The Fire: Campfire Tales

"C'mon, guys!" Danny calls out for help building the fire. Gusty nods eagerly and canters towards the surrounding forest to collect kindling.

The boy looks hopefully to Firefly, but she shakes her head, her mouth full of her toffee-apple prize. Masquerade reluctantly rises to her hooves, giving the sitting ponies a huffy look, but she makes no comment as she trots over to assist.

Danny produces a knife, picks up a pair of smooth sticks and enters the ring of stones. He whittles a groove in one of the sticks, watched curiously by multi-hued eyes that glint in the early evening sun. While he is doing this, the two helpers deposit underbrush kindling in a mound near him. Then, he places some dried leaves and grasses in the notch he has made and, pausing every so often to explain the process and respond to questions, attempts to light the kindling matchlessly, using the friction method.

After repeated attempts, during which Gusty has grown the kindling pile considerably, Danny achieves a little smouldering whiff of smoke which, to a collective groan from the assembled ponies, almost immediately burns out. Freckled cheeks pinkening, he grunts in frustration and redoubles his efforts.

“Danny?” Masquerade tries to get the attention of the distracted boy as she eyes a kindling pile now almost as large as her. “Is the pile big enough?” But the boy just grunts in response.

Masquerade pouts and looks around for guidance, but finds none among the seated ponies, most of whom are chattering idly about the day’s fun and do not look up. With a frustrated ‘hmmph’ the golden-yellow pegasus shrugs and sits heavily on one of the logs, gazing hungrily at Firefly, who is still munching on her winnings.

Gusty, meanwhile, continues to gather kindling with characteristic energy. The sparkles from her horn add to the crepuscular rays to create a halo around her eager white-furred face. She grins as she drives the underbrush before her with winds that define her magic and mark her fate.

As Danny continues to struggle, ponies begin to shout encouragement.

“You can do it!” shrills the bubbly, gem-eyed unicorn, Fizzy, joined by her friends Sundance and Surprise. The infectious enthusiasm of these ponies quickly spreads to the others until there is a general clamour of support.

One such voice, belonging to Twilight, the pink, star-marked unicorn who had spotted Baby North Star earlier, entreats softly, “Oh, I do so wish it would work this time!” She repeats the phrase with increasing fervour until a flurry of sparkles appears around her horn. “I wish it would light! I Wish!”

There is a sudden ‘whoosh’ and flames seemingly burst from Danny’s hands as the stick that he is holding lights up. Danny whoops with delight, along with many in the crowd, including Fizzy and Twilight.

The spark, fanned by the still-swirling winds from Gusty’s horn, jumps and crackles through the dry leaves and twigs of the oversized kindling pile. There is a collective ‘aah’ as the formerly dark equine shapes seated on the logs around the fire-pit are lit up orange-tinted and bathed in warmth.

However, as the fire continues to build in intensity, Masquerade calls out in alarm. “It’s spreading too fast!”

The feathers of the pegasus are ruffled by the current of air drawn in by the fire. Danny leaps back as flames lick at his white trainers, leaving sooty lines on the material.

“Aah!” he exclaims, retreating as the flames make short work of the large heap of underbrush.

“Awesome!” chant Gusty and Firefly in unison, eyes dancing.

A current of uncertainty flows through the other ponies as the fire begins to tower above them, and whinnies of fear break out from the timid forms of Posey and Sundance.

“Danny, make it stop! It’s too much!” they wail.

As Gusty and Firefly’s cheers die down, fierce currents of warmed air begin to swirl around the crest of the blaze, which wears a crown of sparks. The now howling fire raises its head and, with a final roar, the currents become strong enough to carry the still-burning underbrush high into the darkening sky.

“Eeeh!” a startled high-pitched squeal comes from Paradise, who leaps into the air, bucking madly as her white-furred body is stung by a falling ember. She is shortly joined by the others, who flee in a panic from the burning rain.

“At least we cleared the ground,” grumbles Masquerade to Danny, referring to Megan’s earlier measures. However, he doesn't respond as he is focused on the sky.

The boy's is gazing at vivid orange sparks floating serenely against the gloaming dark. With a gulp, he turns to the site of their descent, a nearby tent which is lit softly from within.

Across the glade, Ribbon's soft voice is just wrapping up a magical tale for the baby ponies, their last before bed. Most are already snoring, including one little one whose softly-breathing form cuddles a fluffy duck.

“And then the snow-white princess banished the evil jet-black monster to the dark side of the moon!” she finishes, to gasps from the few among her audience who are still awake, and a small quack-like snore from the sleeping filly.

“Did they all live happily ever after?” asks a little yellow muzzle, framed by a jolly four-tone mane of navy, yellow, red and green.

“Yes, Baby Tic Tac Toe, there were no more monsters to disturb the peace of the ponies of Equestria.”

Next, the blue unicorn embarks on calming the little ones enough to get them to sleep.

First, she addresses herself to her own foal, Baby Ribbon, identical to herself in every way, though smaller. Only a gesture is needed for the well-behaved youngling to immediately climb onto her ribbon-festooned camp-bed.

'Good girl, sleep tight,' she transmits, telepathically.

"Night, night, mama," the infant replies out loud, with her own tiny horn sparkling, sending a fuzzy imitation of the message back to her parent's mind.

Moving on, Ribbon smiles down at the purple, pink-maned form of an earth pony, Baby Ember, who is cuddled up with Molly, the latter stroking the little pony’s mane.

“Now-now, girls, separate beds,” she chides.

“Aw, please…” Ember pleads, pouting.

Ribbon shakes her head and, with a last pet from Molly, the little pink baby earth pony curls up in her own camp-bed. As Ember settles, her ears flick as she hears a too familiar whine, like a keening dog, sounding behind her. “What’s the matter, Fifi?” She grimaces, knowing the likely cause.

“Fwuffy gone!” the babe blubbers.

Ribbon turns around, her face having adopted a more gentle moue. “I’m sure Fluffy will be round here somewhere.” She drops her muzzle to look under the bed, whereon she alights on a little pink dog plush. “Here she is!” She holds up the toy, for which the misty-eyed, diminutive, light-blue, white-maned foal stretches out her little hooves.

In the heavy atmosphere, scented by talcum powder and gently lit by a night-light, Ribbon surveys the settling foals, lingering over her own, and thanking Majesty, greatest of the unicorns, for granting her wish. A tug on her tail interrupts her reverie. Looking down crossly, she sees three foals out of bed. Besides the ribbon-puller, revealed to be Tic Tac Toe, is an energetic little yellow pegasus who fidgets and prances, while a lavender pink-maned earth pony looks up, hopefully.

“Bouncy, Lickety Split and Tic Tac Toe! It’s bed time!” Ribbon scolds. The pegasus flinches, while the earth baby's eyes fall, but Baby Tic Tac Toe looks defiantly back up at her.

“But we want another story!” The pugnacious foal stomps her little hoof.

“Yeah, I can’t sleep!” adds Baby Bouncy.

“Um… please?” Baby Lickety Split offers.

Ribbon sighs. “No, girls. It’s far too late for little ponies to be up — the stars are almost out, and you know the little pony tales about the Mare on the Moon, don’t you? If you stay up past your bedtime she’ll gobble up all your nice dreams and leave you only nightmares!”

The impressionable little ponies scurry back to their beds.

“But if you’re good and sleep like you should, her sister—Queen Zephyr Zither,” Ribbon improvises, “will carry the most wonderful dreams to you from her palace in the sky.”

The unicorn smiles as her vignette has the desired effect and soon furry heads are on soft pillows. With a chuckle, she takes one of her many white ribbons and flutters it over them.

“That’s probably her now! I can smell the scents from the flowers of her sky palace on the breeze,” she murmurs, as the eyelids of the three begin to droop.

Ribbon, an experienced foal-sitter, stays looking at the rambunctious trio awhile, before turning to leave the tent, satisfied. But on the way out she notices an empty bed. Biting down on an exclamation, she searches for its occupant: the little compass-marked pegasus, Baby North Star, whose earlier attempted expedition out of the forest clearing caused such panic.

This time, fortunately, she does not have to look far. The little one is framed in the tent entrance, gazing up at the sky. Frowning, Ribbon leans down to the foal’s silly pink head. “Baby North Star!” she hisses, trying to keep her voice low so as not to wake the others. “I’m surprised at you, young filly.”

But the filly ignores her. Taken aback, Ribbon adds, crossly, “Really! I’ve half a mind to tell your mommy to fly you right back to Paradise Estate this instant!”

“Sorry, Ribbon, but I think Queen Zephyr might have made a mistake,” the foal quavers, bemusing the adult.

Before she can respond to the seemingly bizarre statement, she hesitates, her nostrils flaring.

Baby North Star continues, “These dreams look pretty, but smell wrong.”

Ribbon isn't listening, however, having noticed the rain of embers which are beginning to catch on the tents around her. “Fire! Help!” she yells, but her voice cracks, becoming a shrill whinny.

Seeing the normally calm pony so distressed, Baby North Star joins her in panic and startles back, windmilling her hooves and flapping her little wings and shrieking with all the ear-splitting force of young filly-lungs.

In another part of the clearing, Megan, Wind Whistler, Galaxy and Cherries Jubilee are finalising preparations for dinner. Applejack is putting the last of her steaming apple tarts into a makeshift oven.

“Nice job,” compliments the burly Cherries Jubilee, causing her friend to blush.

“Whoa, careful now.” Galaxy steadies the tray which had snagged on the opening.

Megan, her tasks done, looks over to the other side of the clearing. “Danny should have got the fire going by now,” she wonders idly.

Wind Whistler looks to the firepit, ears flicking up as she hears a squeal.

The pegasus turns to Megan. “Did you hear that?”

Megan shakes her head, but Galaxy, next to her, stomps her hoof in alarm. “Something’s wrong! Follow me, girls!”

Wind Whistler trots up to the human. "I suggest we survey from the air." The girl nods but does not immediately jump on, as she would with one of the horses back at her parents' farm.

"I consent.” The pegasus bows and lowers her wings for Megan to jump on. Once astride, the experienced rider leans into the powerful neck for balance as they take off.

From her vantage point, Megan sees the blazing fire, much brighter and larger than it should be, and feels a shudder under her as terrified youngling squeals reach her steed’s ears. With another pony, Megan would have crooned and petted, but she refrains from doing so — mindful of the mare's pride.

Instantly, both turn in the direction of the baby ponies' tent, seeing the faint glows of dull orange scattered about it. “How could it be spreading to the tents?” Megan wonders.

“The embers must have been carried by the breeze.” The vibration of the panting mare's voice can be felt against the girl's chest.

“We’ll need water to put it out and soak the tents, but we don't have nearly enough to douse them all and put out the fire...”

“Indeed. I will summon Medley to retrieve a raincloud.”

Megan gives the sky-blue coat a relieved pat, having overlooked that whimsical possibility.

Everyone stampedes towards the tents — timid, ditzy, practical and scout ponies alike, all desperate to avert the danger.

“Muzzles and manes—the baby ponies!” Magic Star and Posey wail.

“Molly!” cries Danny.

Firefly is the first to arrive, followed shortly after by Gusty and Danny.

“Are you alright? Where’s it catching?” The three gabble to Ribbon, their speech almost lost in the din of voices behind them.

Ribbon looks for others, but not seeing wiser muzzles, engages them. “Wait! You’ll panic them. First, I will remove the little ones to safety. The smell is coming from over there.”

The three peer in the direction indicated. Meanwhile, the blue unicorn turns her sparkling horn towards the tent, from which emerges Molly and the baby ponies, including a, now pacified, North Star. They are scared, but under Ribbon’s calm command, they trot or walk beside her without demur, bearing their various cuddly toys. The quietude of the infants contrasts with the panic of the herd of adults now milling around the tents.

Once these retreat, the trio spring into action. Gusty, before anypony can stop her, ignites her unicorn magic in an attempt to blow out the flaming rain, horn blazing as she summons a powerful wind. The cinders — whose dull glow has begun to pile at the base of the tents — flutter into the air. Some of these darken as their bodies cool in the early night air, but others flare brighter. Worse still, parts of the singed tent begin to join the bright oranges of the embers.

“Stop!” Firefly and Danny shout out in dismay as they see the sparking embers alight on nearby tents.

The unicorn hesitates and the wind abates.

“Don’t blow on them! Stomp! Use your hooves! Quickly!” Danny yells.

Gusty and the rest of the herd, now caught up, race to do as directed.

Unfortunately, in the gloom, the difficulty of navigating the guy rope strewn ground between the tents, combined with the smoke thrown up from the singeing fabric and the aerial bombardment of painful embers, results in general confusion.

“Ow!” Surprise yelps and leaps into the air, shocked by an ember landing on her hindquarters.

“Oof, what the—“ Paradise takes a white hoof to her muzzle from Surprise.

“I can’t see!” complains Magic Star and Posey as their heads are smothered by the wings of the now upturned pegasus.

Suddenly, a piercing whistle sounds from the air, causing everyone to look up. Above the tangle of feathers and pony limbs, the light of a lantern can be seen swaying, held tightly by Megan.

“EVERYONE STOP!”

Wind Whistler takes charge. “Medley and Firefly, to me,” she directs, pointing to the two sooty-hooved, pink and turquoise pegasi, who nod and fly up to her.

“Where’s North Star?” the latter wonders aloud.

They are greeted by a voice from above. “Here!” the aerial scout replies, and all look up. “It was so confusing on the ground, I thought I'd fire-spot from the sky.”

Frowning, Wind Whistler gestures for the three to pay attention.

“You see that cloud?” She points upward to a few wisps, and the three nod. “Medley, use it to put out the fire. Firefly and North Star, assist her.”

They race off in the direction indicated — the pink, blue-maned pegasus in the lead as usual, with her turquoise friend close behind.

"I'll help on the ground. Set me down near the others, please," Megan requests.

After dismounting, with a flurry, the pegasus leader takes off after her scouts.

“Danny, Megan, Masquerade, Paradise, Gusty and Cherries Jubilee, to me!” calls Galaxy. “The rest of you, seek the safety of the forest’s edge, but do NOT go into the forest.”

Various shapes untangle themselves from the melee near the tents while Applejack, ears a little flat, holds up a foreleg in the manner of many indecisive quadrupeds. “Are you sure I can’t help?”

Galaxy shakes her head. “It’s tricky ground in the dark. You could twist a fetlock.”

Sighing, the earth pony sets off to the edge of the clearing.

The humans and four most practical ponies assemble around Galaxy.

“If we pour water on the tarp it’ll just slide off. Any suggestions?” the unicorn asks.

“I saw a programme about firefighting once, which was really interesting and—“ Danny begins, but is interrupted by a raised hoof from Galaxy.

“Quickly!” she interjects.

“—and they soaked blankets, which they placed on furniture to stop it burning!”

Galaxy nods. “Great idea. I’ll wink over to the water canteens. You ready the blankets.”

With order restored, everyone works efficiently on their various tasks. The two pegasi push the raincloud into the campfire's plume of smoke, whereon Medley jumps on it, releasing a dark mist of rain that makes short work of the wayward blaze.

While the vulnerable or untrained members of the herd huddle away from the action, Galaxy and her team efficiently traverse the spaces between the tents, hopping nimbly — as if in a dressage performance — over guy ropes. Soon sopping blankets sooth the angry orange of the stray cinders, restoring the peace of the gloaming dark.

With the fires out, the group fumble towards each other in the gloom, giving friendly nuzzles, hugs, and licks—where patches of fur had been singed.

In short order the foals are settled once more, sodden detritus is pushed to the edge of the clearing, and broom-wielding pegasi brush the sludge from the firepit, before Danny carefully re-lights it and Cherries Jubilee sets out a buffet dinner.

Before settling down, though, there is a reckoning. The pale-blue pegasus, Wind Whistler, dewy fur glittering in the moonlight, perches imperiously on a log, addressing the herd. She points down at Twilight, the pink, star-marked unicorn whose two-tone white/purple mane hangs over her head, which is bowed low. Gusty, the white, leaf-marked unicorn and Danny join her.

“It wasn’t Twilight’s fault for her Wish, it was my fault,” Danny says, head low. “The fire was my responsibility, and I should have been paying more attention. I’m sorry.”

“No, it was my fault. I stacked the kindling way too high. I’m sorrier,” Gusty contradicts, in a martyred tone.

Wind Whistler nods. “Twilight, you are excused. Your Wish was not responsible for the fire.”

Twilight gives a relieved sigh, rises to her hooves, nods to Wind Whistler, and moves to re-join the herd who have assembled around the now-dark firepit.

“As for you two.” She turns to Danny and Gusty. “I accept your culpability in this matter.”

“Windy!” Megan exclaims.

The pegasus hesitates. “But, of course, we forgive you both. Don’t we, girls?”

“Naturally,” soothes Ribbon, leading off nods and murmurs of assent around the herd.

“Turning to the matter of their sentence—” Wind Whistler begins, but stops, uncertain of what to suggest.

“Washing up duty would be most appropriate, I think,” Megan offers with a wink, to nods from judge, defendants and audience alike.