• Published 12th Apr 2013
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Evening Flames - Nicknack



Gilda and Farrington attempt to repair ties with each other.

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8 - Lebe Durch Frieden

Saturday morning, eight days after Friday’s attack, things had calmed down enough where I could safely take the morning off to rest and be a friend for Starfall. He wanted to attend the funeral wake of the colt that he’d killed in defense of Gilda; he also rightfully saw it as a situation where he might want some form of company—or tactical backup. If I’d known he planned on attending, he wouldn’t have even needed to ask me.

Plus, if I were taking some time off, he was one of my few close friends in the city that I could actually visit with. Comet and Maxie were still out of town, and Gilda’s nurse had put her under heavy lockdown after Thursday morning—which Starfall had repeatedly apologized for, but I was frustrated nonetheless.

Either way, even if he were a tactless asshole sometimes, Starfall was my friend the tactless asshole. So at ten-forty, the two of us, dressed in our formal attire, attended a funeral wake together.

We counted for just over a quarter of the ponies present.

Of the other five, one was the owner of the funeral home, three were colts around the age of the deceased—I doubted any of them were much older than seventeen—and one of those colts had brought along a foal of his own.

It felt odd that Starfall and I were the oldest guests in attendance—excluding the owner—but it made a disturbing amount of logical sense. Red Hooves had partially built his empire by preying on unwanted and abandoned youths; by acting as something akin to a father, in his recruits’ minds, he’d inspired something beyond mere loyalty.

“It’s a damn shame,” Starfall muttered.

I nodded my consent. I looked at the colt with a foal, and it made me wonder: during the two years I’d spent mining, if I had bad luck and temptation, could I have chosen my integrity over Maxie’s survival? Fortunately, I’d never had to find out.

Starfall and I walked up to the casket, which was open. I noted the colt inside wore a formal bow tie that clashed with the nonexistent attire of his friends—then again, it was probably hiding the knife wound. I said nothing while Starfall put his hoof on the polished wood of the casket; at first, all he did was to breathe deeply and shake his head. After a few moments, he muttered, “I regret this had to happen, and I apologize.”

As the two of us walked away from the casket, I read the colt’s name—Hot Rolls—on a small easel that had been set up with his picture. Turning away from it, I then saw that the three colts his age were eyeing Starfall and me with scorn. They didn’t make any move towards us, but I made a note to ensure we weren’t followed outside the funeral home. It would be an incredibly stupid thing for them to do, but if there was anything I had learned in the past few months, it was that vengeful motives seemed to be a catalyst for acting without thinking.

Outside in the Business District, Starfall and I walked for a few blocks. Once I was certain we weren’t being followed, I let my mental defenses fall back to their usual instinctive levels. Starfall appeared to have similar timing, because I heard him sigh deeply before asking, “Three hundred and sixty-two arrests, before last Friday. Who would have thought that my three hundred and sixty third would be the one where I had to kill someone?”

I shrugged. “Statistically speaking, most officers who end up taking a life in the line of duty do so around three hundred arrests.”

He blew a hot chuckle out his nose. “Well, that helps.”

“I wasn’t saying the math makes it right, Star. But that eventually, you’re going to get to that perpetrator that makes you make that decision. I mean...” I took a slow breath as I changed tactics. “How many officers did you give help to when they had to make that choice?”

“Enough,” he admitted. We turned onto a street that would eventually connect with the main drag of Farrington. After twenty feet, Starfall finished, “It’s different, I guess, to give someone advice and to take it for yourself. I...” He shook his head. “He had his whole life ahead of him. Seventeen’s too young to make any sort of life-altering decision, let alone go out in the streets to win the ‘love’ of a monster that can’t even feel things.”

I turned to him, but I didn’t want to make an ironic point about our pasts. When he was seventeen, he had come to Farrington to start a new life with his girlfriend; two years later, when I turned seventeen, I had been promoted to sergeant during my second annual officer’s evaluation. Instead, I agreed with him: “It’s a good thing that Red Hooves is off the street.”

“Yeah...” I saw him nod. “So, what’re you doing about his whole plea bargain thing?”

I chuckled as I mused, “That is officially above your rank’s right to know, Officer Starfall.”

After a short pause, he muttered darkly, “All right then, Captain Stick-Up-Your-Ass. You first mentioned it to me...”

“Relax...” I shook my head; I’d have to bear in mind that our running joke only work when there was one rank’s difference between us. “Unofficially, the courts have asked me to weigh in, since a large portion of guard deaths over the past fifteen years can likely be attributed to him or someone in his organization.” I sighed. The next part was difficult to speak aloud, even to a friend: “I’ve advised them to accept. I’ve also requested that any executions be stayed until he and all of his guilty conspirators can be executed together.”

We reached the main drag of Farrington, but with nowhere directly in mind, we slowed to a stop. Our intersection was only a few blocks south of the main intersection of the city, which meant we were nearly the same distance between my favorite bar or Starfall’s, if he wanted lunch. I pointed to the southeast and asked, “Mel’s?”

Starfall looked around for a clock. “What time is it? I’ve got a shift at two.”

“It’s not past eleven yet.”

“Yeah, fine...” Both of us turned south, and Starfall asked, “But, uh... ‘all conspirators?’ As in, mass hanging? Why?”

“There’s precedent, for starters,” I began. “But it’ll also give the courts and lawyers time to sort things out. Third, it seems to be the... tidiest way to do things. It sends a clear message to would-be criminals, at least. And finally...” I took a deep breath and blinked the stinging out of my eyes. “If she values her revenge over the lives of her friends and subordinates, then I will save her a spot on the gallows, right next to Red Hooves.”

Starfall slowed to a stop. I turned to meet his wide eyes. “Damn, Iron. Justice was...” He shook his head. “That’s pretty dark.”

I started walking away, and Starfall caught up in time to hear me say, “If she wants to throw away eight years’ friendship and two decades’ worth of service to the Guard as if it were nothing, then what was she, Star?” I sighed. “You, at least, made your mistakes in a face-to-face confrontation without leaving a body count in the double digits...” I shook my head; I didn’t want to think of what would have happened if he had won his duel to the death with Gilda.

I continued, “So, is it ‘dark’ to make arrangements for a former friend’s execution? Perhaps. But in the end, it depends on the court’s verdict. Perhaps my larger betrayal is how I provided the Equestrian Guard with all the information I had on her—including my spare key to her home—to aid in their search. It may not be this month, or even this year, and it might not even end in death, but she will be brought to justice.”

“Huh...” was all that Starfall said in reply. He thankfully changed the topic: “But... I guess that means the streets here are safer now, right?”

I looked up and down the main drag of the city. From north to south, an expanse of just over four miles, there were less than fifty ponies outdoors on a sunny Saturday morning. I gave him a sad grin. “I don’t think there’s any individuals on the street, let alone violent criminals.”

He nodded in the corner of my eye. “Yeah, a lot of the remnants of Red’s operation are lying low. It’s why we need—”

“We need to recoup our losses and hire over a dozen new guards,” I interjected. Starfall had mentioned his idea for a special task force whose job would be to hunt down the remainder of Red Hooves’ criminal and stamp out any replacements. It was a good idea, but even with a contingent of the Equestrian National Guard, I didn’t have the horsepower to put it into action.

There was also the fact that, since I was due for a competency hearing on Tuesday of next week, I didn’t want to make any brash, risky maneuvers for my critics to use as fuel against me.

“All right...” He flared his non-casted wing in a pegasus shrug. “I’m just saying, Comet’s coming back next week, which is going to cut into my chances of overtime.”

I chuckled. Over the past week, Starfall had probably set a record for hours of overtime accrued by an officer—and that was before he’d browbeaten me into letting him continue working. Officially, he was helping out because we were so heinously short on Farrington guards, and officially, I’d signed off on an order that temporarily lifted the ban on overtime for all officers.

Unofficially, I knew how lonely he got without his wife and children. It was one of the several reasons why I didn’t mind keeping him company during his few off hours.

Regardless of my reasoning, the news of his wife and children’s return sent my thoughts to Hoofington. I had only written Maxie once since Friday; I had sent more money and apologized. Her reply had accepted my apology—but it was in a manner that was either understanding or ice-cold. I placed my hopes on the former, but I still wondered how my sister was faring that morning...


Ten minutes into lunch with Comet Tail and her kids, I was trying to decide if I wished that our café could serve alcohol. They couldn’t; Hoofington law didn’t let them do it before two in the afternoon. Since it was barely past eleven-thirty, I didn’t have any escape for my own stupidity.

Hoofington wasn’t even that bad of a city for me to be as miserable as I was. Over the past three years that I went out on deliveries, I’d always liked my one-night layovers in the city. Now, after spending a week there, I could definitely say that I liked the city for more than just its quiet hotels.

My main problem that morning was a lack of foresight. When I agreed to dinner with a mother, I hadn’t made the connection that she’d bring her kids along, too. It was obvious in hindsight, but that didn’t help me in the present, where I was currently trapped in a two-pronged conversation that came at me from both sides.

Luckily, the post office had given me four years’ experience in faking smiles and interest in ponies’ lives. Still, it was annoying how I couldn’t even use magic to help me drink my bright fruit smoothie thing—which was pretty tasty, all things considered—without it becoming a spectacle of “Oh! Can you do this randomly stupid thing?”

Kids. Ugh. Maybe in a decade. Maybe. I had no idea how Comet put up with them. Then again, she’d gotten knocked up at age seventeen, so she probably didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“You okay over there, Max? You’re kind of quiet.” Comet smiled at me, almost like she could sympathize with my situation.

I flashed a grin at her. “Yeah, I... didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.” It was a lie; almost every day this week, I’d actually gotten good sleep without any company. That really shouldn’t have come as such good news as it did, but after a ton of guards had just died in a street war in Farrington, I’d take good news where I could get it.

Comet nodded back at me, and I saw her raise her eyebrows in understanding. Like, “I understand you’re an alcoholic shut-in.” Which, I wanted to scoff at her judgment, but I wouldn’t—not in front of her kids.

Seriously, though, just because I didn’t want to go out shopping or to zoos and parks and shit with her and her little brats didn’t mean I was staying in my room and drinking all day. Granted, I’d done that for all of last weekend, but once I’d come to grips with the whole “Iron’s a giant idiot when it comes to showing how he loves ponies” thing, I started to find ways to enjoy myself around Hoofington.

Monday morning, I’d gone shopping. I’d started with the necessities—better shampoos than the stuff in my hotel room. One thing had led to another, and I’d ended up spending the whole day outside, exploring the city.

Unlike when Iron took me to new places and restaurants, I actually liked it. Hoofington was a much brighter, more-open place than Farrington. There were also a lot more unicorns around; usually, I didn’t get weird looks whenever I used magic to do stuff.

Even better, the city was quiet. I’d gotten up at dawn a few times, and the first time, I had to question what seemed weird about the morning air. When I realized it was the absence of distant, industrial-sized bellows pounding in the background, I couldn’t help but smile.

All of it made me start asking some very important questions.

At the café lunch table, our waiter came by with both of our bills. Comet had offered to pay when she first asked me to lunch, but it’d be wrong for me to accept—Iron had given me money twice in the last week, and I didn’t really know Comet. It was kind of her, but really, it’d just end up being weird.

After our meals were paid for, she smiled and asked, “So, what do you have going on for the rest of the day, Max?”

Her question sounded bright and pleasant enough, and she was probably being nice, but I knew better than to hide behind a lie. If I said that I wasn’t doing much, then I’d get roped into hanging around kids for another few hours. So I told the truth: “I’ve got a letter I’ve got to write, then I’m going to go shopping again.”

She chuckled and nodded. “Well, take care, then...” After a moment, she stood up and ordered, “Hailey! Moonshine! We’ve got shopping of our own to do before we go to the park.”

We all said a bouncing round of goodbyes, and Comet left with her kids. That meant that, finally, it was time for what I’d wanted to do since this morning—to write a letter.

I pushed away my empty smoothie glass, dried off the water ring it left behind, and then opened up my saddlebags. I’d brought ink, quills, and paper. I arranged my writing supplies in front of me to write my letter outside the post office, like a civilized pony. I’d thought hard about what I wanted to say for a while—or at least, for the past two days.

Over the last few years, I’d thought I’d noticed a growing rift between my brother and me. That’d been poisonous selfishness when really, I’d just been envious of the past when he’d been forced to spend every moment of his free time with me at home. He’d cooked, cleaned, helped me with my homework, and he always tried to put my mind at ease about everything. Until I graduated from school, he’d been more of a dad to me than a brother.

Once I could take care of myself, once I did have a job, I shouldn’t have expected things to stay the same. When Iron did start trying to split the chores between us, I should’ve seen it for what it was: He hadn’t been trying to flaunt his new lieutenant’s armor; he just needed a well-earned break.

So really, there hadn’t been anything worse between us, other than what I’d put there. Throw in some questionable life decisions and a few years’ worth of lies, and our rift had really just become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Now that I could look past it, though, I knew we were going to be okay. I loved him, and he felt the same way back. That’d stay the same no matter what happened or where I went with my life.

Even if I took a leap of faith.

The cream-colored paper in front of me seemed transcendental, like for a moment, I was staring into the blank potential my future. I smiled as I magicked up a quill and dipped it in ink; really, that was exactly what this letter was.

I wrote:

Dear Iron,

I haven’t read much of the news, but even then, I’m sure I wouldn’t know what’s actually going on in Farrington. So, I hope you’re doing well, and again—I know you were just doing what’s right for me. I was kind of pissed at first, but I got over that.

Anyway, I really like it here in Hoofington. Like, a lot.

I took a deep breath. Even if it was just a letter, it was still a pretty huge thing to write about.

I think I’m going to stay here. Maybe even for a long time. I’m not sure yet.

I’ve checked my bank account, and I’ve got enough to last me for a while. I mean, you always told me to save up for something, right? But no, I’m going to try to do this whole independence thing the right way: get a place to live, get a job, and... well, I’ll see where that all takes me.

And speaking of a job, I actually might have come across something with the Hoofington Guard. I asked about it on Thursday; they’ve got an opening for a mail clerk.

But, they want a letter of recommendation from my former employer. Since I’m not sure where I stand with Mr. McFeely—did you even tell him I’d left?—I was wondering if you might put in a good word for me. I know I did... stuff... in Stalliongrad, but that’s not really going to be a problem, since I don’t have to travel for this job.

And, I like it in Hoofington.

So, I want to wrap things up with a few final things. One, this isn’t because I’m mad, or anything you’ve done. Ever. You did everything for me, even if I was an ungrateful little brat about it. But now, I feel, well, I dunno, it’s hard to explain. It’s kind of like that I always felt so cramped in Farrington. I’m not going to blame the city for everything, either, but I got into a lot of bad habits living there.

But here in Hoofington, I’m... I’m kind of like you, really. Exploring, shopping, meeting ponies.

Like I said, I like it here. And you’ve got a girlfriend now—

I magicked the ink off the page. All I’d known is that his girlfriend been sent to the hospital, unconscious, and I didn’t know anything else. His letter on Wednesday didn’t seem distraught, but I still used a much safer phrasing just in case:

And you’ve shown, in the past few months, that you’re ready to start dating and maybe settle down with someone. I’m not saying you’re going to be married and living together with anyone next week, but... well, you know. I think I’ve reached that point where it’s time for me to strike out on my own anyway; we were never going to be two married couples under one roof, so this had to happen sometime, right?

The most important thing I want to say is, this isn’t really “goodbye.” I mean, you’re four hours away, and I’ll send you my new address once I get things sorted out. Once things settle down on both our ends, maybe you can even come visit?

Until then, I’m being careful, and I’m being smart. I’ve really thought this through, and I know it’s happening quick, but it just feels right, you know? Like, in my heart?

In the end, you’ll always be my big brother. Even if we’re in different cities, I’m not going to fall out of touch. I promise. And I love you.

Your sister,
Maxie

I smiled as I reread the whole thing. I wasn’t a hundred percent certain about this move—I really couldn’t be—but I had a safety net, and I wanted things to work out for me. Farrington had too many bad memories for me—too much death, too much sorrow, and too many bad habits.

Hoofington wasn’t going to cure me overnight, but I could definitely use a change of pace. Without Iron hoof-feeding me everything, I’d have to work to provide for myself—once my savings ran out, which wouldn’t be until around May, so I had a bit of a buffer. Even if I didn’t have a small fortune in my bank account, I was more than okay with finding a new job in Hoofington.

Once the ink dried on the top sheet of paper, I folded it up and wrote Iron’s address on the outside. A letter probably wasn’t the best way to break the news, but I didn’t want to risk heading into Farrington to tell him face-to-face. For all I knew, he was embroiled in a war right now; he could read a letter when he had the time to.

For now, I was hopeful about the future. I also knew that, once things cooled down for him, Iron would feel the same way.


Tuesday morning, I arrived at City Hall in a hopeful mood for my competency hearing as Captain of the Guard. Or rather, due to the nature of the hearing—one that evaluated my position within the guard, and whether or not I was worthy of that role—I had my competency hearing to see if I would remain Captain of the Farrington Guard. Still, I had ten years of good service to the Guard; I trusted it would count for something.

However, the longer that Farrington’s city councilors discussed my actions over the past few months, the more my uncertainty grew. My allies on the council at least kept things from becoming too personal—which meant my relationship with Gilda was mostly left out of things.

Even with that small favor, by the end of the hearing, the most pleasant thing I could say about it was that it was over quickly. When it convened, I accepted the councilors’ ruling with the dignity and stature befitting my position.

It was my last action as captain.

Starfall had accompanied me to City Hall, but he applied some very-much-appreciated wisdom in not accompanying me as I left. His name had been mentioned far too many times in the last half hour, and while I couldn’t blame him for everything that happened, I was glad that he understood how I wanted nothing to do with anyone for the time being.

Outside City Hall, I walked the dead, empty streets of the Business District. Every step was hollow—the gilded boots I wore felt heavy, as they were no longer mine. As the hearing’s verdict stated, “Effective immediately, you are stripped of your role and rank, and pending further review by the next council-appointed Captain of the Guard, you are hereby discharged from the Farrington Guard.”

I had been appropriated one hour to collect my personal effects from my office in the Citadel. As I walked towards it, for what could very well have been the last time, I took a quick mental inventory of what that was. Fortunately, I had a set of saddlebags there; this day was already shaping up to be awful without any minor inconveniences.

At the Citadel, Memo greeted me with her usual chipper manner, and I feigned a warm smile for her. I wasn’t looking forward to the next part, where I needed to pass through the Sergeant’s Quarters in order to reach my office in the Citadel. During my three years of service as captain, I must have walked through those six desks over a thousand times—once when I got to the Citadel, and once my in-house paperwork was done, once on my way out to the southern gate station.

I had endured some hard days as captain, but easily, today was the hardest. Three sergeants saluted me, which I returned out of politeness—I was wearing the armor still, and it was easier to let them get on with their duties than to explain the situation. Still, every step I took was a battle to keep my face straight; every metallic hooffall was a resonation of failure.

By some cosmic fortune, I made it to my office without losing my dignity. Even in there, amongst the polished mahogany shelves and tables, I fought to stay resolute.

The difficulty caused my forelimbs to wobble, but I persevered. I had a task to perform, after all. It wouldn’t wait due to how, for ten years, all I had ever known was being a guard. Even before I had enlisted, growing up under my father’s example, it had always been everything that I’d wanted.

Yet it was all taken from me in one afternoon.

The eleven days after Sherry’s gang war had been a fight to restore order to Farrington, but the Guard had finally seemed to be gaining the upper hoof. I knew there were more factors to consider—mainly, my apparent lack of judgment in hiring and promoting guards—but the timing of it all still seemed unduly harsh. It was as if my efforts and sacrifices were all being spat upon.

I shamed myself out of the idle musing. I had one task to perform, and it was a simple one. There wasn’t an armor stand in my office—the office, I corrected myself—so I had to make do by clearing off the desktop and using the cushion. It would keep the gold plating from accruing any scratches, at least.

Once I was bereft of my armor, I got my saddlebags down from their rack and began packing my personal belongings. Fortunately, I had never really picked up a habit of collecting trinkets; after the first five minutes, I had to carefully scan the room to find the items that weren’t there when I inherited the room from Captain Reigner.

A knock at the door shook me from my absent-minded plundering. For a moment, I debated not responding to it; I had been given one hour, and it hadn’t even been thirty minutes since the verdict had fallen.

In the end, I decided there was a proper way to handle my situation, so I opened the door. On the other side of it stood Lieutenant Horatio. Or rather, he was just Horatio; currently, he wasn’t wearing his—

Suddenly, I realized what was happening. I fought down the anger of bitter pride as I stepped aside to let him enter the office—or now, it was his office. Horatio walked to the front side of his desk, removed his typical sunglasses, and turned to face me eye-to-eye.

After hearing his not-so-silent criticisms of my promotions above him for the last four years, I didn’t want to endure his victory speech. I simply stated a fact: “I will be out of here shortly.” I left out the bitter admission of, “You win.”

He shook his head. “I hope not. I had some things I wanted to discuss before you left.”

I pursed my lips before asking, “Which things?”

“For starters, some clarification of the things you no doubt heard me say about you during your tenure as captain.”

Fifteen seconds, I vowed. That was how long I would give him to gloat before I left his office, and damn anything I left behind.

Horatio picked up the golden helmet from his desk with one hoof and looked at his reflection in the gold. “I never said you were a bad captain, or anything close to incompetent. Just that you were better off as a sergeant.”

“Duly noted.” Inside, I kept counting: Seven... Eight...

He put the helmet down and turned to me. “You like the city, and you like making friends. But can you honestly say those ended up helping run a smooth Guard?”

“In the end, probably not.” I’d reached fifteen seconds, so I added, “But I wish you the best of luck in running things.”

I made a move towards the door, but Horatio turned to box me in. “You made a mistake, Iron. Or rather, you let your heart lead your brain, which...” He shrugged. “Honestly, you probably succeeded in ripping the roots of organized crime straight out of this city. You don’t deserve what the newspapers are going to do to your legacy.”

Even though I was effectively trapped in the conversation, I still offered a quiet, “Thank you—”

“Internally, I’m going to write this incident up as cleanly as I can for you.”

I nodded. “Again, thank you—”

“Because one day, you will be ready to step up to the rank of lieutenant. You’ll have your friends and colleagues within the Guard, but you’ll learn the proper boundaries for everything—and more importantly, so will they. When that day comes, ponies will remember the Iron Bulwark who willingly stepped down after taking out the Hooves Syndicate, not the Iron Bulwark who got sacked for promoting a ticking time bomb of mental health issues to lieutenant. I will make sure of that.”

I blinked as I tried to process all of what he’d just said. He was preserving my legacy, but... “Why?”

Horatio’s eyebrow arched. “Are... Iron, we’re in the middle of the worst deficit the Guard’s seen since this city was founded. ‘Discharged pending review’ doesn’t mean ‘go fly a kite.’ It means it’s my call, and I already told you: You’re one of the best sergeants I’ve ever seen. I can’t force you to stay...” He stepped back, giving me clear access to his office’s door. “But I certainly want to offer you the rank and role that I think you’re suited for.”

Relief flooded over me with such a heavy surge that my knees felt weak. Seconds after it came a feeling of immense foolishness at having the obvious pointed out, but I set that aside. Sergeant was better than nothing, absolutely—it was my father’s rank, after all, and... admittedly, it would carry a lot less stress from responsibilities.

I bowed my head in thanks, but curiosity drove me to ask, “What about the other ‘questionable hiring decisions’ the council mentioned?”

He chuckled. “Are you asking if I’m going to discharge the two officers whose names are plastered all over the arrests of the Hooves’ Syndicate? I’ve only been captain for fifteen minutes; it’s a little early to commit political suicide.”

“Right...” I shook my head. “This morning wasn’t the best way to cap off the past week.”

“I understand.” Horatio took a few steps back so he was standing alongside his desk, facing me. “Go home, rest up. I’ll expect you here first thing on Monday morning, Iron...” He picked his sunglasses up off the desk and put them on. “So don’t get rusty.”

I resisted the urge to groan, as that would probably have put a slight damper on his kindness towards me. All I said was, “Thank you, sir,” and after that, I exited his office.

* * *

My mind raced for the entire walk to my home. Today already, I had been discharged, reinstated, effectively demoted, and I probably had to hunt down Starfall before his guilt led him to any more terrible decisions.

It wasn’t even noon.

I would have had thought that the day had carried enough surprises, but apparently, my sister had discovered a way to vex my mind from over a hundred miles away. Or rather, after reading her letter, I blinked, read it a second time, and blinked a few more times before the third time.

She wants to live in Hoofington?

It made sense, based on what she wrote in her letter. And I had effectively gotten her fired from her job at the post office—something that was my fault, which I had already explained to her superior. So if she liked Hoofington better, and she no longer had non-family ties to Farrington...

It made sense. But I hadn’t expected it at all.

I consoled myself by cooking lunch, washing the dishes, and going back to my couch to read Maxie’s letter a fourth time. This time, her words filled me with an acute sense of loss. Despite her words to the contrary, she was moving away—or going to try out independent living, at any rate—and that was going to leave me alone.

We’d lived together since our parents brought her home one day, and I had always tried to be there for her. I had failed in raising her on my own, but even then, those years of failure had been us, together. I told myself that I respected her decision, and logically, I had no other choice, but one fact remained: I was going to miss her.

By the time two o’clock had come and left, I had sat on my couch for a few hours. I’d spent the time reminiscing about Maxie and me, all the days we’d spent together in the past, and how it had always been us against the world.

A knock on my front door snapped me out of my nostalgia. I walked over to the door and wondered if the news was going to be terrible or simply awful. After a dark chuckle, I steeled my nerves for whatever it could be; pessimism only worked as a precautionary tool if one took it seriously.

I opened the door, and Gilda was standing on my doormat.

We stood there, staring at each other for a few moments, and I wracked my brain to remember if we’d ever actually been to my home together. She had bandages wrapped around her left wing, which didn’t make sense if I were hallucinating, but then again, if my subconscious knew that...

“Uh... hi?”

Her question brought me back down to earth. “Hello,” I bowed my head. “Did... How did you know where I lived?”

Gilda scoffed and turned around to leave.

No... I told myself. I’d had enough troubles today with adding a fight with Gilda into the mix. Throwing caution into the wind, I grabbed her wrist and apologized. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that...”

She turned back to me with sad, hurt eyes. “What’s Starfall talking about? Why don’t you want to see me?”

I shook my head. “I have no idea. I...” My mind drew a blank. “I... Gilda... no idea.”

Her eyebrow raised, and she asked, “Is... everything okay?”

I shook my head again, and she stepped forward with an open arm, readying for a hug. I pulled her into me with perhaps too much force; she made a sudden gurgle noise as I buried my face in her neck’s softness.

After the initial shock wore off, she returned the hug by rubbing me between my shoulders. We stood like that, in my doorway, for what felt like a very long instant—it was enough time for me to feel better about my situation, but when she pulled away, it still felt over too quickly.

When we broke apart, I motioned to my couch. “But... come in, have a seat.”

She stepped deeper into my living room and looked around at everything. Her gaze came to rest on my empty armor stand, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she walked over to my couch.

Before I joined her, I asked, “Would you like anything to drink?”

“No.”

With that settled, I walked over to my couch with her, and sat on the left side, away from her. It was a two-cushioned model, so there wasn’t much space, but after smothering her, I wanted to give her space if she wanted it.

She looked down at the space between us, then up to me. I shrugged, apologetically, and placed my arm on the back of the sofa. Gilda responded by shifting closer into me, and then wrapping my hoof around her.

“Now...” she said. “What’s going on?”

“First, what and when did you hear from Starfall?”

Gilda turned her head to look up at me, which tickled my shoulder. “I got discharged from the hospital today. I didn’t know where you or anyone was, and since I knew where his house is, I tried there first. He was home, just said ‘I probably want to give you some space for now.’” I felt her take a deep breath. “I mean, you didn’t visit me all weekend, then I go and hear that from him...”

I kissed the top of her head. “I’m sorry for that. After he took you to the funeral, the nurses on the floor started to give me more of a hassle about visiting hours, which fell during my usual shift...” I sighed. “Even on my usual day off, I was at a funeral with Starfall; after that, I kept working.”

“You could’ve sent a message...”

“I should have sent a message,” I agreed. “I’m sorry. I’m... apparently inexperienced at balancing my personal life and Guard duties.” I gestured my left hoof, over to my empty armor stand. “I suppose that part of my life has been made easier now.”

Gilda pulled away from me to stare at me, incredulous. “You... what?”

I shrugged. “I’ve been effectively demoted to sergeant, starting next week.”

Her eyes darted over to the armor stand, then to the wall behind us, and then they focused back on me. She pointed a finger at herself. “Because of me?”

“No!” I flared my eyes and shook my head. “If anything, because of Sherry, which they said was a symptom of my ‘over-fraternization,’ but really, they were just slathering on accusations of incompetence to see what stuck...” I shook my head. “Starfall came up in those accusations, because of his history with you, but that’s the extent of any official blame they had for you.”

“Oh...” Her head dropped down. After a moment, she leaned back onto me and said, “That sucks.”

“Indeed.” I slid my hoof back around her, and rubbed it up and down her side. When I did, I found the ridge where her brown feathers were replaced with fur, and I kept my arm there.

She gave me an inquisitive look, but shrugged before putting her hand on top of my hoof. “So, I take it you’ve had a rough morning?”

I laughed. “Oh, that’s not even all of it.” From my squat-like sitting position on the sofa, it was slightly difficult, but I kicked out one of my back hooves to nudge the coffee table, on which sat Maxie’s letter. “When I got home from it, I found out that my sister’s moving to Hoofington.” I shook my head as I pulled my leg back in. “So... just... a lot of changes, I guess. And that’s when you got here, which I... can’t say I was expecting...” I patted her ridge. “But I can’t say I mind, either.”

She craned her neck up vertically, and I craned my neck over her to come down on her beak in a kiss. After it was done, my tongue tingled, but I could still feel it enough to articulate, “How have you been?”

Gilda nestled into my shoulder a little more before she admitted, “Kinda rough, too.” I held her tighter as she continued, “Like... I dunno. The funeral helped, a little, but... I still feel crappy about everyone who died because of me.”

As much as I wanted to remind her that it wasn’t her fault, I thought it’d be best to hear her talk things out. I compromised by hugging her a little—

“Too tight,” she complained.

I loosened my grip.

“There. And I know, it wasn’t me—it was like, Sherry and Red Hooves going at it, and all of us got caught in the crossfire. But... still, I was there, and if Starfall hadn’t been there to save me at the end...” She shook her head as she tapered off into silence.

I took a deep breath. “If you’re having trouble coping, the Guard does offer counseling services.”

The back of her throat rumbled in a low sigh. “Are you saying I need a therapist?”

“I’m simply stating an option that not many officers are aware of.” I kept my tone neutral and soft.

“How many officers are doing that after what happened?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, since it’s mostly done on a sergeant-level basis, I didn’t see any of that paperwork over the past eleven days. But I guarantee you, there are some.”

She flipped her head up, and from above her, it looked like she were upside down. “What about you?”

I nodded. “I saw a counselor after the first time I had to subdue a criminal.” Thinking back to Starfall’s plight, I clarified, “As in, with the truncheon, not... killing him. At first, it seemed so strange, and vivid...” I grinned, sadly, because the nine-year-old memory was now distant and foggy. “But the sessions helped.”

Gilda shook her head. “No, I mean... from this. Demoted. De... sistered. Plus, all the stuff that happened. Are you going to see one now?”

I looked down at her and smiled. “If I see a counselor, will you?”

She nodded.

“Well...” I returned her nod. “Okay. I’ll get that set up for both of us.”


True to his word, Iron took care of everything to arrange a meeting with some shrink. He got one for himself, too, with back-to-back scheduling. So we got to go together, except we weren’t going to be together, like in the same room.

Our first appointments were on Thursday morning, which was weird, since technically, Sergeant Iron and I both had day shift patrols. He’d told me not to blame myself, but I still couldn’t help but feel bad that I indirectly lost him his job.

So, that morning, after I woke up in my inn room—my wing was still busted, so I was stuck in Farrington—I met Iron at a diner for breakfast, and the two of us went to go get our heads examined.

He went first, which left me alone in the waiting room for an hour as I... well, waited. The white walls made everything sound dimmer, somehow, and the magazines on the table in front of my cushion confused me until I realized that “December” meant eight months ago—not four months in the future. Between the conflicting messages I got from “Fifty Great Cake Ideas” and “Lose Twenty Pounds the Right Way,” I decided that the plastic tree in the corner of the room was less of a phony thing to stare at for fifty minutes.

When Iron was done, it was my turn to go in and talk to Doctor Sunshine, as the bright orange earth pony introduced himself. The room he led me to was a lot more comfortable than the waiting room had been; it was dim, and there were pictures and shelves full of toys—almost like the room was suited for living in.

There was a big couch on one wall, but I went for one of the big, pouffy beanbags—the kids at the hospital had a few for their play area, but this was the first time I’d seen one that was adult-sized. It was about as fun as I thought it’d be—not all that much—but Doctor Sunshine came over and joined me on his other beanbag.

“So, Miss Gilda, do you know what this is?”

I shrugged. “Not really. But... it’s just Gilda.”

He nodded, “Well, Gilda, since this is our first time meeting, I’d like to get to know you. But first, I’d like to tell you that anything you say here, I’m legally obligated to keep between us. Furthermore, since you’re choosing to see me, this is as much your time as you want it to be. If we get to a topic that makes you uncomfortable or distressed, let me know, and we can talk about something else.”

I looked around the room. “So... wait, aren’t you supposed to help me? How’s that work if I can just say ‘no?’”

Doctor Sunshine smiled, then folded a hind leg to rest its on top of his other knee. He then used that to support a little notepad, and he pulled out a thick-handled pencil. “You’d be surprised how easy it is to point to some problem areas of individuals’ lives that they don’t even know they’re hiding.”

I chuckled. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like trust issues with strangers who have nothing to gain from hurting you.”

I opened my beak, closed it, and looked at the door we’d entered the room through. I turned back to my shrink. “That one’s easy. You just spent the last hour talking to Iron.”

He smiled weakly. “I can’t discuss any of my clients with you.”

“We’re dating...” I rolled my eyes. “I mean, what, didn’t he tell you that?”

My question fell on blank, dead eyes. “If you were dating another one of my clients, would you want him to tell me about you?”

“Well, yeah...” I nodded. “I mean, you’re the guy to talk to about important parts of your life, right?”

“Are you worried that your boyfriend doesn’t find you important?”

“No.” I felt happy at how easily and quickly the word came out. “But I mean, he...” I shrugged. The guy said he didn’t give out secrets, so I said, “The other day? He, like, grabbed me.” I held up a dismissive hand. “Not, like... in a bad way, or anything. But it was... like he wanted to, you know?”

“You liked that he was assertive?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, which surprised me a little. A shrink was at least good for keeping thoughts straight. “So, you know, I don’t want to have to hold up for bad stuff to happen before he does stuff like that.”

“So you want him to be more physically assertive?”

That time, the conflicting yes and no came out of my mouth in something that kind of sounded like “Yellow.” I thought about it: I liked being hugged, held, and kissed by him, but did I want more? “Maybe,” I admitted.

“But you’re afraid to tell him that.”

“I mean... it’s kind of weird to talk about, isn’t it?”

“Why?” Doctor Sunshine shrugged a little. “I mean, you’re both dating, and the last I heard, sex is part of romance, right?”

I flushed a little at the word. “Maybe. I don’t know. I never... there isn’t really an instruction manual for romance, is there?”

He chuckled lightly. “If there were, I’d probably need to find a new job. I wouldn’t mind, however.” After a few moments, he asked, “Did your parents ever talk to you about romance?”

“Ha!” I burst out before I could catch myself. He raised a curious eyebrow, so I explained, “My father caught my older sister spending some alone time with one of the, like, two males in our tribe.” I pointed two fingers at my shrink. “Like, talking.” I pointed at the floor between us. “About this distance, too. Father choke-slammed her into a wall so hard, it took her a week before she could tell me what happened.”

To Doctor Sunshine’s credit, he didn’t really cringe or shrink away from that story. All he said was, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

I shook my head. “No, that was Gretchen. But that was all I needed to learn that lesson.”

As soon as I said the words, my mouth fell open. Had he done that, to her, just for me?

My shrink cleared his throat. “That... that’s what I meant.”

We spent the next half hour talking about my past, and, with ten minutes left in the session, I rushed in some stuff about the Friday attacks—my whole reason for starting counseling in the first place.

When I mentioned Sunset’s death, and how I couldn’t stop thinking about how it was my fault, he asked an interesting train of questions:

“What if it were your fault? What would you do to atone for that?”

“I...” I blinked. “I’d probably apologize to her family. But I already know they’d just say it’s not my fault, or they’d be wrong...” I shrugged. “I’d still feel bad, I guess.”

Doctor Sunshine nodded. “It’s okay to feel bad, Gilda. But it’s important to express those feelings—and all your feelings—in a constructive manner. If you keep them bottled up, they end up consuming you, and that is something that worries me.” He glanced at the clock. “Our time’s almost up today, so until next time, I want you to do two things: First, I want you to find a hobby, a creative outlet for your grief. It could be painting, poetry... anything that lets you express yourself.”

“Express myself. Got it.”

He stood up out of his beanbag and offered me a hoof. I took it, and pulled myself up to a standing position before he finished, “And secondly, don’t worry so much about what the important individuals in your life expect from you. If they care about you, they’ll accept you for who you are, and you can be honest with them.”

I nodded. “Honesty. That one’s... not so easy,” I admitted. “But I’ll try.”

After that, the two of us headed back out to the waiting room, where Iron was still sitting. I thanked Doctor Sunshine one last time before Iron and I left the building together.

“So, how was it?” he asked once we got outside.

“Good...” I admitted. “I mean, he kept things organized. What about you?”

“Also good. Would you like to talk about it over lunch?”

“Sure...” I nodded. “Where at?”

Iron chuckled. “This afternoon, I believe I’m in the mood for baking...”

That one sentence started off what ended up being an entire afternoon of cake-making. Or really, it was the beginning of an afternoon that I spent helping Iron bake a cake; I didn’t know enough about kitchens and bowls to do anything unsupervised. Even the stuff I thought wasn’t logical—like why we were putting apple mush in a chocolate food—had simple answers. Iron did a good job of explaining everything without making me feel completely dumb, but I still knew I was out of my element.

In the end, we had a lunch of slightly dry but definitely egg-free cake. True to his word, Iron and I spent the meal talking about our counseling. I mentioned what the counselor had said about expressing myself creatively; Iron told me about how he needed to open up more.

Which, that wasn’t really news to me, but I didn’t say anything. From what I’d learned earlier, I needed to do that, too; ironically, I didn’t want to bring that up. We’d had a good afternoon together, which I could appreciate after being cooped up in a hospital for a week.

I could live with taking things slow and steady for now.

* * *

When I met Iron for breakfast on Friday morning, he said he was going to try to give me a surprise on Saturday. When I glared at the irony of that statement, he explained, “I thought you’d like a heads up first.”

“Is it snakes?” I remembered the last time someone had tried to give me a surprise.

He blanched. “What? No...” After looking off to the side for a moment, he turned back to me. “Do you want snakes?”

“No.”

“Okay then...” He seemed relieved.

I spent most of the rest of Friday alone, since Iron had to run some errands. It was a good thing, too; my wing had finally healed to the point where I felt it was safe to fly on if I took it easy. I hadn’t been outside of Farrington for almost two weeks at that point, so I was worried that my cave might’ve been taken over or something.

After a slow, steady flight south, I was relieved to find my cave wasn’t occupied. At the same time, I felt overwhelmed at how empty it seemed.

* * *

On Saturday, I met up with Iron at what had become our usual breakfast diner. He was wearing saddlebags, which was strange enough; even stranger was how he said they were for a day of shopping in the Market District. I chuckled. For three months’ worth of patrols, I’d been there almost every week, and I’d even bought some stuff there before.

However, once we got started on our trip through the district, Iron led me around and showed me the highlights. His commentaries about all the buildings’ histories and owners made it feel less like shopping and more like a guided tour.

We had to walk slowly, since I didn’t have my gauntlets; even better, the talons on my right hand were now long enough that they risked getting caught in the cracks of the cobblestone roads. Iron didn’t mind, and when I thought about it, neither did I. A slow, peaceful walk through the Market District with my boyfriend sounded like a great way to spend the day—even though it was a fairly weak surprise.

I liked Mystic Spiral’s Magic Artifact Emporium—though I felt their name needed a little work. At any rate, it felt weird to like that place. Magic, unless our songs counted, was completely alien to griffins. In our legends, it carried a negative stigma, too, and I don’t think that our fairly recent history with Celestia helped matters any.

That was my tribe, though—not me. On my own, I had to admit that the inside of the store was pretty cool. Everything on their shelves and tables either hummed, glowed, or floated—sometimes at the same time. I spent a long time watching a many-faceted gem that spun slowly in midair and turned different colors—every color—in a slow, fluid way that made it hard to tell when one color ended and the next one began. I thought about getting it, but I decided against it—where would would I even put it?

After the magic shop, Iron and I headed back into the streets. We passed a pet store, and I frowned at the cages with birds in them. It seemed wrong, even if they didn’t seem miserable, to just keep them from flying free. I slowed down to look at everything else there; other than imprisoned birds, there were also kittens, puppies, and tons of various other animal companions for sale.

I turned to Iron, who was staring at me wide-eyed with his mouth turned down. After his face didn’t change for a few moments, I asked, “What?”

He simply protested, “But... those are... pets...”

I felt annoyed at first, but then I realized that it had been a long time since breakfast. Instead of dwelling on his horror, I ran with it: “Yeah... think they’d give me a menu?”

Iron shook his head, chuckling weakly, but he put a hoof on my back and gave me a slight push to get me walking again. “Come on... this is making me hungry; you can tell me how disturbing that is over lunch.”

After lunch, we continued our shopping trip where neither of us bought anything. I thought about getting some stuff for “creative expression,” but I still had writing supplies at my cave, so I thought I’d try giving that a whirl before I went crazy buying paint or clay or whatever.

We passed a hoofwear store—lots of horseshoes, boots, and other things ponies put on their hooves—and I thought about seeing what they could do for me. My armor’s gauntlets were good for walking when I was on patrol, but they were about two pounds each and made of heavy-sounding metal. They worked when I was patrolling, but if I wasn’t in my armor, I’d want something lighter and less armor-y.

I decided against it, for the time being. I’d have to have any walking gloves custom-made, and if that were the case, I wanted to first try that farrier and his apprentice. They’d done good by me in the past—and my new armor was ready in the Citadel’s armory for my shift on Monday—so I’d at least trust their referral for where to get something made.

Iron took me to what he explained was one of his favorite shops—Page Turner’s. It was a secondhand bookstore, named after its owner. Page Turner herself was a pale orange unicorn, about Iron’s age, and her circular cutie mark looked like it was made of two halves that were consuming one another. She kept smiling at Iron and me, but twice, I caught her giving us a weird look before the smile flashed back.

I brought it up to Iron after we left the store. With a sad nod, he explained, “That’s probably my fault, actually.” I waited, and he continued, “We dated a few years ago, so she probably feels...”

“Replaced by a griffin?”

“Ye—” He saw my glare and changed course: “I mean, we’ve been dating for a while, both before and after ‘July,’ but you can’t deny that we’re not a typical Farrington couple.” He shrugged. “Ponies will get used to it in time, or they won’t. For now, the only thing is to rise above it.”

I turned back to the store we’d just left and muttered, “Yeah, or we could just go back and make out on her countertop.”

When I turned back to Iron and found him stopped dead in his tracks, the look on his face was priceless. He coughed a few times before his eyes shrank back down to normal size, but that didn’t help the fact that he was blushing. Finally, he shook his head. “You are... rough on members of the service industry when left to your own devices, aren’t you?”

I thought back to my encounter with his sister back in May. “It gets old, getting treated differently all the time.”

Iron walked closer to me, and after patting me on the back, he kept his arm around me while we walked. I smiled up at him, and together, we continued meandering through the Market District for the rest of the afternoon.

* * *

“I’m just about ready to open my eyes and see where we’re going...”

“Gilda, please, it’s just a few more blocks, I promise.”

“You and your surprise...” I shook my head, but I kept my eyes closed. Apparently, shopping together wasn’t the surprise Iron had in mind; the actual surprise involved him leading me blindly through the less-crowded streets of Farrington. Based on where we started, the relative direction we’d traveled, and the sounds of heavy industry, I guessed we were in the southern part of the Artisan District by now.

Given the past two weeks, I had my doubts about my safety, but I set them aside. Iron wouldn’t take me anywhere dangerous.

Finally, he slowed to a stop and, with one final turn, I heard a door open. Noise—screaming machinery and pounding pistons—flowed out of it like a dam, but Iron led me forward into the chaos. As I walked, it got hotter, louder, and I even started to notice the stench of molten metal.

I was about to ask him just where the hell we were when he shouted over the noise. “You can open your eyes!”

I obeyed, and everything was pink. Not painted pink, but the lights did something funny to my eyes. I knew that my chest’s feathers hadn’t gotten dyed recently, and Iron wasn’t a faint shade of purple. The trick lights, combined with the huge machines that groaned and shrieked as they transported massive vats of melted metal brought me to one conclusion:

“A... a factory? This is literally the worst place you’ve ever taken me!”

“Technically, it’s an ore refinery, but I think it’s classy!” he shouted back with a huge grin.

My mouth fell open when I realized he was serious. “Classy? How?”

“Where else are you going to get refined iron?”

I stared back at him, and for a moment, I would’ve been too impressed to get mad if he’d spent two days building up a phony surprise just to make that pun. That moment passed, and Iron looked like he were chuckling—I couldn’t hear over the sea of noise we were in.

He motioned for me to join him, and still in utter disbelief, I followed him onto a gated platform. Seeing a sign that gave a maximum occupancy of four ponies or a thousand pounds raised the question: “Where is everyone?”

Iron pushed a button, and our whole platform lurched upwards, which somehow created a new source of noise. He shouted over it, “The refinery process is mostly automated once everything gets started, so someone only has to check on it every hour to make sure the line hasn’t stopped. Since I’m friends with this refinery’s forepony, she’s agreed to let me take over her line-watching duties for the evening. Unless something breaks down, we should have the whole place to ourselves!”

I let my mouth hang open before replying, “We... we could be alone at your house, too!”

Iron simply shook his head and held up a hoof. “Just wait and see!”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “Only for you, Iron.”

The elevator stopped and we walked out onto a narrow metal bridge. The two of us could fit side-by-side between the railings, but it was clearly designed for utility, not comfort. A quick glance showed that the bridge formed a huge rectangle all around top of the refinery. Iron led me towards a three-way intersection, and I took small comfort in the fact that at least the bridge was relatively smooth metal that was good for walking on.

When we got to the intersection, Iron said, “Wait here, I’ll be right back!” He then turned and took the path that branched away from the main bridge, over to what looked like an office. Since I was alone in the worst place I’d ever been to, I was about to complain that things couldn’t get much worse.

Then, all the lights went out.

I wasn’t thrust into complete darkness; the stupid molten metal illuminated everything in fiery shadows, so I could see the stupidly-grinning Iron as he sauntered back over to me on three hooves.

When he got over to me, I could see that he was holding a little box made of polished stone in his left hoof. It had a hinge on one side, which lined up with the seam that ran across the other three sides.

Iron sat down on the bridge, then patted the floor next to him with his free hoof. At that point, I was more curious about his box than I was annoyed at our location, so I sat down and looked at it.

With his other hoof, Iron opened the box, and I went deaf.

Seconds later, a tinny ringing in my ears told me that I could probably still hear; as the ringing faded, heard a few quiet notes of music as well. It dawned on me that Iron’s box was the source of both the silence and the music.

He smiled warmly at me and explained, “Magic. Even if there is something of a stigma against it in this city, it can be beautiful nonetheless.” He gestured out in front of him, towards the main floor of the refinery.

With all the lights out, the only hints of the machinery below were the parts that were illuminated by the bright yellow glow of molten metal. Since the vats were still carrying and pouring it at various points throughout the refinement process, everything shimmered and flowed, almost like a giant, two-story bonfire.

I turned to Iron, impressed, and apologized, “Okay, this isn’t bad.”

He grinned. “Not the worst place?”

I looked back out and waved at the fire. “This is different than when the lights are on and there isn’t a little...” I turned to look at Iron’s box; inside it, a tiny carved pony danced around on one hoof. “Whatever that is.”

Iron offered the music box to me, and I held its solid weight, being careful not to drop it. “It was my mother’s,” he explained.

After looking at it more closely—I couldn’t see the source of the music—I nodded and handed it back to him.

He took it and leaned back, to put it on the floor behind us. “Just, uh... watch your tail, please.”

I shifted over slightly so I was sitting right next to him, and then I wrapped my tail around his butt, resting the tip of it on his left knee.

He jolted a little, but after looking down and patting my tail, he chuckled. “Tail hug. That works.” Then, he put his right hoof around my waist, and I rested my head on his shoulder to return the embrace.

We sat quietly in the flickering glow for a while. I stared off into the distance, watching the repeated pouring of one of the points of the refining process. If I relaxed my eyes, it looked like a light that was turning on and off. And on. And off.

After a while, Iron broke the silence in a low voice. “So, after three months in Farrington... how do you like this city?”

It was a simple question, and really, it had a simple answer. I remembered when I used to have reservations about even setting foot in the city, but now, it was a lot more familiar to me—almost like a second home. When I thought of it like that, the tiny part of me that was afraid to lose my griffin heritage flared up, but there, next to Iron, I could easily douse that little ember of tradition.

“I like it here,” I admitted. “It’s probably my favorite place I’ve ever been stabbed, shot, and betrayed in.”

Iron let out a quick, hard burst of laughter before he patted my waist apologetically. “I’m sorry those things happened to you. But I’m glad you like it in Farrington despite everything.” I felt him shake his head. “I’m not starting in on the ‘you should move here’ argument, either...”

“I will.”

The words came out so effortlessly that I couldn’t even question whether I meant them. Iron squeezed me a little tighter, and I knew that I’d made the right decision.

“I mean...” I shrugged. “I like it here. I like being part of a living culture. I like my friends, the kids at the hospital...” I poked Iron’s knee with my tail. “And you. I like you most of all. You’re there for me, even if I’m too dumb to see it sometimes. So... thanks.”

He kissed the top of my head, and then he moved his mouth down next to my ear. “I love you, too.”

My heartrate jumped up a few notches after he said it, but I didn’t think it was from fear. It was... definitely weird, to hear those words, but the more I thought about them, it kind of made sense.

I thought.

It was hard to panic as I sat there, alone with Iron, in the glow of molten ore. It was warm where we were, and I didn’t remember being so tired when I came in the room with him. Iron’s hoof shifted, and he started rubbing my belly, which I relished; I didn’t know how I felt about him telling me he loved me, but in that moment, I didn’t exactly care, either.

I closed my eyes and shifted, leaning more of my weight on Iron as I nestled deeper into his shoulder. It was comfortable there, with him, and even better, I felt safe. I could relax around him, and for a few moments, I did just that.

* * *

“Are you sleeping?”

I felt myself jolt awake with a deep breath, but I still whispered back, “No.”

Iron chuckled, then he patted my stomach a few times before saying, “I’m sorry if I startled you, but ever since your hospitalization, I’ve... been looking for the right way to tell you. And if ‘love’ is too strong a word... at least let me say that meeting you was one of the best things that ever happened to me.”

I smiled; that I could agree with. Even counting our July-long hiccup, Iron had gone out of his way to help me time and time again. He listened, he cared, and even if he wasn’t perfect all the time, he was there for me most of the time—when it counted most. I turned my head up to him and pulled back a little to give him room; in response, he came down and met me in a deep kiss.

It started slow, with a brush of our tongues. Iron adjusted himself, turning to sit at a new angle and pull me deeper into an embrace. I let him, and once we got to our new position, I began drawing little circles on the bottom of his tongue with mine.

He started to slowly rub my shoulders, and I ran a hand up his spine—flat-palmed, so I didn’t hurt him. When I got to his neck, I felt the spiky stubble of his Guard-regulation haircut, and that seemed like a good place for my hand—my other one was still at my side. I pressed into him harder; I wanted more.

Iron broke away from the kiss before letting himself fall backwards. I followed him to the ground, ending up sideways on top of him. He let me pull my hand free from beneath him, and shifted to put both my hands on his shoulder. When he ran a hoof down my spine, between my wings, I let out a shuddering gasp before he pulled me up to his mouth and another kiss.

As part of my forward motion, I straightened out, so both of my knees ended up on either side of him. After a few moments in our new position, I pushed up off him with my arms. Panting, I looked down at him, he looked up at me...

Terror slammed into me as I suddenly realized what the hell we were doing.

Instinct took over—ironic, given the circumstances—as I flung myself off him and before I could even think about what I was doing, I ran.


“And she just left you hanging like that?”

On my left, Iron took large gulp of his drink before glaring back at me with tipsy indignation. “Hah. Funny. Ass.”

I took a drink from my own glass; the two of us were sitting together at Tap’s On, the best bar in all of Farrington. Specifically, Iron had found me at my favorite bar, after my officer’s shift, and after his date with the Sharptalon ended...

I took another drink. I didn’t want that mental image, ever. He was my friend, and she was too, I guessed, but she was still a freaky... half-bird... thing.

After I got done shuddering, I said, “Still, that sucks.”

Iron grunted in agreement.

“At least she took the L-word well. For all her issues, that’s got to count for something, right?”

Iron grunted again, only this time, he finished off his tumbler. “Yeah. She... just... gives me mixed signals about where she wants everything to go.” After I flipped my ears back and took another drink, Iron clarified, “The... relationship, to go.”

I laughed. “Thank you for clearing that up.”

“You’re welcome. Ass.”

I turned to him with a mock sad face. “I get an ‘ass’ because you said something wrong?”

He shrugged, then grumbled a few incoherent syllables that sounded apologetic.

Since his whole misfire with his girlfriend had him bothered pretty badly, I could accept it. Hell, I’d been part of his whole “demotion” thing on Tuesday, and even if he didn’t say he blamed me, I probably did deserve a few names or two. Iron was too good a friend to dwell on it, though, so I instead gave him some advice on his current situation. “Well... from what you’ve told me, she’s prone to freak-outs, but she usually talks about it afterwards, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, she’s gonna be here... on, Monday, at least. Since she’s starting her patrol again. But that doesn’t help now, you know?”

“Probably not.” I agreed. “So, uh... she’s starting back up Monday? You gonna ask, uh...” I shrugged. “Whoever the hell our lieutenant is now, if you two...”

“No...” He shook his head slowly, widely, and loosely. “I... she is my favorite griffin, ever, but that’d screw up our guard duties and our relationship.” He brandished his empty glass me. “You told me about ‘space’ once, right?”

I nodded; it was the smart move for him. “Well, good luck, then. I’m sure you two’ll figure something out.”

“Here’s hoping.” He smiled, weakly. “She’s... very soft. I’m not even talking like... sexually, but... like, her feathers...”

“Feathers?” I finished off my drink. Then, with a feel-good chuckle, I flared my left wing and buffeted Iron in the face lightly, repeatedly. He grunted, and tried to brush it away, but he only managed to hit the feathers, not the underlying wing itself.

Finally, he gave up: “Get that thing out of my face.”

“See, now you sound like Comet, yesterday morning...”

With one last shuddering groan, Iron grabbed my wing tip and shoved it back over. I folded my wing back in as he did it, but I reprimanded, “You should be more gentle with wings, you know.”

Our bartender, grinning like a fiend, came over and refilled our drinks. I’d switched from lager to top-shelf stuff when Iron came in; I had the overtime and bits to afford helping my friend out. I took a swig from my fresh drink and offered hopefully the first and last advice I’d ever have to give: “Learn how to preen. Comet used to like that.” Memories from school rushed back to me, and the truth struck like a hammer. “I... used to like... that she liked that...”

“That’s... not your fault... Star.”

“I know.” I shrugged. “Or even, she’s forgiven me if it is.” I turned to him and shrugged again. “But I can miss her wings, even if I still love her without them, right?”

“Just as much?” Iron asked.

I stayed quiet for a moment. Given our past few months together, the months when I’d finally started to be honest with myself about her and her disability, I had to admit that things were different now than the years of denial we’d built our marriage on. She was the perfect mother to my kids, she was a better wife than I deserved, and she was compassionate enough to stick with me anyway. “Even more,” I admitted.

“That’s good.” Iron turned to me, and we shared a nod. “I’m glad things worked out for you two. Comet’s... a good friend, too.”

I grinned back at him and raised my glass. “Here’s to friends, fights, relationships, and love.”

He clinked my glass with his. “Here’s to living through peace.”

The two of us finished our drinks together.


I lay on my back on a flat mountain outcropping, only about ten miles south of Farrington. It was as far as I’d gotten before I stopped to lay down and think about things. The sun had been up then; now, it was well after sunset, well after I had ran away from Iron like a coward, and well after we’d almost had sex.

The stars were out, so I gazed to the heavens and lost myself in how tiny I was. The stars above me seemed to reach out and go forever, always burning in a beautiful, distant way. It was nearing the end of summer, so Jäger was on the horizon, just in time for the autumn hunt and his early-November festival.

I found Ziu, which reminded me of Nicht’s pardon. I didn’t want to test anything, so I kept my eyes moving, looking around for the other gods.

I grinned softly to myself as I remembered some of the constellations that didn’t really have a name, but Gretchen and I had spent a few summer nights together, under the stars, and naming them.

I wondered if she remembered their names as well.

That broadened to wondering about everyone in my tribe was doing that night... then I turned my mind to Ponyville. I wondered if Dash was doing one of her night training sessions, and even what all her other friends were doing. Then, there were other nations, other species... all of us, under one infinitely vast expanse of celestial bodies.

In the face of the cosmos, the fact that I was confused about Iron didn’t quite seem... profound.

But it was the only thing that I kept coming back to.

Only after I’d gotten away from Farrington did I realize why everything with Iron had progressed so smoothly and natural. Getting turned on like that was good, I guessed, if we were ever going to go down that road, However, that just led to conflict between whether I should have even gone that far with him in the first place; then, there was physical regret I felt for ending things where I did.

It was a lot to think about, and with a chuckle, I remembered how not-freaked-out I’d been when he said he loved me. I still felt one of the trickiest parts of our whole situation was how I felt back, but given his redefinition of “love,” we were probably on the same page.

Still, it felt good to be loved. I remembered that feeling, when we’d been sitting next to each other, hugging. It was like a warm inner glow that made everything else seem either okay or unimportant. I liked that feeling, and even now, thinking about being next to Iron made me feel that way.

Was that love, though?

That new flavor of uncertainty made everything fall into place a little neater. I felt guilty about leaving in such a hurry, and for some strange reason, that made me feel bad for blowing my therapist’s advice off. If I’d just talked to Iron, or let him know what I wanted—or even that I didn’t know what I wanted—we’d be on the same page, and it’d be easier for us to find some sort of solution.

Talk to him. It seemed such a simple answer to everything between us, but really, looking back at all my problems I’d faced with him during the summer, I knew it was the answer.

I sat up, flared my wings, and took off for my cave for the night. I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew I wanted to get a good night’s sleep before tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’d have that conversation with Iron. Tomorrow, I’d try to let him know how I felt—if I could figure that out myself.

* * *

Sunday, at half past noon, I knocked on Iron’s door. It took him a while to answer; when he did, his bloodshot eyes and ruffled fur made it look like he hadn’t slept well the night before. I felt bad when realized I was probably the reason for that, but before I could apologize, Iron bid me, “Gilda... Good afternoon.”

“Hi.” I waved at him. “Is this a bad time?”

He shook his head, then yawned and stepped to the side of the door. “No, no... come in.”

I walked into his house and again noted his quiet decor. The two sofas in the living room formed an angle with one another; both of them faced the door and, on my left, his kitchen. The walls behind the sofas had wooden bookshelves set into them; in the far corner of the room from the front door was his closed-for-the-summer fireplace.

Iron walked into his kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He offered me something to drink, but I turned him down. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust his pipes or whatever; I just wasn’t thirsty that morning.

After a few minutes of getting settled in, we were on his couch, and I started what I’d come there to say: “I wanted to say I’m sorry for yesterday—”

“Oh...” He shook his head to interrupt me. “There’s... no need. You were uncomfortable, which was probably because—”

“Because you were going along with what I was doing?” I rolled my eyes. “That’s... no, that’s not your fault. That can’t be. I mean, I can’t climb on top of you and then say it’s your fault that things got... heated.”

“Okay then...” He spoke cautiously. “Then apology accepted.”

I nodded. “And it’s... not that I don’t like you. I do.” I shrugged and took a deep breath. Boyfriend or no, this was weird to talk about with him—not counting my therapist, Iron was the first guy I’d ever talked to about this sort of thing. “I dunno. It always seems like we’re following each other’s lead here. I mean... I want this to keep going. But you don’t want to pressure me, and at the same time, I... I’m scared,” I admitted.

“I mean... I’m not even talking about... physical issues there might be, since, you know... we’re different. It’s more... ever since I started coming to this city, it feels like I’m losing bits and pieces of who I used to be. So I started off as a griffin, then I started joining a city, then I started dating a stallion, and now, I’m so far past the halfway point between a pony and a griffin...” I shook my head and trailed off, hoping that Iron would pick up on something to say.

He did. “What would you do if, tomorrow, a letter came from Elpithasus saying your banishment has been nullified, and that you could return to your home?”

“I...” I blinked. It was a confusingly simple question. “I’d go...” Iron’s ears drooped, but I clarified, “But only for a visit. I’d see my family, and try to get some answers. Then, I’d visit Erntving and... try to get some more answers, I guess. But after like a week, I’d want to come back to here, and you.”

“Why?”

“Because... because there’s something here for me. A future. A home, even.”

Iron pulled me closer to him, into a hug. He whispered, “Then what are you afraid of losing?”

I thought about it, and I couldn’t really give an answer. I was outcast from my society—that much wasn’t new. What was new, though, was how I realized I didn’t want to go back anymore. So... they probably had a stigma against intimacy with ponies, sure, but I couldn’t live by their rules anymore. My dyed chest feathers and cut talons were proof enough that Equestrian laws were the only ones I needed to abide by now.

Farrington was my home now.

Still, my rebellious mind still had a few moot objections. “Doesn’t... doesn’t it hurt the first time?”

We were close enough to each other that I could feel Iron suppress a nervous laugh; he hadn’t expected that answer. “I’m... not sure, how it is for... females. We can... take things slowly?”

I chuckled softly. “Isn’t that another problem for us?”

Iron shrugged. “I suppose...” After a moment’s pause, he reached over, grabbed my left arm with his right hoof, and pulled me over. He spun me around on the couch, and I ended up on top of Iron’s lap, facing him.

Because of our positioning, we were eye level now. He leaned back and I shifted my knees to rest them on the outside of his. Before we went any further, I looked into his eyes for a moment. In them, I saw everything good about his society: warmth, compassion, and life. There wasn’t any of that in my tribe, or if there was, it got beaten out of us at a young age.

I was nervous about a lot of things, but that wasn’t enough for me to stop myself. I liked where I was and where we were going. I pressed into Iron in a kiss, and he locked his hooves around my hips in a firm embrace.

For one brief moment, I pushed my hands into his shoulders to pull away from his lips. After a few shuddering breaths, I knew the truth, and I found the words I needed to express it:

“I love you.”