Need to find someone to cover for Soarin in next week’s exhibition – pair those two newbies together in class, best case they’ll learn something, worst case they’ll be a useful example –
Fragments of schedules, plans, and endless to-do lists drifted through Spitfire’s thoughts as she passed over Ponyville, seamlessly interspersed with field full of cows, trees, nice updraft, pony in danger, more trees –
Wait, what?
Between one blink and the next, Spitfire shifted course, pulling her wings tightly inward as she barreled towards the ground and the green-and-red earth pony on the verge of toppling out of a tree below.
“Hey, I gotcha!” She flared her wings, hooves out to catch the other mare as she lost her grip on the branch she’d been clinging to. “Oof.” Good thing Spitfire never skipped wing or leg day; she wobbled but managed to keep hold as they floated downward.
“Good thing I was here to catch you,” she said, releasing the other mare once she seemed steady on her feet. “What were you thinking? It’s dangerous climbing that high without anyone around to spot you.”
The other pony blinked slowly, her violet eyes distant. “Oh, yeah, thanks for the assist I suppose, but no need to trouble yourself, my dude. I was chill, y’know? Just rockin the vibe of the wind in my face.”
“... You were about to fall.”
It wasn’t like Spitfire had expected the other pony to fall all over her in thanks – she kept as tight of reins on her ego as she did on everything else, thank you very much – but an airy ‘my dude’ seemed a bit much.
“Ah, nahhhhh, all was righteous.” The other pony unfolded into a position very like the way she’d clung to the tree before: one hoof on the ground, the other three splayed in opposite directions, leaning just far enough over that Spitfire’s finely tuned sense of her own balance had her almost dashing in to catch the other pony again; the only thing that stopped her was knowing that a fall here would merely mean a bit of dust and embarrassment.
Except … she wasn’t falling.
She turned her head and smiled dreamily in Spitfire’s direction. “Felt like mixing up my morning routine with some new environs, you dig? Occasional change is good for the chakras.”
“It’s midafternoon. And you did fall.”
She had, right? Maybe it had been Spitfire’s mistake at first, thinking her position more precarious than it had apparently been, but she remembered the flailing.
“Ah, that, yeah.” The other pony tossed her head, red locks flowing over her shoulder, and her smile deepened. “It was like, a trust fall. You looked like you wanted to be a hero, you know? And I was about ready to come down anyway.”
She patted Spitfire on the shoulder. “Anyway, the name’s Tree Hugger. Righteous to meet you.”
… Then turned back to the tree and started climbing again.
“What are you doing?”
A glance over her shoulder. “My kerchief came off. Can’t leave it behind, it’ll mess with my vibe, you dig?”
Spitfire followed Tree Hugger’s gaze to the splash of bright color, almost the same yellow as her own coat. Looked at the other mare. Sighed. “Wait here.”
Retrieving the kerchief was child’s play, and Spitfire threw in an extra tight loop just before she landed, precisely in her hoofprints from before. “Here.”
“Groovy.” Tree Hugger took the kerchief back and tied it in her mane. She didn’t seem to be trying to keep her mane out of her face or anything so normal as that, just … now she had a kerchief on her head, too.
It looked. Nice.
… What was she thinking? Clearly it was time to get out of here before things got even weirder. “All right, I should be going. Now don’t go climbing trees again, I don’t want to see you ending up in a full-body wing-and-hoof cast drinking through a straw.”
Tree Hugger blinked placidly again. “A wing cast would be wild, I wonder if I could manifest, like, spirit wings to fill them.”
Spitfire opened her mouth. Closed it. Considered explaining. Turned to leave instead.
“Wait.”
Spitfire looked back over her shoulder, surprised at the almost-normal tone. Tree Hugger closed the distance, smiling again. “Don’t I, like, get to know the name of my savior?”
“... You said you didn’t need my help.” She held out a hoof. “Spitfire.” No recognition. Huh. “Captain of the Wonderbolts?”
“Spitfire, that’s a rad name. Nice grooving with you, Spitfire.” She leaned in and planted a quick kiss on Spitfire’s cheek, then winked. “A reward for saving me.” She trotted away.
Spitfire watched her go, still blinking, and used all her fine-tuned discipline to not touch a hoof to her cheek.
What.
Another week, another visit to family in Ponyville, another flight back over –
Spitfire paused mid-flight, seeing a suspiciously familiar flash of green-red-yellow below. Was that really – yes, it was Tree Hugger, yes, she was in just as precarious a position as before, and … yes, she seemed to be perfectly stable there. Huh.
She considered flying onward, shoving all that confusing everything back into the box in a corner of the back of her mind where it belonged (the kiss shoved in a box in the corner of that box, she had work to do, thank you), when Tree Hugger looked up.
Spitfire would have sworn she was too high up for the other mare to meet her eyes, yet she had the oddest feeling Tree Hugger did anyway, a moment before she started to fall.
“Oh for Celestia’s –”
Spitfire dove.
“Trust fall again?” she asked dryly as they landed.
Tree Hugger blinked at her. Still dreamily, but Spitfire could swear she saw mischief this time. “It’s good for my chakras.”
Spitfire didn’t even know what that meant but she knew bullshit when she heard it. “Tell me the other one.”
A rolling shrug. “You seemed rad; I thought it would be groovy to talk to you again.”
Spitfire didn’t feel rad, just confused. “Just… ask me out for hayburgers or something next time.”
Tree Hugger smiled. “It’s a date.”
