Cleaning the Wound

Twilight didn’t know much about dragons. Not. At. All. From what she’d seen of them, they were prone to violence, had more muscle than brains, and were very resistant to magic.

The first two facts appeared correct. All of her attempts to speak with dragons were met with sharp teeth and claws. Any rocks Twilight tried to put between them to buy enough time to talk were easily destroyed by their strength. The third was strangely not true, however, as Twilight had little trouble blasting them off into the distance with a well-timed burst of concussive magic.

Due to her prior efforts, Twilight had expected Garble, the most stereotypical example of a dragon she’d ever met, to be exactly like the others.

He wasn’t. That confused her.

He wasn’t greedy. He’d barely batted an eye at her material offerings. He was smart. He could carry a conversation and have discussions about complex topics without any difficulty. He was volatile, but it was more emotional rather than… Twilight didn’t really know a nicer word for stupid. All of these aspects were why she agreed to Garble’s request, because he was different (like Spike). In a good way.

But sometimes he acted exactly like what she expected of a dragon.

“You think I can’t lift a tree?!”

Twilight blinked owlishly.

“You think I’m weak?!” Garble shouted.

“...No?” Twilight answered.

She had just remarked that she should get the firewood for the campfire since she could use her magic to pull branches off the trees. For some reason, this had caused Garble to get worked up into… whatever this was.

“You don’t think I can!” Garble accused. “Watch me!”

Garble stalked toward a nearby tree. He braced himself, dug his claws into the trunk then pulled. Veins popped along his neck and arms as he exerted effort attempting to uproot the tree.

“Garble, I don’t—” Twilight started.

Crack.

Twilight was startled as Garble tore it out with a grunt of exertion. Once freed, he smashed the tree repeatedly into the ground, breaking it into smaller pieces. He gathered the remnants then heaped them into the center of their camp. He blew a spew of flame onto the pile. It turned into a raging bonfire.

“Still think I’m weak?!” Garble shouted.

“...No?” Twilight repeated.

“You gonna thank me?!”

Twilight blinked owlishly.

“...Thank you?” She replied.

“Dweeb!” Garble shouted.

Then he wandered off to the opposite of the clearing and slumped onto the ground.

Using her magic, Twilight pulled out a notepad and a quill from her saddlebags. She wrote one sentence on a blank page:

Dragons are moody.

They’d been traveling together for a few days now. By hoof, since a mention of flying to Ponyville was met with a look that told Twilight never to ask again, and Twilight’s teleportation spell didn’t work on older dragons (something to keep in mind with Spike in the future).

In that time, Twilight had tried to get to know Garble more.

“So…” Twilight started.

Garble glared at her. He was seated on the opposite side of the campfire, leaning his body over the heat. It would be a tossup whether she’d get shouted at or regaled with little more than needless hot air. Both unpleasant, but surely she would eventually break through his defenses.

“...I guess your kind loves, uh, fire?” Twilight continued.

He smirked. “Did you just say ‘your kind’?”

Twilight was a bit thrown by the response. “I-I mean, you know all dragons—”

“All dragons?” Garble stood up, a sneer on his face. It felt overexaggerated, like what Pinkie Pie would use. “You don’t think all dragons are the same, do you?”

“W-well, there haven’t been many studies—”

“Studies? What? Can’t just ask us?”

“We tried!” Twilight exclaimed. “They all just try to kill the researchers!”

“Sounds like a ‘you’ problem.”

She could feel her left eye twitch.

“How is it our fault that dragons refuse to give us any information?!”

“Maybe because they don’t want to?” Garble shrugged. “You ever think of just leaving them alone?”

“B-But how would we learn about them?!”

“You don’t.”

Twilight’s brain screeched to a halt. The idea of just not learning was such a foreign concept to her that it broke her own train of thought.

“We can’t just not study everything!” Twilight exclaimed. “Knowledge is so important!”

“Must be, since you asked me of all dragons to help you… though kind of surprised you wouldn’t ask somedrake closer to Spike’s species.”

“...There are different species of dragons?”

Narrowed eyes. Another sneer.

“You didn’t think all dragons were the exact same species did you?” Garble asked.

“...No?” Twilight replied.

Garble snorted. A dismissive sound. “You’re pretty speciest, Twilight.”

She was not! She’d never— Well, there was that time with Zecora. And Earth Ponies did in fact have magic even if it wasn’t formally taught in school. And Pegasi did not in fact eat clouds. And—

To her growing consternation, she realized that the list was only growing. Though unwilling to label herself as speciest, she did resolve to do proper research to fill in the gaps in her own education at a later time.

“W-Well, what species are you and Spike then?” Twilight asked.

“I don’t know.” Garble shrugged. “What do you think we are?”

“...You’re just baiting me now, aren’t you?”

Garble grinned.

Twilight had never wanted to punt another living being more than in that moment.

Having traveled with him for some time now, Twilight could safely say Garble’s mood fluctuated between two states.

There was the macho one. Something akin to a frat stallion persona that she had previously been subjected to during Shining’s days in the military academy. Those overblown displays of stallionhood and boisterous incessant bragging that grated on her nerves.

The other was a snarky one. Becoming more common as the days wore on, which was when Garble displayed that spark of intelligence Twilight had seen when they first met. The verbal barbs and keen intellect that showed he knew a lot more than he usually lets on. A breadth of knowledge that goes much further than what a dragon’s isolationist nature would suggest.

Both of these facets, Twilight had become very familiar with.

This, however, was a new one.

In a rare occurrence, Twilight was awake early, right before dawn. By chance, Garble had rolled over in his sleep to face her.

He looked… haunted. Pinprick pupils in too-wide eyes. Jaw clenched and mouth that trembled slightly, keeping whatever sound that wanted to escape firmly locked away. Claws dug into scales, too hard to be comfortable. Curled up into a ball to be as small as possible.

She’d never seen an expression like that. It felt wrong that she’d seen it. Like she was never meant to observe it. She’d done nothing wrong, but she felt like she’d gotten caught filching books from a library. Twilight knew she shouldn’t say anything. Not then. Not in this weirdly private moment she’d barged into. She should just close her eyes and go back to sleep.

“...What are you feeling right now?” She asked.

“...Nothing but red,” Garble replied.

He rolled over to his other side. Twilight couldn’t help but feel guilty that she asked.

“We’ll be in Ponyville tomorrow,” Twilight stated.

Garble grunted, devouring his eggs (Twilight never asked where he kept finding them).

“So, we’ll have to figure out where you’ll be staying,” Twilight continued.

He looked at her in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“Well, I mean, you need a place to live right?”

“...Yeah?”

“We’ll need to find you a place when we get there.”

A pause.

“Aren’t I just staying with you?” Garble said.

“...What?!”