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Littlepip Thought It Well

She took a deep breath, smelling the scent of dusty books, of threadbare school knowledge and of childish wishes that she would not give them 'that stupid homework' today. She smiled to herself, as if savoring every second of what would happen next.

"So, children, your homework is to write an essay about how Princesses united Equestria under their rule. Two pages."

An entire class of nineteen young foals — eleven colts and eight fillies — whimpered in disappointed unison. But the teacher, old pegasus mare with classical glasses and a grey mane pulled into a bun, did not even bat an eyelid. It was not her first time, and she hoped it would not be hers last every time she put textbooks into her old shabby saddlebag.

Every year she gave this basically simple homework to every class, and every year she received same reaction. It was no different from that she had expirienced in her first time as an young and tenderhoof part-time assistant helping a teacher just as old as she was now.

She knew that they whimpered just because they hoped for an easier task, reading a textbook for instance, but she always followed her curriculum. Everytime exactly on that day and exactly after that subject she gave children the homework: to write an essay. And nothing would ever make her waive this rule.

"It's just two pages," she added in her irenic tone. "But I don't want to see any wide gaps between words and lines, any sections starting on the end of sheet and any blank second sheets containing only few words! In-depth analysis of the events and information from literature will give you extra points."

She frowned and gave the class a stern look.

"As for you, Study Scroll," her glasses gleamed menacingly, when she looked at a reddish-brown coated colt, who had a skinny body and wore a pair of big glasses; he was smartest in the class. "I expect the best work from you. The lesson is over."

The foals, who had already packed their belongings, rushed out from the classroom before she knew it. She was left alone. An old classbook seemed to smile at her with its smooth hoofwritings, promising to brighten up her long familiar loneliness.

The mare just shook her head. She was a history teacher and liked her job as well as she liked to listen all those answers which her pupils gave her every day.

The foals — 'little perpetuum mobiles', as their natural science teacher had once called them — ran from the classroom to a locker room in a single burst of activity. After a few moment, they were all dressed up and ran outside, full of afterschool joy.

Unlike other cities of the Enclave, Volcano City for the most part was really situated on a sleeping volcano, and thus there was a large amount of earth ponies working on farms. In days of the Last War, it had been them who founded the city where they had sufficient political weight for a long time after. Thanks to their labor, Volcano City had gotten influence over many urgent matters that happened in the pegasi state, not to mention the fact that in exchange for food they could bargain anything from anypony.

Even from the very military machine of the Enclave: great numbers of old machines, which were usually held by the Enclave until the times of need, got into the hooves of the municipal services of Volcano City. The local authorities used them for improving agro-industrial complex, constantly expanding and digging deeper into the volcano and adjacent mountain range.

Certainly, having such resources was the reason why the city prospered. Many families moved and settled here upon obtaining permission from the Migration Department, starting their own business or working for local employers.

During the last two centuries since the Apocalypse, the city had grown more and more until it just could not give enough space to all residents. That was the moment when a truly ingenious solution had been found: to build up a second residential level intended only for pegasi. As a result, almost two-thirds of the land on the mountain were left unoccupied and immediately given to the municipality.

The authorities had sold most of the land to businessponies and started to improve the remaining part, using received finances. That was when they had built up the famous Steep Peak University, that was named after one of the nearest mountains, and the Grand Park which was planted in order of tourism development — what meant inflow of financial resources.

Thanks to these solutions, the rate of economic growth shown by the city was greatest of all, and even more ponies moved here. Pegasi dragged clouds for watering the Park and worked in service sector, earth ponies were involved in farming, while most unicorns teached students at the University Departments.

Volcano City became the equestrian dream itself — it was no surpise that one of most favourite holidays here was the Hearth's Warming Eve. 'Like Equestria of Old, but better!' was the advertising slogan of tour companies.

However, the children, who gathered up in the school yard, cared about neither adults' intrigues nor political and military aspirations. They had their own problems on their minds. At the moment, they just wanted to play hoofball.

The fillies never liked hoofball, so they left others. Also, two earth colts had to scurry home to their farms. The rest were pegasi, and they had no problems with the lack of firm ground under their hooves.

The problem of choosing a proper place for game was not going to disappear, though.

"We're going to the Upper Sky!" Cloud Kick, one of the colts, suggested. The Upper Sky was that particular part of the city which was located on clouds and inhabited by pegasi.

"Yeah, we're going to look for our ball on the ground all the weekend," retorted Paper Clip, his best white-and-blue coated friend. "Much better at the cloud cover than on the Upper Sky!"

"There's no field!" Cloud scolded and took a step towards Paper. His friend moved forward as well. Other foals stepped back, leaving the disputants enough space.

"We can make it by ourselves! You just take a cloud and make four goalposts. Easy-peasy!" Paper bridled up and looked down on the opponent.

His father was a local librarian, so since his foalhood Paper, when reading books and comics, imagined himself in the place of his favorite characters — particularly Daring Do. And, like his favorite fictional hero, he seriously intended never to give up and to fight until the very end.

A disjointed squeaking chorus of quiet murmurs demonstrated that Paper was supported by several other foals, but this did not stop Cloud.

"It's too far away!"

Most of them considered this argument more reasonable. It took an adult pegasus two or three minutes to get up to the Upper Floor; as for foals unable to fly, it took ten minutes to get to a bus stop on a cloud highway and another five to ride home. The school was very close to the highway, though. Besides, if they were lucky, some friend of their parents could easily drive them up on a wagon.

"Afraid of getting tired?" Paper slyly narrowed his eyes and stepped closer.

His whole posture radiated desire to win the wrangle, his small wings spread wide open. This, as he thought, made him more formidable. At least, all cool pegasi on posters in the library stood with spread wings — Wonderbolts of the Enclave, and Shadowbolts of Old Equestria, and even Rainbow Dash whose poster his father hid for some reason between two cabinets in his office.

"I always soar farther than you at PE, you know!" the grey colt approached as close to his friend as possible. "And I run faster than you! It's just... The field is lopsided, vertibucks flying all the time! What if we get caught?"

"Pfft," one of the foals standing around waved his hoof carelessly. "You have a dad in the Congress! Nothing bad will happen!"

"Yeah, and your mom! She's in the University!" another colt agreed.

"Let's go already!" clamored others.

Сloud Kick bit his lip and dug the hooves in the ground as if being tousling, but surely nobody was going to do it.

The last thing he wanted was to be reminded of what big wigs were his parents. Such modesty had been taught to him by the parents, moderate conservatives with a humble motto 'better to do well than to say well'. And they raised their son really well: he learned this lesson by heart.

Paper like a true leader who won the conflict went ahead, his head held high. Rough Sketch and Mane Cut, his deskmates, rushed after him almost immediately; the rest of the flock followed them except Cloud Kick and two other to whom his arguments seemed more intelligible. His wounded vanity was fighting the urge to go with friends and suffering an inglorious defeat. The fulsome imagination promised him visions of how he would restore status quo on playing field. When he moved over to Paper, his look, posture and gait practically said: "I'll tear you to shreds!" He followed Paper, and others followed him.

Low-rise buildings sullenly watched them as they went past blocks of flats, occasionally flashing by signboards of shops located on the ground floor. The foals did not bother with which way to go and chose a route that seemed them the shortest one. The road was going to take just about fifteen or twenty minutes anyway.

Those 'fifteen or twenty minutes' lasted for a good half of an hour, because the kids got distracted by a pastry shop where everyone bought an ice cream for his pocket money. Another obstacle on their way was a comic book store wherein they split down the middle, arguing about their favorite superheroes.

Rough Sketch insisted that Psionika woud easily defeat Extra using her psionic talents, and Extra's illusions would be unable to do anything with it. Other foals — Mane Cut argued him especially loudly — responsed that even Mastermind who was Psionika's father and even more powerful superhero could not defeat Extra. If so, his daughter, a relatively young and inexperienced superhero, would certainly fail to cope with her. Rough was not going to let it up and offered a deal: if he won, Mane would have to kiss the ugliest filly in the class on next day, but if he lost, he would do it himself.

Rough Sketch just cheated a bit: his parents worked at a publishing house, and he already saw the drafts of future comics. In fact, he actually wanted to ride Mane's scooter and would offer this as a prize, but his desire to screw over the deskmate was a little bit stronger. Besides, he had nothing comparable to give in return in case he lost.

The last place of interest, which they passed by, was a large festival field for live music, where now preparations for a gig of Aleph Baker and his popular band performing their new hit Boom Kaboom! We bombed Canterlot CityCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC were being made. Further was a clear, absolutely empty cloud space. Standing on its edge, they heard a test record playing:

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! We bombed Canterlot City...

"Its leprous waterfalls aren't worth our pity,

"And I remembered that day forever,

"Just because that day we met together..."

After a few steps, the cloud cover gently licked their hooves, causing the foals to burst into a storm of sincere childish delight.

Crossing the line between the ground and clouds was scary only for the first time; the instinct of the self-preservation was drawing a colorful picture of their own unmerciful fall. It was like shifting dunes or magma — take a step and vanish forever. And your hoof froze in indecision to take this step. Of course, the flames were fanned by parents and school teachers, explaining how dangerous it is to just even stand on it: among children there even was a horror story about an intractable foal who went too far and began bragging in front of his less brave friends, when suddenly a black claw gushed out from below, tearing the delicate layer of the cover. As big as a foal, as big as a two-storey house! The more Spooky Tale told this story, the bigger it grew. The claw dragged the careless pony below, only his cap left after him. Spooky swore that he knew a poor foal's classmate who had seen that cap firsthoof.

The cloud cover was supposed to be there forever, though. After all, it had been at its place before they were born, and before their grandmothers and grandfathers, and even before their great-great-grandparents.

And somewhere far to the South, there was a plainly visible rainbow which the children had seen this morning on the way from the Upper Floor to the school. It beckoned them in earnest.

So, those parental admonitions always worked only once. The first time, of course, all kids were afraid to even approach the edge of firm land where a cloud seamlessly overlapped sloping ground, but eventually, urged by jokes from their more brave fellows, they started with touching the white haze, then gently put one hoof, then the second and finally rested upon them with dramatic caution like they were checking if the cloud would fail. Fear hanged upon them as often as the cottonwool-like matter softly bounced under pressure. It used to be said that below clouds the ground goes down in a steep cliff.

In the end they were afraid only for the first time, and next time they just leaped the borderline without even noticing it. As it happened this time.

The foals did not start preparations for the game immediately. First off, they wanted to make sure that nobody would disturb them, neither adults eyeing them from the height of the Upper Floor nor soldiers returning to their base from patrol. There was such a place: quite a small rectangular field hidden between the folds of cloud hills.

But the main problem for them was selection of teams.

Cloud and Paper, two captains, picked first two players pretty quickly, but other three had trouble with dividing into two teams.

The rest — Rough, Mane and Study — decided to take matters into their own hooves and after a moment burst into a terrible argument about who would go in what team.

Study had fewest benefits: it was clear that he preferred to spend leisure time not chasing a ball or doing exercises but rather reading a book. All the matter was that Study had only a mother and grew up alone. His father, who was a soldier serviced constantly somewhere at the other side of Equestria, had died few years ago in a slaughterous battle with savage gryphons.

Scenes of parental care choking his life came up in the depths of his memory over and over again. It was as if his mother, distraught with grief, decided to protect him from all and every thing: mean glares full of anger and hatred that peers gave him, sharp corners of stools, a stark reality itself. And probably if it were not for intervention of a psychologist, he would have grown a trivial mama's boy. "Your son isn't a filly," the doctor had said on impulse to cool her fervour. Study did not even know whether he would supposed to be grateful or not.

But before, it had been a year full of aspirations and hopes to grow a great scientist. The inconsolable mother wept at night; Study saw it more than once, but was afraid to approach her in such moments. Every day and every minute she feared that some horrible mechanism would click somewhere in the foal's shaggy-haired head and he would decide to complete his father's work. Prestigious, promising and honorable work. The military machine of the Enclave eagerly opened its mouth in attempts to ruin everything what is good and bright, taught by parents from birth, and swallowed foals with a vengeance. But what was worse — they sought self-destruction themselves. After all, behind the walls of police and military academies there was a luring bait of privileges for all children of the military personnel. The Enclave gladly took them under its protectorate.

And since then Study Scroll had become the smartest pupil among primary classes. He always received excellent grades and always took extra assignements for in-depth study. Six months ago he had even won math competition in his district, and now he had been preparing to take part at the city level.

Obviously, he had problems with physical education, but teachers used to turn a blind eye on his inability and allowed him to go home if those lessons were last on a normal school day.

In school he was not really mocked for a different appearance: thin legs, a long neck and wings of particularly modest size — the class got along well. And the foal paid his classmates the same coin: he helped them with doing homework or cheating on tests; for these Paper was especially friendly to him.

But at the moment, when all three foals were very eager to be in someone's team, that was what he was blamed for.

"You can't run fast! You're short-breathed!" Rough and Mane shouted at him in unison.

"You better keep your eyes on a ball!" the brown colt snapped back, adjusting his glasses. "You two always start to ram others!"

"It's called playing defense, chicken head!"

The foals laughed, causing unpleasant moisture in the corners of Study's eyes. He sat down on a bulb of fluffy cloud; other children did not react positively.

"Then, why do you 'defenders' kick a ball to goalposts?" his muzzle devoid of any contrieved nonchalance became all but whiny, so they increased the pressure.

"For scoring goals!"

The pair laughed even louder and turned back to the captains, being pleased with the result: almost a crying foal who already did not even want to continue fighting for a place in team.

All this time Paper had a feeling that something was wrong. On the one hoof, taking the brown colt as a player was also not the best decision because it would weaken the whole team. No one wanted to lose. On the other hoof, Study helped him with homework, and Paper could almost say that they were close friends. Leaving friends behind was just a despicable thing.

His team might be upset, though, because while Paper was their captain they believed that he would lead them to victory. Everyone wanted to win, but one weak link could ruin everything.

Somewhere deep inside his soul, Paper was glad it was his turn to choose. Study, otherwise, would definitely be left out of the game. Paper did not think that Cloud as a captain shared the same sentiments, though he used to copy Study's homework as well.

"Alright, Study, you can join us," the white foal sighed. This would come back to bite him later, but right now he did not want to think about it.

Something glinted in Study's eyes, but Paper thought it was lenses of his glasses glittering in the sun.

The little brown pegasus stood up with a huge smile on his face and approached the rest of the team which, as the captain thought, was not very happy about their new acquisition.

"Rough, you're with us then," Cloud waved at two other foals. Rough shrugged his shoulders, making his way to the second group of foals.

Mane, who was left alone, plopped down on his haunches and only gasped for air with his mouth open. He did not expect such a turn and was unpleasantly surprised.

"Heya, wait a minute, but what about me?" he managed to regain self-control only when both teams assigned responsibilities and began to disperse across the field.

"Well, you can be a referee!" someone shouted nonchalantly.

No one saw the foal angrily clench his jaws, but he quickly overcame his rage. He held a grudge and even began planning his revenge, though. For example, he could find a couple of drawing pins or glue notebooks before anyone would see him...

Loud shouts brought him out of his thoughts. The game began.

First who got the ball was Paper that was placed at the center. Straining every sinew, he tried to make his way around two rival defenders. None of the foals could fly, but using their wings for help was not forbidden, and so they did as much as they could either by twisting their wings or just flapping them for some unknown result.

Keeping the ball, Paper managed to get past the defenders quite successfully and he started to approach the goal where Cloud was already standing, when suddenly the ball hit a cloud bulb and shot up high.

Cloud's eyes blazed with excitement as he intercepted the ball. The whole game, ball and goals — all was a battlefield for him now. And he was a true warrior of his skies, defender and soldier. It was him who must do it. The wind whistling, driven by his vivid imagination, was like screaming bullets to his ears. Those bastards! They caught him from two sides. Rascals! Scoundrels! It felt like Cloud was about to throw the ball from under his hooves and to come down upon enemies like a ton of bricks. The blood throbbed in his temples, the brain frantically pondered what to do next. And the solution wedged into his head like a needle: now he would pretend to kick the ball, rolling it in one place deftly and quickly so those slouches could not keep up with him, and then he would strike! The goal seemed so defenseless...

The first part of the plan was an easy success. Wide, but not fat Wide Bone lost his balance, stumbling and plunging his nose into the snow-white blanket. The young heart of Enclave's new shooting star cheered. But his enemies were cunning, sinister, wicked — he could probably pick various adjectives for all the eternity — and took advantage of his slightest weakness and his only mistake. The sun's glare striked his eyes, forcing him to squint them, and at the next moment his leg did not feel the usual elasticity of the ball.

Hearts of Paper's whole team simultaneously sank. The bitter taste of defeat was already felt on tongue when the attacker bypassed all defenders and was left one on one with a goalkeeper... With skinny Study who was placed there so that he would not torture himself with his shortbreathing.

Everyone slowed down when the foalCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC ran up close to the goal. He knocked the ball hard and...

His strike rumbled deafeningly in the ears of little hoofball players. The ball, spinning like a comet, was rushing to the planet of foal's hopes in its strive to fly between the goalposts made of clouds and ruin all the fun of the game in a single moment. CloudCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCC imagined glances of his classmates, condemning and full of reproach, and the opponent grinning cheekily like a brigand, as if he stole the victory from him. And Study's eyes sad and full of bitter tears, saying: "You put me here on purpose, so I've let everyone down, right?"

The ball hit Study right in the chest; it seemed he did not even have time to realize anything. He did not even have time to jump in spite the fact he did not need to do this. It all looked as if the attacker was deliberately aiming to him.

But in fact, it happened purely by chance.

"Ugh," the colt's lungs emptied with a muffled grunt, full of pain and misunderstanding of what had happened, and sounded across the silent field; his whole chest ached from the strike.

Study could almost sense in his guts what others were waiting for. They were waiting for the moment when he would finally burst into tears, to shake their heads or click their tongues in disapproving. Maybe someone would even decide to mock him. A sudden flash of burning anger made him stand up and throw the ball as far as he could, closer to Paper.

This time Paper knew where he did not have to run and rushed to the edge of the field. Well, almost to the edge, so that no one could tell him he went beyond the borders.

Actually, he was sort of glad that the rivals played more reckless than his team — usually it was him who dare to act bold. During the attack, even their defenders ran forward, and now his only concern was to get to their goal.

And certainly, not to lose the ball.

But he was not in any real danger: he was the second after Cloud Kick who knew how to dribble right. In fact, he was second after Cloud in everything about sports. But today — at least for a brief moment, for just one day — he would be the first in hoofball. His smile widened in anticipation as he dreamt of a truly heroic deed. He imagined bleachers where thousands of ponies roared, called out and danced, full of happiness, wanting to see his excellent game. How could he possibly dare to let them down?

Although, anyone could make mistakes. He assured himself that it was totally normal when someone very successful might experience failure. All those imagined spectators went silent as the feeling of bitter awareness penetrated his mind. There were no spectators, they would not even exist for real, and he would not be the first. But at least today, at least for now...

Cloud was ready both mentally and physically when Paper approached his goal close enough to attack, and nothing could prevent Cloud from hitting the ball. He was a goalkeeper and would never allow anyone to score a goal past his defence. "This is my duty," Cloud repeated to himself. Behind him were dozens of innocent souls: a wind stirred the goalposts as if wanting to tear them apart. And the ball was like tens — hundreds — no, thousands! — of foul dragons and gryphons. He had no moral right to let them break through...

Time for him slowed down at the moment when Paper raised his hoof to kick. His whole world froze around the small ball, as if nothing else existed. However, that was really so: the most important thing for him now was to take away a rival's chance to score a goal. The whole image of a filthy, vile, bloodthirsty, greedy gryphon was now incarnated in white surface of the ball glittering in the sunshine like a living embodiment of the evil itself...

As if in slow motion, Paper hit the ball, and it flew from his hoof upwards. Cloud was afraid that in this moment he simply would not be able to move and leap forward, but a second later his body seemed to rush to the ball on its own, without any extra commands from the brain.

Either Paper could kick a ball very craftily or he managed to do this purely by chance, but the ball flew straight to the top of the stea-made goal. It was the most difficult strike even for professional hoofball players, let alone a little foal. A ball in such strike could be caught only in a very tricky jump, when a player had to kick off from the ground and to fall on his side simultaneously.

The clouds seemed fluffy to touch, but if you are unlucky enough when falling onto them it could cause a serious injury.

Cloud did not think about it, though. He was concentrated on catching the ball. For a second he imagined he was flying through the air... All disappointment caused by unpleasant words of the cruel reality was gone...

The ball! He caught it! Still spinning in his hooves, as if not believing that it could not reach the goal, the ball offendedly produced a high-pitched ringing sound.

It struck him against his chest. All foul bandits who failed in attempt to break through his defence, impenetrable like a stone wall, got their petty revenge...

"Got it! Got it!"

He could not believe he did it, and so he shouted loudly at the top of his lungs, as if assuring himself he did. Joy, rapture, realization of his strength and agility screamed in him, drowning out a sharp cry of pain. He heard his teammates cheering, their shouts roused into pure admiration and insulting reproaches towards the enemy team. They cheered like every one of them caught the ball together with him, like every one of them dreamt to share this small victory at least with words.

The opponents answered with a booming, like a locomotive whistle, disappointment and tried to reassure themselves that this was just a game. After all, nobody scored a goal yet and there still was a draw, so the fight must go on!

The sweet music of cheers subsided, much to the utter disappointment of Cloud. "What a pity," he muttered under his breath. He wanted to see it lasted longer.

Now he had the easiest part: to regroup and fall on his side. Well, every foal remembered this movement when learning how to fly. The history did not know cases that someone learned to fly without falling.

Cloud continued to look forward to the day when he would be able to fly over the school and eagerly prepared for this day. Therefore, shifting his weight and turning to his side during the fall were not difficult for him.

But when his ears twitched upon hearing a whistling wind, the foal realized that something went wrong. That surely was a vertibuck. Now a lot of bulky soldiers hung with ammunition and an officer would disembark from their transport and catch them by the scruff of the neck like naughty kittens, and then... No one wanted to listen to a boring lecture about how "it's dangerous to play there" after school lessons. Cloud himself did not want to listen to them even more after he caught the ball.

He did not know that the Grand Pegasus Enclave would never splurge on fuel in order to chase a bunch of foals — this could easily be handled by a couple of cadets. But he wanted to somehow explain the growing roar in his ears.

So he chose the easiest way possible: he just opened his eyes.

There were no clouds beneath him.

Instead of the snow-white cover, a steep cliff opened its jaws, greedily dragging him inside. Old withered bushes waved goodbye with what had remained of stunted leaves — for some reason he wanted to wave goodbye back. Still with the ball in his hooves, the foal heard frightened cries of his friends through the terrible whistle and tried to turn around to look at them.

He managed to do it. Study kicked funny, seeking a firm surface for support, and knocked off his glasses. It quickly flew up. Did it? A terrible, bad, wicked guess crept into his mind.

Rough hysterically screamed like a filly, Mane echoed him. Paper kept falling a bit away from them.

He saw them all. Every day he went to the school with them. Sitting on boring lessons. Doing that stupid homework. What was it for the next day? Damn that whistling in the ears.

A bitter, hurtful, wrong feeling gnawed at him. The foal started to feel sick. The dizziness threatened to turn into vomiting at any moment.

A gust of wind abruptly raised his head up, and there he saw two rainbows, the one which he had been seen in the morning and the other that appeared quite recently. Long ago he had been told that seeing two rainbows at once meant good fortune.

Cloud screamed. No, he yelled as loud as he could, continuing to squeeze the ball in his hooves. Somewhere in the back of his mind there were another thought and a tiny hope which tried to break through. Together, they kept saying that right now adults would appear, that right now the strong caring hooves would catch all of them. The mother's tears, rebukes of teachers, unnecessary questions — was it worth it? Let all of this come true, he would honestly stand in the corner as long as they said and even more. He would never hurt a filly, he would do homework, he would fullfil any whim of his parents whatever they wished.

Behind the eyes of the foals, all the world banged in vain against a wall of infinite terror and everlasting horror. Unrealized desires and wishes, beautiful visions and hopes, dreams of future...

What those eyes did not see was old, dilapidated ruins overrun with weeds long ago. From tiny, toy-like buildings they turned to towering giants of gray concrete boxes. Like an ancient half-ruined colossus who bared his teeth. Like a monster whose dinner they were about to visit. The wind licked them, as if tasting, and stunned by a whistle.

A still unbroken piece of rebar punched him right in the jaw and pierced through his skull.

Cloud Kick сould not even know that he got a cutiemark. It was a ball.

Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/65654/332041

Переводчики: psychoshy