Limits

Chapter 14:
– The Mailpony –

The locker room was clouded with steam. Spitfire wiped the mirror clean with her wingtips staring at her reflection in the condensated glass.

“You uh, looking for something Spitfire?” The voice came from behind, a pale blue mare with a white mane. Like Spitfire's it was wet, fresh from the shower. “You look any harder and that things liable to crack.”

The orange filly opened her mouth to speak but smiled wearily instead. After a long moment she gave a sigh and stepped away from the mirror, her eyes heavy. “Do you think he's coming back?” She murmured, mostly to herself but loud enough that her companion could hear.

“Of course he'll come back Spitfire.” The second mare replied busying herself toweling off her dripping body. Her mane fluffed out as she withdrew her head from a vigorous towel rubbing and the orange mare stifled a laugh. The first in as many days as Soarin had been gone. “You look ridiculous.”

“There's the smile I remember.” The blue mare said fondly. “He loves you, you know.” She continued wistfully. “But it's not the kind of love he needs right now. Spitfire, you're a great friend and a tough leader but I think maybe you've pushed him too hard for too long. I'm not saying he tried to...” The mare hesitated as she noticed Spitfire tense up. She bit her words a moment and began again placing a comforting hoof on the orange mare's shoulder. “Maybe he needs a break.”

“The Wonderbolts need him Fleet.” Spitfire protested vehemently. “He's not always the best flier, Celestia knows I've had to push him harder than the rest, but I...I only meant to...” Tears began to drip from the mares eyes, slow at first but increasing as she tried to explain herself. Her words were illegible beneath her sobs.

“Let him rest Spitfire.” The mare said wrapping her hooves around her friend, patting her head gently. “He'll come back, better than ever. You'll see.”

–

Spitfire wandered the bustling streets of Canterlot her eyes scouring the sky. The first vestiges of the gala were already in place though there were still a few more days before the big night. She herself was occupied with the preparations that went into the Wonderbolts performance. She would have to make a few changes with Soarin being out of commission. There was no way she could find a competent flier in time to take his place.

The mare heaved a sigh, shaking her head grimly. She had been planning this for the better part of a year and now she had to rewrite the performance in the span of a few days. It was giving her a massive headache.

“Excuse me. Pardon Me.”

The voice was quiet, almost hesitant. Spitfire couldn't be sure that it was speaking to her at first but as she glanced around her she noticed a small gray pegasus pony trying to make her way through the heavy crowd. Spitfire hadn't noticed just how thick it truly was, lost in her thoughts, her mind in the clouds. For a moment the Wonderbolt wondered why the little pony didn't just fly over them but then she noticed the heavy saddlebags adorning the mares flanks.

The orange mare pushed her way backwards through the crowd, far easier than the gray mare was faring. The pony smiled awkwardly as the crowd seemed to split, giving them an oblong circle of space several feet apart in which to stand. The small gray pony shuffled nervously.

“Are you looking for me?” Spitfire asked curiously.

The mare bit her lip and nodded. Spitfire knitted her brow feeling she should know this pony for some reason but couldn't begin to fathom why. She stepped forward closing the gap between them as the mare dug into the left half of her saddlebag a drew out a letter. Just as she prepared to hand it over however some pony else bumped into her, knocking the letter loose as the gray pony was sent sprawling. It became entangled in a sudden gust of wind that carried it high into the sunlit sky.

Rather than follow the letter the orange mare rushed forward helping the gray pony to her hooves. The mare winced and Spitfire frowned noticing a scrape, oozing blood , marring the mares knee. “You're hurt.” she said worried.

The orange pony looked around frantically, noticing a fountain nearby. She heaved the gray pony onto her back with some difficulty and carried her just above the heads of the crowd. Luckily the distance was short and only a few of the ponies ear tips were brushed briefly by her dangling hooves.

“Ow!” Derpy winced as the mare pressed a bit of her torn jumpsuit to the mare's skinned knee.

The immediate area surrounding the fountain was like a small park, with benches and a small bit of landscaping meant more to look pretty than for lounging an extended period. The crowd was less active here and she noticed rather absently that the sun had begun it's descent toward the horizon and it would be dark soon.

“The letter.” The gray mare whined, gazing forlornly toward the sky.

“How important could it be?” The orange mare muttered as she finished tending to the mare's wound. “That's the best I can do for now.” She went on dismissing the mare concern for the letter. “You'll have to get it patched up properly later.”

The mare didn't seem to hear her lost in gazing toward the sky, whispering quietly to herself. Spitfire passed a hoof a couple of time in front of the mares eyes noticing for the first time they were...different. Though they stared in two different angles most of the time, for brief snatches she could faintly notice they seemed to settle on one singular point brief though it was. As she gazed toward the sky they came together to rest on a singular point only to move apart again as she glanced down to her hooves in defeat.

“I'm sorry.” She murmured.

“It's only a letter.” Spitfire answered.

“Maybe it was important.” The gray pony went on clearly more upset than was called for under the circumstances. She rubbed a foreleg, the one not injured, across her eyes wiping away the threat of tears.

Spitfire cast a worried look to the sky, the light fading faster than she anticipated. The streets had begun to clear as ponies packed it up for the day and began heading home, or wherever. Spitfire glanced toward the saddlebags the mare carried with her smiling at the flashy but whimsical embroidery.

Ponyville Parcel and Post? Spitfire thought to herself. Soarin was in Ponyville chasing after some filly he'd fallen for while on hiatus from the Wonderbolts...

“Are you hungry?” She inquired suddenly curious about this mail pony. The mare nodded and smiled her one eye gazing at Spitfire while the other seemed to wander absently. “How about you and me go get something to eat.”

Derpy smiled sheepishly as her stomach grumbled at the mention of food. Spitfire let out a small giggle.

“I don't imagine you'll be heading back to Ponyville in the dark.” Spitfire continued helping the mare to her hooves once more. “You can stay with me tonight.”