• Published 5th Nov 2011
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Equestria: Total War - emkajii



War comes to Equestria: with despair, with starvation, with sacrifice and with heroism.

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XXIX. Northern Punda-Milia / Central Equestria. June, 1252.

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia. June, 1252.


Prairie Sunset left footprints in the mud: solitary depressions in the smooth and even slope next to her pristine watering hole. She glanced at the glassy surface of the pond and smiled. It lifted her heart to see it: full with the sweet rains of spring, its surface unrippled by wind, its waters untouched by the presumptuous savanna beasts. She sighed in satisfaction. She heard a rustling in the grasses, and a cautious bark. Probably nothing, but worth investigating. She pricked up her ears and began walking towards the noise. The fences were only a warning; it was through constant vigilance that the native population was kept away from her little farm. It was through the water from this pond--and through Earth pony magic--that their dry acres of savanna grass had been transformed into their lush little farmland. That water was far too precious to share.

Occasionally a passing local would try to get at their hard-earned grasses or vegetables. Worse, they would try to get at their precious water. But open access would threaten the water reserves. And without water, the farm couldn't survive--and without the farm they'd have to be nomads like the scrubgrass-eating natives. So Prairie Sunset and her husband Hayseed defended their farm, and defended it tenaciously. Sometimes the locals would band together and try to push her and her husband out. But the ponies were always ready--and, for that matter, so were their dogs. So, through stubborn determination and occasionally through violence, their farmstead stayed in their hooves.

As Prairie Sunset walked into the tall grasses, she heard another rustle, and another string of barks--this one panicky. She slowed her walk, lowered her body to the ground, and began creeping quietly towards the disturbance. She heard a childlike coo, then a yelp, then thought she saw a dog launch violently skyward from the grasses in front of her. She blinked and shook her head in disbelief. She squinted as she looked up, into the bright sapphire sky, trying to see if there actually was a dog hurtling towards heaven. She saw nothing. She looked down. A pair of wide lavender eyes filled her vision.

She jumped back in surprise. Before her was a purple pony with a white stripe in her tangled mane.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria. June, 1252.


Twilight Sparkle sat in her tent, breathing. Inhale. She had spent the better part of two weeks re-organizing the army. Sorting their chaotic mass of displaced soldiers into an army that could take and carry out orders. Setting up a new system of handling recruits and recovered stragglers. Exhale. Her duties increased with every passing day. Celestia had been acting increasingly strangely. She seemed nervous. It was strange. Inhale. And through it all, they were constantly moving. Constantly foraging. Constantly sending messengers. Constantly scouting. And nearly everyone reported to her. Exhale. Truthfully, she hadn't realized how much *work* went into leading an army. Sure, she knew she'd have to make difficult decisions, she'd have to plan strategy and tactics and all that. But she thought she'd delegate away most of the day-to-day business of running an army. Inhale. Nope.

What she didn't realize was that every decision anypony made anywhere in the army crossed her desk, whether as a request for authorization or collected in a list of reports from subordinate officers. And sometimes they made bad decisions. Exhale. So until she learned which officers were trustworthy and which needed to be replaced, she had to read every report in full, then evaluate every decision every subordinate had made. In essence, she had to replay everything anyone ever did. Inhale. She should have known. Throughout the war, she had written or spoken to Celestia every time she did anything. And Celestia usually gave some sort of advice. She had assumed the attention was a token of Celestia's special fondness for her prized pupil. Exhale. It was Celestia looking after an officer who hadn't proven herself trustworthy yet. She must have been doing the same with everypony.

"Twilight Sparkle, I require your presence in my tent immediately." The reassuring--yet overawing--voice of the Princess shattered her meditation. She turned in time to see Celestia's graceful shadow vanish from her tent flap as she walked away.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


Prairie Sunset gasped in alarm, then narrowed her eyes as she sized up the intruder. The purple pony put out her lower lip in a pout.

"That dog wasn't friendly," she said, her voice quavering.

"Penny? 'Course she in'nt," Prairie Sunset replied, her voice sharp--honed by a relentless lifestyle to a relentless machine-gun fire of words. "What're you doin' on my property?"

"I'm looking for Princess Celestia. Am I close to finding her? Am I closer than I used to be?"

"Well I can't 'magine bein' further 'way from 'er, unless you're all 'a way into th' Zebra tribal lands. What're you doin' here? You tryin' get at my water? We don' even bury th' dummies try that. Just let'm for the birds."

"Um...no. No, I have plenty of water. And I can get more water real easy."

"Well why're you lookin' for Celestia here? Crazy mare is probably up in 'questria what with that war and everythin' she does. And how come you crossed all three fences? And what th' hay's a pony doin' on the borderlands if'n she in'nt tryin' to take over somepony else's farm?"

"Please stop talking. Farming is boring. I want to find Celestia. Please help me. I've been walking for so long." The strange pony's eyes began to water. "I started out wandering city to city and the zebras weren't helpful at all. And then I finally met a pony and he lied to me but I found out I had to go this way but I don't know if this is that way any more and I have this map but nopony wants to help me ever. They're all real mean or dead."

"...you lost? Punny-Milly is a bad place for ponies to get lost in. Bunch of worthless trash, the locals are. You got zebras tryin' to eat your food, you got wildebeest tryin' to drink your water, and that's just in the mornin's. Jeez." She exhaled deeply. "A'ight, c'mon in with me. Penny'll keep watch out here for a while. Let ol' Prairie Sunset sort'ya out. Can't very well leave a fella pony t' th' mercy a' those savages."

"The dog? Oh. Ha ha ha. She's watching lots of things!"

"Uh, yeah, kid, she's a watchdog. Boy, you seem like a weird cookie. Heh. Well, c'mon back to th' house."

Prairie Sunset turned and headed back to the house. Screwball skipped alongside her. Behind them, unnoticed by either pony, a dog dropped out of the sky and slammed back into the ground with a dull thud.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Rarity sat in her tent, her brow knitted in concentration. She had forms to fill out--endless forms, in neatly-stacked towers on her desk and in boxes around her. She was now Colonel Rarity, head of the Support division of the Army of Central Equestria. And she wasn't happy about it in the slightest. The promotion wasn't welcome, as she hadn't done anything in particular to warrant it, other than be alive and near Celestia at a time when nopony who outranked her was. Even the rank was something of a slap in the face, as the Support division had previously been headed by a general. Oh, yes, Rarity darling, congratulations, you have been promoted because nobody else is left to promote--but we're not going to give you the rank a pony of your responsibility deserves. What a vote of confidence that was.

Celestia claimed that there simply wasn't a New Equestrian Army command infrastructure, given the autonomy of the army that silly mailmare had somehow blundered into leading. Celestia claimed that there wasn't a New Equestrian Army chief of supply because there was no unified supply division. Ridiculous. Twilight Sparkle was still going to be promoted to the rank of Field Marshal, ostensibly in charge of both the Army of Central Equestria and the Army of Northern Equestria, and she hardly commanded a few thousand soldiers. Clearly it wasn't about reflecting reality.

She shook her head and kept writing. A brilliant designer born in a farm town had to learn how to shrug off affronts to one's dignity. And there was still so much work to do. Establishing a brand new chain of supply was proving difficult; it seemed like her map was turning into a spaghetti-like mass of intersecting lines and routes twisting to meet up with other routes and stops at supply posts that may or may not actually exist in the real world. But she kept working. She had to take care of so many ponies. And there would be so many more to take care of. She knew that soon she'd have to make tough decisions about who to help and who to let suffer--and she knew that a little more work now would mean having to neglect fewer ponies later.

A voice came from outside her tent. "Rarity, dear, I require your presence in my tent immediately." Celestia. Of course. Rarity scowled, and didn't stop writing for a second. She finished the form slowly--painfully, deliberately slowly--then stamped it, signed it, and filed it away. Only then did she stand up and leave her tent.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


Shafts of light poured through the open holes in the wall, lighting the tiny house.

"Well, this is it," Prairie Sunset said. "In'nt much of a house I know, but Punny-Milly in'nt 'zakly a forest, y'know? Hayseed's out patrollin' too, but he'll be back'n a couple hours if y'wanna meet'm."

"I like meeting new people! If they're nice. But lots of people aren't nice. You seem nice, maybe! My name is Screwball."

"Kinda fits you, what with that getup you got. Where'd you get all them bags'n clothes'n stuff?"

"Made 'em," she said distractedly. "You sure got a lot of stuff in this little house!"

"No kiddin'. Not much of a leatherworker, huh? 'Sallright, I'm not one either. Can't stand to touch the stuff, but it's what the savages all use, so it's what we got sometimes."

"I'm hungry," Screwball replied. "And I'm bored of all the food I can make. I want new food."

Prairie Sunset blinked in confusion at the sudden topic shift, then accepted it. "Well, we got lotsa fresh grasses and flowers, all sortsa types."

"I can make grass. I can make flowers. I want something new."

"...I made up an apple tart for my daughter's birthday. We still got some left over. If'n you like I could sell it to you."

"I can make apple tarts," Screwball said impatiently. "I want something I haven't had yet. Something new."

Prairie Sunset glanced at the little pantry shelf. There wasn't much there. Pioneer life was simple. "I got...I got a lemon?" She stopped, then realized the absurdity of the conversation. "Y'know, this ain't a restaurant, missy, this's our home an' we don' owe you nuttin an' we done you more'n anypony deserves just lettin' you rest here."

"Lemons aren't tasty. You're going to give me something new. I want you to give me something new."

"Well, missy, I don't wanna give you nothin' now."

"Hmph. We'll see about that. I bet I can..."

The stone atop the purple pony's hat began to glow brightly, and she lifted a few inches off the ground. She stuck out her tongue. Her right eye swirled.



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Pinkie Pie lay on her back, rubbing her hind legs together. She let one leg rub against and over the stump of the other. She extended both legs. One touched the edge of her tent. The other didn't. She closed her eyes and tried to extend it further. She willed it to touch the tent. She desperately tried to feel the pressure of hoof against against taut canvas. Yet all she felt in the missing leg was a twisted, tight pain, as if the leg were crumpled beneath her body. She kicked the stump out a few times. It did nothing. The phantom leg still hurt. She grunted in frustration, and kicked wildly. Still nothing. She sat up and started hitting at the spot where her brain insisted the leg was. Her front hooves just bounced harmlessly off the cot. She hit again, and again. Nothing. She let out a sharp, angry little shriek, and then fell back on the bed. She shuddered in frustration, then sighed, and relaxed, resigning herself to the pain. Hopeless.

Phantom limb, they called it. Stupid limb, more like. The leg wasn't even there. How could it hurt? It wasn't even the stump hurting where the break had been; that pain was always there and it made sense. But occasionally feeling pain in places she didn't even have? The idea of it would have been funny if it wasn't so awful.

But she wasn't going to laugh about it. Nope. Nosiree. Not Pinkie Pie. Even if it was funny, she was going to be a grown-up mare and...and "acknowledge her bad feelings" or some silly thing like that. Ugh. Twilight and Celestia always said such silly things. Sigh. But when she didn't listen to them, she became an icky pony A CRAZY PONY and she did icky things CRAZY SCARY THINGS and then all of her friends died. HA HA THEY ALL DIED BECAUSE OF ME BECAUSE I COULDN'T HANDL--no. No. Calm down. It's okay. It's okay, Pinkie. Scary things did happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. Scary things did happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. Scary things did happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it.

There. Better. She sighed, then realized that she was curled up in a fetal ball on her cot. Her mane was damp with sweat. She stretched back out. Twilight was right: talking to herself may sound silly, but it worked. It calmed the bad thoughts down. She never felt relaxed like she used to, but...well, it was getting better. And it was getting easier to deal with the sudden attacks of the bad thoughts.

There was a voice at her tent. "Pinkie Pie, I need you to come to my tent at once." Celestia. And she didn't sound happy. The Princess would probably say something else to make the bad thoughts come back. But Pinkie could handle it. Because scary things happen but I can accept that. It's scary but I'm not alone with it. She ran the mantra through her head a few times, then rolled off the cot.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


"What on Earth is goin' on," Prairie Sunset said, backing away from the floating pony. "Are ya some sorta demon or--"

"I don't know if this is gonna work," Screwball said, her mouth falling into a dull, static smile. "But here we go anyway! Knock knock!"

Prairie Sunset felt a pressure in the back of her mind. She put a hoof to her temple. Her head began to hurt. Then, in a snap, the pressure was relieved, and she felt something flooding into her consciousness. Images. Feelings. Thousands of images. Endless feelings. A torrent of thought; a whirlpool of emotion. She lost herself in the sea of potential. A voice like bells rang through her existence, though she hardly noticed it. Oops. Too much. That was dumb of me.

It all fell away. She was in a dark void. Nothing existed. She thought nothing. It was empty beyond understanding; even the idea of emptiness was gone. She stood silently for a second. Or for a century. She didn't know the difference. The voice came again. Ha ha ha. Way too little. I am really bad at this!

Prairie Sunset then felt a surge of emotion as a thousand joys sang through her mind. Better, I guess. Wow. This is hard. Okay. Let's see. Hold on...oh, I know! She felt peace. She was lying in a bed. She looked down. Her newborn foal was in her arms. She was back in Appleoosa, before they had left. She nuzzled the infant, and whispered in its ear, "I will protect you. I will give you everything you need."

Then she was in the void again, empty but for the words she had just spoken. The single thought rang through space. She heard nothing but those words. She felt nothing but those words. She was nothing but those words. A minute or a lifetime went by. Ha ha. Okay! You can come back now!

The stone on the hat returned to normal. Screwball felt her mind closing to some semblance of normality. Prairie Sunset shook her head. She had such a headache all of a sudden, and no idea why. But...but that pony had asked for food, hadn't she? She looked at Screwball, and smiled generously. Of course she would give her new guest food. What kind of mother would she be if she didn't?

"What can I getcha?" she asked.

"Ha ha ha ha ha," Screwball laughed in bubbly delight. "I can't believe that actually worked! That's so cool. Oh, um, please give me something new. Something I haven't had yet. Something I don't know how to make!"

"Well, let's see what I got," Prairie Sunset replied. She turned to her little pantry shelf. "Hm. Well, I got this tart, I got a lemon, oh, and some honey too. Let's see what I can do for you."



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Rainbow Dash lay on her back, her thin pillow over her face. Her eyes burned with exhaustion. She hadn't slept properly in...well, strictly speaking in months, but she had barely slept at all for weeks. All day she stumbled forward, operating purely on automatic instinct. All night she stared wide-eyed into the empty blackness until her eyes stung from being open, then shut them as tight as she could until they stung from being closed. And when she had free hours, she tried to sleep. Sometimes she did. Usually she didn't. And, sadly, today was like usual.

Her work was mostly easy, fortunately. There was plenty of it, but it didn't take any brainpower to fill out most paperwork, and the decisions she did have to make were gut decisions anyway. Maybe she was making bad decisions. But they seemed to work out all right so far. Like her system of village organization, where each redirected straggling soldiers they found to a village appointed as rally towns. That way, all they had to do each time the army moved was to send messengers to the rally towns. It was an obvious solution, of course, but when there isn't a system in place to address a given problem beforehand, sometimes a pony who comes up with an obvious solution is the right pony to have.

She rolled onto her side, keeping the pillow pressed over her face. Heh. "Can sometimes come up with obvious solutions." That's certainly a reason to be promoted to Colonel and given command of all cavalry of the Army of Central Equestria. Never mind that she had ruined both major battles practically by herself. Never mind that she was responsible for more dead cavalryponies than any gryphon could ever hope to be. Never mind that she had failed in every way imaginable at every moment of her military career. Nope. Lt. Dash nearly loses a battle and becomes Maj. Dash, and then Maj. Dash nearly loses a war and becomes Col. Dash. And it wasn't just Celestia refusing to acknowledge her failures, oh no. The army still loved her--and that was the worst part.

Her first failure ended up being seen by the common soldier as some brilliant display of courageous flying and take-charge leadership that saved the army from destruction. Her second failure, as near as she could tell, was being painted as a heroic and selfless last stand rather than as a pointless waste of lives. And then...ugh. Then there was the Elements thing, which of course only solidified her reputation as a hero. Her awful, horrible lie of a reputation.

But...well, it wasn't all bad. She didn't deserve it in the slightest, but she could use it. She cringed when the cavalry worshipped her as some sort of hero--but when she told them how to fly they took every word to heart, and when she told them to practice a maneuver, they'd do it until they were perfect. An approving word from Col. Dash was the most prized honor in the royal cavalry, and ponies would work themselves to exhaustion to get one. Everypony trained with astounding dedication, because everypony looked up to her. And sometimes--just sometimes, for a few minutes--she even let herself believe that she was worth looking up to. And Twilight did say she shouldn't be so hard on herself.

But Twilight never had to face failure. Twilight didn't have to watch an army crumble because of her orders. Twilight didn't have Spitfire's blood on her hooves--literally on her hooves, slick and warm and flowing and staining her powder-blue fur a deep, wet purple. Dash pulled the pillow tighter against her eyes. Maybe Twilight was right. Maybe she should let it all go. Maybe she'd be a better friend if she could make herself think she wasn't awful. Sure. Maybe. And maybe then she'd sprout a horn and become a Princess or something stupid like that.

"Rainbow Dash," a voice said, "I need your presence in my tent immediately." It was Celestia. Of course it was Celestia. It was always Celestia. She never thought she'd hate hearing that voice. She certainly never thought she'd hate it for being too supportive of her. She shook her head, bit her pillow, ground her teeth against its fabric, and then let the sweat-and-saliva-stained lump of cheap stuffing fall away.



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


Prairie Sunset set a plate in front of Screwball and shrugged. "Well, missy, it ain't much, but it's what I got. Here. Apple tart, with a lemon-honey glaze. Don't know'f it'll be good, but I hope ya like it innyway."

Screwball cocked her head as she inspected the pastry. "I said I wanted a new thing. This is things I know."

"Only so many ingredients in the world, an' fewer in my house." Prairie Sunset said, an unconcealed pain in her voice. "I can only do so much."

"Hm. You're right! There aren't many ingredients out there." Screwball scratched her head with a hoof. "I guess I never thought about that. Apple tarts are made from ingredients, right?"

"Yeah. They are. 'Course they are. That's kinda what 'ingredients' means. Stuff you make stuff outta." Prairie Sunset had given up on understanding the purple pony. She was like a child. She decided that was why she had such a strong desire to take care of her. Screwball did kind of remind her of her foal, but she couldn't put her hoof on why.

"But so are apple pies. And it's like the same ingredients? And they're so different! Ha ha. I just put that together! Ha ha ha." Screwball laughed, then abruptly stopped, and went face down in the tart. She ate it ravenously, then popped up with a huge smile.

"Didja like it, missy?"

"Yeah! It's weird. Like, I know lemons and honey and apple tarts, but I didn't know what they were like together. You can create new stuff by combining things!"

"Well, that's the secret'a cookin' if y'ask me."

"Hm," Screwball said. "You're a good pony. I like you!"

Prairie Sunset laughed. "Y'ain't too bad y'self, even if y'are a weird cookie."

Screwball licked her lips, then suddenly looked at Prairie Sunset. "Hey," she said, "can you tell me what a map does?"



---

North of Everfree Forest, Equestria.


Fluttershy walked through the camp, her head held low. She hated being out. Everypony looked at her. Everypony knew she was a coward. Everypony knew she had abandoned everypony else. Everypony knew she didn't deserve to be head medic. They knew even if they didn't tell her--even if they insisted they were glad to see her--even if they insisted she was amazingly talented, and that she had an astounding knowledge of field-treating wounds, and that she was fearless under fire. They knew. How could they trust her? They couldn't, of course. She had only been in a few tiny skirmishes. That didn't make up for her desertion. She didn't know if she ever could make up for it.

She entered Celestia's tent. The other five ponies were already in a tight semicircle around the Princess. Celestia acknowledged her arrival with a nod, then motioned for her to sit down. Fluttershy quietly crept in and sat between Rainbow Dash and Rarity.

Celestia began speaking before Fluttershy had finished sitting down. She spoke in a calm but authoritative tone. "Dear ponies, I've called you here because I've learned something of enormous importance. I have been in contact with the Sublime Council of the Zebra Tribes, and have come to believe beyond a shadow of a doubt that the planned Gryphonic plot on my life is orders of magnitude more dangerous than we previously believed. It threatens my life in a real and dire way, it certainly threatens your life, and it quite possibly threatens the life of any other pony you care to name. The Gryphons have, likely unwittingly, unleashed a force of near-unlimited magical power."

"Some background is in order. At one time, I knew a filly named Topsy-Turvy. She had lost her parents in an accident, and became a ward of the state. She wasn't particularly bright or particularly talented--she was not what you six would believe to be a clever pony--but she had a strange and cheerful view of the world, and had a particular creativity I appreciated. I took a personal liking to her, and let her live with me. She was well taken care of: I educated her, I fed her and clothed her as if she were of my blood, and I arranged for her to play with the colts and fillies of the magic kindergarten. She was quite happy."

"Then Discord came. He thought it would be amusing to...corrupt my little friend. When he found her, she was a mentally limited filly surrounded by magical unicorns. He decided to make her one of the most mentally capable beings in existence. In her mind he opened a connection to the Flow--the primal source of all magic--that was nearly unlimited. Her mind couldn't handle it, of course. Topsy-Turvy was wiped away entirely and immediately. She ceased to be the delightful little girl I knew, and became a sick mockery of a god. He gave her the name "Screwball." I do not know what has happened to her since. At first I assumed she had died, but I would get occasional reports of her existence--and I always told whoever brought me the report to forget that they had ever seen her. She was a twisted, miserable, but harmless creature--so long as she was unprovoked. And so I let her be."

"The Gryphons found her. How, I do not know. They also found an ancestral treasure of theirs, the Occultation: a device that cancels out magic, once wielded against our armies. The Gryphons seem to have intended to use it to nullify my magic and Luna's magic, allowing their assassins to kill us. I do not understand how or why Screwball ended up in possession of the Occultation, but she now has it. And that means she can choose to be a normal mare, or a goddess insane with her own power, or anything in between."

"However, despite her power, her mental level is roughly that of a child, as is her emotional maturity. What's more, she seems to completely lack any sort of conscience or any sort of awareness of others as valuable beings. She is not evil. She is worse. She is pure impulse, unrestrained by knowledge or by morality or by emotion or by physical possibility. She has no qualms about killing others. She may not even understand the concept of death. She can and will destroy anything or anypony that happens to be in the way of whatever she decides to do. She can and will do so instantly and effortlessly."

"And, for one of any number of possible reasons, she has decided to find me and kill me."

The room was silent.

Applejack spoke first. "...and...y'all want us to stop her? With that magic of friendship thing?"

Celestia shook her head. "I doubt that is possible. The Occultation can nullify all magic, and the Elements of Harmony are nothing if not magic. No. I will return to Canterlot, so that Screwball might find me without having to tear a path of death through Equestria. And I will attempt to speak with her if I can, and will attempt to defend myself if I can. And if I cannot do either, I will die, as will Luna, and there is little that can be done."

"But...then...why..." Applejack looked helplessly at the Princess.

"Applejack, I am telling all of this to you six because I need there to be somepony who is prepared to lead Equestria when Luna and I are dead."



---

Northern Borderlands, Punda-Milia.


"Huh!" Screwball said. "So...the map is like a picture of the ground, like a pegasus would see it if she were really high up."

"Yep! Exactly," Prairie Sunset said.

"Ha ha, that makes sense! And this way is north, and then this way is south, and that means the sun rises over here, right?"

"Other side, hon. In the east."

"Really?" Screwball screwed up her face. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. Gotcha."

Prairie Sunset nodded maternally. "There ya go."

"Thanks for all the help," Screwball said as she rolled the map up. She slid it into her grotesque bag. "You're real helpful. I like you a lot. You're probably my favorite pony I know outside of my dad."

The pioneer pony laughed breezily. "You ain't so bad y'self, missy. You want somethin' to eat on the way?"

"Nah. I can make all sorts of food now that I know I can put different things together!"

"...uh, how'd ya used to make stuff without puttin' it together?"

"Magic." She grabbed the strap of the bag in her teeth and tossed it over her shoulder.

"Y'ain't a unicorn, kid."

"Like this," she said. She stuck out her tongue. Prairie Sunset's door suddenly turned into a cascade of warm sweetrolls. Screwball giggled as Prairie Sunset's mouth fell open in shock. "But that's not how I usually get rid of bad ponies, because you can just transform things back if I transform them. I crush them and then reshape them so they're totally dead."

Prairie Sunset was stone silent.

"Ha ha ha," Screwball bubbled, "you're silly. You were so fast talking, and you're all quiet now! I would turn you into something as a joke, but I like you too much the way you are. Maybe I'll visit you someday! I think I can probably teleport myself places but I don't really know how yet. It seems kinda dangerous to experiment with. Maybe I'll try teleporting other ponies first! Yeah, that'll be what I do. So, um, if you see a pony suddenly appear in your house and he's inside out, it's just because I'm practicing, okay?"

Prairie Sunset didn't move.

"Well! Bye! And thanks for the tart even though I kinda made you give it to me. If I see your husband I'll try to send him home for you! "

Screwball hopped over the pile of sweetrolls, and cheerfully skipped down the dirt path leading away from the house.

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