In the thirteen years since she had been born, Crystal Clarity had never once heard a legitimate account of somepony “dying of boredom.” That being said, if she had to describe what was currently happening to her in three words or less, she knew which ones she would choose.

With what had to have been her third yawn that minute, Claire rolled onto her back, letting the sun warm her stomach. Eyelids sagging, she gazed up at the massive book floating above her: an algebra textbook. At this point, it was all she could do to just drag her eyes across the page—the words had melted into undecipherable squiggles long ago.

As she turned a page, Claire yawned and looked around. She was laying on top of her favorite rock, high off the ground in the center of Ponyville Park. Around her, foals galloped, parents chit-chatted, and pets drooled. She couldn’t help but sigh as she watched everypony laugh and play.

She forced herself back to the textbook. Focus, Crystal, she thought, rubbing her eyes. You’ve got a test tomorrow, and you’re not getting another C. No way.

Within a sentence, the words faded again. A cool breeze flittered across the park, hitting Claire at just the right angle. Smiling, she closed her eyes and laid her book on her chest. Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a moment…

Wet.

Claire’s eyes flew open, her pupils narrowing to mere slits. She threw a claw to her side, feeling the spot where a soggy mass of… something had just collided with her flank. She lifted herself up and, with a slight pang of nausea flipping through her stomach, poked at the gray blob.

It was a spitball.

Every draconic instinct she had flared to life. A low growl rumbled from her throat as she tossed her glare around the park, searching for her assailant. She opened her mouth and turned her ears forward, scanning every bush, every tree, every passing foal for evidence of the attack.

snrk

She snapped her head to the side. A bush just a few yards away rustled, and the familiar sound of foalish laughter echoed from its branches. Glowering, Claire took a quick breath and shot a single blue ember at the shrub.

Before it could even get close, two foals scrambled out, yelping like rabid dogs. The two—a navy-blue pegasus colt and a sky-blue earth filly—winced as the bush exploded into flame, only for the fire to disappear a second later as Claire dismissed her magic. Still panting, they gazed up at Claire.

“Uh, hey!” Prism Bolt said, waving. He climbed to his hooves. “How ya doin’?”

“Prism Bolt, Cotton Candy,” Claire said, nodding to both of them in greeting. She didn’t blink. “Is there a reason you two are shooting spitballs at me?”

“We didn’t do it!” Cotton Candy said. She took a moment to make her eyes as wide and adorable as possible—a trait she had picked up from her mother, Pinkie Pie, long ago. “We’re just little, innocent kids. Honest!”

Prism nodded and pointed the straw in his hoof at Candy. “Yeah, what she said!” He paused a moment before throwing the straw back into the bush and grinning sheepishly.

“Really?” Claire said, flames burning in the back of her throat. “Is that so, darlings?”

The two foals gulped. Prism put on a smile and flew up to the top of Claire’s rock, while Candy managed to jump up in a single bound. “So,” Prism said, landing next to Claire. “What’s going on? Whatcha doin’?”

Claire rolled her eyes, but swallowed the flames. “Well, I was reading, before you two interrupted me.”

“Ooh, I love reading!” Candy chirped, earning a groan from Prism. She galloped over to Claire’s algebra textbook and plopped down in front of it, before throwing a hoof to her heart. “My mommy reads to me every night, and in school, I’m in the best reading group! Here, look: ’Math can be used to solve all sorts of problems. In this problem, we will look at an equay—equaht—‘” Her smile disappeared. “I don’t like this book very much.”

“This sounds totally boring,” Prism said, looking over Candy’s shoulder. “Why are you so boring, Claire?”

“I am not boring! And this isn’t boring either. It’s… interesting,” she forced out. She snatched the textbook away. “And besides, even if it was ‘boring,’ it’s certainly much better than hiding in bushes, shooting spitballs at ponies.”

“Booooring,” Prism sang. He spun around and galloped up to her. “Hey, why don’t you come play with us? That’ll be way more fun!”

“Yeah!” Candy said, running to Prism’s side. “We promise we won’t shoot any more spitballs!”

Claire shook her head. “Sorry, darlings. I have to study. And besides, my mother doesn’t want me roughhousing anymore—not after what happened last time.”

“What, when you fell into the pond and started crying?” Prism asked with a laugh. “You were fine!”

“Well, I’m sorry if my parents care about my safety,” Claire muttered, cheeks red.

“It’s okay,” Candy said. “You don’t have to play with us if you don’t want to. We can just—“

“I bet you’re just scared. We’re too hardcore for you!” Prism said, smirking. Claire snorted and laid down again, opening her book. Prism began circling her, all the while chanting, “Scaredy-cat! Scaredy-cat! Crystal is a scaredy-cat!” at the top of his lungs.

Claire flattened her ears, covered them with her claws—but nothing could tune out the eight-year-old’s high-pitched whine. He was on his fifth round when Claire leaped up and shouted, “Would you just shut up already?!”

Prism took a step back, but shook his head. “Not until you stop being a boring old scaredy-cat and play with us!”

Candy winced. “Uh, Priz, maybe we should just go—“

“You want me to prove I’m not boring? Fine.” Claire leaned into the colt, forcing him to his knees. “What do I need to do?”

Prism looked at his hooves. “Uhm… oh!” He jabbed a hoof across the park. “I dare you to climb to the top of Old Everwood!”

Every gaze turned at the familiar name. Sitting at the edge of Ponyville Park, a lone pine tree towered above them. It had to have been at least twice the height of any other tree in Ponyville, let alone the park. It had been there since before any of them were born—hay, it had probably been there since before Celestia was born.

“But that’s, like, the tallest tree ever!” Candy said. “Nopony can climb that!”

Claire narrowed her eyes. “Fine.”

She leapt off the rock and broke into a run as soon as she hit the ground. The foals exchanged a single glance before sprinting after her. Claire dodged through the crowds, not slowing even a bit as she crossed roads and sidewalks. When she reached the tree, she didn’t wait for Prism and Candy to catch up; she lodged her claws into the soft bark and started climbing.

Candy stopped at the trunk and stared up at her friend. “Be careful!” she yelled. Prism followed Claire up for a few branches before his fear of heights got the best of him and he landed.

By the time she was halfway up, Claire had barely broken a sweat. One of the many advantages of having claws was that they made climbing a breeze. It certainly didn’t hurt that the ancient bark was soft and spongy—perfect to hook her claws into. She darted through the branches like a squirrel, making sure to keep her breath steady.

As the top of the tree came into view, she allowed herself a simper. Nopony can climb this tree… good thing I’m not a pony, huh?

She reached the topmost branch and turned to look down at the ground. Perched there, she could barely hear Prism and Candy’s excited squeals. Her face felt warm; she couldn’t stop herself from grinning. She took a long breath and gazed out over Ponyville. The sky was a deep orange, painted by the sunset. Nearby, a few pegasi played hoofball in the clouds.

“Huh,” she muttered, her voice trailing off in the wind. “This must be what father sees whenever he—“

Crack

The setting sun disappeared. Every color became green-and-black as Claire fell. Sharp branches whipped at her skin. Her shrieks were lost to the rushing wind, roaring through her ears like a stampede. She tried to hook her claws into the tree, but the old bark just broke away. Her thoughts screamed, destroying any spell she could have thought of. The world raced around her, the ground flew to meet her. She barely covered her face in time for—

Everything disappeared. Her sight went black, and her every sound faded out. There was no pain. All things considered, it was pretty nice.

It didn’t last long.

Every nerve ending exploded. Her head felt like it was trying to rip itself in two. Her mouth was filled with pine needles and dirt. The air was filled with screaming—it took her a moment to realize that it wasn’t her own.

“We killed her! She’s dead! We killed her and she’s dead!”

“Shut up, idiot! She’s not dead! She’s fine! She’s fine.”

Claire edged open her eyes, but all she saw was grass and dirt. It hurt just to breathe. She closed her eyes again, ready to just take a quick nap…

A new, sharper pain pulsed through her neck. It took every ounce of energy for her to lift her head, only to find that Prism was poking her with a stick. When they locked eyes, Prism yelped and jumped back. His legs shook. “You see?” he murmured to Cotton Candy, who was bawling her eyes out. “She’s fine!”

Claire managed to lift herself off the ground. The world still swam around her, but it didn’t look like she had any visible cuts or bruises; evidently, dracopony skin was a bit tougher than regular pony skin. She rubbed her head and groaned.

Candy sniffled. “Are… are you okay?”

“Does it look like I’m okay?!” Claire screamed back, sending them both scrambling back. She opened her mouth to scream again, but a wave of nausea forced it closed. She scowled. “I just fell from the tallest tree in Ponyville, and you ask if I’m okay?” Prism just stared, and Candy started wailing again. Claire stomped a claw. “I should call the Town Guard on you two!”

“Please, don’t!” Candy blubbered, throwing herself to the ground. “Mommy will be so maaaaad!”

Claire growled and started to yell another threat, but stopped when she noticed Prism, whose jaw was hanging loose. She moved past Candy and stomped up to him. “What the hay are you staring at?”

“Your—” Prism’s mouth moved wordlessly as he pointed at Claire’s horns. Claire raised an eyebrow and patted her head.

Her eyes went wide.

Claire threw both claws to her head. In particular, she moved to inspect her left horn—or, rather, the space where her left horn had once been. Now, there was just a jagged nub, which stung when she ran her claws over it. It took a few panicked glances around for her to find the other half laying in a patch of grass a few yards away. She sprinted up and snatched it off the ground. Holding it in her claws, she felt light-headed—literally and figuratively.

“Oh my gosh…” Candy whispered through her hooves. Prism was silent.

Claire’s entire body shook. Fangs bared, she turned around and walked toward the foals, causing Candy to whimper and back away. That left Prism to stand alone, legs rigid, as Claire grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him into the air. She leaned into him until their muzzles nearly touched.

“Sorry?” he tried with a smile.

Claire narrowed her eyes. “You’re dead.”

She loosened her grip, letting Prism fall to the ground. He landed on his hooves and took off like a cheetah on a sugar rush. Claire lit her horns, focusing her gaze on Prism’s flank. With a deep breath, she lit what remained of her horns. A few paces away, Candy covered her eyes, bracing for the fire.

Claire let out the breath, and a wide plume of black smoke rocketed from her mouth, blasting both foals and filling the field with smog. Choking on the smoke, both Claire and Candy backed away, while Prism spun around and flapped his wings to blow away the dark cloud. Immediately Claire roared and tried again, but could only muster up another column of smoke.

When that cloud had faded too, Prism took a moment to check that his flanks were still in attendance. “Hey, I’m alive!”

“What did you do?!” Claire yelled. She tried to light her horns again; her right horn came to life easily, but the nub that was once her left horn just let out a few blue sparks. Her magic died as a piercing pain shot through her skull, causing her to spit out a few wisps of smoke and swear loudly.

Prism cringed. Candy threw herself to the ground again. “We’re so sorry!” she wailed. “Don’t tell my mommy, please!”

“Oh, goddess…” Claire gripped her broken horn tight and paced around the field. “My parents are going to slaughter me! I’m never going to be let out of the house again! Oh, and the doctors…! They’re going to be all over me!” She groaned and covered her eyes, sinking to the ground.

The foals shared a look, and Candy nudged Prism forward. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, instead opting for her claws. “We’re sorry, Crystal. We didn’t mean to hurt you. We just wanted to play!”

Claire flicked a glare up at them. She growled and took in a breath to scream—but let it out silently, smoke flowing from her nostrils. Eyes clenched shut, she spun around and ran away, doing her best to block out their calls.

As Claire hurried home, she couldn’t help but notice that everypony she passed was giving her pointed looks. It was like nopony had ever seen a dracopony wearing an algebra textbook on her head before.

Claire jumped from bush to bush, attempting to spend as little time out in the open as possible. Every few moments, she would stick her head up out of the leaves and cast a long glance up and down the street—only to yelp and hide again when an adult attempted to ask her what she was doing. As she scrambled through the scraping thickets, only one thought came to mind: This is definitely not ladylike.

What was usually a ten minute walk ended up taking almost an hour. When she made it back home, Claire tiptoed up to the front door, but just as she moved to open it, her ears pricked to attention: behind the door, she could hear hoofsteps, and the faintest sound of somepony speaking. She flicked a glance between the door and her broken nub of a horn before sprinting to the backyard and leaping in her bedroom window.

She tumbled from the windowsill onto her desk, and from there jumped to her bed, spilling papers and notebooks all across the floor as she went. Every sense was on high alert. Eyes narrowed to slits, she locked her gaze on the open door. She lit her remaining horn and tried to throw a blast of magic to close it, but a sharp twinge of pain ran through her skull, and her magic just ended up knocking a picture off of the wall. It landed hard, the glass frame shattering into a hundred pieces.

She stumbled up to the door and closed it with her hoof. When she heard it click closed, she leaned against the wall and slid until she was lying face down on the carpet. With a long grunt, she managed to rise to her hooves and canter over to her bookcase.

Her gaze darted from book to book. Years ago, Princess Twilight had gifted Spike and Rarity a sizable portion of her library; there had to be at least one book here that talked about dragon horns. Her first search through the bookcase turned up nothing. With a huff of smoke, she pulled out the closest thing she could find: The Mating Patterns of Clawed Beasts.

Sure, she wasn’t trying to have babies. But she did have claws, and it was better than nothing, right? Nodding, she flipped it open to a random page.

Silence wrapped around the room as every inch of her face went bright-red. She slammed the book shut and threw it across the room. Claire wasn’t sure what she had been expecting—at the very least, she hadn’t expected the illustrations to be so… detailed. Heart still racing, she searched the bookcase again.

creeeak

Claire sputtered out a cloud of smoke before leaping from her spot and throwing herself at the door, which had opened a few inches. As she pushed, she felt the door collide with something large and solid, and a scream caught in her throat as she heard a deep, booming, “Augh!”

“Dad!” Claire yelped, her lungs suddenly feeling rather tight. “Don’t come in!”

“Claire?” Spike called back. “Is that you? When did you get home?”

“What do you want?” Claire demanded.

“I think T left a toy of his in your room. If I could just come in and get it…”

Claire galloped over to her desk, grabbed a protractor, and ran back to slide it under the door. “Here!”

There was a pause. “Claire, this isn’t—“

“Don’t come in!” Claire screamed again, pushing against the door even harder. “I’m naked!”

“Oh? O-oh!” Spike blubbered. “Okay, uh, carry on, I guess.”

Claire waited for the sound of his steps to fade away before falling to the carpet again and sighing—only to come up with another puff of smoke.

“But moooooooom!” Prism whined, drawing out the word until he was out-of-breath. “Why can’t I—“

“Don’t even try,” Rainbow Dash shot back. “It doesn’t matter how much you whine, how much you beg; you are not having a sleepover with Candy tonight. We’re heading back to Cloudsdale. You can see your friends tomorrow.” She waited for Prism to open his mouth again before jabbing a hoof into the air and piping, “Uh-bup-bup! That’s final.”

Prism let out a long bray, throwing his head so high into the air that he tumbled over and landed on his back. At his side, Cotton Candy giggled.

Sitting at the table next to Rainbow, Pinkie Pie laughed along with her daughter. “Sorry, Priz! But I’ve got a super-duper big order I need to start working on. I just don’t have the time to watch you, Candy, and the twins. Especially not while Pokey is out of town.” She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly and turned to Rainbow. “Can you believe that silly stallion? Leaves me here with the kids, while he goes off to play golf with all of his college buddies. He doesn’t even like golf!”

Rainbow snickered into a hoof and leaned back in her seat. “What do I always say, Pinkie? Colts suck.”

Still on his back, Prism lifted his head to shoot a glare at his mother. “Hey!”

“Oh, sorry, kiddo.” Rainbow cleared her throat. “Colts stink.”

“Hmph. I see how it is!” Prism declared, standing up and whipping his mane back. Nose turned up, he walked to the kitchen door. “Come on, Candy. I know when I’m not wanted!” Candy leaped to her hooves and followed after.

“You two stay out of trouble!” Rainbow called to them. “We’re leaving in ten minutes, Priz, so grab your stuff!”

Prism pretended not to hear, but quietly noted the location of his Wonderbolts action figures. When the adults were out of sight, he snorted and crossed his forelegs. “This stinks. Today was totally awesome—how come they never let us be awesome at night, too?”

“Today was not awesome,” Candy shot back, frowning. “It was super scary! I thought that we killed Claire!”

“Pfft, that wasn’t scary at all!” Prism laughed loudly, looking away. “I totally knew she was fine. Totally.”

Candy pulled at her mane. “But she’s not fine! Her horn, like, exploded! And then she couldn’t make any fire… she makes fire using her magic, right? What if when we broke her horn, we stole her magic?!” Candy let out a squeal and grabbed Prism’s shoulders. “I don’t wanna be a stealer!”

“Shhh!” Prism shook her off. “Do you want our moms to hear? We’d be in so much trouble if they found out what happened.”

“Then what are we gonna do? As soon as somepony asks Claire what happened, she’s gonna tell on us!”

“Claire wouldn’t rat us out like that—at least, I don’t think she would. Besides, I’m sure dragon horns grow back.”

Candy sighed. “I hope so.”

Prism scratched his head for a moment, but stopped as his wings snapped to attention. He beamed at Candy. “But in the meantime: Claire can’t blow fire anymore, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, that means that if we were to prank her, she couldn’t burn us!”

Candy furrowed her eyebrows. “What are you—oh, no! We are not pulling another prank on Claire!”

“Oh, come on!” Prism whined, stomping his hooves. “She’s been burning us for, like, years. This is our chance to pull off something totally huge without her getting us back! We’re probably never gonna get another chance like this, ever!”

“No, no, no! I’m not gonna do it!” Candy crossed her forelegs. “I already feel bad enough about hurting her. I don’t care what you say; I’m not helping you prank Claire again.”

“Fine, be that way!” Prism scowled and walked off to the side of the room, where his saddlebags hung from a chair. “But don’t come crying to me when I’m getting crowned the Master of Pranks and you’re still sitting there!”

“I won’t be sitting here,” Candy muttered, pursing her lips. “My bedtime is in a little while, so I’ll sitting in bed.”

Prism slung his saddlebags over his back and rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just you wait, Candy: I’m gonna pull a prank bigger than any prank ever in the history of the universe.” He chuckled and rubbed his hooves together. “And it’s gonna be totally awesome.”

grrrrrummmble

Rarity shot a glance across the table at Spike, who was staring at the plate of mashed sapphires sitting before him, strands of drool dripping from his fangs. She cleared her throat—he didn’t look up. She coughed—he licked his lips. It was only after she slammed her hoof on the table that he tore his eyes away from the gems, just long enough for Rarity to take in a breath and open her mouth—

“Can we start eating?” Spike asked.

Rarity let the breath out silently. “No, dear. Not until we are all seated.” Spike whimpered and slumped in his seat. Rarity looked to the foal sitting at her side. “I don’t suppose you know where your sister is, do you, jewel?”

Turquoise Blitz—who hadn’t said a word of complaint since they had sat down ten minutes ago—just shook his head.

“Hrm.” Rarity turned to the doorway leading out of the dining room. “Crystal Clarity!” she called, the slightest edge to her voice. “We are all waiting for you!”

“Coming!”

Everypony stared as Claire cantered in, a toothy grin spread over her face. The stares remained as she walked to the table, took her seat, and spread her napkin across her lap. As she returned their looks, the edges of her smile wilted a bit. “Yes, darlings?”

“Ah, jewel,” Rarity started, raising an eyebrow. “Were you in the middle of a shower?”

“Oh, this?” Claire said, adjusting the three towels wrapped around her head. She forced out a chuckle. “No, no, I’m just, uh… trying out a new manestyle?”

Rarity’s gaze softened, and reached over to touch Claire’s shoulder. “That’s wonderful to hear! Not that there’s anything wrong with your current coiffure—but something a little less rough-and-tumble would suit you. Don’t you agree, Spike…?”

Spike looked up from his plate, which was already half-empty. “Hmf?” he said through a mouthful of gems.

Rarity grimaced. “Nothing, dear.”

Claire blushed and sunk into her seat, only looking up to realize that T was still staring at her from across the table, head tilted. It took a quick sneer from Claire for him to recoil and retreat into his hay fries.

She cursed softly and cast a spell to grab her fork—only for a sharp pain to run through her head, and the fork to tumble off the table. When she reached down to fetch it from the floor, she coughed, and a thick tuft of smoke spilled from her mouth; she rocketed back up, smacking her muzzle on the table as she went, but luckily it didn’t seem like anypony had noticed.

Rarity lifted her fork with magic and flinched. Rubbing her horn, she said, “I really need to stop taking so many orders at once. My horn is really starting to ache.” At her side, Claire blanched.

“Maybe it’ll end up falling off,” Spike said with a laugh, causing Claire to very nearly swallow her fork.

“Oh, don’t even joke about that!” Rarity exclaimed, throwing a hoof to her heart. “Just a few weeks ago, I read a magazine article about a unicorn whose horn was broken off. It’s horrifying! They’ll never be able to do magic again! I mean, really, it’s just—Claire, are you alright?”

Claire jumped and looked down at herself. Without even noticing, her breaths had become heaves, and sweat ran down her shaking legs in rivers. She gulped back down what little dinner she had managed to eat and forced herself to make eye contact. “Yeah!”

“Are you sure?” Rarity asked. “You look a bit ragged.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m just… tired.” Claire nodded, her cheeks taking on a slightly green tinge. “Actually, could I be excused? I kinda wanna go to bed early.”

Spike and Rarity exchanged a glance. Spike scratched the back of his head and said, “Sure, I guess.”

“Thank you!” Claire chirped, jumping out of her seat. She galloped to the doorway, barking a speedy “Goodnight!” before dipping out of sight.

“I wonder what’s up with her?” Spike asked.

Rarity narrowed her eyes, gazing at the doorway. “Yes, I wonder…”

In the hour since dinner, Claire had torn her bookcase apart, looking for some shred of information on how to repair her horn. Alas, there was nothing to be found—the closest she got was a footnote on how to regrow cat fur, and even that required a wealth of ingredients that she could barely pronounce the names of, let alone get her claws on. As such, she had to come up with her own solutions.

Claire stood in front of her mirror, her broken horn in one claw and a tube of toothpaste in the other. Standing on her hind legs, she spread a dollop of toothpaste over the base of the horn fragment, another along the edge of the nub on her head, and—taking a deep breath—stuck the two together. She cringed as they made contact, the sticky goo dribbling over into her mane.

A dull ache flowed from the nub as she made the repair, scraping off excess paste and making sure to line up its ridges with those of the horn fragment. If she squinted, she could barely make out the fracture; hopefully that meant that anypony else who looked wouldn’t see it at all. Of course, if they didn’t notice the break, they almost certainly would notice that the top of her horn wiggled whenever she moved her head.

Adjusting her horn one more time, Claire focused her gaze on a nearby book and cast a simple levitation spell. Both of her horns took on a light-blue glow, and the book began to rise—“Ach!”

Knives rocketed through Claire’s brain, snuffing out her spell. As if a cannon, her broken horn shot out of its spot, flying forward and hitting the mirror with a thunk. A few spider-thin cracks sliced through the glass, leaving Claire with three clones looking back at her.

Claire groaned and covered her eyes—at least, until she burped up another cloud of smoke. That just earned an even louder groan.

“What are you doing?”

Claire shrieked and spun around to find T standing in the doorway, decked out in lightning bolt-patterned hoofsie pajamas. “Didn’t anypony ever teach you to knock?!” she snarled, smoke pouring from her nostrils.

T frowned. “What happened to your horn?”

Cheeks bright red, Claire threw her claws to her head to cover up the nub. “Nothing happened! I’m fine! Don’t tell mom and dad!”

“Okay,” T muttered through a yawn. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Claire murmured as he left. She turned back to the mirror and stared at her cracked reflection.

Rainbow Dash limped out of her bedroom, her wings dragging along the floor and her breath smelling rancid enough to kill a dentist. She winced as the early morning light pierced through the thinner sections of the cloud walls. The bags under her eyes grew deeper with every step as she stalked down the hall, toward Prism’s bedroom. “Priz!” she called, pushing open his door. “It’s time for—what the hay?”

Prism Bolt was hunched over his desk, scribbling furiously into his notebook. The enchanted wastebasket next to his bed overflowed with crumpled papers, to the point where large wads would roll down and fall through the floor. Every few moments he would spit out his pen and take a long swig from his Daring Do-canteen before returning to the page.

“Yo, earth to Priz,” Rainbow said, walking over. She leaned over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t look!” Prism shouted, throwing his entire body over the desk. “It’s not done!”

Rainbow stepped back and shrugged. “Whatever, kiddo. Get ready for school and come downstairs for breakfast.”

Prism growled. “Mom, don’t call me ‘kiddo!’ I’m the Master of Pranks!”

Rainbow snickered. “Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. Call me back when you’ve pulled even half the amount of pranks I have!”

Face hot, Prism stared at his notebook and waited for her laughter to fade away. “I’ll show them…”

Since she was a foal, Claire had never been able to wear baseball caps, as they never fit over her horns—now that she had the chance, she realized that she wasn’t missing out on anything special. For the fifth time in as many minutes, Claire reached up and scratched her head. Every part of her scalp made her feel like she was in a rainforest—covered in sweat and itchy.

Nevertheless, it was the most inconspicuous way to cover up her horns without being questioned; when she walked into school that morning, nopony gave the hat any more than a passing glance. So if this was what it would take to hide her broken horn from the world, then it was a price she was willing to pay. At least, until the constant itching drove her completely insane.

But for now, she was content to distract herself by doodling in her notebook. Claire sat in the back of the classroom, as far in the corner as she could manage without Miss Cheerilee calling her out and asking her to ‘join the rest of the class.’ It happened at least once a week, and it never got any less embarrassing.

Just as she was finishing a sketch of a diamond, the door to the classroom swung open, and everypony fell silent and settled in their seats. Miss Cheerilee trotted in, a ream of paper balanced perfectly on her back. “Good morning, my little ponies!” she sang. “How is everypony doing today?”

She was greeted with a dissonant moan.

The edges of her smile sagged. “Wonderful to hear,” she said. “Now, would everypony please clear your desks? It’s time for the test!”

Claire nearly fell out of her seat. The algebra test! her mind screamed. I was so busy freaking out yesterday that I didn’t study!

One by one, Cheerilee laid a sheet of paper on every student’s desk, going up-and-down the rows. Frozen in her seat, Claire laid her head down on the desk and sped through some excuses: My brother set my textbook on fire—no, then they’ll make us replace the book. Princess Celestia came to visit and I had to keep her company—no, everypony in town would know if she visited. Two foals broke one of my horns, robbing me of magic and sending me into an existential crisis—ugh, she’ll never believe that!

“Crystal Clarity?”

Claire’s head snapped up to find that Cheerilee had made her way to the back row, and was now frowning at her. “Crystal, you know the rules: no hats indoors. Could you please take that off?”

“No!” Claire yelped, clutching her hat and drawing the stares of her classmates. She tried to fold her claws on the desk. “I mean, uh, could I please keep it on?”

Cheerilee lidded her eyes. “Is there some reason that you need to wear it?”

“Yes, there is! And that reason is…” Claire’s mouth hung open, and her eyes darted around the room. After a few moments of suffocating silence, her eyes lit up. In a move not seen since her foalhood, Claire puffed out her bottom lip and attempted to make her eyes as wide as possible. “This was my great-great-great-great-great grandfather’s favorite hat. He just died last night, and his last request was for me to wear this to school today.”

Cheerilee gasped and threw a hoof to her heart. “Oh, goodness—I hadn’t heard! I’m so sorry!”

Claire held back a grin. Sniffling, she rubbed her eyes. “Yeah… but he died happily, and that’s all that matters.”

“Bless your soul, Crystal. My thoughts go out to your family.” Cheerilee laid a sheet of paper on her desk before leaning forward and whispering, “Are you okay to take this test? With all that’s happened, I completely understand if you’d like a bit more time to prepare.”

Every light in Claire’s brain sparked to life, spelling out the word: ‘Jackpot.’ She beamed and opened her mouth to accept the offer, but the words caught in her throat—with a grimace, she felt whatever wriggling scrap of her conscience that still remained give a shriek. Heart heavy, she sighed and pulled the test closer to her. “I think I can make it through. Thanks, Miss Cheerilee.”

Cheerilee nodded and walked away. “You may begin when ready!” she announced to the class.

Claire scanned the sheet, and, sure enough, didn’t recognize a single term on it. She cursed her morals under her breath and grabbed her pencil. Maybe I can just wing it and get a perfect score by chance. Heh, that would be—“Urf.”

With a roar loud enough to shake the windows, a column of smoke spewed from Claire’s mouth, enveloping her entire desk and filling the room, as well as sparking a coughing fit from everypony in the class. A few pegasi colts jumped from their seats and cleared the air with their wings, while Cheerilee sprinted to open the windows.

When the smoke cleared, every eye fell on Claire, who sat with both claws covering her mouth. On the desk sat a scorched piece of paper, jet black against the brown wood.

Claire forced a chuckle. “Maybe I should sit this one out.”

As Palette Swap, the art teacher at Cloudsdale Elementary, walked through his classroom, the only thing he could do was admire the work his students were producing. “Very good, Sugarcane! Excellent work, Heat Wave!” he said to two fillies on his left. He turned to a colt on his right and winced. “No, Wind Sweeper! Blue paint is for the sky and the ocean, not for eating!”

It went in a similar pattern all the way around the room—that is, until he reached Prism Bolt. Palette Swap took a moment to gaze at Prism’s canvas, then adjusted his glasses and squinted. “Ah, Prism Bolt? Just what exactly are you drawing?”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that!” Prism howled, jumping up onto his chair and doing his best to block the teacher’s view. “You can’t look, I’m not done yet! My masterpiece isn’t finished!”

Palette Swap narrowed his eyes. “Prism, you are supposed to be sketching a picture of your family. That just looks like a—“

“Don’t say it!” Prism screamed, hopping up and down. “You’ll give it away, and everything will be ruined!”

“If you say so,” Palette Swap intoned. “Draw what you like, but you still have to finish a picture of your family before the hour is over.”

Prism sighed exaggeratedly and grabbed a nearby paint palette, before dipping a single brush into each well and slapping it onto the page, leaving a large multi-colored blob. “There!” he said, throwing the brush down. “That’s me and my mom. Am I done yet?”

Palette scowled. “And your father?”

Prism grumbled and picked his brush back up.

When she returned home, Claire slammed the front door behind her and trudged up the stairs to her room. As she walked, she passed by the open door to her mother’s “Creativity Room,” where Rarity was fiddling with a few bolts of fabric. “Oh, Claire!” Rarity called as the filly passed. “How was your day?”

Claire froze in her tracks and pulled her hat down a bit farther. “Fine, mother.”

“Are you sure, jewel? You look so tired.” Rarity furrowed her brow. “And why in the world are you wearing that ratty baseball cap? Why, I haven’t seen Spike wear that since before you were born!”

“It’s not that bad,” Claire said, the itches suddenly coming back in full force. “Some colts at school were talking about baseball the other day, and it sounded interesting, so… here I am! Heh, heh.”

A long smile grew across Rarity’s lips. “Is that so? Interesting.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Oh, nothing, nothing.” Rarity giggled and turned back to her fabric.

Claire waited for more, but when nothing came, she backed out into the hall and ran to her room. She closed the door behind her and threw both her saddlebags and her hat on the floor, before sitting down in front of the still-cracked mirror and staring at her horn. As far as she could tell, the nub wasn’t any larger than it was yesterday.

Still, she didn’t have many options other than waiting and hoping—so that’s what she did. Claire grabbed a large novel from her bookshelf and dragged it over to the mirror. She proceeded to plop herself down and lay there, reading her book, for about four hours. Every few pages she would glance up at her reflection, checking to see if the break had started to repair itself.

But as the hours passed, the only change she could measure was that what had been but a dull ache the night before now felt like a constant sting, echoing through her veins with every heartbeat. It certainly didn’t help that with every other page came a belch of smoke, each one bigger than the last. By the time she put the book down, her hooves were stained with soot.

One final look at her broken horn confirmed her fears: nothing was happening.

Her eyes stung as the shattered mirror in front of her blurred away. With a whimper, Claire fell to her stomach and buried her head in her forelegs. “I’m stuck like this forever,” she spat through a sob. “No magic, no fire—what kind of dragon can’t even shoot fire?!”

Her question echoed through the room, but only one answer came to mind: You're not a dragon. You're just a stupid little filly. Drowning in the silence, Claire clenched her teeth and cried.

“Claire?”

She barely lifted her eyes to see T walk in the room, his tiny wings fidgeting. She scowled. “Get out.”

“I heard you crying,” he said, taking a hesitant step forward. She didn’t answer, spurring him to dig his nose into her shoulder. “I don’t like it when you cry.”

Claire wiped her eyes and tried to tell T to leave, but the tears kept coming and her words came out as mere sputters. After a moment spent blubbering, she managed to look him in the eyes—and immediately broke down into a wail, grabbing T and pulling him close. The colt nickered and pressed his head into Claire’s chest, touching her shoulder with a wing.

The two sat like that for what seemed like ages, with Claire crying into T’s mane and him nuzzling her chest. When it finally seemed like her sobs had quieted to sniffles, T lifted his head and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Claire snorted. “What do you think? My stupid horn got broken, and it’s never gonna grow back, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do.”

“Why don’t you tell Mom? She has a horn.”

“Do you know how mad Mom and Dad would be if they found out I broke my horn?” Claire asked, standing up and pacing. “They’d kill me, and then feed me to the doctors.”

T scratched his head. “Mom always says that if I have a problem, I should tell her, and whenever I do, she gives me a treat. So wouldn’t they be happy that you told them what was wrong?”

Claire stopped walking for a moment to think. She sighed. “Maybe you’re right. And besides, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” She allowed herself a chuckle and tussled T’s hair. “Y’know, you’re pretty smart for a baby.”

T pouted. “I’m not a baby…”

A few minutes later, Claire and T stood at the top of the staircase. T had a wing laid over Claire’s shuddering side, doing his best to offer her some moral support before her sentencing. On Claire’s part, she was just doing her best to not turn tail and hide under her bed.

She took a long breath, pulled her baseball cap down, and started her descent, taking each step as if it were about to fall out from under her. When she reached the bottom, T gave her a quick nuzzle before scampering away into the kitchen, leaving Claire to prep her speech and face the gallows. Claire gulped and hung her head low. Okay, calm down, calm down. Just be quick about it. Don’t let them get mad. Just tell them what happened and get out—

“Oh, Claire, jewel!”

Claire snapped her head up, only to find both of her parents standing in the entrance to the living room, as if they had been waiting for her. Rarity had a wide smile stretched across her face, and her eyes screamed of motherly love. Spike, on the other hoof, looked as if he were about to be sick. His wings twitched with every breath, which came out like gasps.

“Hey!” Claire chirped, adjusting her hat. “What’s up?”

Rarity cast a coy glance. “We were wondering if we could speak to you for a moment.” It took an elbow in the gut from Rarity for Spike to nod. Claire nodded and followed them into the living room, jumping into the chair opposite the couch on which they both sat. Rarity leaned forward and waited until she and Claire locked eyes before saying, “Claire, before we say anything, we’d like you to know: we are not trying to embarrass you.”

“Okay…?” Claire said. She could feel the first drops of sweat forming at her hairline.

Rarity nodded. “The two of us have been noticing how you’ve been acting lately, and we’d like to talk to you about it.”

Claire sunk into her seat, eyes going wide. What?! How?

“Claire, please!” Rarity said, reaching a hoof out. “Don’t be ashamed! I know exactly how you feel.”

“You do?” Claire piped, raising a brow.

“Absolutely. I was the same way when I was your age! You need to know that all of this is perfectly normal; all fillies go through these changes around your age, and that’s okay.” Rarity gave her a soft smile. “It’s absolutely fine to have romantic feelings for colts, or even other fillies. It doesn’t make you strange, or rude, or anything like that.”

Claire’s jaw fell limp.

“But as you grow older, there are some things that you should know.” Rarity turned to Spike. “Dear?”

The couch under Spike was soaked with sweat. His eyes darted around the room as he opened his mouth and stammered, “When two ponies love each other very much, they, uh…”

Rarity scowled and rolled her eyes. “Must you be so clichéd?”

“Mom? Dad?” Claire said, stopping them both. Face hot, she muttered, “I kinda already know about all of this.”

Spike slumped into his seat and let out a sigh of relief. Every hair on Rarity’s body seemed to go on end. “What? Who told you?”

“Princess Twilight gave me a book about it a few years ago.”

“She what?!” Rarity cursed under her breath and pounded her hooves together. “Oh, that mare is infuriating sometimes! How dare she undermine my parenting like this!”

Claire tuned out her yelping and retreated into her thoughts. They’re both distracted; you can still turn back. You can hide your broken horn for the rest of your life. It won’t be that hard, right?

…No.

“Mom, Dad, I—” Claire gritted her teeth. “I have something I need to admit.”

Her parents sobered up almost immediately, sitting straight and giving her their full attention. “What’s up, sweetie?” Spike asked.

Before she could think about running again, Claire reached up and ripped off her baseball cap, leaving her nub of a horn out in the open.

Rarity let out a shrill yelp and leaped off of the couch. “Oh, goddess!” she cried, grabbing Claire’s head. “Your horn is—how did this happen?!”

Spike growled and flared his wings, knocking over a lamp. “Who did this to you?”

Claire shrunk. “Actually, I… I kinda did it to myself.” She flinched as their concerned gazes sharpened into glares. “Somepony dared me to climb a tree, but I fell off and landed on my horns.”

Rarity grabbed Claire’s chin in her magic and jerked it up to face her. “Crystal Clarity, what in the name of all that is good were you thinking?! How could you ever do something so reckless—something so stupid?! And why didn’t you tell us?”

Claire bit her lip as the tears began to well up again. “I was scared that you’d be mad at me. Like you are now…” She shuddered and forced her head down—until something warm was wrapped around her.

She looked up to find Spike laying a wing across her back, pulling her close. “We’re not mad, Claire, we’re just freaked out. You have to tell us about these sort of things when they happen! I know that you’re mature and all, but we’re still your parents; it’s our responsibility to take care of you when you get hurt. Alright?”

“Yeah.” Claire wiped away the tears and leaned into Spike’s embrace, but winced as Rarity, who was still mumbling worriedly under her breath, touched her nub. “What’s gonna happen to my horn?”

“We’re going to get this fixed, darling. Don’t you worry.” Rarity took a step back and looked to her husband. “Fetch a scroll. We’re writing a letter to Twilight.”

A day later, Claire sat in her room, in front of her newly-repaired mirror. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing that was newly-repaired. She grinned as she lit both horns and spit out a short burst of fire, watching the flames shimmer through the air in front of her.

A terse letter to Princess Twilight had summoned Zecora, who brought with her a small vial of blue liquid. As it turned out, dragons lose their horns constantly—when wild dragons get into fights over treasures, oftentimes horns are the first things to snap off. As such, there are loads of spells and remedies to grow them back. A swig of the bitter potion and a goodnight’s sleep later, Claire’s horn was as good as new.

Claire was ecstatic, and all would have been right with the world—if a certain schoolteacher hadn’t come by the next day to offer her condolences for Claire’s great-great-great-great-great grandfather.

Still, even if she was grounded for the weekend, she couldn’t help but chuckle. Claire walked over and leaned against the windowsill, shooting a few flickering embers into the wind. Who cared about some stupid punishment? She had her horn back, and that was all that mattered—

WHAP

Claire stumbled backwards, tripping over her own hooves and falling to the floor, as a massive gray lump collided with her chin. Eyes spinning, she poked the wet wad.

It was a spitball.

All the blood rushed to her face as she leaped up and ran to the window. Outside, Prism Bolt danced in the backyard, holding a straw as thick as his foreleg. “Ha, ha!” he cackled, pumping his hooves. “The Super-Mega-Hyper-Straw is a success! They told me it couldn’t be done, but they were totally wrong!”

Still giggling, he flew right up to Claire’s face and cast her a wide smirk. “I’m the Master of Pranks, and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

A moment passed, with the only sound being that of Prism’s breathy laughter.

With a smile, Claire lit her horns and took a deep breath.