A Family's Bond

Part 1: https://canterlotavenue.com/blog/1210/a-mothers-love/ Part 2: https://canterlotavenue.com/blog/1230/a-daughters-ire/ Spirit didn’t know how long she’d run for. She ran down the sloped streets of Canterlot. She sprinted until her legs burned and her lungs strained with the effort of keeping up with her breaths. The world was blurry around her, the tears in her eyes turning the lamps in the street into vague smudges of color. The cobblestone underneath her hooves gave way to the the dirt paths of Lower Canterlot. The place she called home for more than half of her life. And it was here, on these streets, she collapsed. She didn’t know where she was. She didn’t care. All she knew was that she was leaning against a smooth, cold, wall. The windows of the place were all dark. She had… a moment for herself. A moment to unpack these emotions roiling inside of her chest. A moment to… let it all out. And let it out she did. She didn’t try to hide her tears. She didn’t try to wipe them away. She let them fall, muddying the dirt beneath her. Her breathing grew shaky, and choked. Her face was bright, crimson. She didn’t hear the hoofbeats coming down the street towards her. Not until they were close. Even then, she didn’t look up. She heard the next sound. Metal on metal. She looked up, again. She saw a dark brown pony-shaped figure. And she saw a blade held in a deep green glow, the light of the streets flickering off of it. Spirit knew what this was. She knew who it was. And she knew what they wanted. She didn’t stand. She didn’t defend herself. She just… sucked in a deep breath, and wiped her eyes. Clearly, she could see Taproot, now, the unicorn looking down at her sadly, the same dagger Spirit had pulled on her hovering at her side. Spirit nodded and would lift her head, giving her mother a clear shot at her throat. SHe closed her eyes for the searing pain. For the feeling of her own suffocation. A feeling that never came. She would peek a single eye open, and she’d find her weapon… back in its sheathe, held towards her, hilt first. Clear confusion was on Spirit’s face. She… deserved it. She didn’t deserve to be left alive. She was just a monster- a ticking time bomb! And yet…. Before she could respond, or even take her dagger back, she would feel hooves upon her. One at the base of each of her forelegs. She was pulled upwards, and then, she was wrapped in an embrace. Warmth coursed through her veins as she returned the embrace. Another small sound escaped her lips, shushed by the tutting of a mother, and a hoof running through her (wiry and greasy) mane. Taproot would break away from it, after some time. And Spirit felt… a very light weight upon her neck. She looked down… and she saw that silver chain Tap had shown her earlier that night. A small pendant, emblazoned with the insignia of a gryphon. The mark of a Witcher. The mark of her Father. Taproot just smiled as she let a hoof linger upon it, before gesturing with her head to walk back with her… to her home. A place… Spirit might be able to call home. She let Taproot move a few steps ahead of her, before she could spur her limbs into working. And they would travel towards the lights of Upper Canterlot. From one home to the next… with two lifetimes to catch up on.