//------------------------------//
// Sunstone: Burning Bridges (Part 2) 
// Story: Oxidized 
// by Online account 
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The last three days had been a total quagmire.

Nothing. I did absolutely nothing.

Nothing but skip perfectly good work days without even expressing a proper warning to Mr. Prospector. I was in such a lethargic mood that I began to forget how long it’s been since I tossed myself into my slothful solitary confinement. I think I remembered going to the bathroom a few times, and maybe I had slept on my right side instead of my left one once, but the rest was a blur. Every detail blended together into an insipid porridge of emptiness, and my life had effectively been put on hold.

I mean, where did Monday even go? I didn’t even remember a Monday passing by, and we were already halfway through the week!

Seriously, I was miserable. Everything was miserable.

Food was tasteless and uninspiring. Not that I’ve been particularly hungry these past few days. Just forcing myself to nibble on a few carrots was a monumental task. Anything that entered my stomach, I wanted to instinctively upchuck right away. And when I was not busy being disgusted at the thought of feeding myself, it was an exercise in controlling my fits of nausea. I felt sicker than a foal with cutie pox.

I was homesick, as in, being sick at home, and being sick of my home. But the simple thought of going outside was equally as repugnant. This duality was exhausting, just... so exhausting. Made me not know what to do with my own skin. Caught between two layers, I went with the principle of the least effort and simply spent a three-day sabbatical on my couch.

I was tired all the time, I wasn’t cleaning myself, I wasn’t eating properly, I wasn’t partaking in hobbies of any kind, I wasn’t leaving my living room, I wasn’t cleaning my house – heck, the kitchen floor was still laden with the shards of the mug I shattered a few days ago. I didn’t even have the strength to pick that mess up.

Everything felt like scaling a mountain.

All that was left in my drought of energy were my thoughts. And they ran a hundred kilometers per hour. I just kept repeating the scenes of my clash with the princess. Looping them over, and over, and over.

And over. And over.

I kept rewinding that tape, replaying it from the start. Evaluating in great details every little thing that I could remember. During that unpleasant evening, I had been so wasted, so angry, that my mind blanked the nastier parts to protect me. And I wasn’t going to stop thinking about it until every gap was filled up with a lost memory. I wanted- needed to make sure my forced amnesia was out of my skull. I was obsessed to unreasonable levels. My entire focus was dedicated to this torturous mental exercise.

I must’ve looked terrible. I must’ve smelled terrible. I must’ve been completely and utterly pathetic. I was a burden on society, my family, and myself. The complete failure I always suspected of being. Unproductive, moping, and drowning in self pity.

Unable to even stand up and do anything about anything. Incapable of emptying the echo chamber that sabotaged my mind. It was all about that fight I had with the princess, and nothing else. And it would keep being all about that, until... Well I don’t know when, frankly.

I guess, until a papery noise close to the entryway of my house lifted one of my ears.

Huh. I was surprised that my body was still capable of reacting to external stimuli. I hadn’t completely broken down yet, hurray...

To my defense, that noise was unusual, alright. I heard many knocks over my days of seclusion. Sometimes accompanied with muffled inquisitive voices from the outside, sometimes not. Suffice to say, I never answered – not even once. I wasn’t even comfortable hanging out with myself; that was one pony too many. What made them think I wanted to see anypony else?

At some point, I even started to fear that somepony would barge in, concerned that they’d discover my face filled with flies or something. I made sure that all three locking mechanisms were well in place during my sojourn away from society, but my door was as solidly built as the rest of my house – which is to say, not very well.

I was straight up afraid of an intrusion now. It was really, really bad. At first, I thought that I was just being silly. But the more ponies banged on my door, the more my heart wanted to pay my colon a visit. I never knew my adrenal glands could pump so much long-term stress into my body, and oh boy, was it a terrible feeling. I had never felt this way before, but now, I wouldn’t be all too hyperbolic if I said it was erring on the side of PTSD.

I cannot stress how terrifying this was for me. I kept picturing Twilight coming back in to finish me off. Or a squadron of patrolponies arresting me for slandering a figure of authority, following a warrant issued by their infallible ruler. Or, worse of all, the rest of my family inviting themselves over after the princess tattled, looking down at me with contempt and judging me for misleading them about what I had done with myself.

These what-if scenarios consumed every fiber of my being. Twilight had the power to pull any of these, and nopony would bat an eye at my demise.

I... I wanted to be alone, and I wanted nopony else to intrude in my time of introversion. Nopony at all!

Which is why this new sound attracted my attention. It was… different. Different enough to finally peel me off the couch, my silhouette still carved on the cushions. My hooves felt shaky, in part due to my newfound agoraphobia and my malnourishment, but also, because I hadn’t used them all that much lately. They were feeling in full capacity the effects of muscle atrophy, and the rest of my torso felt like it weighed a hundred tons. Another day or two on that couch, and I would’ve mutated into an immobile prop.

I was ready to give up halfway through my long trip to the door, when a rectangular object flat on the floor caught my attention.

Oh Faust, what was that?? A notice of eviction? A convocation to the Canterlot tribunals? A letter full of threats from the princess of friendship? A bomb!?!

... Well, okay, maybe not a bomb. Although, the princess could’ve easily enchanted that piece of paper with explosive runes. She was a crafty one; finding a creative way to end me surely would’ve been nothing but a game for her.

Risking my life over it, I decided to pick it up. It looked... It looked like a regular-old letter. Someone must’ve slipped it through the gap under my door. Since I already made the mareculean effort of bringing my carcass to a different room, I decided to go ahead and read it. It went like this:

“Dear Gray Calx,

“My name is Mrs. Felt Tip, and my position is that of the mayor’s secretary. I write this letter on his behalf for the purpose of a commission. Indeed, your talents haven’t escaped Mr. De La Tour’s ears, and he would very much be interested in hiring your sculpting services for a city embellishment job. Your eye-catching chef-d’œuvre carved into the Two Arches’ middle column truly is a staple of Outer Grove, hence why we thought you’d be the perfect candidate to carry out the job.

“You are not unaware that the city has been ravaged to a pitiful state. Our teams of analysts were sent to consult the population and found that, among many projects, a new monument would give our loyal voters all the pride and hope they could strive for in a post-Ursan Outer Grove. A piece of art to commemorate the vicious battle we all had to endure. Something to make sure this bit of history shan’t ever be forgotten.

“To that end, should you be interested in this proposition, we would like to receive a couple of drafts for a statue to be erected on the fountain, right in the middle of Outer Grove. And what better way to show our appreciation than to model it after the image of our very own savior? An effigy of our beloved princess, Twilight Sparkle, would be the perfect addition to officialise what will now be known as ‘Twilight Day,’ a new public holiday marking our calendars after her brilliant performance. We would be immensely grateful if you could sculpt a highly-detailed, grand, and majestic replica of the heroic princess for everypony to admire and-”

ENOUGH!!

I have had enough of this! No more, dammit!!

I ripped the letter into tiny pieces with my mouth, and crumpled the shreds the best I could. I flung the resultant mess onto the closest piece of furniture I could find, before barging outside for the first time this week.

The entry door flung open in a loud crack, and I left it wide open as I zip zoomed out of my house’s perimeters. I cared so very little about being robbed right now. Not that my house had anything worth being robbed, but.

I ran through the streets, my eyes adjusting poorly to this sudden influx of sunlight, fleeing from the imaginary demons on my heels. Quite possibly faster than when that one Ursa gave me chase. I barely noticed the ponies around me who most surely raised their eyebrows at my fit of craze. I ignored them all, as I kept going forward as fast as I could, as far away as I could.

Twilight Day? Twilight Day!?

A freaking statue for her? A totem dedicated to her gluttony for fame, one that would look down at me smugly every day I trekked to work after I had to carve the bloody thing myself!?

Are you literally kidding me right now? This was how it was going to be? Was the universe having a giggle at my misfortunes?

Cursing under my breath, I turned corners, I dodged carts of repair materials, I swerved around those who questioned my sanity, and took my marathon out of Outer Grove.









I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. This time, it was not about the past, but the future.

Where was I going with this?

Something I had no answer to give. I had hoped the quiet scenery of lake Bristlecone would’ve shown me a sign, but nothing made sense still.

I parked my frail body next to the thick unearthed roots of a weeping willow that curved over the pond, comfortably sitting onto a grassy edge that sloped gently into the water. Between a patch of reeds, a fallen hollow trunk, and a few wild berry bushes, this was the quintessential spot to indulge your need for escapism.

A natural paradise Skybrush and I used to retreat to when the weight of life got the best of us. Nopony ever bothered us here. It was tranquil, not too far from the city, but above all, it was ours. We picnicked here many times before when we didn’t know what else to do after our work shifts. And then she would paint the lake, the birch trees, and the occasional mallard, with an expertise I envied oh so much.

Skybrush. I really, really loved her...

Paintings! I loved her paintings. They were stunning, beautiful, and the best kind of eye candy. No wonder she had that itch to travel elsewhere and show her talents to the world, h-heh.

I was immensely glad she was there for me. Just the way she had been the first time she showed me this place. It was on a day where I was feeling particularly surly, and it did a wonderful job upping my morale.

But today was a whole different story.

I’ve been there for five to six hours now, and still I felt at the end of my roll.

I took a couple of steps forward and used the last few sunbeams of the day to gaze upon my reflection. I could barely recognize this angry little pony who stared right back at me, which aggravated my mood even further. In response, the other Gray Calx frowned harder, and I frowned even more to beat him at his game. It stubbornly one-upped me once again, now showing his teeth in seething hatred- and this is where my bad temper took over my motor skills.

I violently slapped the water to dissipate my mirrored self. I couldn’t bear seeing what I was seeing.

What have I become? I’ve been nothing but chill, mellow, and relaxed the whole time since I’ve last changed town. But now, the anger I’ve buried in the past surged back like a tireless zombie and was dragging me down with it. I have changed, and not for the better.

I think... I think I had to face the facts.

My halcyon days in Outer Grove were over. We crossed the point of no return, and the fact that I even believed for a moment I could work this out was pure fantasy.

Trust me, I wasn’t just saying that without strong evidence to back me up. First and foremost, the princess now knew where to find me and could blackmail me however she wanted. Like a swindling puppeteer, she could pull any of my strings and I’d have no choice but to dance. Once again, I found myself with the short end of the stick. Any day, she could come back, and honestly, why wouldn’t she? She was venerated like a hero in Outer Grove.

Which brings me to my second point. The ponies here have had a taste of royalty, and were now full-on addicts. If Mrs. Felt Tip’s letter was to be believed, Twilight’s first visit here sparked something no Outer Grovian expected to ever see in their life. Tales about her heroism would be recited every day at the Two Arches. More statues of Her Majesty would decorate our public spaces. Banners and flags would be held high on masts and buttresses, with her face woven on every single piece of fabric you could find.

And what about my friends? They would swoon harder than they ever had about being this close to an alicorn. That’s all they will be talking about from there onward. Seriously, I’ve seen them react to her name before, and the princess herself has all but confirmed that they practically lined-up to have their butts autographed.

The whole reason I came here in the first place was to settle in a rural area where the local population didn’t know much about the pony named Twilight Sparkle, and vice-versa. Alas, this all changed today. Outer Grove had been poisoned, and there was no antidote. The venom would keep on spreading. There was jack squat I could do to help it return to the peacefulness we once had.

And so, a choice.

Stay, or leave?

I’ve abandoned many lives before; who’s to say I couldn’t do it again? I was getting pretty good at it. A real connoisseur among defectors. Manehattan, Canterlot, Outer Grove... What difference did it make? All failed experiments in my book.

And you know what? This time, I was going to do it right. Seems like a simple note wasn’t enough to trick a friendship table or whatever the heck into failing to localize me with eagle-eyed precision. No, if anything, I could learn from my mistake and pull a big finale that wouldn’t leave anypony doubting about what could’ve happened to me.

Looks like I’ve made my decision again, princess Celestia. I hope you’re not all too disappointed with my judgement skills. And... and tell your sister that I’m sorry. Tell her that I tried, but in the end, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t do it. I’ve lost that bet fair and square.

...

I knew what I had to do.









It was a little past two in the morning when I made it back to my house. I was still riding my emotional high, and at no point did I consider backing out of my insidious plan. The little devil on my shoulder was in full control of my actions, and I saw no reason not to reply with an ardent “Sir, yes Sir!”

I noticed that my front door had been left ajar, slightly dangling in the breezy wind. Oh well. Who cares? Give me ten minutes or so, and I can guarantee you that none of this would matter anymore.

I made it inside, quietly now, so as to not alert the neighbours. They were far enough away and probably busy counting sheep, but being overly cautious never hurt anypony.

Clutched in-between my teeth, a rope attached to something important. Two important somethings, actually. Before coming here, I made a detour to the train station to fetch some exotic material to execute the next part of my little scheme.

Two barrels full of oil.

Yeah. I dragged them all across town. Took me a good while, although I was at least able to use the ambient darkness to conceal myself. Their heaviness proved quite challenging, but it was no match for the weight I had on my heart. Even though my current health was far from perfect, the struggle hadn’t made a dent in my determination. Because, at the end of the day, I couldn’t pull what I wanted to pull without the help of a certain chemical reaction.

For those of you who were still confused about where this was going, well, lemme tell you this: Tonight, something was definitely going to happen in Outer Grove. And the fireworks were going to be spectacular. Oil sure was a flammable material, wasn’t it?

Maybe I was acting a bit impulsively. But no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel. Had I not been so beaten down by the inevitability of the whole affair, I would’ve weighed my options better. Tonight, however, was a special night. I was furious, impatient, and totally, unquestionably, irrevocably done.

Propped up on my hind legs, I tipped the first barrel in the kitchen. Part of me wanted to buck it with whatever force I had left in me as a final act of defiance, but once again: Neighbours. Noise equals bad. Let’s not screw this up at the last moment.

The liquid tsunami’d out of the container, the expanding puddle of putrid biomaterial dragging the remnants of my mug with it. It was so gross. Like, picture something gross in your mind? Good; It was grosser than that. For sure I was glad that it was dark enough for me not to gag on sight. The horrid stench was bad enough to deal with.

The faster this nauseating job was in the past, the better. That’s what I kept repeating to myself when I poured the second barrel near the entryway. You know, next to the cool coat hanger and all that. Varnished oak wood and bla bla bla.

Speaking of the coat hanger...

Something caught my attention. Something on a hook. Something I had worn nearly a week ago. Something a very special somepony bought for me on a particular birthday.

It was the jacket. The one Skybrush gifted me. The one that accompanied me to what might as well have been my farewell party.

I peered at it; it peered right back with puppy eyes. I err, found myself becoming conflicted. Taking a moment of lucidity to second-guess my actions. I... I didn’t want to bring any artifacts from a bygone life, but... I mean, wouldn’t this just make me relive old memories featuring a great friend I couldn’t have anymore? I’d hurt myself every day just thinking about it.

...

Blast! Fine! You win, nostalgia goggles! I took the stupid jacket and tossed it onto my back. You can come with me, you treacherous article of clothing. But I’m warning you! The moment I start bawling over you and what you represent, woosh, you’re out!

With that being taken care of, this left me with one last thing to do.

A match that’s mean, tossed into a sea of gasoline.

Retrieved from a box in the entry drawer, I stroke one, holding the ignited stick in my mouth. Being on the brink of throwing everything away, I took a good, final look at this rickety cottage that had sheltered me for the past four years.

“Yeah... Never really liked this crappy shack.”

I spat out the match, and combustion took the wheel.

FWOOOOSSHHH!

I backed away quickly enough to doge the fireball that quite literally immolated the vestibule in a single fiery bite. I felt an immediate tide of warmth engulfing my entire body. My eyeballs would’ve evaporated on the spot had I not covered them under their lids. The inferno took no time to spread all across the first floor. Wood was kind of burnable, right? Oh no, would you look at that, how utterly convenient. Plus, with how cheap the overall structure was, I gave it 20 minutes tops before it would collapse into a wreckage of ashes and burned timber.

... Oh, stop that! Don’t give me those condescending looks! I told you already that my house sat on top of a muddy molehill. Nothing would spread to the surrounding houses. Even if I was being irrational, I hadn’t completely lost my marbles (yet). My goal wasn’t to set ablaze the entirety of Outer Grove; one disaster per week was enough for the good Samaritans here.

...

The orange glaze of the brazier highlighted the contours of my dark silhouette, and my purple irises shone brightly in the face of the dancing flames. They chanted in a sublime choir of crackles and hisses.

I should’ve ran. But positioned a few meters away from the funeral pyre I had caused, I couldn’t help but admire the results. It felt surprisingly... good? The destruction felt good. I mean, I did this. I did it all by myself! I called upon the elements and created fire!

You know when someone repeatedly pushes your buttons until you reach your breaking point and you end up shoving their head into a wall? That’s how it felt, times a hundred. A kind of “heck yeah, take that!” vibe I had never felt before. And hey, shush, I wasn’t going cuckoo! Can’t a pony simply enjoy the fruits of their exaggeration?

I found myself smiling. By Tartarus, I was smiling! Gosh, why did it feel so good to be bad? If that Lord Tirek outlaw felt half the satisfaction I did engaging in arson, then hey, I understood why he gave in to his vices. How fitting that my house, the one that has been compared so often to the Golden Oak, would end up suffering the same fate. Both razed by a gorgeous showcase of thermodynamics. It was too perfect, hahaha! Hey, you know, maybe Tirek and I could share a drink and exchange notes about our personal experiences on the matter, see who felt the highest amount of elation. Seemed like a pretty cool dude in my book.

In any case, that’s all she wrote. The deed had been done. Outer Grove, I must bid you adieu. Your five years of service shan’t be forgotten.


I started to trot away, the heat of the bonfire warming up my tail. I figured that fireponies would be too late to salvage what I had started, but I didn’t want to linger to find out.

Now, where to? I could always establish myself even further westward, maybe hope to be out of range from that accursed cutie map. Build myself a hut far away from society and live risk-free with my fellow Ursas in the wild, finally someplace untouchable by the slithering tendrils of Twilight’s ever-growing empire. Or I could sneak into a train wagon and see where it would take me. Either way, that would make for a fun tale, I’m sure-

Buh!?

Somepony screeched. Drat, has my criminal act been detected this quickly? Wait no- no, it couldn’t have: The screams came from behind, which was a bit unrealistic, since all there was thataway was a big ol’ torch of burning memories. Perhaps I simply misheard the creaking noise of air escaping from a scorching wooden beam?

“S-somepony please help! H-help! HELP ME!”

... Uuuuuh. Wooden beams couldn’t beg for their lives, couldn’t they?

Having sworn to leave everything Outer Grove related behind, in a very selfish way, this felt like a problem that was no longer my own. Somepony else could elucidate this. Yet, the scraps of my good nature pulled at my consciousness with just enough insistence to make me turn around and inquire.

The first red flag was the circular bedroom window on the second floor and how it found itself wide open, even though I clearly remembered it being shut when I came in. A column of ebony smoke was pouring out of the orifice, not too dissimilar to a volcanic flow of pyroclastic gas.

The second red flag was the little pony coughing her lungs out, her soot-covered face perched out of said window. Squinting as hard as I could to make sure I wasn’t going schizoid, the bright backdrop of flames and embers obfuscating my vision with a blistering haze of heat, more and more did I come to terms with the fact that yes, there truly was a stranger in my house, and yes, she really had screamed. And this pony, I... I knew this pony, and…


Oh no… Not again…


“Honey Dream!?”

What the HAY was she doing here!? I mean- huh!?

I shouted a couple more things from below. Deep down, I knew she had no chance of hearing my feeble voice over the carnage. She was too busy coughing black tar anyway. And also, cooking like a slab of grilled tofu! From the barbecue I had started! Me! How and why was she even there- I mean, this made no sense whatsoever! How was I EVER supposed to expect that-

Okay, no. You know what? Act now, ask questions later. There was no way in Tartarus I was going to let her be cremated by the stake I had erected. It wasn’t happening. You hear that, you skeptics!? Not happening!!

Leaving the jacket behind, I galloped back toward the entry door, nearly tripping on my way there. I wanted to go inside, but this was the origin point of the fire. Which, in laypony’s terms, meant that this avenue was currently out of order. Crossing those deadly orange curtains, and I would’ve emerged as a filet mignon on the other side.

O-okay, okay, don’t panic hahaha. I said don’t panic, dammit! You were a creative pony, yes? So get creative!

T-the window! Yup, yup, that was another entry point! The burglar’s numero uno quick fix. A little bit to the right, I tried to pry open the living room window. I would’ve filed this as a decent attempt, if it didn’t simply result in a pair of sizzling hooves. Yaouch, dangit! Since when did fire get so hot!?

Well, mister, you won’t let yourself be opened? Fine. Eat a stone, then! A big one, retrieved from the barren lands surrounding my decaying house. I picked one up, and impaled it into the fragile glass. It shattered – that it did. More smoke immediately channeled out of the new gap. Nice try, but it would take me more to discourage me from jumping in, which is the next thing I did.

Already my respiratory system felt prickly. It was like I swallowed a gallon of boiling water in the wrong hole. The coughs immediately followed, accompanied by tears welling on my cheeks, my poor eyeballs being attacked by the heat. Yeah, it was hot. Not a “oh no, I caught a sunburn at the beach” kind of hot. It was a category of hotness I had never felt before, and words to describe it failed me. I’ll just say, it was a good thing us ponies had hooves, because I could not imagine how bare skin would’ve felt on the heated floor.

Before my pelt would start bubbling in ugly blisters or peel off in little charred rolls, I rapidly escalated the spiral staircase that miraculously still held onto a thread. Finding the damn thing was a blind pony’s game, with the visibility being almost completely null, but it was my house, after all. I knew where to go.

Not a moment too soon too. Once I made it to the top floor, the stairs crumbled down in a terrible din, forbidding me to come back from where I came. That was... quite scary. Really freaking scary, in fact!

I did a quick checkup to verify if neither my mane nor my tail had been lit like a candle, but I was still in one piece. I must’ve lost five kilograms in sweat alone already, ugh. Every time I breathed in, I was choking on the mixture of toxins and radiating heat that entered my trachea. I needed to get out of this oven with Honey Dream before we both passed out from the fumes!

Problem was, my bedroom door was sturdily barricaded by a ceiling piece that had collapsed in front of it. Because things could never go right, after all. I heard Honey Dream’s muffled voice shouting for assistance on the other side, but it seemed like it had grown weaker.

As good a kick in the flank as it was going to get. No time to waste on strategizing: I had to use my head first.

So I used my head first.

When I bashed it into the door after dashing toward it. It was the only part of me that hadn’t shriveled into uselessness after my three-day fast, so there. Concussion or not, haters will be jealous to know that it wasn’t that dumb of a move after all, because when my daze subsided, I was belly-first on the floor like a starfish, inside of my bedroom. Ha! Guess my bullies were right when they said I had a thick skull!

But now was not the time to feel like a millionaire. I still had a pony to find!

“Cough cough! H-Honey Dream? COUGH! ... W-where? W-where...”

“O-over here, cough cough COUGH!”

I staggered in the overall direction of her raspy voice. The smoke was thicker than a DJ-Pon3 rave party, it was impossible to navigate. Thank Celestia I ended up accidentally bumping into her. Up on my withers she went; business as usual.

Now, onto getting the hay out of here.

Err, easier said than done, right? The way back was unusable. So all that I was left with was the balcony. As the glass shattering expert that I was, this time, my bedside table was the one to finish off the patio door. Sorry bedside table. You held my pajamas well.

Once on the balcony, the two of us immediately felt the relief of the fresh air of the night. Well, relatively speaking. We were still in a burning house, after all. But not for long. I fully intended for us to make it out alive.

And for that, there weren’t many options. It essentially boiled down to jumping.

And um... I wasn’t scared of heights, but ah... gulp. Last time I spent some leisure time on my balcony, it didn’t seem so high. Oh Faust, why couldn’t I have been a pegasus? They made it look so simple.

Well, we were burning daylight (and a good portion of the balcony). It was either jump and maybe not die, or don’t jump and definitely die. I chose to jump.

Hasta la vista, and gravity be my witness!

“AUUUGHH!!”

That there was me screaming out of agony after a rough encounter with Mother Equus. Normally, when you land on a slanted piece of ground after dropping from a height a little bit more extreme than what you’re used to, you roll to properly redistribute the impact. But when you have a foal on your back, it’s a bit more difficult, innit? So in order to not elbow drop my guest of honor, I landed flat on my four legs.

And the front right one did not like that. At all. It made this horrible cracking sound when it brusquely slammed on compacted dirt. I’m no Doctor Stethorsecope, but if I was to make an early diagnosis, I’d say that something important snapped in there. That’s what my nerves relayed to my brain, at least.

All that to say, I buckled to the ground, my adrenaline finally tagging out and switching places with my low tolerance for pain, as Honey Dream cartwheeled a little further in the mud. We both came to a rest, panting and coughing. I even spat a huge gooey chunk of something dark and nasty. Looked like a melted piece of coal. Disgusting, and concerning.

We waited like this for, what, five minutes? Ten minutes? It felt like a long time. More and more of the house was consumed behind us, but I cared very little about it. We had to recuperate. We deserved to recuperate.

Once our heatstroke was reduced a bit, I crawled toward Honey Dream. She was desperately trying to get back on all fours, but I could see her struggling. Didn’t matter anyway, since I had her lay on me, as I hugged her, happy- nay, euphoric to see her safe and sound. I even ignored the shot of pain I felt travelling through my maimed leg and carried on with the hug. After what we went through, we both needed that, regardless of what my broken limb had to say about it.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” I whispered into her ear.

She silently moved her head up and down. She must’ve been as murky with ashes as I was, and she sported a few bruises of her own, but no underlying permanent damage seemed to be present on her. Good... good. Again, this was all that mattered. Her safety was top priority, and the rest was superficial. I could deal with the rest.

After maintaining her mutism for a few more seconds, she looked up, and said with an hesitant voice, “It... It wasn’t me, I...”

“What do you mean?”

“T-this!” I turned to see the burning house she was pointing at. “The fire! I... I didn’t do this, I swear! I swear it wasn’t me! P-please don’t be mad, uncle Calxie, I didn’t burn your house. I-I would never, I-”

“Shhh shhh,” I hushed her, a hoof gently pressing over her lips. “I... I know it wasn’t you. You have nothing to prove to me. I believe you.”

Gee, I wonder why. Could it be because I sort of knew who the felon was already? What a walking disaster of a pony I turned out to be.

In spite of my growing sense of culpability, I found myself becoming pensive. It probably wasn’t the time to go all Columbhorse on her, but my curiosity had to be sated.

“But, I uh, I have to know, sweetie. What... What exactly were you doing in my house? Why were you there?”

She refused to look at me, and a few mumbles ensued, but no clear response came out of her mouth.

“Honey Dream?” I insisted.

“Y-you promised...”

I what now?

“Calxie, you promised! Y-y-you said! You said we’d see each other later after you saved me from the bear, b-but... but you didn’t! I haven’t seen you since! W-why? Why? I was so afraid you were gone... gone because of me...”

Oh.

Oh, right...

I did promise, didn’t I? And I never took the time to make it even. In my own little world of woes and tribulations, I had completely forgotten about how I had given Honey Dream my word. I took her trust for granted, and swiped my hooves on it. Well played, Gray Calx. Are you sure your special talent wasn’t to let down fillies who looked up to you? Or maybe it was to sear them to a perfect medium rare?

“I tried to find you,” she continued to lament. “I tried to come visit you, but... Your house was always locked! And you never answered, so I didn’t know what to do and- and I didn’t know- b-but today, after school, after school I was walking home, I was supposed to go at Comely’s for a sleepover, but I saw your door opened, so I snuck in to meet you, but, but- and you still weren’t there!”

Processing all of this made my heart feel like a pincushion. I was the adult, she was the kid, and yet it was I who was being scolded. Appropriately so. Made me bite the inside of my cheek, unable to find an alibi to acquit my poor behavior.

And little Honey Dream, she went on, pulling away from me. With the flames accentuating her shades of orange, her eyes listless and troubled, as if she was telling a bittersweet story by a campfire.

“I waited and waited and waited, uncle Calxie. I waited for soooooo long! All day! And then, it was night, so I got sleepy and tired of waiting, so I fell asleep onto your bed, and then... And then I woke up, and there was a fire, and why didn’t you try to see me again!?”

I couldn’t take it anymore: I reengaged in another hug. What else to do? I had no answer to give. She got me good. I couldn’t forge a lie to save my flank, here – not that I wanted to. Facing the consequences of my carelessness seemed like an appropriate punishment.

“I’m, I’m so sorry, I...”

Yeah, couldn’t finish that train of thought.

Because for the second time in 20 years, I felt like crying.

Damn.

Damn, damn, damn.

I think I needed to reevaluate where I stood in life. This was the biggest slap in the face I desperately needed. The reality of my situation, the one I had brought upon myself, was steadily becoming clearer and clearer. I nearly caused a child to lose her life, for crying out loud! Thanks to me and my crazy antics, a mother would’ve outlived her only offspring- and just imagining that felt wrong on so many levels.

Had I not paid attention in school? Had I not learned by now that fire was, um, y’know, a teensy bit dangerous? That playing with matchsticks was the distant cousin of running with scissors? You’d think that my diploma would’ve said something about my application of common sense, right? Unbelievable. Just... unbelievable.

Why, just why did I do this? Why was it that I kept making bad decisions after bad decisions?

And I wasn’t talking about the fire alone. I was talking about everything. Why did I leave it all behind? To what end had I withdrawn from my family?

To wind up becoming a deranged pyromaniac, apparently! With a scar on the head, black grime all over the body, and a twisted bone in the leg. Was it worth it, you big dolt!? Did you find what you were looking for? Did you up your quality of life by a substantial amount with your “brilliant” initiative, hmm?

What was I, a wannabe megalomaniac? Or perhaps some kind of sociopathic masochist? And... And sympathizing with a known terrorist too? Who the hay does that!? I practically announced that I was willing to join Tirek’s exclusive club of bad boys; what did that say about me?

I had been so focused on not wanting to play the hero that I swung the pendulum too far the other way. Getting a peek – a sniff, if you will – of villainy. Brrrr. Only a few meters away from the fire, and still that realization made me feel so cold. The thought of abandoning myself to the sweet seduction of the evil side, yikes, it was goosebump inducing, truly.

This was not the beginning of something here, okay? Okay? I was putting a stop to this madness right this instant. Starting now, I was going to enact a few reforms to ameliorate the way I apprehended my problems. No way would I do anything of the sorts ever again. It was too dangerous, too self-destructive. I almost dragged down a poor innocent foal into my delirium! So, no more! No more locking away pent-up regrets and exploding in a cataclysmic fashion! Today, I was a new pony, and I was going to fix everything.

And my first good deed was to bring Honey Dream back to her mother.

“Come on kiddo, let’s take you home,” I told her, trying to be as reassuring as I could. “It’s not safe to be this close to a fire.”

“But, what about your house?”

“... Don’t worry about it. It’s not a particularly windy night. It’ll just burn itself out.”

“Oh. Oh okay then...”

I could see that she felt bad on my behalf. She had so much empathy, so much care, even though she had all the reasons in the world to be mad at me. It was unbelievable how undeserving I was to be acquainted with somepony like her.

I appreciated her worries about my homelessness, I really did. But ultimately, material was precisely that: Material. Ponies were a million times more precious. I think you’ll find Skybrush agreeing with me soon enough.

With nothing keeping us here anymore, I collected both Honey Dream and my jacket, swung them onto my back, and just like that, we were off.









Welp, it’s official: Trotting on three legs was no bueno. Any pressure I was putting on the sprained leg triggered this stinging wave of pain I didn’t have the bravery to deal with. It’s as if a thousand little tacks punctured me up to my neck. Consequently, it took a bit longer than expected to reach Skybrush’s place, what with the limping and everything.

Kind of ironic in a way. Here I was, lying to Twilight about a broken leg behind a stack of crates a couple o’ days ago, and tonight, delicious schadenfreude decided to have the last laugh. I think there was something to be said about crying wolf.

Honey Dream noticed my impaired walking cycle, and she asked a few times if I was feeling okay. I sort of waved her concerns away, for you see, I was too busy apologizing profusely about the way I had played with her feelings when I vanished without a trace. She had no qualms burying the war axe after the first of the many “sorries” I blurted, making it crystal clear it was already considered water under the bridge. But honestly? She shouldn’t have let me off the hook this easily. After everything I did, I didn’t deserve to be forgiven right away. Now was the perfect opportunity to hold a grudge! She should have let me have some!

Anyway.

We reached the general store, much to the mercy of my trembling leg. That’s right, Skybrush and her daughter actually lived a floor above her workplace, which was located on a busy corner of two interesting boulevards in the lower part of town, at the tip of the piedmont.

I turned around The Clover Mart – that was the name of the place, by the way – and rang an old-fashioned bell on a system of pulleys next to the back door. This shortcut led to a steep indoor stairway that directly opened up to the living space on the second floor. A much better alternative than using the main entrance and teetering through the store alleys.

And now, the waiting game. Hopefully, a brief one, because I was starting to feel my own heartbeat painfully pulsating around my fractured area. Being ache-adverse, and perhaps a little bit hypochondriac, I was picturing scenarios of amputation and-

Oh look! My pleas have been answered: The door gently opened.

And there she was.

Skybrush. With sleepy baggy green eyes, rubbing one to remove the nighttime goobers. She let out a hearty yawn, blinked a few times, and then progressively became more alert when she realized who had been rude enough to disrupt her well-earned sleep.

“G-Goofball?”

“Um. Hello, Skybrush.”

More blinks from her. I think shock was slowly settling in.

“What are you doing at- Where have you been all this time? I haven’t seen you for- I thought that... W-what happened to you, why are you black all over?”

Yup, shock was fully locked and loaded. The lantern dangling on the canopy did a decent job putting emphasis on my rather unhygienic features. I don’t think she could’ve looked past them.

“I’m fine, I’m good. It’s just, it’s been a long couple of days, Brushie,” I downplayed, hardly knowing where to begin. “There’s a lot I need to explain, especially about tonight. Something uh, something happened to me and Honey Dream, and I-”

“Honey Dream? My sweet little Honey Dream?” she exclaimed, emotions strangling her. “W-w-what’s going on exactly, goofball? Isn’t she currently at Comely’s?”

“Hi mom!” said Honey Dream just to prove her wrong.

She pounced from my back directly into the warm embrace of her mother, nuzzling her pudgy barrel. Can I just say that I found it mind blowing how natural it was for her to move from emotionally straining situations, back to her jovial self? As if drama was nothing but an annoyance to be swept under the rug. Her optimism superseded everything; it was mighty impressive, really. Part of me was envious of her ability to discard traumas and turn the page so quickly.

“Oh my lil’ Honey, what are you doing up at this hour? W-what has happened to you? And Calx? Why are you two so filthy? Is that dirt all over your coat?”

“Nope, it’s ashes!” she giggled. “There was a big fire, and I was stuck in it. It went BROOSHHH, it was super duper hot, mom! But then, uncle Calxie came and saved me like a superhero!”

“What? A fire!?”

And then she looked up at me silently, with eyes that screamed: ‘Tell me she’s joking?’

“Uh... yeah,” I admitted with prudence. “I plucked her out of the flames. She’s not hurt, I promise- Actually, Honey Dream, do you mind going upstairs and taking a bath to clean your fur? It’s not good to wear all those sticky microparticles, especially if you wanna keep your lungs pink and healthy.”

“Mmmh, yup! Can do, uncle Calx!!”

She dashed past her mother and climbed the carpeted stairs two steps at a time, with Skybrush spouting something about not making a mess. Heh, cute. Getting clean wasn’t without merits, but truth was, I kind of wanted to have an honest, one-on-one conversation with Skybrush. Without kiddy ears overhearing grownup stuff. I think she sort of understood that as well – at least, that’s what I perceived from the knowing look she gave me.

“A fire... That’s just-” A low voice, then a sigh. “Listen, goofball, obviously, I want to know all about it. I have to know what happened. Ponies just- they just don’t bring a daughter at the crack of dawn like this.”

But?

“But, I need to make something quite clear first. Something I’ve meant to say for a while now.”

Uh oh.

“Thank you.”

Thank you?

“Are you sure you aren’t running a second job as a guardian angel?” she winked. “Seriously: You run headfirst at Ursas, you become a one-pony fire brigade... You do everything to keep my sweet baby out of harm’s way. No matter the gravity of the situation.

“So before you help me make sense of this: Thank you, goofball. Two little words that have been tingling in my tummy lately. You, heh, you haven’t exactly given me the chance to say them to you. But know that I really appreciate it. I appreciate all that you’ve done for us – and all that you keep doing for us.”

I-I’m not sure I was-

“You’re a good pony, Calx.”

...

Okay, that’s it! I couldn’t spend another day deceiving her anymore. She deserved to know the truth. The whole truth, from A to Z. I had no merit receiving a medal for starting fires, no. I needed a good dose of karmic retribution. Dodging my queued up comeuppance no longer felt right, especially after the heartfelt speech she just gave me.

How could I look at those beautiful eyes again, knowing that she didn’t know? How could I sleep at night, pretending I wasn’t a two-faced jackass toward a pony who has given me the benefit of the doubt time after time? How could I call a friend a friend, when our bonds were built on the back of trickery?

If I truly believed that I could better myself and atone for the fires I’ve started, figuratively and literally, then I was going to pony up and tell her everything I had kept from her. Breaking my one-sided false front, right there, with no more manufactured excuses to hide behind.

So that’s what I did. For the next twenty minutes, I ran my mouth nonstop. I told her all that needed to be told. From my ties to royalty, to my life as a fugitive, all the way to my name change, passing through my dissociative behavior vis-à-vis my younger siblings. I even mentioned the fight I’ve had with Twilight at the start of the week, which led to my societal retreat.

And the fire, of course. How could I not come forth and admit that I had willingly incinerated my own dwelling? I didn’t try to play it safe: I told her the story as it was, from an objective, unbiased perspective. With journalistic integrity that would’ve made the papers proud. It felt so weird spitting ugly truths like that, yet at the same time, it felt so liberating.

But...

Skybrush wasn’t all too impressed. I mean, I get it, I totally did... But I’d be (even more of) a liar if I said that seeing her fall to her haunches, dizzy from processing this enormous barrage of new information, didn’t hurt me more than my dismantled leg ever could. I saw her oscillate dazedly, and I saw her bring a hoof to her head. It’s as if she was feverish, catching some kind of illness from my verbal insanity.

Yet, at no point did she try to interrupt me. She was listening and keeping herself from fainting, probably. She had no time for petty interjections. All she could do was to hope there was a very, very inappropriate punchline at the end of it all.

There were no punchlines.

At some point, I stopped talking. I had to. I wasn’t even halfway through my list of reasons explaining why I was such a hot steaming pile of garbage, but giving a friend a heart attack didn’t exactly fit within a redemption arc, now did it?

“So, there you have it. That’s... that’s everything I can tell you for now...” I droned out, exhausted.

...

“Come on, Brushie, say something, please... D-don’t leave me hanging, here.”

Her eyes were glued on me, but I could’ve sworn she wasn’t looking at me. She wasn’t seeing a friend: She was seeing a total stranger. A pony she no longer recognized.

“I mean... What’s there to say? What are you even expecting me to say, Gray Calx?” Crap, I could hear the sadness in her voice. “This? All of this? This is too much. It’s- It’s too much. There’s just- I mean, where do I even start?” she chuckled, but not because she thought any of this was funny.

Because it really wasn’t. Funny, I mean. None of this was funny. In fact, it was pretty damn bleak.

Bleak. Yup, that there was the word of the day. Toss in the extra seconds of silence I had to endure, and what we had here was a perfectly stirred cocktail of mental torture. It was straining. It was excruciating. It was the worst feeling in the world.

“... The princess, she’s your sister, huh,” Skybrush wound up acknowledging.

“Um. Uh... y-yes. That’s... Yes.”

“That’s- that’s hardly believable. But, with your cutie mark and everything, it makes some form of sense, I guess,” she admitted with a disappointing sigh. “The mayor announced that Twilight had to urgently depart ahead of schedule a few days ago, and now I’m beginning to understand why... “

She shook her head and looked at me, bemused.

“Is this why you’ve always been so secretive about your past life before moving to Outer Grove? Why you’ve always brushed away any attempts to figure out your origins? Because you wanted to keep your strained relationship with her under the drapes?”

I nodded like a colt who had just been asked if they got to the cookie jar before supper. I no longer felt like an adult. I was this stupid little edgy punk who needed to learn his place, who needed to be told not to be such a fool.

…

“I don’t believe you.”

“H-huh? You don’t- No, I swear Twilight Sparkle and I grew up together! I mean, I get that you’ve got zero reason to trust me on that, but-”

“No. No, I don’t care about that. I couldn’t care less!”

Err, w-what? Skybrush, angry? H-hold on...

“I just, I don’t believe that you were going to leave. Just like that, poof! Without even saying goodbye! I don’t believe you could ever be cruel enough to do that to me! To me, of all ponies! I don’t believe you, you big... you big liar!!”

“I’m- It’s not like that, I-”

“No! I don’t want to hear it! Not a word, Gray Calx! Or is it Sunstone!? Gah, who are you anymore? Where’s the goofball I befriended? Because my goofball would have never pulled what you just did! You seriously think this was an okay thing to do, leaving everyone who cares behind without even considering talking to them first? Without telling them what you were up to? Y-you can’t do that, you just... you just can’t!

“What if you had it your way, huh? What if your little gambit succeeded? What if I woke up, day after day, convinced that you went down with your house? That my best friend was no longer with us? That he croaked in the most gruesome way I can possibly imagine? W-what if I became all alone, again!?”

She stomped. I recoiled. She inched closer. I retreated slightly.

“How could you! How could you do this!! Y-you were going to leave me, and I, and I...”

She gave me a serious look, blinking a few times, as if stopping herself from saying the next thing she had on her mind. She sighed, dejected.

“... You’re really important to me, Calx. More than you can possibly imagine. When my ex husband gave up on me, when he walked out of my life, i-it left me in a very dark place. I felt worthless. I felt like no one could genuinely love me. I felt like I had done everything wrong. I was convinced that the father of my only child had every right to blame me for my countless pitfalls, that he was fully justified when he nitpicked at every little flaw that made me the detestable mare that I was.

“A-and on top of that, I had to raise a foal all on my own. A foal I very much loved since the day she was born, don’t get me wrong. But juggling an income that suddenly became halved, alongside many sleepless nights of twisting and turning, thinking about how good the world would be if I was just straight up gone... It was difficult, Calx. I mean, look at me! Take a good look at how I turned out!”

She demonstratively sank a hoof into the blubber of her torso. I wanted to protest there, squealing something about how physical appearances were only important for shallow ponies, but I wasn’t exactly in the most comfortable position to take the moral high ground right now. ‘Sides, I don’t think she had any interest hearing me flounder compliments like I was trying to buy peace.

“I used to have a frame fit for fashion catalogues, but being alone, being so easily left behind, it was impossible to deal with. Do you have any idea how awful it feels to eat your emotions away? To become fatter and fatter every day, knowing that slices of cake were the only balm you found to keep the pain to a minimum?”

Answering that rhetorical question was a death sentence. I did nothing of the sort. She sat on the floor again, tears she held as hard as she could finally flowing down her cheeks.

“B-but you. You, Gray Calx, you gave me meaning; you gave me purpose. Your friendship meant the world to me. It kept the fight in me, it gave me courage. Without you, I don’t even know where- I don’t even want to know where I’d be. But I need you. You have no idea how much I need you!! I don’t want to be dumped like a wet rag again. N-not again. I don’t think I could take it. Not from you I wouldn’t...”

Fatality.

Spitting out pieces of my broken soul. Feelings whirlpooling down the drain. Will to stay awake and fully conscious plummeting. Guts smeared on the wall. I had broken Skybrush, and have broken myself in the process. I did the one thing, the one thing that was universally forbidden, the one losing condition in this game of life:

I had let her down.


“I... Y-you’re right. About everything. You’re absolutely right. But... W-what should I do?” I yammered, my esophagus completely dry.

“What should you do? I’ll tell you what you will do: You’ll stop living this lie and set the record straight with your family. I understand that you had reasons to feel slighted back in Canterlot; I can sympathize with that. But has it occurred to you that you perhaps went about it the worst possible way? You took the most extreme option without even attempting to let your relatives know how you felt! And now, now they’re worried sick about you. Same way your friends and I would’ve been had you not backed down tonight! So you’re going to go and talk to them. If you were genuine in your strive to become a better pony, if you sincerely meant any of it, then you’re going to leave Outer Grove, and come clean to your siblings and parents. O-otherwise...”

She wiped a tear and exhaled audibly.

“Otherwise, I don’t think I ever want to see you again.”

Well, that was just about the most brutal sentence I’ve ever heard in my entire life. It sure stung like a bitch. Like someone stamped my heart with a branding iron.

“D-Don’t- Don’t say that,” I begged with a nervous chortle. “Please, don’t say that.”

“Why not? You seemed pretty content with cutting me from your life.”

“I wasn’t- You have no idea how hard it was to- L-look!”

I removed the jacket folded onto my back and waved it in my teeth.

“T-the jacket. I kept the jacket. It’s the only thing I’ve kept! I kept it because I was not ready to say goodbye to you. I kept it because you’re the most important pony to me and I- I wanted to keep a reminder of that. I swear!”

Skybrush looked at it with caution, then at me. Her distrust pierced me like an arrow. She was trying to figure me out. Decipher if I wasn’t just pulling more fabrications out of my ass. See if there was any good left in me.

“... Fix it, Gray Calx,” she reiterated, a bit appeased, yet still authoritative enough to make me squirm. “Fix the mess you’ve made.”

She turned and was ready to close the door on me, but I reached forward with a pleading hoof.

“W-wait! I’ll catch the first train I can, but... I can’t do it alone. Skybrush, I’m scared. I don’t know what anyone will think of me, and I need a friend to help me through this. H-how about you tag along and travel with me? I know you’ve always wanted to get out of Outer Grove to explore the world; now could be your chance!”

She paused for a bit, her head tilted down.

“I-I’m sorry, but... no. I can’t. Not after tonight. I need... I need some time alone, Calx. I need a few days to think some things through. There are some serious questions I need to ask myself. So... you’ll have to do this on your own.”

Oh.

Oh I see.

Nah, I get it. See, I spent most of my life rejecting ponies. It was only natural that I was the rejectee this time. My hypocrisy was almost palpable. So, pow! Eat it, me! Take these bad feelings in. Take them all in! Take her cold shoulder and suck on it! After all, I made my bed, so it was high time I laid in it. Having a friend give up on me, that’s exactly what I longed for. I deserved to feel bad. I deserved to be on my knees and still be knocked down. I deserved to beg for mercy and be spat on at my lowest.

Skybrush didn’t look too triumphant about having frozen me on the spot. But she had to do what she had to do. I understood her decision, and gestured positively, unable to find my voice. I turned around, and began trotting away from the Clover Mart with my head hung low, as the three-legged protoplasmic cretin that I was.

Despite it all, I was still going to succeed. Failure was for failures, but I was a winner hellbent on winning. For Honey Dream’s sake, I was going to live up to the expectations she set out for me. For Skybrush’s sake, I was going to re-establish long-gone family connections. For my sake, I was going to stop fleeing what I should’ve faced years ago.

I was going to earn my title of ‘good pony’ the right way, just you watch.

“Goofball?”

I flipped my head. Skybrush was in the doorway, halfway through closing the door.

“Be extremely careful. I would never, ever forgive you if you put yourself in danger.”

... Heh. How the tables have turned, right?

I offered her a shy smile. She closed the door, the streets became devoid of activity again, and I skulked further into the darkness, a clear goal in mind. From what I gathered, Twilight had left Outer Grove, and most surely returned to Ponyville. Logically, this is where I should be heading. 

But... But I don’t think I had it in me to face her this soon after what happened between us. I needed more time. I needed some kind of buffer to better prepare me mentally. If I wanted to make a semi-decent impression, I had to be in a healthier headspace. I couldn’t flick my switch and shift from one mood to another this quickly. Not after everything I’ve been through. Again, time was a crucial factor.

Luckily, I had more than one sibling. Despite all of the bad I had brought to myself in my life, I at least had the luxury of benefiting from a practice round. I could ease my way into being a better peer. Or so I hoped.

Prince Shining Armor, time to roll out the red carpet: Your brother was going to make his big comeback.