“Alright,” said Dr. Firenza, “just put your leg in there…”

Two and a half moons, surgery, extensive healing spells, and more hadn’t restored Amanita’s leg, but they had changed the end from an ugly wound with exposed bone to a smoothed, rounded stump. She inserted that stump into a shallow wooden bowl designed specifically to hold it, slightly padded and rimmed with gems. The receiving end of her new prosthesis.

“Put some weight on it…”

She did so. Funny; earlier, she’d kept stumbling because habit made her want to walk normally, but now, being able to put weight on her leg was strange. Times were changing; maybe it was only right that she changed with them. (She really wished that change hadn’t been “lose a leg”, though.)

“Do you feel any pain? Anything poking you? Or are you comfortable?”

Amanita put a little more weight on. “It feels fine,” she said.

“Great! Now, if you’ll hold on for just a moment…” Firenza took a loose gem and placed it against one of the gems along the bowl. She held it there for a moment.

And suddenly Amanita’s missing leg began buzzing with pins and needles.

Firenza’s gem emitted a quiet, high-pitched tone, which made her smile. “Excellent!” she said, putting it away again (the hum stopped, the buzzing stayed). “Lift your leg up, please.”

Amanita did. The prosthesis came with her; magic kept the bowl strapped to the stump. It didn’t pop off or even shift when Firenza gave it a slight tug.

“Can you try walking for me?”

Amanita half-walked, half-limped around the room. Every time her prosthesis hit the floor, more pins and needles poked into her new leg like a wave. But whenever that wave subsided, the pins and needles that remained were fewer. After a few circuits, she didn’t feel too bad and could feel the floor beneath her. It was muted and almost unrecognizable, but she could feel it.

Firenza had her go through more exercises, nothing too strenuous. They needed to make sure her leg worked before having her do physical therapy, after all. As far as Amanita could tell, nothing was wrong, and she got more and more feeling in it as they went on.

Eventually, Firenza said, “And you should be all set! If you’ll give me a moment, I’ll be right back.” She vanished out the door.

Amanita settled back into her chair and raised the leg in front of her eyes. It was her leg, but it wasn’t her leg, but it was. The near-complete lack of proprioception made it uncanny to watch, but with a bit of effort Amanita managed to rotate her wooden hoof around. Even this early, it moved reasonably well, although it squeaked a little. She picked up a sheet of scratch paper, closed her eyes, and waved it near her leg. She twitched when she could sort-of feel the paper. It was working that much, at least. Hopefully it’d get better.

She was leafing through a physical therapy brochure when Firenza returned. “Excuse me,” Amanita asked, looking up from the pages, “but some of the legs in here are metal. Is there any significant difference between those and mine?” She raised her wooden leg up.

“Wood’s better than metal for a first prosthesis,” said Firenza. “Wood used to be alive, so your soul will bond to it more easily. Once you get full feeling in it, we can replace it with a metal one if you want. The attunement will be much faster than if it was metal first, since the soul already ‘knows’ what to do. I can give you the titles of some literature on the process if you’re interested.”

“Sure, I’d like that.”

They went through a last few checklist items and note-takings, with paperwork and other things going into Amanita’s saddlebags. When Amanita thought she was almost done, Firenza added, “…And would you like some brochures for keeping your morale up as you adjust?”

Amanita’s ears twitched. “Really? What for?”

“You literally lost a part of yourself.” Firenza tapped Amanita’s prosthesis. “And for some ponies, that sense of loss is more than physical. They think that they’re not physically whole, so they’re not metaphysically whole. It can… be stressful.”

Amanita had a good enough separation of the material and the spiritual to know that she’d never have those feelings. But she didn’t want to unnerve the good doctor, so she just said, “I don’t think I’ll need them, but I’ll take them anyway. Thanks.”

“Then let me get those for you, and you can be off.”

Bitterroot was still in the waiting room when Amanita found her. “You really didn’t need to wait,” Amanita said as she half-stomped over. Getting used to weight distribution on that leg again wouldn’t happen overnight. “I told you I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well…” Bitterroot stood up and stretched her wings. “At least this way, you’re seeing a friendly face first thing out.”

“…Yeah. Thanks.”

Bitterroot nodded and glanced down at the leg. “Everything go okay?”

“Yep. No problems so far.” Amanita raised her leg and flexed her fetlock. Was that proprioception? Maybe. “Now I just need to get used to it.”

“Need any help getting home?”

“Nah. I’ll swing by the train station and break it in a little.”

“And if you’re not home when the sun sets-”

Amanita rolled her eyes. “I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ve been fine with three legs for several moons. This isn’t going to kill me.”

“Well, it wasn’t, but now that you’ve said that…”

“Heh. Yeah.”

“I’ll meet you at home, then?”

“Yeah. Oh, and Bitterroot?”

“Hmm?”

“You didn’t need to, but… thanks for coming anyway.”

“Anytime.”

Amanita was still limping by the time she reached the station, but less awkwardly. It felt more like she had a weight tied around that one fetlock than anything else. Feeling kept bleeding in and out of… well, feeling, keeping Amanita from getting too used to it. It definitely wasn’t painful, not even close. Just a bit awkward. Maybe she’d take the leg off for a bit when she got home. It’d be more comfortable.

Canterlot was the sort of place where a pony with a wooden leg barely attracted attention. As Amanita trod around the station, no one looked twice at her. It was a strange spot in the mid-afternoon, where it wasn’t as busy as normal and the crowds were thinner. Still, trains were hissing, ready to head out on time. Crowds were filing into one train as she watched, and-

“Ai! Amanita!”

Amanita twitched at the sound of her name and turned. Fuligin had broken off from one of the queues and was trotting towards her. “Hey!” Amanita said, waving. Habit made her do a little hop so she wouldn’t fall to the ground with her good leg in the air.

“Fancy meetin’ you’un here, now,” Fuligin said. He looked happier than Amanita had ever seen him, with a coat that was almost warm in spite of its dark color. Where Canterlotians were bundling up against the last chilly dregs of winter, he wasn’t even wearing a scarf. “I cannae make a guess at the odds.”

Amanita just shrugged. “Maybe something wanted us to meet. After the Deormont, I’m a lot more open to some kind of divine intervention or mysterious ways.”

“Heh. Aye.” Fuligin’s eyes flicked downwards, towards Amanita’s leg. His ears twitched and he flicked his tail.

“Yeah, I just got this today,” Amanita said preemptively, raising it. She flexed it to show how it worked. “Still getting used to it. It’s going about as well as can be expected.”

Fuligin nodded. “Aye. Good.”

“So what’re you doing here?”

“Heh. ’Tis an odd tale. I didnae ken jes’ how cooped up I was wi’ Midwinter ’til I could leave the house. E’er since that firs’ sunrise, I’ve had a bit o’ the wanderlust itch.”

“I can imagine. Before, you couldn’t even go out during the day. Now you’ve pretty much got all the world before you.”

“Aye. An’ if the world’s open, I might as well see it, jes’ once. Arrastra and I’re makin’ a ramble around the nation tae…” He swallowed. “…make up fer lost time. We’ll be back home afore the next moon. Speakin’ o’ which, Tratonmane? The forest’s ain’t taken a single pony since ye left. Not even hurt aryone.” Fuligin nickered. “ ’Twas like that when I was a foal, afore Midwinter arrived. All up and down the valley, ’twas safe as could be.” A pause; he pulled his hooves a little closer together. “She’s still here, ain’t she?” he asked quietly.

“Still in jail,” Amanita said, nodding. “Had it confirmed just a few days ago. If Princess Twilight’s trying to talk with her about something, I haven’t heard it. But we can visit to point and laugh if you want.”

It took Fuligin a rather long moment to say, “Ach, I’d best not. I’ve been workin’ on movin’ on.”

Working on? “So are you, uh… holding up okay?” The words came out before Amanita could stop them. She was grateful they’d ripped off the bandage for her and hated herself for putting him on the spot. But she needed to know he’d made the right choice.

Fuligin’s stance immediately shifted, very slightly. His ears wavered as he swallowed. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it. “I reckon so,” he said in a voice that was stronger than Amanita had anticipated and still quiet. “I’ve… I’ve made peace wi’ all that’s happened, but…”

“But every now and then, it’ll hit you like it’s the first time.”

Fuligin’s ears stood up straight and he nodded wordlessly.

“That’s… normal,” Amanita said. Her wooden leg tingled. “Grief and regret are funny things. It’s hard to tell when they’ll come or how hard. But you get used to it. I’ve lived through it.”

“Thankee. The rest o’ Tratonmane, me family…” Fuligin sighed. “They’re… They dinnae ken in truth how I’m feelin’, but they’re daein’ their best. ’Tis a mighty balm.”

“Yeah. It’s… It’s hard. No one can be there in the way you really need it, but you’re never alone.”

“Aye.” Fuligin nodded; Amanita wasn’t sure if she was expecting a sad smile or happy tears. “Arrastra’s comin’ near tae that, though. Heh. My wee filly, all wise an’ worldly. I’d be a lot worser wi’out her. The rest o’ the family’s welcomed me as well, if’n ye can believe that. Mighty odd, but we’re workin’ it over. And… one way ’r the other… I’m better’n I was last year.”

“Easy bar to clear.”

“An’ I didnae clear it fer more’n fifty year. I still wouldnae’ve cleared it if’n not fer you’un.”

One of the locomotives blew a whistle. Fuligin glanced over his shoulder and took a step back. “Eh, I need tae go-”

“Yeah, I get it,” Amanita said. “It was good to see you again. Glad you’re doing well.”

Fuligin began a slow trot back to the train. “I cannae thank you’un enough,” he said loudly. “Afteren all the time I wasted wi’ Midwinter… I thought my hope had died long ago.”

“Hey, bringing back the dead is kinda my thing,” Amanita called back out, waving after him. “I’m the greatest necromancer in the history of the Royal Guard.”

Author's Note

Author's notes blogpost here.