthusiasm, Big Mac cracked open the photo album. “When we were little, Granny used to do it, but I took over those kinds of chores the day I pulled my first plow.”
This particular album was at the mid-point of the dresser. The lanky forms of both Big Mac and Applejack peered up at him. Sometimes, it felt like those teenage years had never ended. Time had pushed them on, but while the albums further down in the dresser captured more of that passage, the photos layered, here, never seemed to age. The glimpses of then—not so different from now—were still fond to Big Mac. The real heart of this album, however, came from the foalhood achievements of one precious little apple, a plethora of moments in time, forever captured on film...
“You are like war reporter, yes? Not war reporter...” In a rare display, Reckless appeared to genuinely search for the Equestrian word. “Family historian! Historian. Yes.”
Big Mac found the analogy pleasantly apt; he’d never thought of it that way. He smiled. “Eeyup.”
Reckless gently placed a hoof against the album. “You sire? Father?”
“Nope. Applebloom is my sister.”
“No. Not Bloom. You.”
Warmth flushed around Big Mac’s face. “N-nope.”
“Why?”
His words wobbled out of him. “Well... I’ve been on this farm all my life. Applejack’s lived out east in Manehattan, and Granny lived on the roads until the Apples ‘fore us settled Ponyville. I guess I haven’t put together the time or place for it.”
Reckless seemed satisfied by that, but the questions came on. “Where your sire? Dam?”
And instantly, Big Mac’s colors drained away from him. “Uh...” He chewed over his lip, and glanced back to the door of his room.
In his weakening hoof, the book began to fall.
Reckless’ voice was soft. “Gone?”
“...Gone.”
Remarkably, the warhorse closed the book with the back of her fetlock. “I see.” She rested her hoof against his, and held it there all the way, even as he lowered it and the book to the floor. There, Reckless joined him in holding it to the boards. “Sorry.”
Big Mac nodded numbly. He met her eyes, opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come out. He didn’t have many to begin with.
But Reckless was a mare who spoke without words. She knew. “Mine too.”
Big Mac had come around to knowing a few strings of Reckless’ life—or rather, her life before Ponyville—but she’d hardly ever spoken to him about it directly. Most of his knowledge came from the pieces fed to him by Applebloom. His little sister was expressly fascinated by the warhorse. She’d never really been one for history, but it was clear Reckless’ existence was a good motivator. It’d never really come up as a factor, but now it was: her existence here was a lonely arrival. Nopony from her past had come with her, just the memories.
“It okay. This good.” She pat the book, then grazed his fetlock with her own. “You remember. Picture can remember, too.”
Big Mac just gave a silent, appreciative nod.
Reckless nodded back. “You show more?”
Looking up at the dresser, Big Mac’s mind roamed. What else could he show her right now? Something to take his mind off things, preferably.
Thinking better of himself, he shook his head. No, it was better that he show Reckless more of what he never showed ponies. She was exactly the mare he needed to express himself to. A mare just like Applejack: a pony who knew what it was like to hold all the pain inside.
Thankfully, Reckless was clearly on a similar chain of thought. “Dam and sire picture?”
He could, but those were downstairs. And as for other histories now past, the rest of their things were all about... Applejack had pa’s hat and ma’s guitar. What did that leave Big Mac? His pa’s yoke, which was down at the barn, and...
...There was one thing here right now.
“...Nope.”
He stood slowly, bringing the photo album with him. He pulled the drawer back out, and returned the album to its place. He hovered his hoof over the lower drawers one by one, passing, and passing. Not this one... or the next.
His hoof came to rest on the bottom left drawer.
“My pa left me something.” Something to take care of just as much as his sisters.
Big Mac opened the drawer, and slowly before the seated warhorse, retrieved his trinkets from the past.
It was all as he’d left it: the smoking pipe was smooth and bitter in scent; the thoroughly dried paper wad of tobacco that came with it moreso; and the matchbook and well-worn sandpaper beside them still missing three sticks.
“You smoke?”
Big Mac glanced at her. “You know what this is?”
“Most Marine smoke. Some have pipe.”
“Well.” Big Mac wished he had a piece of straw to hew over right about now. His mouth made the motion, and he shifted his imaginary grass tip to the other side. “I did. Once.” He looked back at the pipe. “A lot of ponies don’t know about these.”
Big Mac packed the goods together in the crook of his hoof and carried it over to the window-facing bedside. He settled down with his back to the edge of the mattress and frame, and Reckless joined him.
Big Mac lifted the pipe up, and offered it to her. “Here.”
Reckless managed to balance it; with her hoof perfectly still, it spun in a slow, graceful circle. “Most pony not smoke?”
“Not so much. I got this pipe from my pa. He got it from his pa before him. And his before him.” After watching for a moment, he held his hoof out again, and Reckless passed the pipe back. “It’s a family tradition. We grow a crop of tobacco together, and smoke it for good luck. Back when ponies smoked more, Apples used it as a blessing for good trade.”
“Marine give cigarette. Taste funny.”
“You smoked?”
“Ate. Never smoked.”
“...Would you like to?”
Reckless puffed through her nostrils. But it was an amiable sound. “Okay.”
As Big Mac set to work preparing the pipe, Reckless’ eyes were on him. He managed to stuff the pipe easily enough, and the well-aged tobacco smelled a lot better than he remembered. It was still bitter, but not quite as acrid as when he’d smoked it last. Beside him, reddish-brown ears wavered at every flickering motion. They came to a crest as he plied a sulfur-smelling match from its place. With the sandpaper in hoof, he slid up against the match. It burst quietly into light.
Big Mac glanced at the window. The breeze had eased up, now, but it was still there.
Carefully, he brought the lit match to the pipe clenched in his teeth.
One. Two. Three.
Puffing, the smoke came briskly. Big Mac didn’t cough or swelter. He moved to pass it to Reckless, but instead of the pose he’d expected, she had leaned forward: her forelegs were straightened out, and flush with the floor. She opened her mouth slightly, and looked right at him.
As Reckless placed her lips over the pipe, Big Mac held it for her.
One. Two. Three. Four... Five.
Reckless pulled back with a fit of coughs. Smoke pooled out from her nostrils and mouth. It clashed against the white blaze striping down the bridge of her muzzle. Big Mac, who had been in the same position many years ago, placed the pipe in his own mouth, and leaned over to make sure she was alright—just like pa had done for him.
Reckless smiled through the thin wisps of curling smoke, and then stomped lightly with a foreleg. “Again.”
Big Mac obliged, leaning in again. Her second toke went far more smoothly, and he pulled it away from her at the beck of a tail-flick against him.
They repeated this several times as the pipe continued to burn. The breeze was good against them while they leaned against the bed and shared in the aged pipe and smoke. As Big Mac relaxed, he became more aware of the closing distance between him and Reckless. He wasn’t sure who’d started moving first, but in the end, they were both responsible.
At a certain point, Reckless nodded him off, and he was left to finish the pipe. He wasn’t smoking it alone, though; the warmth of the pipe was joined by the hairs of Reckless’ coat. She burrowed into the crook of his neck, leaning over and across the side of his withers. Yet, there was no ache in his forelegs, or frozen anxiety. He simply smoked, shifting the pipe from one side of his mouth to the next, all while they shared a view of the clear sky beyond the window.
Reckless was thick in the neck like him. In a funny sort of way, it was a nice change of pace from the neck hugs he’d share with Applejack and Applebloom. He’d done well to protect them for this long, but with Reckless against him like this, well... he felt safe, too. While that thought would have embarrassed him ten minutes ago, right now, it was just the way things were. And Big Mac was more than happy to let it keep going.
“Granny!”
The frozen anxiety flared in a fiery instant. Reckless’ ears twitched against him, but the muscles in her neck showed no effort to move. With her against his withers, he felt locked in place.
The meager hoofsteps—the same ones he hadn’t heard coming—hurriedly trudged away. Big Mac really wished that was the end of the story. He really wished it was.
It was too good to hope that this was just about the smoking; his sister wouldn’t know a thing about it. But there was one thing that little sisters knew how to communicate well...
“Sergeant Reckless is Big Mac’s special somepony!”
The magnitude of horror that swelled into Big Mac at those words was rivaled by a single whispered word.
“Mine.”
