Blackbird knew that not only would she forever associate the sweet, heady scent of cloves and cannabis with Dim—but also with her attraction to him. Dim seemed out of it, more so than usual, and she attributed it to the fact that he might have overexerted himself today. He kept blurting out his thoughts, some of them understandable and others incomprehensible. Dim spoke of morals, of exploitation, and the duties brought upon oneself because of good breeding.

“Can a slave ever truly be saved?” Dim asked while his cigarette holder hung slack in his lips. His pink eye glittered with the reflection of the glowing red cherry that blazed at the end of his joint. “What does it mean to be saved? What is the nature of freedom?”

Not knowing how to answer, Blackbird stared at Dim as if he had grown a second head. He now seemed far more lucid than he had been just a few minutes ago. He was coming around and now the tough questions had come, queries whose answers eluded Blackbird.

“Bombay was, at one time, a slave… is she still a slave? Could she ever truly tell the Bard no and mean it? He loves her, I’m pretty sure of that, but was she ever in a position to be able to refuse him? Could she deny her rescuer? What is the nature of freedom and free will? We mean well when we liberate a slave, but is setting them free really what is best for them? What if they end up exploited again? What if we exploit them, intentionally or unintentionally?”

Hunched over in the steaming water, Dim puffed a few times, and Blackbird, who had been overcome by his train of inquiries, snatched the silver cigarette holder from his lips. Inhaling, she drew a good long pull on the tight-packed joint, savoured the sweet, spicy smoke, and felt her head rising up from her shoulders. Unable to think of any suitable response, Blackbird fell back on a reliable standard.

“Dim, you’re wasted.”

“I have been a slave.” Dim’s eyes narrowed in a dangerous way—a way that made Blackbird’s butt bones tingle in alarm—and his delicate nostrils flared while drawing in Blackbird’s exhaled smoke. “I have been a slave and I have been exploited. After setting myself free, I gave myself over to dangerous new masters, and my whims were controlled by coca and opium. At best, my judgment is suspect, at worst, it shouldn’t be trusted at all and I should not be left in charge to determine the fate of others. I fear I am still a slave… much like Bombay and all those poor creatures you were trying to help. Can I ever truly say no? What free agency do I have? Do I want to help Eerie because it is something I desire, or is my inclination to help Eerie because I have been conditioned to be a good, obedient slave to my Dark masters?”

Fighting back the need to cough because of the faint tickle in her throat, Blackbird passed the silver stem holding the joint back to Dim. She didn’t have an answer, and this bothered her a great deal. If she couldn’t help Dim, her friend, how could she possibly help those poor wretched creatures that had just been saved? Just thinking about it caused her confidence to wither and a dreadful sense of paranoia gripped her. The sudden burst of anxiety caused her nethers to clench in an unpleasant way, and even though she was sitting in a hot bath, she suddenly felt dry down there, which was awful.

“How does a rape victim ever have meaningful coitus ever again?” Dim blinked a few times, puffed a few shallow puffs, and then made a powerful inhale that caused almost a half an inch of the clove and cannabis cigarette to vanish. “They’ve already been broken once. Forever they live in fear of being broken once again. It is easier to say yes and sort out the shame of unwanted coitus later than it is to say no and be forcibly taken yet again. Sex and violence is so much worse than just sex. So it is also for a slave… all consent is suspect. Any denial made is done with the spectre of violence looming, real or imagined, and it is easier to say yes and have things go well for you. Those creatures rescued, they will forever say yes to anything that seems promising with the hopes that things will go well for them… and Bombay will forever tell the Bard yes because of the fear of what rejection might bring. As for me…” Dim’s words trailed off as he exhaled a massive cloud of smoke.

When Blackbird realised that she couldn’t keep up with half of what Dim was saying, she was terrified by her own inadequacy. Now, her mouth was dry, her guts clenched tight, and she felt rather sick to her stomach. Everything coming out of Dim’s mouth was horrifying, just horrifying, and she couldn’t even understand most of it. The sound of water splashing offered no distraction, no reprieve from the existential horror creeping though Blackbird’s mind. It dawned upon her that with cruelty, one could conceivably alter another creature’s existence, leaving them forever broken and unable to be fixed. There were injuries that could not be healed, and no amount of good intentions or well-wishing could make them better.

Of all the dreadful things that Blackbird had learned since leaving home, this was the worst.

After a few wretched moments of fighting back wave after wave of queasiness, Blackbird understood her mother, Starling. Some things couldn’t be fixed; some things couldn’t be made right. There were some hurts that couldn’t be undone—but there was revenge. A tiny black seed found purchase in Blackbird’s tender heart and her talon-fingers twitched as the first sprout of hatred found fertile ground. Perhaps those poor refugees might never know real freedom—but those who might prey upon them and do them harm could be put down. Now, her mother’s actions had a sort of dreadful sense to them. No amount of killing would ever bring the love of Starling’s life back—Stinkberry was gone—but those who stole away the love of others could be hunted down like vermin.

Those who stole away the freedom of others, those whose thefts included free agency—they could be dealt with. Staring at her companion, Blackbird now wondered if she understood him a little better. Dim had killed Zinc, and later, Grimy Rich—Blackbird now had an inkling of Dim’s motives, or at least she thought she did. Dim had allowed their depravity to flow out of them, and when it was obvious the sorts of creatures they were, he killed them.

No… perhaps they had killed themselves; they met Dim halfway, after all.

Was it wrong to pursue Dim in a romantic way? He had been abused, manipulated, and left vulnerable. No matter how good Blackbird’s intentions might be—and she really did want what was best for Dim—any romance that occured between them had the shadow of his past casting a dreadful pallour over whatever it was they might have together. Everything that Dim had said—what little she understood of it—also applied to whatever it was that blossomed between them. Could love—real, meaningful love—grow beneath such an oppressive shadow, or was all hope of future romance doomed?

If Blackbird wanted to tend this precious, tender rose, she would have to brave the venomous thorns.

“You got quiet,” Dim remarked while smoke poured from his nostrils.

To which Blackbird replied, “You made me thoughtful.”

“I always thought reading those dusty old philosophical treatises was a waste of time.” To Blackbird’s ears, Dim sounded wistful and maybe a bit forlorn. “Dark Chocolate and others were insistent though, and punished me harshly for my insolence if I did not keep to my studies. I wished to immerse myself in my lessons of magic and alchemy, like a foal who only wishes to eat sweets and dessert. Looking back, my masters unwittingly gave me the keys to my shackles… if only I had paid more attention, or held more love for the subject. If only I had eaten all of my supper and had grown strong, I might have been a better pony.”

Blackbird wanted to tell Dim that he wasn’t such a bad pony, but that would be lying and she knew that Dim would unleash the full brunt of his sarcasm on her. Dim was just a pitiful, damaged, confused soul with poor impulse control and a penchant for arson. There were worse flaws to be found, to be sure. After some time, the humour of Dim’s statement sunk in and Blackbird managed a half-smile, even with her current discomfort.

“Everything’s gone pink,” Dim muttered while the glowing roach in his cigarette holder began its alteration into ash and nothingness. “Look, I don’t know why I did it, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Well, what do you expect of me? One day boredom will be my undoing. That’s how all of this started, anyhow. When I get bored, I make my own excitement.”

Hunching over in the water, Blackbird’s lips puckered with worry while deep furrows spread across her forehead. “Dim, you okay?”

In response, Dim focused his feverish, manic gleam upon her and replied, “As it turns out, my mind is not a popular travel destination, Blackbird. Cease your screaming, Pink One! There is a fine, fine line between genius and insanity, and during the battle for my mind I lost track of the relevant border.”

“Uh, Dim…”

“Pink One, make no effort to understand my insanity with your logic, for it is like setting off on a fantastic journey to find darkness with a torch!”

Reaching up, Blackbird rubbed her chin and nodded while saying, “The madness must be contagious, because I understood that and it actually makes some sense. Dim, what have you done to me?”

From Dim, there was no response and he had gone still. Blackbird waited, worried, and while she watched, Dim flicked his silver cigarette stem back into his nearby hat. If one wanted to find darkness, all one had to do was turn off all of the lights. Dim was still now and his face had a peculiar duality to it, annoyance and grief. It was an expression that only Dim could make and Blackbird heard him sigh.

“Pinkness has departed from me. ‘Tis a pity, I was looking forward to her visit.” Dim’s head rolled around on his neck and a crackle could be heard from the fine, thin bones within. When he recovered, his near-delirious gaze was focused on Blackbird, and she shivered from the sight of him. “I am in need of rest. Would you stay with me, at least until I am asleep?”

“Of course, Dim. Ya wanna eat something before you go to sleep?” When Blackbird asked her question, she saw a perplexed expression pass over Dim’s face.

“No.” He shook his head from side to side and once more, annoyance and grief existed side by side upon his face. “I fear what dreams may come,” he murmured, “but I fear a sour stomach even more. What dreadful demon is bad digestion, who leaves such dreadful crepitatious vapours in his wake.”

Something about Dim’s poetic madness touched Blackbird and ignited something within her soul. She slid forward in the water-filled basin, dragging her haunches over the stone, and rather than a dry, painful clenching in her nethers, she was relieved to feel that her usual state of moist, grippy, squishiness had returned. Perhaps she’d do a little of the old pinch-‘n’-pull on her filly knob later, but for now… she had something else in mind.

It was a mistake, no doubt, but Blackbird was young and allowed to make mistakes. For now, she had to stake her claim and make her intentions known. The bathwater sloshed and splashed around her, smacked the sides of the basin, and caused Dim to sway from side to side. Something within her belly blazed, some terrific secret fire that belched its hot, searing exhaust right out her kitty slitty. For a moment, she worried about her own self control, but she had already thrown caution to the wind.

Reaching out with both her right and left talons, Blackbird seized Dim by his head and neck. Beneath her talon-fingers, she felt his muscles tensing, jerking, and she had a keen awareness of his frailty. Such was her strength that if she was careless, she would break his neck: the fragile bones would shatter like window glass. There were inches between them now and she gazed down whilst he looked up, due to the considerable differences in their respective torso lengths.

Blackbird’s heart pounded against her ribs and thudded within her girth, while a second heart hammered away at the quivering flesh hidden between her hind legs. Somehow, she maintained her self control even as she gave herself over to wanton desires. She would get what she wanted, but later. For now, she wanted to make her feelings known and this seemed like just the right moment.

Bending her spine and neck to an unnatural angle, Blackbird lifted Dim’s head while she herself ducked down. Turning his head of to one side, she stroked and caressed him with her talon-fingers to reassure him while her fang-filled maw lingered close to his delicate, chiseled face. Closing her eyes seemed like the right idea, but then how would she see what she was doing?

Right then, she kept her eyes open while moving in for the kill.

With her lips protruding like a ridiculous duck bill, Blackbird made an awkward connection with the corner of Dim’s mouth, and then she smooshed her face against his. Never in her life had she felt more vulnerable while also feeling empowered and predatory. With no idea what she was doing, she made a wet smack that no doubt almost deafened poor Dim, because she felt his whole body go rigid.

His sudden stiffness and tension filled Blackbird’s mind with awful thoughts, and she was far too curious concerning parts of him that she longed to discover, parts that could be rigid and stiff. No—NO—she had gone too far as it was and that exploration would have to come later, after she had found her mother. For now, this would have to do, and after a clumsy second kiss, Blackbird crushed Dim to her in a sodden, steamy hug that was, perhaps, a bad idea, at least in hindsight.

“Please don’t make me regret that,” Blackbird whispered.

Dim’s response was silence, but the fact that he had done nothing to escalate the situation was reassuring. Now all she had to do was calm down somehow and find some way to release the tension building between her thighs. Right now, just sitting down was torture and it took all of Blackbird’s willpower to behave herself.

Blackbird had no idea what she had changed between herself and Dim, but was confident that she had done the right thing. Dim squirmed a bit, slipped a wet foreleg around hers, and their soaked pelts clung together. Blackbird was so hot and bothered that the air around her now felt cool by contrast, so when she began to shiver she had some trouble determining the cause.

All of her hopes, all of her dreams, all of her emotions and feelings that she kept bottled up, her fears, her doubts, the incessant worry for her mother—everything came for her all at once to exploit her girlish moment of vulnerability. Her kisses—both of them—proved to be her undoing, and her moment of triumphant sexual awakening turned into a hot mess of adolescent awkwardness as she began to blubber while clinging to Dim.

Sitting in the steaming bath, clinging to her best and most trusted friend, Blackbird lost herself.

Author's Notes:

Blackbird fly, blackbird fly
Into the light of the dark black night