The white earth pony patted the pockets of her smock, checking that their contents were still present. Satisfied, she donned her nurse’s cap, the red emblem almost identical to the cutie mark on her flanks. A tray with a covered dish lay on a table, which she took in her mouth and laid across her back. After a few measured breaths, she confidently strode around the corner.

Step by step, she trod down the ward towards a door at the end. Flanking the door were a pair of Royal Guard, each clad in their resplendent armor. As she approached, they rose to a more attentive position, looking at her appraisingly.

“Hi,” she muttered meekly as she stopped in front of the duo, visibly wilting under their combined gazes. “Doctor l'Anémie sent me with the patient’s meal. It’s steamed hay until his choler improves.”

The unicorn of the pair, a fetching white stallion lit his horn, lifting the lid off of the singular dish and prodding the contents. Satisfied, he nodded to his partner. “He’s down at the end, but I should warn you that yesterday he was very aggressive.

His partner opened the door, keeping it open with a wing. “He’s been restrained, but if you feel threatened or he tries to something, we’re right here.”

“Thank you sir,” she replied, nosing into the room. 

As the door swung shut, the expression of apprehension slid from her face, replaced with a singular flat look. Looking around, the ward was empty save for a single bed near the end, the curtains drawn.

She walked the length of the room, announcing her presence by clomping on the linoleum. Pausing at the curtain, she nosed through. 

A starkly peach pegasus stallion lay strapped into the hospital bed. His eyes flicked toward the sudden intrusion before they flicked back to stare into space. Most of his body was hidden under the sheet, but what remained visible told the story of a badly injured pony. 

There was a distinct emptiness under the sheet on his left side, and she could see the distinctive signs of compulsive preening, from the multitude of damaged feathers visible, or from the way every few moments the stallion would lean slightly forward against his restraints before pulling back, lips trembling in a half remembered pattern.

The skin on the left of his face laid oddly, as if a sculptor had grown impatient with a study and thrown it against the ground. There was no fur, only a scarred smooth surface pockmarked by weeping burns.

The scent of wet feathers mixed with the haze of sterility in the room and the harsh lye of the sheets brought back a memory unbidden, during her childhood when a broken bird had been found. It never recovered, and hadn’t lasted long after discovery, nor was it expected to.

The nurse nuzzled a rolling table closer, setting the dish down upon it before pulling a chair close and taking a seat. 

“I heard it was terrible,” she ventured, smiling as he turned to look at her. “The fire, I mean. Such a dreadful business that was.”

“No one could’ve expected Princess Celestia to have shown up,” she continued. ”Never expected her to play hero.” she muttered.

“But yet she did,” the stallion replied.

“It was fortuitous that the fire was already out of control by that time. Most the evidence had burned by the time she had finally dispatched a certain group of ponies.”

The stallion chuckled, wincing as cracked lips split. “It was only my duty.”

“Still though, your performance was in excess of expected potential. I am happy to report that your Basis was selected for advancement.”

“Unfortunately,” the mare continued, retrieving a syringe with a thick needle from her inner pocket. “Your Basis was lost in the fire. I was sent to retrieve a viable sample.”

“Then I’m to be..?” The stallion’s eyes, suddenly apprehensive, cast towards the door.

“I’m afraid so. With the attention of Celestia herself, options were limited.”


The stallion grimaced as the nurse jabbed the needle into the bone of his foreleg, filling the syringe with rich colored fluid. “I’ve been marked then?”

“Yes,” the mare stated plainly, snapping the needle off and dropping the syringe down into the tubular leg of the table. “In a way, you’re the lucky one. You get to pass painlessly in your sleep after suffering a massive stroke. Meanwhile, I am to be struck down by a cart this evening.”