Depression is Tragic

Chapters

Just the Right Change
If you can't do the time...
City of Cloudsdale vs. Dash
The Guilt of the Innocent
Everypony Dies: The Flight Exam
A ROCK!?
Life of Pies
The Magic of Friendship
Nopony Dies: Gonna Fly Now
So What am I so Afraid of?

Just the Right Change

The creme-colored filly looked down from the cloud with uncertainty. She hesitated a moment more before she spread open her wings and jumped.

She flapped her wings helplessly through a second or two of terrifying free fall before tumbling onto a lower cloud, much to the amusement of the two colts watching her.

“Ha ha! Good going, Klutzershy!” Mach called out.

“Yea! My baby brother can fly better than you!” Bullet joined in.

As Fluttershy sat on the cloud, feeling humiliated, a sky blue filly with a multicolored mane came to her aid.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” Rainbow Dash asserted to the bullies.

“Oh yeah?” Mach called back. “Who’s gonna make us, Rainbow Crash? You?”

“Bring it on!” Rainbow challenged back.

“Listen, blank flank,” Bullet spat, “you’re a filly, and everyone knows that colts beat fillies when it comes to sports.”

Now it was personal. “You wanna go, Bullet?”

“Can’t. I don’t hit fillies,” he replied.

“Well, that doesn’t mean they don’t hit you!” Rainbow replied, and with that she charged at Bullet, ready for a fight.

Bullet, caught off guard, was instantly knocked on his back. Mach jumped into the fray to help Bullet, but the rainbow whirlwind surrounding them was quite the fighter. Rainbow kicked, bit, slammed, and generally beat the living crap out of them. Given that this was still a 2-on-1 fight, however, she took as well as she was giving. As a crowd of interested fliers gathered around the tussle, an instructor noticed the scene and immediately flew over to assess the situation. Before he could get to the scene and separate the parties, however, a loud KERRRACKK was heard, followed shortly after by shrieks of agonizing pain from Mach. Rainbow Dash and Bullet separated to see what had happened, but it was all too obvious.

Mach was on his back, and his wings were splayed in unusual and unnatural positions. The final evidence, however, was that the bones, clearly broken, were poking out of his wings in different places. The flight instructor inspected the damage, and glared angrily at Rainbow Dash and Bullet. He approached them, and they matched his gait with a step backwards, right into a corner. He moved in closer, his face inches from theirs.

“In my office,” he growled. “NOW!”

The pair flew slowly to the venue mentioned, heads hung low and faces awash with fear. The instructor called for medical help, and after the ambulance had left with Mach, he joined them, sitting opposite them in an executive chair behind his desk.

“What happened?” the instructor asked simply.

Rainbow Dash and Bullet merely shook with fear. They knew this instructor well, and knew that his was an anger without limits. With him, it was the “quiet” anger you had to watch out for.

“What HAPPENED?” the instructor said again, no longer trying to feign calm.

Rainbow tried to respond, but an incomprehensible muddle of syllables was all that came out.

“Cadet Dash,” he replied, “I DON’T RECALL STAMMERING QUALIFYING AS AN ANSWER. NOW ARE YOU GOING TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED OR ARE YOU GOING TO SIT THERE LIKE AN INVALID UNTIL THE CLOUDSDALE POLICE ARRIVE?”

This snapped Dash out of the state of fear and put her into a catatonic state of relentless terror. Her usually colorful mane and body turned white. The instructor then turned to Bullet, and he sat bolt straight.

“Now Cadet Bullet,” he began, “WHERE THE HAY WERE YOU IN ALL THIS, HUH? AT LEAST CADET DASH ANSWERED! WHAT, DID YOU JUST SUDDENLY APPEAR IN THE MIDDLE OF THIS SCRAPE?”

Bullet’s natural response was to leap from his seat and cower in the opposite corner of the office.

“GET BACK HERE, CADET BULLET, I AM NOT FINISHED WITH YOU!” he bellowed. At this point, his next tirade was interrupted by the ER surgeon. The Pegasus was in scrubs and had an understandably nervous look on his face.

“Uh, Sergeant Wilde, sir? We just got finished doing a preliminary exam.” he called from the crack in the door.

“Doctor, please come in,” the sergeant replied, resuming his calm demeanor. “You have some results, I trust?”

“Uh, yes sir. Well, there are compound fractures along each wing−”

“DAMN IT, I KNOW THAT, DOCTOR! I’M NOT PAYING YOU TO TELL ME THAT MY CADET’S BONES ARE STICKING OUT OF HIS WINGS! I WANT TO KNOW HIS PROGNOSIS, IS HE EVER GOING TO BE ABLE TO FLY AGAIN, IMPORTANT THINGS!” Sergeant Wilde hollered.

“Uh, yes, sir!” The obviously frightened scrub replied, scrambling through his paperwork to try and find an answer. “Well, he will recover, but it will be a slow and difficult recovery, and I seriously doubt he will ever reach his full flight potential.”

“Thank you, doctor, that will be all,” the sergeant replied. “Dismissed.”

The disheveled doctor scrambled for his papers and quickly left the room without another word. Sergeant Wilde the turned his attention to the two young ponies sitting in front of him.With a small chuckle, he said to the small, frightened cadets sitting before him,”Well, well, well now. Wing clipping is a very serious offense, isn’t it? You two are in more trouble than you’ll know what to do with.”

All Rainbow Dash and Bullet could do now was squirm as the instructor leered at them.

If you can't do the time...

With a psychological profile detailing such savory attributes as BORDERLINE psychopathy and POSSIBLE multiple personality disorder, Sergeant Roger “Buck” Wilde was every bit the colt that he “put on for the recruits.” The fear that the two cadets sitting in his office felt as he stared at them, however, was not solely based on who he was, but how he looked. He was physically intimidating aside from his questionable mental state; having built his body over several decades, Sergeant Wilde was easily 15 hands high at the shoulder. His mane, once jet black, had been dulled by age to a lighter shade of gray, kept neatly in a military cut. While Cloudsdale was one of only a few provinces in Equestria that maintained a standing military and the only province which required enlistment, Sergeant Wilde’s compulsory service had ended decades ago without him having ever seen combat, as did all of the others; indeed, for nearly 1,000 years Equestria hadn’t even seen a protest, much less the need for combat troops. Still, Sergeant Wilde bore his title with pride, even after leaving the service, eventually following him to his post at Cloudsdale’s Camp Aero, where he sat with two of his recruits. They had gotten into a fight with a fellow cadet, and while the entirety of the facts in the case were not known, it had resulted in the “clipping” of the other student’s wings, a serious offense involving permanently limiting or eliminating the flying capabilities of another pegasus. In the more militant Pegasus settlements, like Cloudsdale, the death penalty was still an option for offenses like this, which were seen as tantamount to murder. He glared at his cadets waiting for them to explain the incident, but Bullet and Rainbow Dash were far too terrified to speak.

“Cadets, I believe I asked you what happened,” Wilde repeated.

This sent Dash and Bullet into a fear-induced frenzy in which they recounted their individual versions of history at about 600 words per minute and pointed indecipherably to various points in the room.

“SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP!” the Sergeant ordered, and the tumult immediately subsided. “Cadet Dash, stand up!”

Dash stood up quickly.

“Since you seem to be the more composed of the two of you, I want you to tell me what happened,” he repeated, resuming his feigned calm.

“WellIwassleepingandMachandBullet−”

“SLOWLY, CADET DASH! TELL. ME. WHAT. HAPPENED!” the sergeant exploded

She shrunk back and tried again

“well, i was sleeping, and mach and bullet−”

“DID I TELL YOU TO MUMBLE I DON’T BELIEVE I DID TRY AGAIN, DASH!”

At this the filly finally explained, comprehensibly, what happened: the taunting, the challenge, the fight. The sergeant motioned for her to sit and she immediately resumed her seat.

“Cadet Bullet, would you please stand?”

All Bullet could do was freeze his position mid-squirm.

“CADET BULLET, I BELIEVE I GAVE YOU AN ORDER!”

Bullet shot up.

“Can you tell me what happened?

“D-Didn’t Dash tell you?”

“Bullet, I DON’T BELIEVE THAT IS WHAT I ASKED! CAN YOU TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!?”

“Yes!”

“Kindly do so, please.”

After an experience similar to that of Rainbow Dash, the sergeant managed to finagle Bullet’s side of the story out. Wilde sat for a moment, thinking.

“Well, since it’s pretty obvious neither of you know who clipped Cadet Mach’s wings, I’m afraid you’re BOTH going to have to be detained until we get this thing sorted out,” the sergeant finally said.

Bullet and Dash shared a look of utter terror before the sergeant shouted “EYES FORWARD!”

•••

Mach’s parents arrived first. His mother came in first, hysterical. It began with the usual bemoanings, in an all-too-typical melodrama:

“Oh, my poor baby’s never going to fly again!”

His father, on the other hand, was more the indignant type. While he didn’t come close to the best ravings of Sergeant Wilde, Celestia knows he tried.

“SERGEANT HOW COULD YOU LET THIS HAPPEN TO MY SON! I’LL SUE YOU! AND YOU! AND YOU! YOU’RE ALL GOING TO BE EARTHBOUND BY THE TIME I’M DONE WITH YOU!” he bellowed.

It was obvious to the assembled party where Mach got his temperament from, but no comment was made.

“Mr. and Mrs. Corde, thank you for coming.” Buck said, in as somber a voice as he could muster. “As is camp policy, the camp will pay for all medical services−”

“YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT WILL!” Mr. Corde said, but before he could go on another rant, he was calmed down (or more accurately, exceeded in hysterics by his wife, who he had to calm down.)

“And, as is provincial policy, the cadets responsible will be punished to the fullest extent of the law,” the sergeant concluded.

“Is-is my baby ever going to be able to fly again?” Mrs. Corde gasped out mournfully, in between sobs.

“Yes, ma’am. His wings are beat pretty badly, and it’s unlikely he will reach his full potential, but he will be able to fly again,” Buck said reassuringly.

“You’ll be hearing from our attorneys,” Mr. Corde concluded. He then turned to Rainbow Dash and Bullet. “I hope you know that whichever of you is responsible for this, the rest of your short life will be as unpleasant as it is within my power to make it,” he said, and with that, he stormed out.

This time it was the sergeant’s turn to look nervous.

•••

The guardians arrived next, Dash’s mother and father and Bullet’s older sister. The expressions on their faces could best be described as an odd amalgam of fear, anguish and reassurance. Dash’s father spoke first.

“So, Sergeant, would you mind telling us what this is all about?” he asked. “I mean, rumors have been going, but we want the story from the monkey’s mouth.”

“First of all, thank you for coming. Well, as far as I’ve been able to gather, Mach and Bullet instigated a fight with Cadet Dash. During this altercation, Cadet Mach’s wings were partially clipped.” The expressions of the assembled parents immediately shifted to shock and horror. The sergeant continued, “We haven’t been able to determine who clipped Cadet Mach’s wings, so the police have not been able to pursue formal charges−”

“Whoa!” Dash’s mother cut in. “Formal charges? Isn’t that a bit much? I’m sure that no one meant for Mach’s wings to be... that,” and the fillies in the room nodded in enthusiastic agreement.

“Mrs. Dash, I’m certain that no one means for this sort of thing to happen,” the sergeant resumed, “but the fact is that it did, and the law is abundantly clear that any instances of wing clipping shall result in prosecution.”

At this point, the ER surgeon came back in hastily. The sergeant shot him a look that, to say the least, meant that the doctor would be careful to knock next time. The doctor shrank back slightly but otherwise carried on as before.

“Yes?” the sergeant said.

“Well, uh, sir, we found something on the X-rays that might give us some insight into what happened,” the surgeon said, rather nervously.

“Well? Enlighten us,” the sergeant said, allowing some of his impatience and frustration to show through.

“These,”the doctor said, “are our preliminary x-rays of Mach’s wings. If you look at the shatter pattern on the bones, they look like hoof prints.”

The general examined them. “I’ll be damned,” he said, dumbfounded that x-raying wings with bones sticking out of them could tell someone anything they don’t know. “Doctor, what is the scale on this print?”

“That’s full-size sir,” the surgeon replied.

“Excellent. Say, could this sort of injury be accidental?” Wilde asked.

“Certainly; wing bones are strong, but small, so this could still be an accident, but the hoof-print-shaped scatter pattern is no coincidence.” the doctor said conclusively.

“All right, cadets,it looks like we have proof of who did it. So who wants to put their hooves on the line first?”

At first, no one moved. Then, slowly, Rainbow Dash came forward.

“That’s it,” the general said, slowly coaxing her to the prints. Dash needn’t even put her prints down for everyone in attendance to see who had cast the blow.

As Bullet and his sister left, and the police came and put her in cuffs, Rainbow Dash wondered why this had happened, why things had to end this way.

City of Cloudsdale vs. Dash

Rainbow Dash looked out her window and sighed.

The sun was shining, foals were at play, and there was even a rainbow out.

It was at this point that Dash decided she hated sunny days.

It had been several weeks since the incident at flight camp, and since that time she had been locked up in the Cloudsdale Correctional Facility. Flight exams had passed, and no one had come for her. This made for an interesting development in her case: pegasi were seen as legally fillies and colts after such time as that they were supposed to have completed flight camp, so the question on everypony’s lips was whether Dash was going to be charged as a foal or a filly. Most ponies (including Dash herself) were in favor of her being charged as a filly. The buzz around the case had started the day of her arrest, and it had come to a head today. Today was the day of the trial.

Dash sat in her cell, waiting anxiously for the bailiff to come and lead her on to her fate.

After what seemed like forever, Dash heard hoofsteps coming down the cellblock. She looked out her cell, and sure enough, the bailiff was heading for her cell, keys in mouth. The bailiff opened her cell and said in a deep, smooth voice, “It’s time, Rainbow Dash.”

Fearfully, Rainbow got up and followed the Bailiff to the courtroom. Dash went to the defense table and sat down. The bailiff re-entered from a different door and called out to the court, “All parties in the matter of City of Cloudsdale vs. Dash, please rise, honorable Judge Yeager presiding.”

Dash stood until the judge motioned for everyone to sit.

“Rainbow Jane Dash,” the judge began.

For some reason Dash felt compelled to stand again.

“Yes, Your Honor?” she interjected.

The judge looked up and Dash thought she could see a glimmer of a smirk. “You may be seated. To the charge of unintentional wing clipping, 2nd degree, Rainbow Dash, how do you plead?”

She replied, “No contest, Your Honor.”

“Well,” the judge said, taken aback and thrown off a little, “That settles that. As to the matter of your sentencing, since this was an unintentional consequence of actions that were nevertheless malicious, and you have been so cooperative with the authorities, I sentence you to 20 years in Foalsom Prison, with—“ at this point the judge had to bang his gavel and call for order at the general outcry and astonishment of all assembled parties, including Dash. Once he had re-established order, he finished.

“I hereby sentence you to 20 years in Foalsom Prison, with your first parole hearing to be 5 years from now. Dismissed!”

As he banged his gavel down, Rainbow felt a flood of emotions, all good; the minimum she saw herself being sentenced to, and indeed the original precedent, was a minimum life sentence. She saw her parents, relieved that they would able to see their little foal again in 5-20 years. After the initial wave of relief subsided, Dash realized the true significance of a minimum 5 year prison sentence in Equestria’s toughest prison. Fretfully, she tried to look at the positives: she wasn’t going to be killed (by the state), and she was going to be able to live a life after this (in theory).

“5 years,” she thought to herself. “That’s a long time. But at least it’s not 20 years, or life.”

Then and there, Rainbow Dash made it her goal to be out of Foalsom in 5 years flat. As she was led out to the carriage taking her to Foalsom, she was greeted by an angry mob calling for the impeachment of the judge and brandishing signs like “Hang the Rainbow” and “Celestia hates Wing Clippers”. As she entered the carriage, the full force of what had happened hit her like a brick, and she fainted, making the 2 ½ hour journey seem that much less arduous.

The Guilt of the Innocent

The crème-colored foal paced back and forth on a cloud, waiting for things to be sorted out, for her friend to return. The adults had to know that this was all an accident, and then they’d let Dash go free, right?

After several hours, she saw two ponies, one significantly larger than the other, coming towards her. At first, she was going to fly over and give Dash a hug, but as she approached, she saw that neither of those ponies was Rainbow Dash, but Bullet and somepony she’d never seen before. A little later, carriages from the CDPD showed up, sirens blaring. One of them, she noticed, was a paddy carriage. A few more hours later, the policecolts came out with a much smaller pony accompanying them, in hoofcuffs. As Fluttershy approached this foal, shock was the first emotion she felt, followed shortly after by guilt, intense guilt.

“This is my fault,” she said. “If I could just fly better, or stand up to those bullies—“

Large tears welled up in her eyes, and she bolted to her bunkroom, crying the whole way.

•••

She rolled over again, looking at the ceiling tiles.

Fluttershy hadn’t left her bunkroom in days. Normally, this was punished by automatic failure of the course, but given the events that had taken place, camp personnel gave her some breathing room; she was a rather emotional pony, after all, and this event can’t have been good for her. Suddenly someone knocked on her door. Camp personnel had come to check on her each day to make sure nothing had happened, and to bring her some food. This time she didn’t feel like getting up.

“I’m in here,” she called out.

“I know,” came the voice from beyond the door. This voice wasn’t the camp counselor, but still a voice Fluttershy knew. “You haven’t left your room in days.”

Fluttershy had to get up and see what this pony wanted. She slowly flew to the door and opened it a crack.

“What do you want, Bullet?” she said, in as assertive a tone as she could muster.

“I came to see if you wanted help preparing for the exam. It’s coming in a few days, you know,” he replied, looking somewhat sorrowful.

“I thought they were going to excuse me because of—“

She couldn’t get her complete thought out before she burst into fresh sobs, collapsing onto Bullet’s shoulder. He just sat there, his role changing from trainer to comforter.

Once she had calmed down, Bullet explained that the camp would excuse her class absences, but not the exam.

“Don’t you remember from the first day?” Bullet asked. “The sergeant was all like ‘I don’t care what happens in camp, if you’re in camp that day, you take your exam that day.’”

“Oh. Yeah, I kind of remember that,” she answered, remembering Dash thinking how funny the sergeant’s seriousness was that first day. Thinking of Dash made her want to cry again but she managed to keep her composure.

"Why do you want to help me, Bullet? You made fun of me, told me your baby brother could fly better than me." she reminded him.

Being reminded of that incident made him shrink a little, but he was persistent.

"I know, 'Shy, and I'm sorry, I just want to help you," he finally said.

•••

Everypony Dies: The Flight Exam

“I’m sorry, Bullet, but I just can’t,” she finally said. “Not after…what happened.” It took her a lot of difficulty to finish her sentence, and were the situation less upsetting she would have been proud of herself.

“OK. I totally understand, if it’s personal or something like that—“

“No!” Fluttershy said quickly. “It’s not that; I just don’t feel like much right now. It’s still tough to deal with.”

“Oh,” Bullet replied. “OK. Well, if you need something, anything, I’m right down the hall. And I’m game for training anytime.”

“OK,” Fluttershy replied, and with that, Bullet left.

She thought about calling back to him, to take him up on his training offer; her skills most likely hadn’t improved in the time off. She stopped herself at the last minute, and slowly retreated into her room.

•••

The day of her flight exam came, and looking back on her exchange with Bullet 3 days before, she felt that she really should have taken him up on his offer; it really had been that she hadn’t been willing to do anything since the accident with Mach, as opposed to interponial problems between them.

“Cadets,” the sergeant barked out, “The fact that you are all here means that you passed your written exams, correct?”

“Yes,” the class nodded. Fluttershy remembered it being exactly as Dash described it: “If you can breathe, stand on clouds, and have wings, you’ll pass.”

“Good,” the instructor cooed. “Now I want you to tell me, what are your tasks, in order?”

“Clear! Fly! Fall! Recover!” the class chanted.

“Good,” he cooed again, “and what happens if that doesn’t happen?”

“Failure!” the class chanted again.

“And what happens if the judges lose sight of you?” he asked again in his smarmy voice.

“Failure!” they chanted once more.

“Now I want you to tell me,” the instructor said, slightly more menacingly, “are there any failures in this class?”

“Sir, no, sir!”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Sir, No, Sir!”

“I CAN’T HEAR YOU! WHAT DID YOU SAY!?”

“SIR, NO, SIIIRRRRRRRRRR!”

“NOW GET OUT THERE AND MAKE ME PROUD!”

“SIR, YES, SIR!” and with that the recruits proudly lined up for their tests. Fluttershy was slightly slower, but she made it before the first name was called. She had always hated the chants; she always thought they were too loud, and made everyone faceless.

One thing that Bullet had forgotten to mention (which the director brought up as she got in line) was that, because of the incident, she was the last one to test, which for some reason made her more nervous.

“Clear, fly, fall, recover,” was her every thought as the test slowly wound down. Before she could think, the instructor called out “Fluttershy!”

She snapped out of her fixation on that thought, and called, “Yes, sir!” before beginning her ascent. She began fine, if a bit slow, and calmly cleared the skies. She then plodded to the hoops and began poking through them, when the director called out, “Come on, Cadet, we haven’t got all day!”

She snapped into a frenzy and flew through the hoops as quickly as she could, which still wasn’t saying much, but was a marked improvement. She reached the height required, and centered her self

“Alright, now all I have to do is—“

She looked down as she thought this last word, and found, in her sheer terror, that her wings had chosen to do the job for her.

“FAAAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” she cried out.

After a few seconds of this, the instructor, who, like the other members of the assembled party, was visibly worried at this point, called out, “AND RECOVER, SHY, RECOVER!”

She tried to hear what he was saying, but in her freefall, and fear, she couldn’t comprehend a word.

She hit the ground and bounced harmlessly off, like anyone would. As she flew back to the lineup, hoping to Celestia the judges would give her the benefit of the doubt, she overheard one of the judges say her name, and whisper, “failure.”

•••

After several hours of waiting, a colt with a Hooflyn accent walked up to her and asked “You Fluddashy?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, glumly.

“Come wid me,” the colt said. “Gots a job for foals like you.”

She followed him to a carriage where the other two test failees sat. The colt slammed the door and motioned for the drivers to take off.

“Where are we going?” she called to the driver.

The driver chuckled.

“You’ll find out soon enough kid, don’t you worry.”

•••

When the ponies arrived at their final destination, Fluttershy saw a familiar face. When it came time for her to go, she pleaded with this pony for mercy. The colt laughed and threw the lever.

•••

As he stood there, a second-level security guard swore he heard high-pitch screaming from the room behind him. As he was about to open the door a smidge, just to take a peek, his co-guard, several years his senior, chided him.

“Don’t do that,” the senior called. “You don’t want to know what they’re doin’ in there.”

A ROCK!?

The white unicorn foal sighed as she moved back from her workbench. The costumes she was working on at that moment were the 3rd iteration, and every time she came back with a costume she believed to be better, the mare directing the play said they were “nice”. Not amazing, not SPECTACULAR, but nice.

“Maybe I’m not meant to be a fashionista after all,” Rarity said sadly, with her head hung low.

Almost as if on cue, her horn glowed with the aura of unicorn magic, and Rarity was pulled from her chair by her horn. She struggled against its compulsion for the first few minutes of the journey before deciding that it wasn’t worth chipping a hoof to stop her horn.

After a journey that seemed endless, her horn’s magic ceased and dumped her unceremoniously at the foot of a large boulder.

“A ROCK!?” cried Rarity. “What is your PROBLEM, horn?” She probably would have kicked the rock if she weren’t concerned for the well-being of her fresh mani-pedi. She stared up at the seemingly useless rock, wondering why her horn would lead her here: the only major landmark in the immediate area was the boulder, and it was in the middle of nowhere. After a few minutes, she decided that the rock was not important, and began attempting to figure out where to go. Supposedly, her horn had dragged her hooves across the ground, but she couldn’t find a path, prints, or even a scratch on her hooves. She sat on one of the smaller rocks nearby.

“Well, this is a fine mess you’ve gotten us into, horn,” she huffed.

•••

In a barren stretch of farmland, the pink earth foal sighed. She hated working on the rock farm: there was no sunlight; no talking; no smiling (not that it was barred but it simply never occurred); and the work was long and tedious: she had to push a rock from one end of the field to another. This small pile alone had taken her 3 hours and she wasn’t even halfway across the field. Her mother rang the triangle signaling end-of-day. As the triangle rang, Pinkie looked up at the sky and wondered, “Is this all there is to life?” Her father stared at her from the house door and then looked out at a higher part of the field. He approached her.

“Pinkie, why haven’t you moved Big Jim yet?” Shepherd asked her, referring to the large boulder on the edge of the field.

“Well, you see, dad, I was-“

“Slower, please, Pinkie,” Shepherd said. “I can’t understand you when you talk like that. And please call me father.”

“Yes, father,” Pinkie replied. “I tried to move Big Jim, but I was the only one trying to move him and he wouldn’t budge.”

“All right,” he said finally. “We’ll move him together tomorrow.”

He looked at her. “Cheer up, will you? This is a nice life.”

“Yes, father,” she said in her usual glum demeanor. She loved her father dearly, but he just didn’t understand her. It wasn't that he was aggressive or domineering, they were just too different. He and his wife Pot were actually able to smile during their work, unlike any of the foals in their care.

“That’s my girl,” he said. “Now let’s go in and get ready for supper.”

As he said this and began to turn around, he noticed motion over by Big Jim, and given that the rocks did not have the ability to move on their own, Shepherd suspected something unusual.

“Pinkie, why don’t you go inside,” he said with a curious look on his face, “I need to go over and check on Big Jim.”

Thus began the onslaught of requests from Pinkie: “Oh, PLEASE, can I go with you, father, huh, huh, can I, can I, can I…”

“Ugh,” Shepherd thought to himself. “It’s not a question of ability but permission.”

Finally, Shepherd relented and told her, “Yes,” if only to stop her from continuing her requests.

“YAY!” she replied, and just as she was about to bolt for the rock, Shepherd said, “BUT. Stay with me.”

“Yes, father,” she said glumly.

•••

As Rarity sat on the rock, she wondered what she would do: the journey that brought her here was very long and left no trace. Moreover, she had no idea where she was. As she sat there, she grew more and more hopeless, and eventually began to cry. Just then, an older colt walked up to her and asked, “Can I help ya with somethin’?”

Rarity screamed and darted behind the nearest rock, mostly because she hadn’t noticed him, but also for his sense of fashion:

“He had a goatee-beard combo. Who does that?” she thought

As she cowered, Shepherd Pie walked over to her again and said, “Can I help ya with somethin’?”

As much as his face-mane made her cringe, it wasn’t like she had much choice; it’s not like there’s anyone else around for miles.

“Yes, sir. You see, now this will sound silly, but, my horn led me out here to this rock, and I need—“

“Hold on just a moment: your horn led you out here?” Shepherd asked

“I know it sounds preposterous, good sir, but—“

“No, I understand completely,” Shepherd said, with a kind of reverence and awe. “You have the shine.”

“The shine? I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Rarity said. It was at that point that she noticed the pink foal who had accompanied him, namely because she bounced out from behind him and began speaking so fast that one would swear she was speaking a different language.

“Oh! I know what the shine is, it’s awesome!” Pinkie began. “I’ve got it, too, but I call it my Pinkie sense. It means that you can see the unseen, predict stuff, other really cool things!”

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said, ”did you say see the unseen?” .

“Yes,” Shepherd answered for her. “Pertaining to our ventures, the shine tells us when it’s time to harvest a rock.”

“Harvest a rock?” Rarity said in disbelief.

“Well, of course, silly filly,” Pinkie said, bouncing up and down, “what else do you do on a rock farm?”

“A rock farm?” Rarity stated, failing to see any logic in what the Pies were saying.

“Yes, ma’am,” Shepherd said, with a sort of pride. “The Barren Grounds Rock Farm.”

“Uh, yes,” Rarity said, rather put off by them. “I apologize for disturbing your rock, but I must get back to town. Would either of you know the way back to Ponyville?”

“Ponyville? Never been,” Shepherd said, and with that, Rarity broke into sobs.

“Don’t cry, it’s ok,” Pinkie said quickly. “You can stay with us for now.”

Rarity stifled the urge to scream and regained her composure

“Really, that’s quite alright,” Rarity said, attempting to avoid this situation.

“No, no, I insist,” Shepherd said. Something in his voice seemed off to Rarity, but she relented; it wasn’t like there was much else she could do.

“Very well,” she said. “Thank you very muUUUUCH!” she finished as Pinkie wrapped her up and dragged her back to the farmhouse.

Shepherd sighed.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie, I do not know what I am going to do with you,” he said, and began slowly following the hyperactive foal.

Life of Pies

Rarity contemplated the gray mush sitting before her. After prodding it with her muzzle and sniffing it a few times, she took a bite.

The issue with this dish wasn’t a bad flavor, but rather a complete absence thereof. The mass’s mushy texture didn’t help matters. Still, she ate, albeit without much enthusiasm; after all, she didn’t want to offend the family that would be taking her in until the police spread this far out searching. After a few more bites, she decided that she needed a break, and as such began an attempt at conversation.

“So,” Rarity said, hesitating, “what does one do on a rock farm?”

“Well, duh,” Pinkie said, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, “we harvest rocks!”

“Yes,” Rarity said, “but what does that entail? How does one make a living as a rock farmer?”

“Well, we roll the rocks around the field, and that makes gemstones grow inside them,” said a gray foal with a black mane. Rarity had been introduced to the family at a whirlwind pace by Pinkie, and as far as she could make out, this foal was named Octavia.

“Gemstones?” Rarity said in astonishment.

“Yeah,” said the other foal, who Rarity thought was named Puddin’. “Then Pinkie uses her—“ Puddin’ muttered something here and made incomprehensible gestures with her hooves; Rarity couldn’t be sure, but she thought she heard “witchcraft”—“and tells us which rocks are ready to harvest. It works like this: if she bucks the rock 3 times, it’s ready to harvest; if she doesn’t, it ain’t.”

“Well, how do you harvest the gems?” Rarity said, taking a sudden interest which the Pies either didn’t notice or didn’t care about.

“Well, Shepherd,” Pot Pie said, indicating her husband, “bucks the rock in just the right spot and she shatters. Then we give the leftover rocks to some ponies down the road a little ways; they always tell us that they make some kind of soup out of ‘em…”

Pinkie gasped. “I know! Why don't you help us farm tomorrow!”

“No!” Rarity said, but she quickly backtracked; she didn't want to seem too averse to the idea. “I mean, no, I'd better not. I've never farmed before, and I'd only slow you down.”

“You don't have to push the rocks,” Pinkie said, “just look for gems. You found Big Jim with your magic and you weren't even trying!”

“Pinkamena,” Pot began, “this young lady is our guest, and she won't be forced to work if she don't want to.”

“Now hold on,” Rarity said, mulling it over.

“It's not like I'd get too dirty,” she thought to herself. “Besides, this family has kindly offered to care for me until the police find me, which won't be for at least 2 days, and it's not like I'll have anything else to do in the mean time.”

“I'd be delighted,” Rarity said at last, trying to sound convincing.

“YAY!” Pinkie shouted, but before she could run around the table and tackle Rarity a second time, Shepherd came to her rescue.

“Pinkamena,” he said without looking up from dinner.

Pinkie let out a sigh. “Yes, father.”

•••

At Pinkie's insistence, Rarity slept in Pinkie's room that night, alongside Pinkie, and found, much to her dismay, that Pinkie muttered in her sleep. After giving up trying to sleep as a fruitless endeavor, she lay in bed wondering about the foal she was sleeping next to: out of all the members of the Pie family, it had been Pinkie who had put herself in charge of everything pertaining to Rarity, from the moment she arrived.

“Literally everything,” she thought. “From escorting me to the house, to getting dinner, to insisting that I stay in her room, even though she only has one bed. What sort of interest does this foal have in me?”

Rarity contemplated asking Pinkie about her intentions, but she decided to wait until the next day. As it was, she drifted into a fitful state of half sleep.

•••

Rarity was roused by the lamp next to her on a makeshift nightstand, not to mention the pink foal bouncing on the bed next to her.

“Time to get up! Wake up! Wake up!” Pinkie called, bouncing on each exclamation.

Rarity let out a groggy moan.

“Ugh. I'm up, I'm up,” she mumbled to whatever was bouncing next to her.

Pinkie stopped bouncing and walked around to Rarity's side of the bed.

“That's not up, silly,” she said with a giggle. She helped Rarity to her hooves.

“My, my,” she said, barely awake. “What's going on?”

“We're going out to farm,” Pinkie said, with that same air of “didn't you know this already?” around her words.

Rarity yawned. “Oh yes, that's right,” she said, finally starting to wake up.

Pinkie dragged her to the breakfast table where it looked like the same flavorless mush that was last night's dinner was this morning's breakfast. Being hungry and indifferent, she ate more readily. As she was eating, she noticed that it tasted better this time around, though she wasn't sure if it was because she was hungry or if she was actually getting used to a lack of flavor.

After breakfast, Pinkie escorted Rarity out to the field to test her magical abilities.

“Come on, Rarity, you can do it!” Pinkie cheered.

Rarity put forth all of the effort she could muster, and...

Nothing. She concentrated even harder to try and lead her to a gem-filled rock. Her face contorted into a dozen different strained expressions, when suddenly...

Nothing. She gave it one final push, exhausting all her effort. Her face turned beet red with the effort. She clenched her teeth, squinted her eyes, and...

Not even her aura came up. Gasping, she collapsed into sobs on a nearby rock.

“It's OK, Rarity,” Pinkie said in a voice of consolation unusual to her. “You gave it your best.”

“Th-then why di-di-didn't it work?” she gasped out in between wails.

Pinkie attempted to divine some comforting words, but found herself at a loss. Instead, she found herself asking the same question.

“That's a good question: why didn't it work?” she asked herself, paying no heed to her friend's bemoanings. This, understandably, aggravated Rarity no end.

“Pardon me, but reiterating the same question I just asked rhetorically isn't really helping us!” she called out.

“I know, but it doesn't make sense. I mean, you found Big Jim without even trying! And I've been eying him for a long time now,” Pinkie replied, pondering this point as Rarity rose to her hooves and walked over.

“Pinkie,” she said, sighing, “perhaps 'Big Jim' doesn't have anything to do with it. Maybe my horn just randomly led me to that spot.”

“No, I don't think so,” Pinkie said, in the same way a six-year old kid would tell an author that the author's interpretation of his or her own story isn't accurate. “I mean, your horn started glowing and dragging you, right?”

“Yes,” Rarity replied, curious as to where the pink foal was headed with this line of thinking.

“And you bumped into Big Jim and stopped, right?”

“Yes?”

“And you weren't trying to find him?”

“No,” Rarity said, exasperated. “Now is this leading somewhere?”

Pinkie thought for a moment. Then suddenly, she had an idea.

“I've GOT it!” she cried out. “You can't find gemstones because you're trying to find them!”

“Ugh!” Rarity shouted in disgust. She walked over to where Pinkie was. “Let's face it, dear, whatever happened that led me to that rock of yours was a one-off. Whatever caused me to locate it the first time, it was not meant to be.”

No sooner had she said this than she found herself being towed across the field by a nonphysical force. After about thirty seconds she found herself in the middle of a portion of the field that looked like it had not been tended regularly in years. The sky, it seemed, was particularly dark gray in this area. A nearby barn had holes in the wall where the framework was exposed and the weeds had begun an attempt to reclaim the massive rocks in the area for the Earth. The overall effect made Rarity uneasy, and as she was turning around to leave, she found that her way was blocked by a particularly indignant-looking Shepherd Pie.

“What do you think you're doing here?” Shepherd said, with more accusation in his voice than she would have thought possible, especially to a guest.

“I'm terribly sorry, sir, I don't seem to know what this is and I certainly did not attempt trespass--”

At that point Rarity was saved by the fact that Pinkie had caught up.

“Rarity!” she hissed, “don't you know you're not supposed to go into Father's special patch?”

Rarity looked at her with a face of pure incredulity.

“No,” she whispered back, “I honestly did not.”

“That's alright,” Shepherd said, suddenly resuming his normal stoic demeanor. Rarity was curious as to Shepherd's changing moods, but offered no further question on the matter.

Rarity and Shepherd switched places and she gladly backed out of the nightmarish area.

“Again, my sincerest apologies,sir,” she finished, always making sure that she was facing Shepherd and his “special patch”.

•••

In spite of the unusually creepy goings-on in Shepherd's special patch, Pinkie Pie was ecstatic.

“YOU DID IT! WOO!” she kept cheering as the two of them walked back to where they had been working.

Despite her concerns about the rest of the family, Rarity was pretty pleased with herself in that she had repeated her trick.

“So,” Pinkie began as they made their way to the northwest corner of the field, “what do you think did it?”

“Honestly, I think it was that I stopped trying,”she said with a chuckle.

“Wow, that's great, Rarity!” Pinkie said with her typical enthusiasm.

Rarity had to admit that Pinkie's mannerisms were contagious, as she began chuckling, too.

•••

As they sat down in their corner of the field, Rarity had finally planned out how she was going to talk to Pinkie about what was going on with her, and she decided that, right then and there would be as good of a place as any to do it.

“Pinkie, I must ask you,” she began, “why have you been so nice to me? You have been with me the entire time that I've been here, always seeking to help me out, to show me around, to provide encouragement, to get me out of a jam,” putting special humorous emphasis on the last part. “So why has it always been you?”

Pinkie looked momentarily taken aback and perhaps offended by Rarity's remarks, and Rarity was just about to retract them when the negativity left Pinkie's face, but the smile did not.

“Well,” she said, “first, you're the first outsider to come by in a long time, and aside from occasional guests, not much happens here: the skies are always gray, the job is long, tiring, and dull, and no one seems to be sympathetic to that. I love Mother and Father a whole lot, but they just don't seem to get me, you know.”

“I completely understand where you're coming from,” Rarity replied. “I love my parents dearly, but they just seem out of touch with me.”

“Second,” she said, showing a little more vulnerability than one would expect from Pinkie Pie, “I know how it feels to be a stranger with the Pies.”

“What do you mean?” Rarity said, simultaneously curious and confused.

Pinkie looked up and for the first time, Rarity saw how serious Pinkie was being.

“I'm adopted.”

The Magic of Friendship

“Oh my,” Rarity thought. “This poor dear is pouring her heart out to me—“

“Yes I am,” Pinkie pouted. Rarity ignored her

“—and it would certainly behoove me to make an ally until I can return home.”

Pinkie perked her ears up and darted back to Rarity, hyperactivity returning to her personality and bounce returning to her hair.

“Omigosh does this mean you like me??”

The unicorn was hesitant.

“...Yes?”

The Pink earth pony broke into a face-width grin and grabbed Rarity's hoof.

“Omigosh I knew you would!” she shrieked as she pulled Rarity back to the farmhouse.

“Pinkie!”Rarity complained, as her hooves kicked up dust from being dragged by the pink puff.

Pinkie sped to the farmhouse with Rarity in tow, bursting through the front door and startling her mother, who had been cooking dinner, as she sped into her room. Pot Pie took a moment to regain her composure.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie, is that you?” she asked, in earnest unable to tell if the pink-and-white blur that shot past her was her daughter. Muted conversation was her reply.

•••

Within the confines of her bedroom, Pinkie had set Rarity down on her bed and joined her their presently.

“Pinkie, what are you doing?” Rarity asked, not bothering to hide the fear from her face.

Pinkie placed her hoof on Rarity's thigh and looked Rarity in the Eye. Pinkie's eyes were narrowed slightly and a small smile was on her face. She said in a voice as smooth as silk, “I think we both know the answer to that question, Rarity.”

Rarity, understandably disturbed, thought to herself as Pinkie leaned in for a kiss, “Where in Equestria is this coming from?”

At this, Pinkie stopped and pulled back.

“I t-thought you said you liked me,” Pinkie replied, clearly upset.

Rarity was quick to clarify. “I do like you, dear; you are without question the most friendly and open pony I've ever met.” She noted Pinkie perked up a little at this. “The fact remains that this is just too fast, and I am not enticed towards fillies.”

Pinkie was visibly depressed by this. “Well, it's just that you're the only outsider other than me that's ever been to the farm before, and I cant know when the next one will come in. I don't want to be alone, Rarity.” By this point she was on the verge of tears.

“I understand, dear, but this is not the way of going about getting a partner,” Rarity explained. If you want to meet new ponies, why not come to town?”

“Oh, mom and dad never go to town,” Pinkie was taken aback.

“It doesn't have to be permanent, darling. You can come in for a visit; after your family has boarded me, it's the least I could do.”

“You'd do that for me, Rarity?” Pinkie asked.

“Of course,” Rarity replied. “What are friends for?”

Nopony Dies: Gonna Fly Now

Fluttershy thought about it. It’s not like she was doing very well before the accident, and all the time off probably hadn’t sharpened her skills. But working with Bullet really put her on edge; he made fun of her just as badly as Mach, and he was just as responsible for Dash being in prison. Still, it’s not like anyone else would be coming along, and she wasn’t really busy.

“OK, Bullet. Let’s get to work,” she finally sighed.

Bullet smiled. “Cool! Let’s get to it.”

•••

She looked down again, and found herself, once again, locking her wings shut and screaming at the top of her lungs as she plummeted to the cloud floor.

Bullet sighed in frustration. He did truly care about her, and wanted to see her pass the flight test, but for some reason, Fluttershy seemed to have the worst case of acrophobia ever.

Fluttershy bounced off the cloud floor harmlessly and trudged over to Bullet, head hung low.

“I-I’m sorry…” she began, on the verge of tears.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Bullet said quickly.

“NO IT’S NOT!” Fluttershy burst out, sobbing, and once again Bullet offered his shoulder.

•••

Once Fluttershy had calmed down enough to speak, she began to apologize again. “I’m sorry about that,” she said, head still hung low.

Bullet nearly laughed. “You don’t need to apologize for crying,” he said, “it’s been a difficult time.”

“Yeah,” Fluttershy replied glumly.

“OK. I’ll tell you a personal story,” Bullet began, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone.” He said these last words with a hitherto unused edge. “Understand?”

Fluttershy was slightly intimidated by his new voice but managed to keep a straight face.

“Okay,” she said, and sat down.

“When I was younger, I was just like you. I loved the feeling of heights, until I looked down. I would always freeze up, my wings would snap shut and I would fall. After a few times of this routine, my dad sat me down, as I am you right now, and he said to me, ‘Son, you have to remember something above all else when you’re flying.” And I said ‘What?’ And he says, ‘You’re a pegasus! You have wings and can bounce off of clouds, no matter how fast you’re going!’ and to demonstrate, he shot up real high, and closed his wings. He landed fine. What you have to remember is that you have wings, and you can use them.” Bullet paused, walked over to her, and lifted her head up. He smiled as he finished, “’That’s how you got up there to begin with.’ He said that to me, and I never unintentionally fell again.”

“Okay, Bullet.” Fluttershy said. “I’ll try.”

With that she took off, and glided high above the clouds. She enjoyed the feeling for a while, and then looked down.

She felt her wings beginning to close, but as they did, Bullet’s words echoed in her head.

“You’re a pegasus! You have wings and can use them!”

As she began to fall, she tried to open her wings. The breeze kept them shut at first, but as soon as they opened a crack, the wind whipped them open and she swooped up just before she hit the cloud floor.

“I DID IT!” she screamed as she soared up. “I RECOVERED! WOOOH!”

Once she reached her previous height, she looked down and found, much to her amazement and delight, that her wings did not reflexively close. She looked down again, and nothing happened!

As she landed softly on the cloud, Bullet charged at her and wrapped her up in a hug.

“You did it, Fluttershy!” Bullet cried as they hugged.

“I did!” she replied, and for that moment, little else mattered to her.

•••

Fluttershy snapped out of her reverie as her name was called. She leapt into the air and began clearing the clouds, thinking about the events of the last few days. She and Bullet had more training seesions and she had become a decent flyer; not very good, but good enough, so they both believed, she could pass the flight test. The written exam had been easy, mostly asking pedantic questions over things like who has the right of way at a crossflock. She focused as she flew through the hoops, and produced a nice time: not very good, but good considering other relevant facts. As she exited the last hoop and reached the indicated height, she took a deep breath.

And closed her wings.

•••

She instantly felt the all-too familiar feeling of falling, and it came as a shock to find that the fear she associated with it came back as well. As she saw of the other cadets, she heard Bullet’s words again:

“Fluttershy, use your wings!”

It took her a moment to realize that those words came from Bullet then and there. After struggling for a few moments, she managed to open her wings right before she hit the cloud floor. She soared up into the air and alighted next to the judge’s table

The judge looked up through spectacles and said, as she stamped Fluttershy’s card,

“Cadet Fluttershy, pass!”

Fluttershy felt a huge sense of relief, right before she was mobbed by the crowd of cadets.

“You did it, Fluttershy!” they yelled.

“I did,” she replied contentedly.

•••

As she sat waiting for her parents, she noticed that a certain colt was sitting beside her. As they sat, he was the first to comment.

“Nicely done on your flight test,” Bullet said, somewhat distant.

“Thanks,” Fluttershy replied. “Thank you for all your help.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, looking ahead.

As they sat, silence broke out again. It seemed like ages before Fluttershy broke it.

“You know, you never did give me a straight answer,” she finally said.

“A straight answer to what?” Bullet asked, looking at her for the first time in the conversation.

“When you offered to train me, I asked you why you offered,” she replied.

“I told you, it was because I was sorry!” he said, rather exasperated.

“That doesn’t sound like much of an answer, if you ask me,” Fluttershy nonchalantly replied.

“Alright! It’s because I like you!” he yelled, before immediately covering his mouth and blushing. This got Fluttershy’s rapt attention.

“It’s because I like you,” he said, more calmly. Fluttershy noticed he was shaking, almost on the verge of tears himself.

“You like me?” Fluttershy replied, awed by what Bullet had just said.

“Yes, I do. I always have,” he said, as he began to cry. Fluttershy flew over and comforted him.

“Then why did you make fun of me?” Fluttershy asked, in an oddly soothing way.

Bullet sniffled and replied, “Because I had to. Mach was my friend, but he always had this attitude about weakness. He felt he had to stomp it out, so he made fun of the weaker fliers. As his friend, I had to maintain appearances.”

Fluttershy was somewhat miffed by his response, but wanted to support him now.

“Then why did you stay his friend if he forced you to do things you didn’t want to?” Fluttershy asked calmly.

“Because he was the only friend I had. Growing up, it was always me and Mach. He’s been my friend for as long as I can remember. When things happened with my mom and dad, Mach was there for me,” he replied, sniffling.

“So why haven’t you told me this until now?” Fluttershy asked.

Bullet calmed down a little more and answered, in a lower, less upset, but still vulnerable voice, “Because I was afraid you wouldn’t like me.”

“That’s silly, Bullet! Of course I like you,” Fluttershy replied consolingly.

“You-you do?” Bullet asked. “Even after all the nasty things I’ve said to you?”

“Sure. I know now that you didn’t mean them,” Fluttershy said, and she bent over and gave him a hug. Bullet, awestruck, limply wrapped his arms around her in return. Once she released him, he finished.

“Besides, haven’t you heard what they do to foals who fail their flight tests?” Bullet asked.

“Nooooo,” Fluttershy replied. “What happens?”

Bullet sat for a moment, thinking. “Never mind, it’s just some rumor. Besides, I wouldn’t want to upset you."

“Oh, come on, Bullet! You build it up like that and expect me to forget it?” Fluttershy cried out, frustrated.

“No, I don’t expect you to forget it,” Bullet said, “that’s the problem. I like you for who you are, Fluttershy; you’re the nicest pony I know. This is just a rumor, and I don’t want to upset you.”

At that moment, as she was about to respond, she suddenly found herself receiving a peck on the cheek. She looked over at a beet-red Bullet and smiled. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.

“There,” she said, “now we’re even.”

“So,”Bullet replied, after an embarrassing silence, “does this mean you’d be willing to go out with me?”

“I thought the kiss answered that question,” she replied.

So What am I so Afraid of?

Rarity was taken aback, but not as much as Pinkie would have expected.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Pinkie said, slightly abashed. “Don’t you care?”

Rarity was quick to respond.

“I care, darling, I do; it’s just that I don’t really know how to react here. It is a shocking revelation, to be sure, but I barely know you.”

“Oh,” Pinkie said, sounding discouraged.

They sat for a few moments in awkward silence when Pinkie spoke up again.

“That’s why I’ve been keeping close to you,” she said in a small voice. “You’re the only other outsider that’s ever come to the farm.”

“Outsider?” Rarity replied.

“Someone from outside the farm,” Pinkie spoke up. “Ma and Pa keep to themselves mostly.”

“Well, how long have you been here?” Rarity asked.

“A long time,” Pinkie replied. “I barely remember anyone before Ma and Pa. When I asked about my real family, they told me about a train of bright-colored wagons that passed their farm once, and how I was sitting on the edge of the road after they passed.”

Rarity sat taking it in. This was a lot to digest, and somehow it all had more weight coming from someone she’d barely known. Pinkie must have interpreted her silence as indifference, because she became even more despondent.

“We should go in,” Pinkie said, her head hung low. “Ma and Pa will be expecting us for dinner.” She began plodding toward the farm house and Rarity followed, flustered.

“But Pinkie,” she said, “It’s barely afternoon.”

Pinkie let some of her indignation show. She turned around to Rarity and said, with her nose turned up and eyes closed, “Well, we eat dinner early here,” and stomped away in a huff.

“Pinkie,” Rarity called out, crestfallen, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you!”

Her words fell on deaf ears as Pinkie kept walking towards the house. Rarity ran to catch up.

“Pinkie, why does this upset you so much?”

Pinkie stopped and looked at her.

“I just figured,” she said, pausing for a moment, choking up, “that you would have, a little more sympathy for the pony who likes you.”

“Likes me?” Rarity thought, flabbergasted.”This pony I met not 2 days ago harbors feelings for me?”

“Yeah, I do,” Pinkie snapped, forcing Rarity back to reality.

“You heard my thoughts?!” Rarity cried, dumbfounded.

“I heard your inner monologue,” Pinkie pouted.

“OK, then I'll get to the point: Why do you have these feelings, darling? We've just met,” Rarity said, still curious as to how or why Pinkie could read minds.

“Rarity,” Pinkie said,tears welling up in her eyes, “you are the nicest pony I've ever met, including my family. You are the best I could ever hope for.”