> A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies
>  by D G D Davidson
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1. Meet Megan
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson

Cover art by Trinityinyang

Editing and fact-checking by Horsegirl123


I. Meet Megan

When Megan wrenched open the driver’s side door of her mom’s rusty Chevy pickup, she found Danny sitting in the seat with a freshman girl in his lap.  The girl shrieked and rocketed to the other side of the cab, but Danny merely leaned back and tugged his ball cap down over his eyes.  “Hey, sis,” he said.

Megan yanked the cap from his head and shoved it against his chest.  “Tell your flavor of the week to take a hike, Danny.  I got a lot to do this afternoon.”

“Yeah, yeah.  Don’t blow a gasket.  Just climb in.”

“Move over.  I’m driving.”

Danny slid to the passenger’s side and goosed his girl.  She shrieked again, but then fumbled open the door and jumped out.

Megan rammed the key into the ignition; the engine groaned and struggled for a few seconds, but finally rumbled to life.

“Call me!” the girl cried as Megan put the truck in gear and pulled out.

“Tell me you at least went to class today,” Megan said.

Danny slouched in the sun-cracked seat and pulled his cap back on.  “Sure.”  

“Buckle your seatbelt.”

He didn’t move.

“Buckle it.”

He groaned.  “You’ve gotten worse than Mom.”

She muttered under her breath, “And you’ve gotten worse than Dad.”








Megan pulled to a stop in front of the small, two-story middle school.  With a stack of textbooks clasped to her chest, Molly stood on the sidewalk in the midst of a knot of her girlfriends and jabbered away.

Megan tapped the steering wheel impatiently for a moment, but then leaned on the horn.

Molly jumped, snatched up her backpack, and, with pigtails bouncing against her shoulders, ran to the truck.  She pulled open the door, swung an arm in an exaggerated goodbye to her friends, and then shoved Danny to the middle of the cab as she climbed in.

“Hey, Dan.  Hey, sis.  What’s up?”

“Trying to get you two to move your butts, that’s what.”

Molly’s eyes widened.  She squealed.  Megan was too far away to grab, so Molly grabbed Danny instead and shook him.  “Oh, tomorrow’s the day, isn’t it?  I’m so excited!  We’re gonna make history.”

“It’s gonna be a disaster,” Megan muttered.  She rubbed her temples, threw the truck into gear, took off, and immediately slammed on the brake to avoid rear-ending a sports car stopped at a red light.

“I know you’re stressed,” said Danny, “but try not to get us killed.”

Megan blinked several times and shook her head.  “I’ve barely slept this week.”

Danny adjusted his hat.  “You sure you don’t want me to drive?”

She glanced sidelong at him as she put the truck in neutral.  “I’m the one with the license here.”

“C’mon, I’ve been driving this truck since I was six!”

“So have I, but you haven’t driven it in town.  Just hush, will you?”

The light changed, and the truck made ominous crunching noises as Megan stomped the clutch and fought the stick.  After many protestations, the old truck at last moved, and she turned it onto the county road that would take them back to the ranch.

“Five years,” she said, talking to herself as much as to her siblings.  Outside, the road changed from pavement to gravel.  The houses became more dilapidated and more widely spaced, finally giving way to trailer homes surrounded by broken-down cars and old tractor parts, which in turn gave way to rolling, heat-soaked hills full of yellowing grass and reddish sandstone.  Megan pounded a fist against the steering wheel.  “Five years since we’ve been to Ponyland.  I’d almost convinced myself it was a make-believe game.  Then I get up one morning and there’s a pony in our well again.”

Danny laughed.  “I wondered if the ponies would be able to keep away from you forever.”

“The last time we were there, the ponies lived in a little mansion on the edge of a valley, and everything in the world was out to kill or enslave them.  Now they tell me they have a whole damn empire and it’s been five thousand years since we were there.  Five thousand years, but they still remember us!”  Megan shook her head.  “I almost wish it was make-believe.”

Danny hunkered down in his seat and put his feet on the dash.  “They don’t really remember us, sis.  They think you’re ‘Magog the Mighty, Warrior from Another World.’”

“Danny, put your feet down and shut up.”  Megan's eyes burned.  She rubbed them and struggled to concentrate on the road.  She slid a hand to her collar and felt under her shirt to make sure the locket was still there.  “What’s going to happen to them?  What will people do when they find out there’s really a world full of magical ponies?”

Danny shrugged.  “I dunno, trade with them for goods and services, maybe?  Relax.  Vivisecting friendly talking animals only happens in dumb sci-fi cartoons.  Nobody wants to hurt your little ponies.”

“Everybody wants to hurt my little ponies, or have you forgotten?”

“I mean nobody around here wants to hurt your ponies.”








“Ahem, let’s see . . . hail, Magog, mighty warrior, slayer of demons and protectress of harmony.  I come this day bearing—”

“Please don’t do that.”

Twilight Sparkle paused mid-sentence and frowned.  She conjured a scroll and levitated it, running her eyes across its text.  “I spent a week composing this greeting, and I checked it against twenty different manuals on ambassadorial etiquette.  I was sure—”

Megan coughed into her hand.  “Look, Princess . . . Princess Sparkle you said it was, right?”

Twilight beamed.  “That’s correct.  I have been personally charged with making contact with—”

“That’s nice.  Look, I’m flattered that you spent so much time learning how to say hello, but look around you here.”

Twilight swiveled her head.  “What am I looking for exactly?”

“We’re in a horse barn.  You can drop the formalities.”

The barn was dim and musty.  Dust motes swam in beams of sunlight angling through a few gaps in the rough wooden walls.  Four horses stood in their stalls and rhythmically swished their tails as they munched the hay in their troughs.  The barn was usually a place where Megan could unwind as she saw to the horses’ needs, but now that the ponies were visiting, it was nothing but a source of stress.

Megan bent down and put her hands on her knees so she could look Twilight in the eyes.  “I don’t know what you guys were expecting, but back when I used to hang out with the ponies in Paradise Estate, I was twelve.  I was a kid, okay?  And I wasn’t a warrior.  I was a farm girl.  I still am a farm girl.”

Twilight frowned.  “You did slay Tirek the demon centaur, didn’t you?”

“Well . . . yes.”

“And Grogar the demon ram?”

“It’s more like I banished him to the Shadow World, but yes.”

“And Lavan the lava demon?”

“Blew his ass to smithereens, and he deserved it.  Actually, I only helped with that one.”

Twilight brightened.  “You’re exactly the pony we’re looking for.  I just want to say it’s a real honor to meet you.  I mean, I’ve read several histories about the three warriors who guarded the Valley of Dreams, but of course I never imagined I’d meet them face-to-face.”

“And tell me what exactly happened to Dr—er, the Valley of Dreams, again?”

“Windigoes.”

Megan sighed.

“But that was a long time ago, at least for us.  According to the stories, it’s because of you that the ponies survived at all.”

Megan straightened, turned away, and rubbed the back of her neck.  “I . . . helped.  That’s it.  And it sounds like, in the end, I didn’t manage to save Dream Valley anyway.”  She glanced back at Twilight.  “Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

“Oh, yes.  The Cosmic Council decided.  Equestria has treaties with Griffonia, Antilopia, Draconium, Pixieland, the Buffalo tribes, Saddle Arabia, and Zebrabwe.  Now that the Rainbow Bridge is open again, why not make a treaty with Yusa?”

“You mean U.S.A.”

“Right.”

“Okay, I get it that things have changed a lot in five thousand years and this Equestria of yours is a big place with its own government and military and whatnot, but are you sure this is the way you want to introduce yourselves to Earth?  By appearing in a horse show?”

“Rainbow Dash said you told her that you always take horses there.”

“I do, but—”

“Then it’s perfect.  We’ve memorized the patterns you gave us, which should be a cinch, so what else do you need to do to get us ready?”

Megan shrugged.  “I guess a little grooming wouldn’t hurt.  We should do that tomorrow morning before the show.”

“Great.  I’ll go back over the rainbow and tell the others.  You can start with Rainbow Dash.”

Twilight opened her wings and squeezed her eyes shut.  Her horn glowed, and then she disappeared in an eruption of white light.

For a minute, Megan stared at the spot where Twilight had stood.  Then she walked to a wall and leaned her head on it.  “Five thousand years,” she muttered.  “Five thousand years and the ponies are still stupid.”  She kicked the wall and heard a board crack.  Behind her, her old gelding T.J. whinnied in his stall.








The sun sat like a red blot on the horizon.  With plenty of space in which to play in the Oklahoma sky, the clouds formed broad plains or tall, precarious towers that glowed pink and gold like frozen blooms of fire.  Fields of green and yellow grass weaved and bobbed in the faint, cool breeze, and in the distance, silhouetted by the angry red light of the setting sun, wind turbines turned steadily but lazily in a monotonous rhythm.  Over it all, high above even the highest clouds, stretched the Rainbow Bridge, gateway to Ponyland.  The bridge never wavered and never faded; it looked impossibly solid, like an arc carved from crystal, and it twinkled as if stars were embedded in its surface.

A scraggly old walnut tree stood on the edge of the thin band of woods surrounding a muddy creek that meandered through the ranch, and Megan lay in the crook formed by the confluence of two of the tree's thick branches.  She stared at the setting sun, felt the rough bark scrape into her back through her flannel shirt, and sipped a cold bottle of hard cider she’d filched from the basement cooler.

By the little light remaining, she flipped through her creased, smudged copy of Gulliver’s Travels, a book her father had given her when she was only six.  On the inside of the front cover, he had written, “Daddy loves you,” followed by his name.  That was why, five years ago, Megan had ripped the front cover off.

She was again reading the chapters depicting the titular character’s time among the horse-like Houyhnhnms, which caused Megan to think that perhaps the author had himself somehow visited Dream Valley.  In particular, she wondered at his claim that the Houyhnhnms valued friendship and benevolence above all else, and at his description of the clever way they used their pasterns as if they were hands.

Twigs crunched on the ground behind her, but she didn’t turn her head.  She knew those footsteps.

“Hey, Danny.”

“Hey, sis.”  She felt the tree sway just a little as he leaned against it.  “You know, back when we were really small, before the ponies came, we used to pretend this tree was a pirate ship.  Way, way up in the high branches was the crow’s nest, and we always argued over who was gonna be the lookout.”

Megan put the bottle to her lips and swallowed until the cider was half gone, and then she leaned over and handed it down to him.  “You were eight,” she said, “and you were scared to climb that high.  I called you a chicken and told you to keep going; I told you you’d never be a real pirate if you couldn’t climb all the way up to the crow’s nest.  So you climbed higher, and then you slipped and fell.”

“Slid all the way to the bottom and split my head on a root.”

“I thought my heart had stopped.”

“You carried me back to the house, yelling for Mom.”

“Molly sat in the living room holding her doll and screaming because she thought you were dying.”

“When Mom drove me to the hospital, you sat in the car and held my hand and sobbed and told me you were sorry, and that you were going to fix everything, and that you’d never let me get hurt ever again.”

Megan frowned.  She rolled over onto her stomach and looked down at him.  “I did?”

“Yep, you did.  You were always trying to take care of us.”

“You and Molly got in so much trouble, somebody had to take care of you.”

Danny laughed quietly.  He tipped the rest of the cider into his mouth and chucked the bottle toward the woods.  Somewhere in the dimness, it shattered on a rock.  “You’ve always been doing that, you know, trying to take care of everybody.”

Megan rolled back over and turned her eyes to the sun again; it was halfway below the horizon now, looking like a molten puddle floating in a crucible.  “Go ahead and say it, Danny.  You came out here for it.”

“They’re not your little ponies, sis.  They’ve got an empire now, and they’ve got these princesses—”

“Remember the princess ponies?  If the princesses on this ‘Cosmic Council’ are anything like them, the ponies are screwed.”

“You forgot they used to have a queen before you showed up, Meg.  Queen Majesty.  They told us about her.”

Megan rubbed a hand across her face.  “Yes, I know.  She was very powerful.  She had a mirror that could see anything and shoes that could turn her invisible, but Tirek killed her anyway.”

Danny slammed a fist into the tree trunk.  “Maybe it’s time to let the ponies make their own decisions.”

Megan reached into her shirt, pulled out her locket, and yanked it from her neck.  She dangled it and watched the last rays of the sun glitter from its ruby-red surface.  “And do you remember when the Rainbow Bridge disappeared?”

“How could I forget?”

Megan spun, jumped off the branch, and landed hard on the ground.  “Don’t you get it?  I had the locket.  We never thought the Bridge would close.  I didn’t think there was any harm in my keeping this, but then the Bridge was just gone!  This was all the ponies had to protect them, and I took it from them!”

“It sounds like they did okay even without the locket.”

“Dream Valley was destroyed.  Did any of those ‘ambassadors’ tell you that?”

Danny shrugged.  “What’s it matter?”

“What’s it matter?  Flutter ponies.  Bushwoolies.  Grundles.  The Moochick.  They’re dead, Danny, buried under the windigoes’ ice, and it’s my fault!”

“I have a hard time believing anything could kill the Moochick.”

“And the ponies had a hard time believing anything could kill Majesty, but something did.  The Moochick's gone.  He’s as mythological as we are.”

“But we’re not dead.”

The last glimmer of sunlight disappeared from the horizon, and the sky faded to deep purple.  Venus shone brightly overhead.

Danny turned and trudged back toward the house, but he paused and looked over his shoulder.  “Maybe they needed us to leave, Megan.  Maybe they needed to lose us so they could finally build something for themselves.  You can’t protect everyone.  Not forever.”

He walked away and left Megan standing in the dark.


> 2. Megan Grooms Rainbow Dash
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson


II. Megan Grooms Rainbow Dash

Twilight Sparkle—her muzzle clamped shut, her wings pinned, and her pasterns tied together with ropes—lay on a stainless steel table in the midst of a dingy laboratory.  The room was dark, but a cone of cold, yellow light spilled onto the table from an overhead lamp suspended on a gimbal arm.  On a tray nearby, knives, saws, and scalpels glinted in the dimness.  A deeply tinted green window filled one wall of this prison; rain poured down it, and the branches of closely planted evergreens beat a steady tattoo on the glass, as if the trees were clamoring to come inside and seek shelter from the storm.

From a dark corner of the room, Megan watched the helpless pony.  Twilight’s eyes were wide with terror.  Sweat and tears ran down her face in a steady stream, pooling on the table under her cheek.  Megan tried to leap to Twilight’s side, tried to raise her hands, but she couldn’t move.  She couldn’t even turn her head.

A tall, thin figure appeared, silhouetted against the rain-lashed window.  With slow steps accented by hollow echoes, he walked forward until the lamplight revealed his seamed face and wild, white hair.  He wore a long, blood red coat buttoned at the shoulder.  On his hook-like nose, a complicated array of lenses perched like some parasitical insect.  As he bent over Twilight, the lenses turned opaque from the reflected light, and his pale lips parted in a mirthless grin, revealing a set of yellowing teeth.  Twilight squeezed her eyes shut.  A whimper escaped her mouth.

A door burst open and another man walked in.  He was young and handsome, but his boyish features had an edge of ruggedness suggesting a life of hard work.  He wore khakis and hiking boots, and his sleeves were rolled up above well-muscled forearms.

The older man with the lenses on his face looked up, smiled, and spoke.  His voice was high and thin and touched with what sounded like a bad Hollywood version of a German accent.  “Ah, Herr Jones, you haf come back.  I am most pleased vis zis specimen you haf brought me, ja?”

“Crikey,” the young man answered, his own accent unmistakably Australian.  He ran a hand through his well-oiled hair.  “First time I’ve wrangled a genuine unicorn.  Gave me a run for my money, I can tell you that.”

“But your efforts ver not in vain, Herr Jones, for here she is, helpless und in our power.”

“Yeah, but what’ll we do with her?  Sell her off to a zoo, maybe?”

The German licked his lips and rubbed together his long, bony fingers.  “I haf a different idea, Herr Jones.  As you know, zuh horn of zuh unicorn is rumored to haf certain, ah, properties.”  He bent over Twilight again and ran a finger along her cheek.  She trembled violently and made an inarticulate, high-pitched noise through the gag in her mouth.  “You, my darling,” the German whispered, “are going to make us vealthy men.”

From under the table, he pulled an enormous, rusty chainsaw.

Megan tried to yell, but couldn’t open her mouth.  She struggled, but something had pinned her arms and legs.

When the German pulled the chainsaw’s starter cord, the saw rumbled to life, its deafening motor producing a steady, rhythmic buzz.

Straining with all her might, Megan forced her mouth open and shouted, “No!  Nobody hurts my ponies!  Let her go, you bastard!”

With a wide, toothy smile, the German brought the whirring blade down to Twilight’s forehead.  The buzzing motor grew louder, more insistent.  Megan thrashed and flailed—

And tumbled out of bed.  Her cheek struck hard against the wooden floor, and the buzz of the chainsaw resolved into the buzz of the alarm clock.

Stunned, Megan lay on the floor for almost a minute before she finally struggled out of the jumble of sheets and slapped the alarm until it went silent.

Her nightgown saturated with sweat, she sat on the floor for a moment and listened:  the only sounds in the room were her own hard breathing, the thudding of her heart, and the faint buzz of a fly on the windowpane.  With every hard heartbeat, her temples throbbed; the day was young, but she already had a headache.  The dark lab and the evil men had seemed so real, but they had been only a dream . . .

Unless Twilight was trying to contact her with telepathy.  Back in Dream Valley, unicorns had sometimes entered her dreams like that when they were in trouble.

Forcing down a rising panic, Megan jumped up, ran to her dresser, and yanked open drawers.  She pulled on a fresh work shirt and then searched the floor until she found yesterday’s jeans.

She paused, clenching her hands.  It was spring now, but early mornings were still chilly, so she ran to the closet and rifled through several frilly dresses until she found her duster.  After shoving her arms into it, she ran to the vanity and glanced in the mirror.

She looked frightful.  Her thick blond hair stuck out around her face like some kind of insane devil’s halo, but she didn’t have time to brush it.  She snatched a ribbon, pulled back as much of her hair as she could grab, and tied a ponytail.  Then she clamped a Stetson on her head and sped out of the room.

Having often traveled to Ponyland at night, Megan was an expert at sneaking out of this old house.  She lightly jumped over all the stairs that creaked and, once she made the first-floor landing, slipped down the narrow hallway and into the room that had formerly been her father’s den.  She ran a hand above the doorframe until her fingertips touched the cold metal of a key.  With the key, she opened the gun case:  if she had to fight humans, she wanted a human weapon.

She stared indecisively at the guns.  She had been roping, riding, and shooting almost as long as she’d been walking, but she had no idea which was the best weapon for assaulting some crazy laboratory.  She finally decided on the Model 94 Winchester, the rifle with which her father had first trained her.  It brought back bad memories, but it was familiar.

She loaded six cartridges and shoved several others into the duster’s deep pockets.  After strapping the rifle over her shoulder, she made her way back down the hall, through the small, dark kitchen, and into the mudroom where she’d left her cowboy boots.

Sitting on the chipped, dusty linoleum in the dark, she grunted as she tugged the boots on, forcing her feet into the cold, stiff leather.  The mudroom was chilly, and Megan could faintly see her breath when she exhaled.  She was glad she’d grabbed the duster.

Now fully dressed and fully equipped, she stood and headed for the back door.  She had no idea where to go, no idea how to find Twilight, and no idea if the unicorn was even still alive.  The rifle’s familiar weight on her back was reassuring, but it could do her no good.  She was armed but helpless.

When she pulled open the door, she found Twilight Sparkle waiting on the stoop.

Megan blinked several times.

“Good morning,” Twilight said with a broad grin.

Stupefied, Megan swayed.  She reached out a hand and touched Twilight’s horn.

Twilight pulled her head back.  “Can I help you with something?”

Megan dropped her hand, forced a smile, and shook her head.  “No.  No, of course not, Your Highness.  And how are you this morning?”

“Oh, I’m great.  I was just coming over to tell you Rainbow Dash is waiting for you by the barn.  I’m going back over the rainbow to get the others, but I convinced Dash to fly in first, since I figured you’d want to get started right away.”

“Of course,” Megan said.  She struggled to hold her smile, but could feel it slipping.  “Just, uh, let me get some coffee.”  She turned around and tiptoed back into the kitchen.








Now equipped with a travel mug full of caffeine, Megan trudged through the unkempt grass toward the horse barn.  The air was chilly; the sky was still dark and stars still shone, though the eastern horizon had turned pinkish.  The dew in the grass left streaks of moisture across her boots.

A yawning, bleary-eyed Rainbow Dash was leaning against the wall of the barn with a sheet of paper in her front hooves.  Megan took a deep pull on her coffee.  It was going to be a long day.

“I don’t usually get up this early,” said Rainbow.

“Tough,” Megan answered.

“So let me get this straight.”  Rainbow tapped a hoof against the paper.  “I’m supposed to shuffle my feet back and forth in this little pattern?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It’s called dressage, Ambassador Dash.  Let me remind you that this wasn’t my idea.”

“And you want to sit on my back while I’m doing this?”

Megan sipped her coffee again.  “No, that will be Molly.  You ponies are a lot smaller than I remembered, but I guess I’ve grown—”

Rainbow threw down the paper, spread her wings, and leapt into the air.  Circling Megan, she waved her forelegs and said, “I got a much better idea!  I could sweep in and show ’em my super speed strut, then mesmerize ’em with the filly flash, and then—the sonic rainboom!  It would be so awesome!”

Megan spread her feet and bent her knees, dropping halfway into a defensive crouch.  She watched Rainbow warily.  “Yes it would be.  It would also get you disqualified.”

Her heart hammered.  Even though Rainbow made no threatening gestures, and even though it had been five years since Megan had done battle against ravenous monsters, being circled, as if by a predator, still set her nerves on edge.

Besides that, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it, something about this particular pony irritated her.

Rainbow snorted.  “What’s the point?  Even your horses should be able to do something flashier than this.”

Megan poured more coffee into her mouth.  Her head at last started to clear up, perhaps more because of the jolt of adrenaline than because of the caffeine.  “Rainbow, it’s not about flashy.  It’s to test a rider’s skills and a horse’s training.  If it makes you feel better, these techniques were invented for the military; if you can do well in dressage, you have the makings of a warhorse.”

Rainbow landed in the yard and folded her wings.  “Well, that’s cool, I guess.  But it just seems boring.  We want their jaws to drop.”

“I think their jaws will drop anyway.”

“Yeah, my awesomeness does have a way of showing through even when I’m not performing death-defying stunts.”  Rainbow shined a hoof against her breast.

“Let’s get you in show condition, shall we?”

“Sure.  Whaddaya need?  Some warming up, maybe?”  Rainbow twisted her knees outward and started doing pushups.

Megan paused and watched for a moment.  She had seen many strange things in her short life, but this was the first time she had seen a pony doing pushups.  “No, actually, I was thinking of braiding your mane.”

Rainbow halted with her muzzle an inch from the earth.  Slowly, she raised her head.  “Do what to my what?”

“Braid your mane.  It’ll make it look nice for the show.  Usually takes me about twenty minutes.”

Rainbow took a step backwards.  “Oh, no, sister.  I like to let the mane speak for itself.”

“I can see that, which is why I’ve scheduled much more than twenty minutes to deal with it.  Come here.”

Rainbow took another step backwards.

Megan felt a surge of annoyance.  She downed the rest of her coffee, tossed her travel mug aside, and cracked her knuckles.  “If you want to do this the hard way—”

Rainbow reared.  “Is that a challenge?”

“Pretty much.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Megan rubbed her chin, tapped her foot against the ground, and thought for a moment.  “Come with me.”








It had been a Saturday like any other.  Megan had climbed out of bed at four-thirty, knocked on Molly’s door, and banged on Danny’s.  Then she had headed out to feed the chickens and milk the cows.

The family hadn’t used the old well since they had sunk the new one behind the house and put in the pump.  They had removed the well’s bucket, laid a heavy plywood board over the top of its crumbling, moss-covered stones, and subsequently neglected it.

When Megan stepped outside, she heard the chickens, startled by something, squawking and flapping around their yard.  As she made her way out to the coop, she noticed that the board no longer lay across the well:  it had been shattered into several fragments, which now glistened with dew among the weeds.

Even after five years, she hadn’t forgotten the sense of danger.  Anticipating unpleasantness, she went up on the balls of her feet, raised her fists, and approached the well as quietly as she could.

As she neared it, something bright blue and glistening with water rose above its edge.  For a moment, she thought it was a shock of hair, and a sharp pang shot through her chest.  She gasped.  “Fire—?”

The blue thing rose higher, and Megan realized it was a pony’s muzzle.  A large pair of violet eyes appeared above it, and above that, a dripping length of red and orange mane.

“Hey,” the pony said.  “I’m Rainbow Dash.  You must be one of those, uh, person-thingies.  I’m hopin’ to find someone named Magog.  Heard of her?”

Megan lowered her hands and whispered, “Well I’ll be damned.”








Now Megan stood among the trees on the edge of the creek with that same pony and carefully balanced six tin cans on an old, lichen-spotted segment of fence.  Looking Rainbow up and down, she thought about that moment when she had first seen her; she had felt something then, an emotion as strong as a physical pain followed by a rush of disappointment.  She was still trying to figure out what that meant.

“I hear you think you’re quite the athlete,” Megan said.

“Best flier in Equestria.”

“Can you do a double inside-out loop?”

“In my sleep.”

“Then let’s see if you can do this.”  With the Winchester in hand, Megan walked fifty yards away.  Years ago, her father had customized the rifle with a large loop lever, so Megan spun it, cocking it one-handed just to show off, and then put it to her shoulder and fired.

Rainbow jumped when the rifle cracked.  One of the cans, with a faint plink, flew from the top of the fence.

Megan spun the rifle, cocking it one-handed again.  She pulled the trigger and another can bounced into the ground.

“Wait a minute,” said Rainbow, flapping to her side.  “This isn’t fair.  I don’t have hands.”

“Fine.  I’ll take a handicap.”  Megan fired from the hip.  A third can leapt from the fence.

She laughed.  “I wasn’t sure I could still do that.  Danny and I used to watch old cowboy shows, so we practiced shooting from the hip like they did.”  She held the rifle out.  “You get the idea?”

Rainbow ran her eyes along the length of the gun.  “It’s sort of like a miniature cannon, isn’t it?”

“Yes, sort of.  Think you can shoot it?”

Rainbow paused, shuffling back and forth on her hooves.

Megan twisted her mouth as she watched the pony.  She had seen enough of Rainbow’s behavior to guess what would get her goat.  With a shrug, she put the safety on, slung the rifle over her shoulder, and made as if walking away.  “I guess this sport takes too much skill for you—”

Rainbow jumped into the air and hovered.  “I got tons of skill!  There’s nothing you can do that I—”

Grinning, Megan turned the safety off and held the rifle out again.  “Good.  Then shoot.  Hit all three cans and I’ll let you appear in front of a large audience of humans with your unkempt, tangled, filthy mane.”

“Hey!  My mane is not filthy!”

“Stop stalling and shoot, dammit.”

Rainbow dropped to the ground and took the gun in her hooves.  Fumbling, she cocked it, crooked it in her left knee, pressed the stock against her breast, and stuck the toe of her right hoof behind the trigger guard.

“Close one eye,” Megan said, “and sight along the—”

“I can figure it out!”  Rainbow pulled the trigger back.  The gun cracked, Rainbow released a low gasp, and a spray of dirt shot up a few yards away.

Megan snatched the rifle and put the safety back on.

“Hey,” shouted Rainbow, taking off into the air again, “that was just for practice!”

“That was just you missing by a mile.  I have to requisition the rifle before you hurt yourself with it.  Now get back to the horse barn, girlfriend, because I got a date with your mane.”

“But—!  You—!  That—!  That’s totally unfair!”

“What is?  A shooting competition?  Are you saying you can’t shoot?”

“Yes!  No!  I mean . . . I want a rematch!”

“Some other time.  Right now, I’m supposed to be getting you ready for your debut, Ambassador, and since I’ve got five other ponies to groom this morning, I’d like to get started sometime this century.”

Rainbow muttered as the two walked back to the horse barn.  Megan frowned, rubbed her chin, and wondered quietly why one-upping the pony gave her such vicious satisfaction.








“This is so boring.”  Rainbow Dash grimaced and tugged at her eyelids.

“It would go faster if you’d hold still.”

“I can’t help it!  That thing feels weird!”

“At least you ponies bathe regularly.  This would take even longer if I had to shampoo you.”

Now in the yard in front of the horse barn, Megan was in the process of scrubbing Rainbow’s coat with a curry brush.  The sun had tipped entirely above the horizon, and Megan counted to herself the hours left before the show began.  It would be tight.  Ordinarily, she found horse-grooming relaxing, but there would be no time to relax today.

“Why are you so skittish, anyway?  All my horses love this.”

“I am not one of your—augh!”  Rainbow jumped into the air when Megan started on her hindquarters.  “You do not touch the cutie mark!”

“The what?”

Rainbow twisted around and pointed at the three-colored lightning bolt on her hip.

“Oh, your symbol.  Relax, I know how to groom magic ponies.  I’ll make sure all the hairs are lying in the same direction and the mark is nice and clear.  Now get down here.”

Rainbow landed.  “How much longer?”

“If you had cooperated, I’d be finished.”  Megan curried Dash’s haunches and then started in on her belly.  Rainbow leapt again, this time slamming Megan in the face and knocking her to the ground.

“Rainbow Dash—!”

“Sorry!  That tickles!”

Megan lifted a hand to her nose.  When she pulled it away, she saw a few drops of blood.  The pain was slight, but she was angry anyway.

Rainbow landed hard and folded her wings.  “Oh my gosh!  I’m sorry!  Are you—?”

Megan snorted, wiped her nose with her sleeve, and pulled herself to her feet.  “I get bloodier than this on a typical weekend.  Let’s just finish this up and we can both get back to our business.”

Though she closed her eyes, ground her teeth, and flinched at every touch, Rainbow Dash now stood in place.

As she finished currying, Megan chuckled.  “If I’d known getting a nosebleed was all I needed to do to make you behave, I would have hit myself in the face at the start.  There, I’m done with that part.  That’s the worst of it, I think.”

“What’s next?”

“Well, I’ll want to go over your coat again with the body brush and the finishing brush, but I don’t think you’ll find those quite so trying.  Then your mane.  Then your hooves.”

“My—?”  Rainbow swallowed.

“You’ll cooperate, right?”

Rainbow swallowed again.  The fur on her forehead grew damp and a few trickles of sweat ran down her cheeks.

“Hey, stop that!” Megan cried.  “Now I have to clean your face off.”

After finishing with Rainbow’s coat, Megan set up a rickety card table and laid out the items she needed to groom a mane—a bowl of water, a water brush, a mane comb, a set of mane bands, and a needle and thread.

Rainbow narrowed her eyes as she peered at the needle.  “What’s this for?”

“To hold the braids in place.  This is going to take me a little time, so do you want a hay bag?”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind.  Just hold still so I don’t poke you.”  She began to comb.

“You’re pulling.”

“Well, your mane’s ratty!”  Surprised at her own irritation, Megan took a deep breath before adding, “You know, back in Dream Valley, all the rainbow ponies knew how to manage their hair.”

“All the what?”

“Never mind.  But not every pony gets to have a striped mane like this.  You should take care of it.”

“I take care of it just fine.”

“It looks like you hacked it with pruning shears.”  Megan struggled to tug her comb through the tangles.

“You’re pulling again!”

Megan paused, put the comb down, and ran her fingers over Rainbow’s mane.  She had forgotten how different the ponies’ hair was from that of an ordinary horse.  Even this neglected mane was silky and soft, thick and full but as fine as the finest human hair.  When she was smaller, Molly had often asked Megan to brush her hair for her and put in her pigtails, and during their visits to Dream Valley, Megan had spent a lot of time brushing the ponies’ hair as well.

“This isn’t working,” said Megan.  “Stay here.  I’ll be back.”

She tromped off to the house and reached it just as Molly, dressed in sneakers and pink overalls, barreled out the front door.

“About time you got up,” Megan said.  “I hope you’re planning to clean your saddles.”

“I am.”  Molly grinned and skipped.  “I am so excited about today!  When I come out riding a pretty pony, every other girl is going to be so jealous!”

“You’ve got your riding clothes ready, I hope.”

Molly laughed.  “Relax, sis.  I know how to do this.”

“Good.  Go back upstairs and get me your hairbrush.”

“What?”

“Now.”

Molly crossed her arms.  “Why don’t you just go get yours?”

“I don’t want to take my boots off.  You’re in sneakers.  Go.”

“Why my hairbrush?  Why not—?”

“Now, Molly!”

Molly spun around, mimicked Megan’s voice under her breath, and stomped back into the house.  She returned a minute later with a hair-filled pink brush, which she slapped into Megan’s hand.  “What do you need this for, anyway?”

“Brushing ponies.  What do you think I need it for?”

“Ooh!  Can I help?”

“Go clean your tack.”

“Augh!  You’ve been such a grouch this week!”  Molly stuck out her tongue and stomped away.

Megan returned to the barn and began brushing Rainbow’s mane.  “I think this will work a lot better,” she said.

“You’re still pulling,” Rainbow answered.

After Megan finished brushing, she started putting bunches of Rainbow’s hair into bands.

“Don’t mix the colors, please,” said Rainbow.  “Especially the blue and green.”

“I’m being careful.  All the colors will be in separate plaits.”

“But what are you doing exactly?”

“It’s called a button braid.”  Megan took off the first of the bands, braided the clump of hair, and then, folding the braid over on itself, took up the needle and thread to sew it into place.  “There.”  She held up a mirror for Rainbow.  “See what I’m doing?”

Rainbow twisted her head back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of the back of her own neck.  “What the hay?  That looks awful.”

“It makes your mane look tidy.”

“It makes my mane look stupid.”

Megan grabbed Rainbow’s chin, wrenched her head around, and met her eyes.  “Listen, Ambassador, putting you in a horse show, as I’ve said repeatedly, was not my idea.  Dressage requires braided manes.  You want to be in the show, you have to follow the rules.  Got it?”

“Yeah, I got it.  Sheesh, I never expected Magog the Mighty to be such a grouch.”

“My name is Megan, thank you.”  Megan sewed the rest of the braids along Rainbow’s neck and then turned to her forelock.  “I’m going to give you a French braid in the front here.  You’ve got a thick forelock, so I think it’ll work well.”

She separated the red, orange, and yellow into three strands and then braided them together.  After sewing the forelock in place, she stepped back to examine her work.

“It would look better if the thread matched your hair, but I don’t have that many colors.  Overall, I’d say it’s good.  So, how do you want your tail?  Braided or banged?”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow.  “Banged?  What does that mean?”

“I’d cut it off straight at the level of your fetlocks.  You ponies’ tails hang funny, but I think I could get it about right.”

“Let’s just do the braid, then.”

Megan ran her fingers through Rainbow’s tail to undo the tangles.  Then she took up the brush again.  Holding the hair firmly with one hand, she brushed in small sections to avoid yanking hairs out of Rainbow’s dock.  Then, starting at the top with the short hairs and working her way down, she braided Rainbow’s tail without incident.

“How does that feel?” she asked when finished.

Rainbow gave her tail a swish.  “It feels kinda heavy.”

“That’s normal, I think.  What would you say if I tied a ribbon around your dock?”

Rainbow looked over her shoulder.  “Seriously?”

“Ponies look naked without them.”

“The braiding’s bad enough.  No ribbons.”

“Okay, fine.  Hoof time.  It would be best if I could’ve had a professional farrier take a look, but we don’t have that option—”

Megan paused.  Sweat trickled down Rainbow’s face again.

“Something wrong, Ambassador?”

With an obviously forced smile, Rainbow lifted a front hoof and waved it.  “I, uh, think my hooves look fine, don’t you?  Probably don’t need to do anything with those.”

“We’ll want to pick and black them at least.”

“I mean, we did the coat, did the mane, did the tail.  Nopony’s gonna care about my hooves, right?”

“You should care.  It looks to me like you need a trim.”  Megan walked into the barn to grab her hoof stand and other equipment, but when she walked back out, Rainbow was nowhere to be seen.  She tossed the stand into the ground.  “Oh, for crying out—!  Rainbow Dash!  Where are you?”

Something thuddded against the barn’s galvanized roof.  She looked up to see Rainbow peeking down at her over the edge.

“Get down here right now, dammit, before you mess up your mane.”

“I think we can skip the hooves,” Rainbow said.

“I think we can’t.  Rainbow Dash, you are really starting to piss me off.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m getting mad.  You wanna see a legendary warrior when she’s mad?”

Rainbow shuffled, cleared her throat, and said, “I really don’t like anypony touching my hooves.”

“You’re in luck.  I’m not a pony.”

“Just skip it.  Please?”

Megan ran her fingers through her hair and squeezed her eyes shut.  Her head throbbed.

After staring at the ground and tapping her foot for almost a minute, she took a deep breath and said, “Okay, look.  You like to think you’re cool, right?  Tough?  Athletic?”

“Yeah—”

“Well, you know what’s really cool, tough, and athletic?  A mustang.  You know what that is?”

“Yeah!”  Rainbow took off and flew a circle in the air.  “They go thunderin’ through the desert, runnin’ wherever they want—”

“Exactly.  And you know what mustangs have?  The mustang roll.”

Rainbow frowned and began lowering herself toward the ground.  “Which is?”

“Hold up a hoof.”

Rainbow shot into the air again.

“I promise not to touch it!  Just hold it up and look at it.  See the front of it there?  See the little bulge above your toe?”

“Yeah—”

“That’s where the wall is breaking.  Because you’re not spending your days running around on hard rocks like a mustang, your hooves are growing out too far.  Walking damages the wall and makes a bulge, and you risk cracking a hoof.”

“So—”

“So you need a trim.”  Megan waved a small, curved rasp.  “I may not be a farrier, but I’ve trimmed a few hooves in my day.  I can give you a pretty good imitation of a mustang roll, and after I do, your feet will feel better.”

Rainbow turned her hoof back and forth as she peered at it.  Another drop of sweat ran down her cheek.

“Please don’t make this harder than it has to be, Rainbow.”

Rainbow lowered, closed her wings, and stared at the ground.  She swallowed hard, and her voice cracked as she said, “I just . . . I just don’t do hooficures.”

“I don’t even know what that is.  I do trims.  You’ll be able to run faster if I do this, and you’ll be less likely to hurt your hooves.”

Rainbow looked up.  “It’s for athletes, then?”

“Yes.  You need your hooves trimmed regularly if you want to be a good athlete.”

After a minute more, Rainbow launched into the air, flew a tight loop, and landed again with a thump.  She took a deep breath and said, “Let’s do this.”

A lump formed in Megan’s throat and the rasp slipped from her hand.  She remembered what she had thought and how she had felt when she had first seen Rainbow’s muzzle peeking from the well.  When Rainbow had flown the loop, she had felt the same thing again.

Now fumbling, Megan took a hoof knife and ran a hand down the back of Rainbow’s front right cannon.  Rainbow’s leg lifted, and Megan gripped the hoof and began to scrape.  With a loud hiss, the blade slid along the hard tissue, pulling up mud and grit.

Rainbow trembled and jerked her leg, but Megan held tight.

“I didn’t stab your frog, did I?”

Rainbow shook her head. 

Megan kept working.  “You’ve got good cups.”

“Thanks.”  Rainbow’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“Thick walls, too.”

“Uh huh.”

Squeezing Rainbow’s fetlock between her own knees, Megan trimmed the bars and frog, and then took nippers and cut the wall back.  After that, she gave the pony a moment of respite as she set up her hoof stand.  Having done that, she found the rasp she’d dropped and again reached for Rainbow’s leg.

She paused when she saw Rainbow tremble again.  Looking up, she caught Rainbow’s face in profile: the pony’s ears were laid back, and a fresh bead of perspiration meandered down her cheek from under her forelock.  With eyes half-closed and mouth silently working, Rainbow looked curiously small and frightened.

Megan straightened, put the rasp down, and walked away.

“What’s up?” Rainbow said.  “I’ll hold still.  I’ll—”

Rubbing her temples, Megan shook her head.  “I’ve been taking it out on you.”

“What?”

“You remind me of somebody.”

“Some . . . buddy?  A friend of yours?”

“Yes, you could call her a friend—of sorts.  I found her in there.”  Megan waved toward the old well.  “Same place I found you.  Firefly.  She first took me to Dream Valley.”

“Really?  I thought you walked into the Valley of Dreams on the Rainbow Bridge and then pulled the rainbow out of the sky and fought monsters with it.”

“I think the story’s been embellished.”

“So, was this Firefly awesome?”

“She was a lot like you.  Loved stunt flying.  She helped me fight Tirek.”  Megan ran a hand over her own face and realized a few tears had run from her eyes.  “I didn’t really see her much after that.  To be honest, I avoided her.”

“Why?”

Megan bit her lip, turned, and stared at the well.  “I was angry.”  She rubbed her hands together and felt the calluses at the bases of her fingers.  “She climbed out of that well and told me I was perfect and wonderful, that I was going to be some big hero if I just jumped on her back.  I was a little kid and didn’t know any better.  I went with her, and that began two years of pure hell.”

The sky had lightened now and the stars had faded.  The Rainbow Bridge stood stark against the blue.  Megan wondered what she’d see if she asked Rainbow Dash to carry her over it.  “Don’t get me wrong.  I loved the ponies, and I loved Dream Valley.  But Tirek scared me to death.  For months afterwards, I had nightmares about him and woke up screaming.  And I didn’t know, when I turned the Rainbow of Light on him, that it was going to kill him.”

She sank to her knees.  “After that, it was a long time before I could bring myself to go back to Ponyland again.  I felt all twisted up.  I told myself that I’d saved the ponies, that I’d done a good thing, but then I’d remember how Tirek screamed when he died.”

She wiped her cheeks.  “Just as I thought maybe I was working things out and could put it all behind me, another monster showed up.  Then another.  And another.  And the ponies always ran to me.”

She pressed her palms against her eyes until she saw white flashes.  “One morning, when I got up, the Rainbow Bridge was gone.  I was happy, because it meant I didn’t have to fight anymore.  But I felt awful for feeling happy.  Every night afterwards, I tossed in bed, almost in a panic, wondering if the ponies were still alive, wondering if something had finally destroyed the valley, wondering if they could get on without me.”  Laughing faintly, she shrugged and pulled her forearm across her face.  “I guess you didn’t need me after all.”

Megan felt something solid fall gently on her shoulder.  She turned her head to look and was surprised to see Rainbow Dash’s freshly trimmed hoof.  “You know,” Rainbow said softly, “you did save the ponies.  Twilight’s the egghead, and I don’t read a lot of history, but from what I understand, there wouldn’t be any Equestria today without you.  There’s even a statue of you in Canterlot.”

Megan laughed again.  “Ugh, really?”

“Well . . . it doesn’t look anything like you, but it’s there.”

Megan reached her hand to her shirt and felt for the locket again.  “I wish I’d left the Rainbow of Light with the ponies, and I really wish I hadn’t avoided Firefly.  We should have had it out.”

“What would you have said to her?”

Staring at the ground, Megan shrugged.  “It doesn’t matter now.”

With a grin on her muzzle, Rainbow walked around, faced Megan, and placed a hoof against her cheek.  “Well, maybe Firefly’s gone, but if she’s as awesome as you say, she could be an ancestress of mine.  So having me here is kinda like having her, right?”

“I guess—”

“What do you need to say?”

Megan chewed her lip for a minute as she thought.  Then she smiled and, mimicking Rainbow’s gesture, touched Rainbow’s cheek.  “If she were here, I’d say, Firefly, I am mad as hell at you for grabbing a little girl and dragging her off to another world without even telling her why.”

“What else?”

“I’m mad as hell at you for making me risk my life day after day.”

“What else?”

“I’m mad as hell at you for making me kill someone.”

“And?”

“And . . . thank you for believing in me.”  Megan swallowed.  Her tears started afresh.  “And thank you for introducing me to your friends.  And I’m sorry.  For everything.”  She fell forward and wrapped her arms around Rainbow’s neck.

Nuzzling Megan’s hair, Rainbow whispered, “Hey.  Don’t mess up my plaits.”

Megan laughed, but a few minutes passed before she pulled away.

“So, should we finish my hooves sometime today?” asked Rainbow with a wink.

“Yes, Ambassador.  Yes, let’s.”








Just as Megan finished sanding and blacking Rainbow’s hooves, a shadow passed over the sun.  Thinking it was a cloud, Megan glanced up and gasped.  A pink airship was lowering out of the sky.

The ship’s balloon was stenciled with curving green vines and bright red hearts, and the gondola hanging beneath had the shape of a small boat with a tiny cabin and a wraparound deck.  Leaning over the bulwark were five grinning ponies.  As the ship touched down in the yard, Applejack jumped from the deck and lashed an anchor rope to the well.

Megan reorganized her supplies as the ponies climbed from the boat and walked toward the barn.  As soon as the ponies had all gathered, Rainbow Dash strutted back and forth in front of them.

“Magog,” Twilight Sparkle said, “you’ve met the others, right?”

Megan nodded.  “Last week, remember?”

“I must say, Rainbow Dash,” said Rarity, “your new coiffure is most becoming.  Magog, darling, I’ve been trying for years to convince her to restyle her hair.  How did you do it?”

“I have a way with ponies.”  From among her supplies, Megan pulled a long purple ribbon and checked it over for runs and snags.

“She does look good,” said Twilight, rubbing her chin, “but the black hooves are kind of weird.  Didn’t you have blue?”

“We don’t really do blue hoof polish around here, but I don’t think anybody’s going to be looking at her hooves anyway.”  Megan put a finger to her lips and tiptoed up behind Rainbow.  Rainbow didn’t notice, but the other ponies struggled to suppress giggles.

Rainbow frowned and began to turn her head, but Rarity grabbed her chin.  “And she’s positively glowing,” Rarity said loudly.  “How did you make her coat so glossy?” 

“It’s a spray called show sheen.”  Megan bent down and, as carefully as she could, tied a bow around Rainbow’s dock.  “A little of that and she’s sure to knock everybody’s socks off.” 

“Every buddy?” said Applejack.  “Well, it’ll all be fine, then.  These humans must be right nice folks if’n they all call each other buddy.”

Megan smiled and shook her head.  “Silly pony.”  She finished the bow and stepped back.

Applejack covered her mouth and snorted.

"What's going on?"  Rainbow slipped from Rarity’s grasp and spun around.  “Are you doing something back there?”

“Nothing at all, Rainbow.  Just checking your braids.”

Pinkie bounced around the yard.  “Ooh!  Ooh!  Maybe the humans’ll like us so much, they’ll all wanna have a big party!”

Megan laughed.  “Listen, Surpri—er, I mean . . . whatever your name was.  Pinkie?  Ambassador Pinkie.  Let’s just get through the show first.  We can worry about parties later.”

Her ears drooping, Pinkie sat hard on the ground.  “Awwww—”

“But if this goes well,” Megan added, “and doesn’t turn into an interdimensional disaster, I will personally throw all of you the best and biggest pony party you’ve ever seen.”

“Yippee!”  Pinkie leapt into the air and backflipped.  “Oh, it will be so wonderful.  We’ll have balloons and cake and ice cream, and we’ll all wear fancy dresses and play Pin the Tail on the Pony and—”

Megan cleared her throat and Pinkie fell silent.  “Now,” Megan said, “who’s next?”

The ponies turned and looked at Fluttershy, who was trying to hide behind the barn door.

“Oh,” Fluttershy whispered.  “Oh . . . my.”
	

> 3. Molly Grooms Fluttershy
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson


III. Molly Grooms Fluttershy

Megan had a reputation as a delinquent.

In sixth and seventh grade, she had spent so much time in Ponyland that she had often missed school and had frequently failed to turn in assignments.  She had barely passed her classes.  She had come home late and had disappeared at odd hours with no explanation.  The adults in her life had concluded both that she was up to no good and that she would prove to be an unsavory influence on her younger siblings.

Once the Rainbow Bridge closed, she began attending school regularly and got straight A’s.  Now approaching the end of her senior year of high school, she had a scholarship and plans to major in Agribusiness, but her reputation retained its tarnish, largely because of her aloofness.

Megan did not get along well with others.  When in a crowd, she would hear about parties, boyfriends, daytime television, and sports.  Having discovered a lost civilization, shattered cursed amulets, hunted for magical relics, and banished evil demigods, she found such talk unbearably inane.

She knew she couldn’t bring Ponyland into a conversation, but neither could she find relief by discussing more earthy and sensible topics.  Once, while standing in a knot of girls talking about which boys they thought were cutest, she mentioned that she had helped a prize cow give birth the day prior.  The other girls had looked at her in blank disgust and quietly walked away.

Except for her brother and sister, Megan had no close friends.  In the lunchroom at school, she usually ate by herself with her head bent low and her arm hooked around her tray.  Aside from 4-H, she hadn’t joined any clubs, and she didn’t play any sports.  She insisted that she had to head straight home after school to tend to the animals.

A year ago at lunch, while Megan was picking at something vaguely resembling beef stroganoff, Clarisse sat down across from her.  One of the school’s few Mennonites, Clarisse always wore a long, simple dress and kept her chestnut hair tied up under a cap.  She and Megan got along well, which is to say that they could stand each other’s company, though Clarisse had apparently gotten it into her head that Megan was a poor sinner in need of repentance.

She pushed a book across the table.  “Read that.”

Megan glanced at it.  “What is it?”

“Just read it.”

Megan slid the book into her open backpack.  When she got home, she skimmed it.  As she had supposed, it was a religious book:  it recounted the story of a four-year-old boy who had major surgery and claimed afterwards that he had died and gone to heaven for a few minutes.  The boy said that, while he was there, he had met Jesus, and that Jesus had ridden a horse colored like a rainbow.

The next day, when walking between classes, Megan saw Clarisse at her locker.  She handed the book back and kept walking.

“Megan!” Clarisse called.

Megan stopped and turned around.

“Did you read it?”

“Most of it.”

“And?”

Megan shrugged.

With a nervous smile, Clarisse stepped close to her.  “Doesn’t it seem true?  Don’t you just feel sometimes that there has to be another world beyond ours?”

“I’ve been there,” Megan answered.  “And yes, the horses are rainbow-colored.”  She left Clarisse in the hall and headed toward her next class.








“I can’t do it!  I know I can’t!  I just can’t!”

While Megan stood over her with her arms crossed, Fluttershy threw herself on the ground, put her hooves over her head, and quaked.

“I’ll trip over my hooves!” Fluttershy cried.  “I’ll forget the sequence!  I’ll fall over a fence!  I don’t know what a lead change is!”

Megan knelt and ran a hand through Fluttershy’s pink mane.  “Ambassador, there’s no need to get this upset.”

“But there is!  Everypony’s going to be staring at me, and I’m going to mess up, and—”

Megan scratched her behind the ears.  “Fluttershy, you don’t have to do the dressage or the jumper or the western classes.”

Fluttershy looked up, her teary face full of hope.  “I don’t?”

“There’s also an English pleasure class.  You can do that instead.”

Fluttershy squeaked and covered her head again.

“You’ll be told when to walk, trot, and canter, so you don’t have to memorize anything.  All you have to do is smile, respond quickly, and look like you’re having a good time.  I think you’ll win, too:  the judges will probably take into account that a pegasus is likely to be more fun to ride than most horses.”

“I don’t do well in front of crowds.”

Megan laughed.  “You know, Rainbow Dash told me you’d say something like that, so she made sure to inform me that you’ve performed in a play in front of a large audience and that you had a brief but successful career as a fashion model.  So no excuses.  Let’s get you ready.”

Fluttershy rose to her feet and kicked at the ground while Megan curried her coat.  All the ponies’ coats were soft, but Fluttershy’s was especially so.  It had the texture of velvet.  As she brushed, Megan made a mental note to be extra careful not to get any show sheen on her saddle area, or the saddle would surely slip.

“If you hate performing, how in the world did you end up as a model?”

“I was sort of talked into it.”

“Why didn’t you say no?”

Fluttershy ducked her head and toed the ground again.  “I was afraid to.”

Now currying Fluttershy’s right haunch, Megan paused.  “You weren’t egged into this whole ambassador thing against your will, were you?”

“Oh, no,” said Fluttershy quickly.  “All six of us sort of, um, work together, so when Princess Celestia asked Twilight if we would come to Earth, we all said yes.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.  Did you want to come to Earth, and did you want to be in this horse show?”

“I don’t mind coming to Earth.  Really, I don’t.”

“Hmm.”  Megan continued working, moving around to Fluttershy’s left side.  “I don’t know if this is any help to you, but back when I used to visit Ponyland, I often had to do things I didn’t feel ready for.  I learned two tricks.  Wanna hear them?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

“Okay.  The first is, learn to improvise.  More than once, I didn’t have a clue what to do, but I acted like I did and came up with something.  It usually worked.  When some of the ponies had screwed things up by making bad wishes with magic coins, I convinced the troll who owned the coins to set things right by wishing for a friend for him.  When one of the ponies lost a bet she made with a talking ostrich in the hopes of winning a magic horseshoe we needed, I just swiped the horseshoe and hightailed it outta there.  I once even slowed down a crystalized lava demon by throwing a blanket over his face, which gave the princess ponies time to escape so they could recharge their magic and kill him.”

Fluttershy shuddered.  Under Megan’s hands, her muscles twitched as if she were trying to remove flies.  “They killed him?  Just like that?”

“Yeah.  I don’t know how you do things in this Equestria of yours, but back in Dream Valley, we played for keeps.  That brings me to my second trick.”

Fluttershy swallowed.  “And that is—?”

“Never let them see you bleed.  When you’re scared to death, that’s exactly the time to hold your ground, keep calm, and assess your advantages.”

Her voice barely audible, Fluttershy whispered, “I prefer to hold my ground at home—”

“That’s what it was always about.  Home.  The Dream Valley ponies had to fight to keep theirs.”

Megan finished currying and took a step back.  “There.  I must say, you’ve got a beautiful coat.  You’re already so well groomed, I’m not going to have to do much here.  I’ll go over you with the body brush, and then I can braid your mane.”

“I just want to know one thing,” Fluttershy whispered.

“Yes?”

“Is this the end?”

Megan paused.  “Uh, no.  I’ve got your mane, tail, hooves—”

“I mean, is this the end of . . . the world?”  Fluttershy’s voice rose again to a squeak.  She turned her head to face Megan, and her eyes were very wide and moist.

Megan lowered the brush and cautiously rested her hands on her hips.  “Fluttershy, I do not know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Fluttershy winced.  “Well, it’s just, I mean, they say that, when you were with the ponies, they lived in Paradise.”

“Uh huh.  But—”

“And after you disappeared, the ponies forgot about friendship, so the windigoes came.  Then everypony had to find a new home.”

“That’s what Princess Sparkle told me, but I don’t really see—”

“And a lot of ponies say that, someday, at the end of the world, Magog will return to lead all the good ponies back to Paradise.”

The brush slipped out of Megan’s hand.

Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut, but tears seeped from between her eyelids.  She threw herself on the ground, wrapped her fetlocks around Megan’s legs, and cried, “I’m sorry if I’ve been a bad pony!  Please don’t send me to Tartarus!”

After blinking several times in bewilderment, Megan tried to step backwards, but Fluttershy’s forelegs were still around her ankles, so she tumbled to the grass.

Fluttershy, apparently realizing she’d tripped the prophesied chosen one, put her hooves to her mouth and, with an expression of terror on her face, released a strangled, high-pitched squeal.

Crawling backwards until she could gain her feet, Megan rose and walked numbly into the barn.  Dry, musty air and the thick smells of hay and manure met her inside.  In the darkness, she walked to a wall, placed her hands on it, and several times pounded her forehead against its rough surface.

In his stall, T.J. whinnied.

“I can’t do it, T.J.,” Megan murmured.  “I thought maybe I could handle being their folk hero, but I definitely can’t handle this.  This Equestria must be crazy.”

A horse’s soft tread sounded behind her.  She spun around.  “Look, Fluttershy—”

She snapped her mouth shut.  It was Twilight.

“What’s wrong?” Twilight asked.  “Fluttershy is out here crying.”

“Princess—”

Megan realized her voice sounded shrill, so she paused, gathered herself, and said in a harsh whisper, “What exactly do ponies think happened with us back in Dream Valley?”

Twilight sighed.  “Oh, dear.  Well—I’m sorry about this—the stories say that, under the benevolent reign of Magog, Danel, and Moloch, the ponies lived in Paradise.”  She raised a hoof to her breast.  “Personally, I always assumed the stories were metaphorical.”

“And what’s this about me taking ponies back there?”

Twilight laughed.  “Back there?  Oh, no, no.  That’s not it at all.  The legend says that, at the end of the world, the Rainbow Bridge will open again and Magog will return to defeat the last of the ponies’ enemies.  Then a new Paradise will descend from the sky, and the ponies will no longer need the princesses to raise the sun or moon because Magog herself will light the city forever.”

The barn was silent for almost half a minute as Megan stared.  Twilight coughed gently and added, “I, uh, assume that’s metaphorical, too.  I mean, clearly, the reopening of the Rainbow Bridge represents friendship growing in ponies’ hearts, the return of Magog represents the end of ill-will between friends, the descent of Paradise symbolizes the harmony that friendship produces, and—”

“But the Rainbow Bridge is open,” said Megan, “and I’m right here.”

“Well, yes.  There’s that.  Still, I wrote a lengthy paper on this once, and I don’t think we need to let present events get in the way of a good theory.”

“Look, I am not going to destroy your enemies, and I definitely can’t bring some city or building or whatever down out of heaven.”

Twilight smiled.  “They say the first Paradise descended from the sky, but I expect that too is a—”

“Actually, it did.”

“Oh.”  Twilight rubbed her chin.  “I might have to revise my paper—”

“Twilight, I can’t do this.  I am a good Methodist, I go to church every Christmas, and I absolutely cannot be your . . .”  Megan trailed off and threw up her hands.

Twilight waved a hoof in the air.  “These are obviously old mares’ tales.  Clearly, you’re not quite the powerful being the stories make you out to be.”

Megan furrowed her brow as she tried to decide whether that was an insult or not.

“I really wouldn’t worry,” said Twilight.  “None of this stuff is supposed to take place until after Tartarus breaks open and monsters destroy Equestria.  That hasn’t happened.”

A drop of sweat meandered down the middle of Megan’s back.  “Wait, what?”

“Monsters,” Twilight said.  “You know, the ones you’re supposed to defeat . . .”  With a scowl, she paused and rubbed her chin again.

Megan fell back against the wall.  “I need to sit down.”

“Yes . . .”  Still scowling, Twilight stared at the floor.

Running her tongue across her teeth, Megan suddenly realized her mouth was very dry.  “Twilight Sparkle,” she said, “if there’s one thing I learned in Ponyland, it’s that some stuff, like crazy old prophecies, no matter how weird they are, should be taken seriously.”

Twilight nodded.  “I just thought of the same thing, actually—”

Molly popped her head in the door of the barn and said cheerily, “Megster, did you make a pony cry?”

Pressing her palms to her eyes, Megan muttered, “Uh huh.  She thinks I’m going to send her to hell for her sins.”

“Maybe you should tell her you only do that sort of thing to”—Molly ticked names off on her fingers—“Tirek, Quirt, Grogar, the Smooze, those Raptorians, Lavan—”

“And I would’ve done it to those witches if I’d had the chance.  Molly, shouldn’t you be cleaning your saddles?”

“I finished, sis.  You’re taking forever over here.”

“And you can go to hell, too, Molly.”

Molly stuck her tongue out.  “How about I help you groom the ponies instead?”

“I told you—”

“To clean my tack.  Which I did.  All of it.  Meanwhile, you’re sitting in the barn and whining because an alien civilization thinks you’re Jesus.  So how ’bout I help you out and we’ll get this done faster?”

Megan closed her eyes and, struggling to keep her voice controlled, said, “Molly, I think this is something that I, personally, should—”

“Megan.”

Megan opened her eyes.  Molly had one eyebrow raised and her hands turned up in that “duh” gesture she used when she thought Megan was doing something stupid.

“I know as much about horses as you do,” Molly said, “and as much about little ponies.  Remember?”

Glumly, Megan nodded and half-heartedly waved a hand.  “Go groom Fluttershy, then, and I’ll start on the next one.”

A wide grin spread across Molly’s face, and she delivered a thumbs-up.  “Thank you.  You are still the coolest big sister ever, even when you’re being a stupid-head.”  She popped out the door and ran off.

Megan glanced at Twilight.  “The problem is that you’ve got it all wrong.  I’m not some big hero.  If a whole bunch of monsters are about to get unleashed on Equestria, you’re screwed.” 








With a loud squeal, Molly tackled Fluttershy, threw her arms around her neck, and began roughly rubbing her coat and kissing her cheek.

“You’ve no idea how much I missed you!” Molly shouted.  “Well, I mean, not you specifically, but ponies!  It’s been years since I’ve seen a pony!  I mean, you know, a real pony.  Er, I mean . . . you know what I mean!”  She squeezed Fluttershy as hard as she could and shrieked.

Fluttershy, with tears still running down her face, responded only with a faint mumble.

“So how far along were you?” Molly asked.

Fluttershy mumbled again.

Molly let go of Fluttershy’s neck, threw herself on the ground, and put her hands behind her head.  Grinning up at the pony, she asked, “Are you nervous?”

Fluttershy squeezed her eyes shut and nodded.

“I’m always nervous too before a show,” said Molly, gazing into the sky.  “But there’s a trick I’ve learned.  Wanna know what it is?”

“N-never let them s-see you bleed?”

Molly blinked.  “What?  Where did that come from?  No, I was gonna tell you to picture the judges in their underwear.”

“But what is—?”

“Never mind.  Just relax.  I’m gonna be there, Danny’s gonna be there, Megan’s gonna be there, and everything’ll be fine.  Believe me, if anyone so much as looks at you wrong, Megan’s gonna kick his butt.  In fact, we should prob’ly tie her down instead o’ the horses.  Now, was she through with your coat?”

“Um, she said something about a body—”

“Body brush.  Got it.”  Molly jumped up, grabbed the brush, and made broad strokes across Fluttershy’s coat.  “Ooh, this makes me miss Shady.  And Baby Sundance.  And Baby Cuddles.  Oh, wow, I guess they wouldn’t be babies anymore.  Oh, wow, I guess they wouldn’t even be alive anymore.”  Molly shook her head.  “Five thousand years.  That’s harsh.”

“I’m sorry,” Fluttershy whispered.

“For what?  It’s not your fault.”  Molly tossed the body brush aside and grabbed up her hairbrush.  “I am so glad Megan’s letting me do this.  I’ve wanted to get my hands on you since I first saw you.”

Pink entered Fluttershy’s cheeks.  “Why?”

“Are you serious?  Your mane’s amazing.”  Molly started brushing.  “I love combing our horses, but it’s just not the same, you know?  And Megan has awesome hair, but she won’t let me touch it.  Yours might give me some trouble, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that!”  Molly scratched Fluttershy behind the ears as she thought.  “It’s just that the English classes require braids, but I’m not quite sure how to do yours since you have such a long forelock.  I’ve had horses whose forelocks hung below their eyes, but I’ve never tried to braid a forelock that actually hangs to the ground.  Looks like I have to get creative.”  She leaned around and grinned widely right in Fluttershy’s face, making the pony cringe.  “I love getting creative.”

“You mean improvise?”

“Yeah, sure.  Hmm, I’m going to do a continuous French braid along your neck, which will work well with your long hair.  Then for your forelock . . . we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Molly spent several minutes brushing.  She carefully divided the hair into two sections, which she laid on either side of Fluttershy’s neck.  “Okay, here’s the deal.  Your mane is really, really thick, so I’m gonna do two braids, one on each side of your crest.  Normally, to make sure it’s straight, I’d do this while sitting on your back.  You okay with that?”

“I guess so—”

“Open your wings.”

Hesitantly, Fluttershy did.  She gasped when Molly threw a leg over her back and climbed on.  Molly squirmed a little, adjusting, and looked down to see her toes dangling only a few inches off the ground.

“Yep,” she said, “I’m taller’n I used to be.  My days of riding magic ponies might be just about over.  Am I too heavy?”

Fluttershy paused for a moment, but then shook her head.

“You’re sure?”

“Well,” Fluttershy whispered, “I sometimes carry some animals on my back, and most of them are smaller, but—”

“Great!  Your hair is mine!”  Molly mimicked a villainous laugh, took Fluttershy’s mane in hand, and began making a braid down the right side of her neck.  “And it’s so nice and long, I’m going to have lots and lots of it to hang down your shoulder here.  Oh, you’re going to be gorgeous!”  Molly hummed to herself, kicked her feet, and bounced up and down lightly.  Fluttershy merely lowered her head and shut her eyes.

Just as she was nearing the end of the braid, Molly let go of Fluttershy’s hair and shouted, “Oh, sugar!  Gosh darn it, I can’t believe I forgot!  Fudge!”

“W-what’s wrong?” Fluttershy asked.

“Pink!  Your hair is pink!”

“I’m sorry—”

“Why?  I love pink.  I wanted to dye my hair pink, but Megan wouldn’t let me.  No, the problem is, your hair’s pink, but my thread isn’t.  Hold still a moment.  Uh, no, on second thought, could you walk closer to the table there—?”

Fluttershy did as she was told, stepping up to the card table on which Megan had earlier laid supplies.  Molly grabbed up a spool of thread, bit off some with her teeth, and tied it around the end of Fluttershy’s braid.

“Okay,” Molly said, hopping to the ground, “don’t move.  I’ll be right back!”  She spun around and, at top speed, clomped toward the house.  She sped through the back door, through the kitchen, and into the hall bathroom where she yanked open a drawer under the counter and rifled around until she pulled out what had formerly been a fruitcake tin, but was now a disorganized sewing kit.

“Pink, pink, pink . . . pink!”  She pulled out a spool and held it over her head.  “I knew we had pink thread!  It’s not the best stuff for this, but it’ll work.  Woo!  Pony, here I come!”

She launched herself back out the door, ran toward the horse barn, vaulted herself over Fluttershy’s croup, and landed hard on her back, nearly flattening her to the ground.

“Check it out!” she cried, waving the spool of thread in front of Fluttershy’s face.  “Pink!”

Fluttershy replied with a weak smile.  “That’s . . . nice?”

Molly pulled off the temporary tie she’d made and secured the braid with the pink thread.  Then, halfway down Fluttershy’s neck and just behind her ears, she tied loops of thread to keep the braid from sagging.  After that, she started in on the second braid.

As she twisted Fluttershy’s hair, Molly sighed.  “We used to have a Friesian.  He was black all over except for a little white star on his forehead.  His mane was really thick and really long, and it was wavy.  That was the most gorgeous horse we ever had here.  I loved braiding his hair.”

“Had?  Did he have to leave?”

Molly finished the braid, climbed from Fluttershy’s back, and started in on Fluttershy’s forelock, braiding small sections at a time.  “I was out riding him, he caught a foot in a gopher hole, and he fell.  I flew clear and landed in some soft dirt, but I’m lucky he didn’t crush me.  He broke his leg, though.  Messed it up real bad.  The bone was sticking right out.”

Fluttershy trembled.  “Oh, the poor dear.”

“Yeah.  He was an older horse by that time, too, so full recovery just wasn’t gonna happen.  I’m crazy, I guess, cuz I was riding again a few days later, but, oh, that Friesian!  He was my favorite, but Megan had to put him—”

Molly felt heat run to her face.  She closed her mouth, and her hands slipped from Fluttershy’s forelock.

“She had to put him where?” Fluttershy asked.

Molly scrambled to take up the strands of Fluttershy’s hair again.  She swallowed, patted Fluttershy’s head, and said, “She put him . . . in a home!  Yeah.  You know, a home for lame horses.  Someplace where he’d be taken good care of.”

A little smile settled on Fluttershy’s mouth.  “Well, that’s nice, at least.”

Molly almost dropped Fluttershy’s hair again.

“And I’m sure he’s very happy to have somepony who cares about him so much,” Fluttershy added.  “I hope you go see him a lot.”

Molly wiped sweat from her forehead.  “Oh, yeah.  All the time.”

“Maybe we can visit him after the show?  I’m sure he’d like to meet all of us.”

“Uh . . . I dunno.”

“Please?  It would mean so much to him.”

Molly wiped her forehead again.  “Hey, uh, let’s just focus on this for now, huh?  I mean, you’re an ambassador, right?  It’s a big day and all.”  She finished braiding Fluttershy’s forelock as quickly as she could and stepped back.  “Yes.  That works even better than I thought it would.  You’re gonna wow ‘em.  Let’s do your tail.”

Fluttershy ducked her head.  “Is that really necessary?”

“Yeah, ’course.  Do you want it braided or banged?  Please say braided, cuz I’d hate to cut a tail like this one.”

“Um, well, I don’t want you to cut it, but—”

“But what?”

“Are you sure you need to—?”

“Yeah.  Rules an’ stuff.”

Fluttershy shrieked when Molly seized her tail and started brushing it out.  “Um, I really don’t know if you—”

“Oh, relax.  What’s the big deal?  It’s not like . . .”  Molly paused, running her fingers through the hair.  About a third of the way down, she felt a hard knob.  “Are you wearing a tail extension?”

Fluttershy closed her eyes, and her cheeks turned pink again.  

“That’s okay,” said Molly.  “I braid extensions in most of my horses’ tails before shows.  This one’s looking a little loose, though, so I’m going to take it out and redo—”

“I’m so embarrassed!”  With tears streaking from her eyes, Fluttershy took off at a gallop toward the north pasture.

“Hey, wait!” Molly shouted.  “Come back!”  Dumbfounded, she watched as Fluttershy shrank in the distance and disappeared behind a rising cloud of dust. 

Megan stuck her head out of the barn.  “Molly, what just happened?”

“I don’t know!  Fluttershy just took off!”

Megan punched the wall.  “Son of a bitch!  We don’t have time for this!  Where’s Rainbow Dash?”








Megan found Rainbow chatting with Rarity and Applejack in the shade behind the barn.  Rarity was still complimenting Rainbow’s new style, and Applejack was still snickering at the bow on her tail, which Rainbow had yet to detect.

“Rainbow,” Megan said.

“Yeah?” Rainbow answered.

“Your friend ran off.  We’re going after her.”

“Wait, who did what—?”

Without an answer, Megan grabbed Rainbow’s wings, pushed them forward out of her way, and climbed on.  “Giddyup,” she said.

Rainbow glared back at her.  “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

“You can fly, can’t you?”

“Well, yeah—”

Megan reached back and slapped her haunch.  “Then do it.”

Rainbow stood still for a moment, her mouth hanging open.  But then, with her lips curled in a half-grin, she turned her head, spread her wings, jumped, and shot straight into the air.

Wind blasted into Megan’s eyes and teeth.  She sucked in her breath, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around Rainbow’s neck.  She had ridden pegasi bareback before, but even Whizzer hadn’t been this fast.  The show sheen was slippery, and Megan could feel her legs sliding backwards toward Rainbow’s haunches.

“Rainbow Dash!  Slow down!”

“You said you wanted to fly, didn’t you?” Rainbow shouted.

She spun in a tight corkscrew, lifting Megan off her back.  When Rainbow righted herself, Megan slammed down hard and winced.  “Rainbow Dash, I swear—!”

Rainbow giggled.  “I expected the great hero who beat monsters with a rainbow to be tougher than this!”

“I can think of one Rainbow I’d like to beat right now.”

“Ha!”  Rainbow doubled her speed.

“If I have to redo your braids, I will kill you!”  Spotting a blot of pink and yellow in the pasture below, Megan pointed.  “There she is!”

“I see ’er.”  Rainbow dove.  Megan clenched her teeth as she felt her stomach shift.

Only a few feet from the ground, Rainbow opened her wings wide, flapped hard, and arrested her descent.  She dropped right in front of Fluttershy and hovered, allowing her hindquarters to hang.  Megan at last lost her grip and fell to the ground.  A sharp rock gouged into her lower back, and she sucked in her breath with a muffled curse.  When she struggled to her feet, she had to force her back to straighten out.

“Hey, Fluttershy, what gives?” Rainbow asked.

Grimacing, Megan tried to rub the pain out of her back.  “Molly said you ran off.  Why?”  She paused.  “And what the hell did she do to your forelock?  Dreadlocks?  Seriously?  What was she thinking?”

Fluttershy toed the ground.  Megan cracked her knuckles and marched toward her, but Rainbow raised a forelimb and blocked her path.

“Lemee handle this,” Rainbow said.  She dropped to the ground and put a hoof to Fluttershy’s shoulder.  “C’mon, Fluttershy.  What’s up?”

“I just can’t tell you, Rainbow Dash.”

Clenching her fists, Megan stepped forward again.  “That is not good enough—”

Rainbow jumped into the air and pushed her back.  “I said let me handle this.”

“Handle it faster.”

“Why don’t you mind your own business?”

“Oh, I’d love to!” Megan shouted.  “But, gee, a damn pony landed in my damn well and wanted her damn mane braided!”

“I did not want my mane braided!” Rainbow shouted back.  “And I still think it looks stupid!”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

“Moloch found out I wear tail extensions!” Fluttershy blurted.  She put her head to the ground and covered her eyes with her hooves.

Megan and Rainbow both turned and stared at her.  They were silent for a minute.

“You wear tail extensions?” Rainbow asked.

Megan rubbed her forehead.  Her headaches this day had been coming in waves.  “Who cares?  Most of my horses wear tail extensions when I show them.”

“No, seriously,” said Rainbow, “you wear tail extensions?”  She landed behind Fluttershy and picked up the end of her tail.  “It looks so real.  I mean, I always thought it was pretty long, but I never—”

“Rainbow Dash!” Megan shouted.

“What?”

Megan sat down in front of Fluttershy, took a deep breath, and said as calmly as she could, “Just answer me one thing, Ambassador.  Am I going to have to go through something like this with every single one of you?”  Curiosity mixed with her annoyance when she noticed Fluttershy’s forelock again.  She reached out and picked at the braided dreadlocks Molly had made.  “Look, Molly and I already know, and we don’t especially care.  I can adjust the extension right here, and nobody else has to see it.  Then I’ll take you back to the barn, Molly can braid your tail, and we will keep this a secret between us.  We won’t even tell the other ponies.”

“I still can’t believe you wear an extension,” Rainbow said, now picking through Fluttershy’s tail.  “I mean, where is it exactly?  It’s so—”

“Rainbow,” Megan hissed, “shut up.”

Fluttershy wiped her face.  “I . . . I guess that’s okay,” she whispered.  “And the others already know—”

“Wait,” Rainbow said, “the others know?  How come—?”

Megan raised a hand.  “I don’t care.  Discuss it later.  Fluttershy, stand up and turn around.”

Slowly, Fluttershy did as she was told.  By pulling up half the hair of her tail, Megan exposed the plug and loop on the end of the extension.  “I don’t have a hair clip . . . Rainbow, hold this.”

Rainbow Dash obligingly put a hoof against Fluttershy’s tail to hold up the hair.  Fluttershy’s shoulders sank.

Megan examined the extension.  It was braided in and held in place with a piece of twine wrapped around Fluttershy’s dock.  “Yeah, it’s getting loose.  I’m gonna undo it and make a fresh braid.”  She loosened the knots, pulled Fluttershy’s natural hair free, and moved the extension farther up.  “Really, with this in, your tail’s too long for show, so I’ll hike it up a bit.  It’ll still be too long, but I assume you wouldn’t like me to cut it.”

She pulled some of Fluttershy’s hair through the loop at the extension’s top and braided it.  “It looks like your real hair is kind of thin.  Is that—?”  Fluttershy began to pull away, so Megan quickly added, “No, no.  Never mind.  I don’t care.  Just let me get this done.”  She braided some of Fluttershy’s real hair into the false hair of the extension and then tied the twine again around Fluttershy’s dock.

Megan took the clump of hair Rainbow had been holding and combed it down with her fingers.  “That looks good.  I can’t see it.”  She took a deep breath, let it out, and looked back and forth between the ponies.  “Okay.  Let’s get you back and we’ll have Molly finish braiding.  Rainbow, go on ahead.”

“What?  But—”

“Do not argue with me, Rainbow Dash, or I swear—”

“Fine, fine.”  Rainbow rolled her eyes, rose into the air, and flew back toward the barn.

Shaking her head, Megan climbed onto Fluttershy’s back.  “Walk.  And let’s talk.”

Silently, Fluttershy started walking.  After a minute, she mumbled, “I used to pull the hair out of my tail when I was a foal, and it never grew back in very thick.  I’m sorry I ran off—”

“I’m not mad about that.”

They were quiet for another minute.  Fluttershy’s hooves made a steady clopping sound against the sandstone scattered through the field.

Megan sighed.  “Fluttershy, I’m not Magog the Mighty.  You know that, right?  I’m just a girl from Oklahoma.  Maybe that sounds like a faraway, mystical place to you, but to me it’s just my home.  I only went to Ponyland because ponies kept begging for my help, and I only did what I did there because I had to.  I’m not sending any ponies to Tartarus.  Clear?”

Fluttershy nodded.

“I’m not a goddess,” Megan said.  “I don’t have magic powers, and I’m not looking to fulfill any prophecies.  Is that clear?”

“What’s a goddess?”

“Never mind.  Just understand that I’m not one.”

“Okay.”

They continued in silence.  As they neared the barn, Fluttershy whispered, “I really am sorry.  It’s just, Moloch told me about that poor stallion who broke his leg, and then—”

“She told you about Blackie?  What was she thinking?  And he wasn’t a stallion.  He was a . . . never mind.  But holy hell, I can’t believe she told you that.  No wonder you were upset.”

“I was sad for him at first, but then she told me where you put him, and that made me happy.”

“That made you happy?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Really?  I had to shoot him in the head, and you’re happy about that?”

Fluttershy stopped walking, and Megan felt her tremble violently.

“You did what?” Fluttershy whispered.

“Oh,” Megan said.  “Oh, dammit.”

“You did what?”








When Megan returned to her senses, she found herself lying flat on her back and staring up into the blue sky.  A rock pressed into her left hip and grass tickled the back of her neck.  A cloud drifted lazily overhead.

“Eyes,” she mumbled.  “Eyes of fire . . .”

Twilight Sparkle’s face hove into view.  She wore a look of cautious concern.  “Are you okay?”

“What just happened?”

“I think we had a little misunderstanding.”

“So I gathered.”

“Fluttershy was very angry, but she’s calm now.  Moloch explained everything to me, and then I explained everything to Fluttershy.”

“And you’re okay with all of this?”

Twilight looked away and raised a hoof to her neck.  “Well, I don’t know about okay, but I understand this is a different world, and I understand your animals are different from ours.  And I’ve come to accept that you . . . you kill things.”

Megan sat up.  A sharp pain shot from the base of her neck to the top of her head.  She winced.  “We’re running out of time.”

“Fluttershy let Moloch braid her tail, but she didn’t look happy about it.  Rainbow Dash and I managed to coax her.”

“And her hooves?”

“Well, Moloch said Fluttershy’s hooves were so well trimmed that all she had to do was pick them.  She wasn’t sure about the yellow polish, but in the end, she left it on.”

“So she's done?”

“I guess so.”

Megan rested her hands in her lap.  “What exactly just happened?”

Twilight gave a forced laugh.  “Uh, Fluttershy has this thing—”

“Hypnotism, by any chance?”

“I suppose you could call it that.  She doesn’t seem to be able to control it.”

Megan nodded wearily.  “I’ve had worse.”  Unsteadily, she climbed to her feet and brushed off the seat of her pants.  “Ordinarily, grooming is relaxing.  It’s something I look forward to.”   She shook her head.  “This is the most pain I’ve ever endured from brushing ponies.”

When she took a step toward Twilight, Twilight skittered backwards.

Megan’s eyes narrowed.  “Are you sure you’re okay with all of this?”

Twilight opened her mouth, but shut it again and scowled.  She rubbed her chin for a moment.  Then she said, “I told you, I understand.  You’re the one who protected the Valley of Dreams.  Maybe you can’t accept it, but you are Magog the Mighty.”  Her face took on a pained expression, as if she feared how Megan might react to her next words.  “Magog the Mighty is a killer.  I already knew that.  We all did.”

Twilight turned and walked back toward the barn.  Megan stood still and watched her go.  It was several minutes before she followed.
	
	
> 4. Megan Grooms Rarity
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson


IV. Megan Grooms Rarity

It was now midmorning.  Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were finished.  Fluttershy had gone down to the creek bank, apparently to sulk, and Rainbow had followed after, presumably to console.  Two ponies down and four to go:  unless Megan figured out a way to quicken the pace, they wouldn’t be ready in time for the show.

And Megan couldn’t help but think that might be a good thing.

Her head hurt, as it had all week.  Now her back ached as well, and thanks to a combination of Fluttershy’s stare and sleep deprivation, she was exhausted.  Some blurry film obscured her vision, and she had to blink several times to clear it.  She swayed back and forth as she trudged to the barn. 

When she arrived, she found Rarity standing demurely in the yard with her left hooves crossed over her right.  Rarity smiled and said, “Darling, I know you’ve met with several unfortunate delays, and I thought you’d want to get started again right away, so I volunteered to go next.”  She fluttered her eyelashes.

Megan took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  She swallowed.

“Please don’t think ill of Fluttershy,” said Rarity.  “She’s under a lot of stress, as are we all.  Oh, and as are you, of course.  You have my word that I shan’t give you any trouble.  I daresay you’ve had enough.”

Megan didn’t answer.  She only swallowed again and wiped her damp forehead.

Rarity paused and gave a small cough.  When Megan said nothing, she continued, “And, ah, really, I think you’ll find I keep my hair and hooves in excellent condition.  Rainbow Dash is a fine pony if you want speed or any rough work, but in spite of my example—and occasional hints—she still lacks refinement.”  Rarity looked around, cleared her throat, and delicately waved a hoof toward the barn.  “Admittedly, darling, your setup is a bit, ah, primitive for my tastes—”

“Have you come back to haunt me?” Megan asked in a coarse whisper.

Rarity’s eyebrows rose.  She opened her mouth, but made no sound.








Five years prior, almost to the day, Dream Valley saw a watershed moment in its long, tragic, battle-strewn history.  Megan remembered it as if it were yesterday.

Hot sunlight streamed from the sky.  The Rainbow Bridge, sparkling with mist, curved down into the high waterfall behind Dream Castle.  Birds chirruped gaily in the trees, butterflies flitted amongst the wildflowers, and a light wind blew.  White clouds floated lazily across the sky.  In all respects, it was a normal day in the valley, save for one thing:  in the middle of a broad, grassy pasture dotted with honeysuckle, Buttons the unicorn was giving birth.

Megan and Nurse Sweetheart stood aside, watching.  They were there to help if needed, but there had so far been no complications.  Buttons had lain down in the grass to foal, and now, almost an hour later, she rose slowly to her hooves.  Her eyes were glazed, and her breathing was shallow, but she smiled.

“Congratulations, Buttons,” Megan whispered.  “You’re a dam.”

Buttons turned around to gaze at her new foal, but her eyes opened wide in shock when she saw two figures quivering in the grass.

Megan laughed quietly.  “Yes, you gave birth to twins.  A filly and a colt.”

Buttons lowered her head and began licking the birth sac from the newborns.  She kept licking dutifully until the babies were nearly dry and their pinkish coats were fluffed.  She nudged them, and they wobbled to their feet, standing with their little legs splayed.  Each tried to take a step, but both collapsed to the grass.  Buttons nudged them again until they got back up.  Hesitantly, blinking her round, moist eyes, the filly put her muzzle under Buttons’s thigh, found a teat, and suckled.

Buttons winced for a moment, but then smiled.  Rubbing her nose along the filly’s side, she said, “This one is Snookums.”  Then she nodded toward the colt, who was trying to crowd his sister aside for a chance to drink.  “And that one’s Sniffles.”

“They’re beautiful,” said Megan.

After both foals had sucked, Megan knelt in front of them and, one at a time, wrapped an arm around their shoulders.  Many times over, she gently placed her fingers into their ears and noses to get them accustomed to her scent and touch.

Buttons lay back down and smiled weakly.  “Tell me it’s not a dream, Megan.”

“It’s not, Buttons.”

“It feels like a dream.”

Megan laughed.  “That’s just the endorphins.  It’s all real.  These really are your babies.”  She looked to Nurse Sweetheart.  “Should we call the others?”

The nurse clucked.  “Megan, dear, Buttons and the babies need to rest—”

“But the ponies need to see.”

The nurse paused a moment, but then dipped her head and nickered softly.

Megan walked to the edge of the pasture where all the little ponies were quietly waiting.  Without a word, she nodded to them, turned, and began to walk back.  From the soft sound of crunching grass and the occasional beat of wings, she knew they followed.

Together, in silence, they walked to the middle of the pasture where the newborn twins lay nestled beside their dam.  Buttons raised her head, looked around at all the other ponies, and broke into a weary but happy grin.

The babies might have needed their rest, but the ponies couldn’t contain themselves:  they began to stomp, slowly at first, but then with increasing speed until their hooves sounded like rolling thunder.  The newborns, looking around in confusion, snuggled closer to their mother.

The ponies opened their mouths and, as if with one voice, cheered for the first natural-born foals Dream Valley had seen in many years.








To celebrate the new births, the little ponies threw a grand party at Paradise Estate.  The mares had donned fine dresses of silk and satin covered in ribbons, bows and sequins, and they now sashayed and swayed on the veranda under the warm midday sun.  Lean and wiry, wearing nothing but a pair of swim trunks, Danny played with the sea ponies in the pool.  He swam with long, lazy strokes, letting the sunlight thicken the patches of freckles on his back.  Cupcake, Scoops, and Lickety Split had set up a large table loaded with cakes, pies, tarts, and all sorts of other desserts.  Cupcake and Scoops served while Lickety Split kept her face buried in a bowl of ice cream that was bigger than she was.  Meanwhile, Surprise slunk around the party, doing her best to sneak up on other ponies and frighten them out of their wits.  Even the flutter ponies had come for the celebration, and their queen, Rosedust, with a kind smile, a quiet nod, and a few small, dignified gestures, paid her respects to Buttons under the arch of the front gate.

Out on the grass, the big brother ponies, with the exception of Slugger, played a rough pick-up game of hoofball.  They whooped and cheered, knocked one another to the ground, and quickly rose to their hooves again.  Slugger probably would have played too, but he was busy receiving congratulations for becoming a new sire.  With a chocolate cigar in his mouth, he stood in the shade of an apple tree; surrounding him was a crowd of the brightly colored and soft-bodied bushwoolies and furbobs.  Disinclined to small talk or long conversations, Slugger looked profoundly uncomfortable to be the object of the excitable creatures’ attentions.

With arms crossed and head lowered, Megan stood to one side and listened to the jabber.

“I wish I were a father,” the bushwooly Wishful said.

“Yeah, yeah, father, father,” answered the other bushwoolies, bobbing their heads.

“I wish I were a father too,” said one of the furbobs.

“No you don’t,” said another furbob.

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

Megan chuckled quietly, but, struck with a strange and uncharacteristic melancholy, she felt disinclined to listen to the furbobs’ perpetual arguing.  Instead, she walked away and strolled under the trees of the nearby wood, moving into the shade to escape the sun’s glare, which had made her voluminous hair feel heavy and hot.  A short distance in, she came upon a grove of birch trees, their white bark punctuated with crisscrossing black scars like the stripes of a zebra.  In the afternoon breeze, the trees’ leaves rattled softly with a sound like falling rain.  The grove was much cooler than the surrounding wood, lying as it did in a small depression growing with thick, bright green grass:  it put Megan in mind of warm summer nights when the air would suddenly turn cold and the soft, steady patter of rain would begin on the roof above her bedroom and lull her to sleep.

In the middle of the grove, she came upon a pink pegasus clad in a bright red dress laden with bows and a broad straw sun hat laden with silk flowers.  The pegasus was in the process of pulling petals from a daisy with her lips.  With each petal she pulled, she murmured, “He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me . . .”

Megan smiled.  “Hello, Heart Throb,” she said.








It had disturbed Megan before to observe Rarity’s mannerisms and listen to her diction.  The resemblance to the lovesick mare she had known in Dream Valley was uncanny, but until now, Megan had simply told herself it was a coincidence.  Now bruised, worn out, and at her wits’ end, she found it unnerving.  She stared for a full minute until Rarity cleared her throat and said, “Darling, are you sure you’re quite all right?”

“I did what I had to,” Megan whispered.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?”

Megan shook her head, snapping out of her reverie.  “I’m sorry . . . uh, yes, about the barn and everything—it might not be a salon, Rarity, but I think you’ll find I can get the job done.”

Looking nervous, Rarity grinned with clenched teeth.  “I’m sure you can.  I was so impressed by what you did with Rainbow Dash’s mane, and even coaxing her into a hooficure!  Well!  I didn’t think anypony could do that.  Honestly, I used to wince every time I glanced at her poor hooves.  Perhaps she’ll like it enough to make regular trimming a habit—”

“Tell her it’s for her health.  Can we get started here?”  She grabbed her curry brush and approached, but Rarity backed up a few feet.

“That brush—it’s clean, isn’t it?”

“Clean enough.”  Megan stepped forward again, and again Rarity backed up.

“How clean is enough?  You’ll notice, please, that my coat is white.  I would hate to smudge it with anything that came out of Rainbow Dash’s coat—er, not that I would accuse her of being really dirty or anything of that sort, but—”

“Are we going to do this?”

“Do what, darling?”

Megan closed her eyes and sighed.  She checked her watch.  “I can’t believe this.  Tell you what, you mentioned before that you’d never seen show sheen, right?”

Rarity’s face lightened.  “Oh my, no, I hadn’t.  Goodness, you made Rainbow so shiny she almost looked like a crystal pony when the sun was on her just right.  I must say, since we’ll probably want to talk about trade relations or something, I think there could be a sizable market for that kind of product—”

“Okay, sure.  I got some other stuff you might like.  How about whitening shampoo?  Would that satisfy you that I’ve kept you clean enough?”

Rarity raised her eyebrows.  “Whitening—?”

“It’s supposed to make a white coat even whiter.  I could scrub you up with that, and then with the show sheen—”

“Oh yes, please!” Rarity cried.  “Why, Celestia herself would envy my coat!”

Megan put the brush down.  “Okay, but I’ll have to use the garden hose.  I hope you don’t mind.”

Rarity recoiled, but, swallowing hard, put on a nervous grin and said, “I suppose it will be worth it.”








When Megan came upon Heart Throb in the woods, Heart Throb leapt to her feet with a start.  “Megan!  Oh, darling, I didn’t see you there!  You really mustn’t sneak up on a lady like that.  It simply isn’t polite—”

Sitting down on the grass at Heart Throb's side, Megan asked, “Why aren’t you at the party?  I thought you loved things like this.”

Heart Throb sighed.  “While I usually do take delight in a soirée, I find that today I am simply not in the mood.”

“You should still congratulate Buttons.”

Heart Throb bit off the flower she’d been picking at.  After swallowing it, she said, “I’m sure I will, dear.  Just not now.”

“What’s the matter?”

Heart Throb released another sigh, this one loud and prolonged.  She threw herself back on the ground.  “Oh, Megan!  Is it wrong?  Is it really wrong to want a stallion so badly?”

Megan laughed and rubbed Heart Throb behind the ears.  “No, of course not.  Why would you think that?”

“But is it wrong to want a stallion all to yourself?”

Megan paused and drew her hand away.

Heart Throb lowered her head to her front hooves.  “After we closed up the gateway to the Land of Legends, you left all your storybooks here.  I read a lot of them, Megan—tales of King Arthur’s knights, of Charlemagne’s paladins, and of Robin Hood and Maid Marion.  Oh, and Cinderella!  Sleeping Beauty!  All the tales of the Grimms!  Oh!”

Megan lay down and put her hands behind her head.  “I’ve always loved stories like that, ever since I was small.  My dad used to read to me all the time from Alice in Wonderland or Gulliver’s Travels.”  She frowned.  “My dad . . .” 

Uncharacteristically heedless of her fine dress, Heart Throb rolled onto her back and gazed up at the gently waving leaves.  “Do you remember Prince Charming?  How he strode through that golden gateway—oh, so handsome!  Such broad shoulders!  And such refined manners!”

Megan nodded.  “I remember him.  I thought he was silly.”

“I thought he was wonderful.”

“But he’s a character from a story, Heart Throb.  He has to stay in the Land of Legends with the others or their world will fall apart and our books will turn blank.  Besides that, he’s a man.”

Heart Throb laughed quietly.  “That didn’t bother me at all, Megan.  Why, I found his upright poise quite dashing.  There are lots of these men where you come from, aren’t there?”

Megan edged away.  “Yes, but . . .”

“Perhaps I should come back over the rainbow with you sometime.  If you’re surrounded by fellows like that Charming, you’re a very lucky girl.”

Megan’s face turned warm.  She sat up.  “There are no Prince Charmings where I come from, Heart Throb.”

“None?”

“No,” she said firmly.  “They’re fictional.”

Heart Throb rolled back over onto her side.  She flicked a hoof into the air as if dismissing the subject.  “Ah, well.  Sometimes, I find myself wondering if love itself is fictional.”

“Of course it’s not.  And you, of all ponies—”

A tired smile formed on Heart Throb’s lips.  “I have lived my life believing in love.  Yet there’s no true love for me, is there?”

“There are the big brother ponies.  Why haven’t you joined one of their herds?  Most of the other mares have.  Tux n’ Tails seems like your type—”

Heart Throb pushed herself up onto her haunches and leaned toward Megan, stopping with her muzzle only an inch from the girl’s face.  “Darling, I simply shan’t have a stallion unless he’s all mine, and that’s the only thing to it.  I don’t know why that’s so important to me, but it is.  Dreadfully important.  It’s in all your books, too:  every princess finds her prince, and she never has to share him.”

Heart Throb leapt up and twirled, her skirt spinning around her hind legs and her hooves crunching softly in the fallen leaves.  “Oh, Megan, do you know what I’d love?  A wedding!  Like I read about in your stories!  I’d wear a beautiful white gown covered with ribbons, and I’d have a long train and a lovely veil!  Girls would throw flowers as I stepped in, and everyone would gaze at me as I walked up the aisle.  Waiting for me at the altar, of course, would be the most kind, witty, wonderful, refined, gallant, tall, dark, handsome hunk imaginable!  Oh, what a day that would be!  I would simply die from happiness!”  She sank to the ground again and rested her head on Megan’s knee.

Megan bent down and kissed Heart Throb’s nose.  “It does sound lovely.”

“You human girls are so lucky.  You’ll be married like that someday, won’t you, Megan?”

Megan shook her head.  “I really don’t know, Heart Throb.  That’s many years off.  I’m only thirteen.”

“All the girls in the Grimms’ stories marry at fourteen.”

“Yes, well . . . that’s different.”

Heart Throb closed her eyes, rocked her head back and forth, and hummed to herself for a moment, ending in a soft giggle.  “Confetti has a beautiful white dress.  She wears it on special occasions.  ‘Just for special,’ she says.  It looks so much like the wedding gowns in your books . . . can I tell you something?”

“Yes.”

“A secret?”

“You know I won’t tell.”

“Sometimes I sneak into the wardroom, put her dress on, and pretend I’m getting married, just the way a human girl would.”

Smiling faintly, Megan ran her fingers through Heart Throb’s mane.

“I wish I were human,” Heart Throb whispered.  “Then nobody would expect me to join”—she wrinkled her nose—“a herd.”

Megan felt a lump in her throat, but she swallowed it down.  “It doesn’t always work out so well for humans, you know.”

Heart Throb looked up at her.

“In the stories, the princess gets the prince,” Megan said, “but in real life, she finds out her prince isn’t quite so loyal as she thinks he is.  Trust me.  I know what I’m talking about.”

“Megan, what are you—?”

“At least the big brother ponies are up front about it.  They aren’t trying to trick you.”

A deep frown on her muzzle, Heart Throb rose to her hooves.  “Darling, I’ve never heard you talk this way before.  You’re always telling us to love, to hope, to make friends—”

“Do,” Megan said.  “Do all of that.  But never trust a man.”  She rolled over and got to her feet.  “I’m gonna head back to the party.  I haven’t had cake yet.”








Rarity stood straight, apparently trying to look as dignified as she could while Megan scrubbed shampoo into her coat.  Rarity’s eyes were half-closed, and she wore a pleasant smile.  “Honestly, darling, although the ambience is not exactly first-rate, the bath itself is quite marvelous.  If you ever grow tired of being the warrior protectress of your civilization, I’m sure you could easily get a job working at a spa.”

Megan paused.  “I’m a rancher.”

“In your off hours?”

“In all my hours.”

“Oh, really?  Well, you should speak with Applejack.  The two of you could talk about, um, farmy and ranchy things.”

“I’m sure we will.”

“Your water’s cold,” Rarity said with a shiver, “but it is invigorating.  Sometimes I like to take a cold bath before a soirée—one part ice water and one part almond milk.  Gives a wonderful glow to the complexion.  I suppose we have a similar sort of occasion at hoof, don’t we?  And since you don’t have the proper facilities, I’ll allow that this is indeed a reasonable substitute.”

Megan finished rubbing the lather into Rarity’s coat and checked her watch.  “We’ll give that a few seconds, and then I’ll rinse it out—”

“Now, Magog, dear, we do need to talk about what I am to wear for this event.  I’ve packed several—”

“I take it you’re not exactly a jumper, so I’ll put you in the pleasure class with Fluttershy.  She’ll wear Molly’s English saddle and you’ll wear mine.  That means one of you has to carry me, and I know I’m a little tall for you, but I think we can make it work.”

Rarity paused.  “Oh.  Well, saddles can look nice, I suppose, at least if decorated sufficiently, and if the colors are flattering.  But I packed six dresses for this trip, and I’m sure you’ll agree that one of them must—”

“No.  We don’t put dresses on ponies here.  If you want to be in a horse show, you’ll wear horse tack.”

Rarity paused again.  Her mouth fell slowly open as if her jaw had stopped working.  Megan crossed her arms and watched for a moment.

At once, Rarity’s eyes widened and she grinned.  “Why, it’s a whole new world of fashion!  I’ll introduce you to my beautiful pony gowns, and I’m sure—”

“I’ve seen ponies in gowns, Rarity.  My point is, if you want to compete in a horse show, you need to dress appropriately.  It’s a horse show, not a fashion show.  You understand that, don’t you?”

Rarity frowned.  “I . . . well, I suppose . . .”

“Good.  Now let’s—”

“What about my mane and tail?”

Megan’s shoulders slumped.  “I’ll braid them, of course.  Don’t worry.  Now—”

“Just a moment,” Rarity said, raising a hoof.  “I realize braiding could only improve Rainbow Dash’s mane, and Fluttershy—well, she really has wonderful hair, but I think Moloch did it justice.  My hair, however, as you can see—”

“Needs braided, yes.  Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.  I think a diamond braid on the mane and maybe a pinwheel on the tail would—”

Rarity winced.  “Oh, darling, pinwheels haven’t been in fashion for ages.”

Megan rubbed her forehead.  “Look, the English classes require braids.  The western riding class doesn’t, but—”

“Well, that’s simple, then,” Rarity said.  “I shall have to enter the, ah, the western class.”

“Really?  Can you lope over a log without breaking gait?  Do you know what a flying lead change is?”

“Um—”

“We’re talking about what is basically an advanced form of dressage.  Rainbow Dash is doing dressage, but she’s memorized the pattern ahead of time so she doesn’t really have to respond to signals, and I didn’t tell her, but I’m putting her in the beginners’ class.  And she’s an athlete in any case.  Are you prepared to memorize a western riding pattern this morning and perform it this afternoon?”

“Um—”

“There’s no western pleasure class at this show, unfortunately.  I strongly recommend that you enter the English pleasure class, unless you want your first appearance on Earth to be an absolute embarrassment.”

“But I—”

“And you would have to wear western tack, which I suspect would offend your tastes.”

“I don’t know about that.  I certainly like to think I’m open to exotic styles, and—”

Megan marched into the barn, pulled her western saddle off the wall, hauled it outside, and threw it down over a fence rail.

“Oh!” Rarity cried, staggering backwards.  “Take it away!  Take it away!  It’s garish!  It’s monstrous!”

“All the classes are very specific about tack,” said Megan.  “If you entered a western class, you’d have to wear this.”

Rarity put a foreleg to her forehead and wobbled as if she were about to faint.

“Braided mane,” Megan said, “or the saddle.  Take your pick.”

With a sigh of resignation, Rarity dropped her leg, ducked her head, and murmured, “You win, Magog.”

“I always do.”

“I shall allow you to braid my carefully groomed, beautiful, fabulous mane.”  Rarity’s voice grew quieter and rose in pitch with each word until it became an almost inaudible squeak.  Tears formed in her eyes.

Megan clasped her hands together and slowly stretched her arms over her head.  “Well, you still decided to give me trouble, but you really have been easier to work with than . . .”  Her voice trailed off.

“Magog?” Rarity said.  “Darling, are you all right?”

“The shampoo!” Megan cried.  She snatched up the hose, which was still running, and sprayed Rarity with it.

“Ack!”

“Hold still!” Megan shouted.  She stuck her thumb over the coupling to increase the force and ran the hose back and forth over Rarity’s coat, digging her free hand into the hair to pull out the soap.

“Oh, no,” Megan muttered.  “Oh, no.  Oh, no.”

“Darling,” Rarity said, “you’re starting to worry me.”

“Just shut up, Rarity.”

Megan worked for several minutes, spraying Rarity down, drenching her, kneading and brushing her coat, until she’d created a sizable pool of water in the yard in front of the barn.  When she could get no more soap out, she took up a large towel and buffed Rarity’s fur.

Then, with shoulders slumped, Megan walked to the spigot, crouched before it, and, as if the act took all her remaining energy, slowly turned the water off.

“Magog,” Rarity said, “what exactly happened?”

Still crouching in front of the spigot, Megan rubbed her eyes, which had turned blurry again.

“Tell me,” Rarity said.

“It’s not that bad, really,” said Megan.

“Tell me!” Rarity shouted.  “Tell me, tell me!  Get me a mirror!”

It took a lot of willpower for Megan to find the courage to stand and turn around.  First the voice and mannerisms, and now this—

Megan sighed, stood, walked to the table, picked up the hand mirror, and held it up.

Rarity reared and released an ear-piercing shriek.  In a moment, Twilight Sparkle and Applejack came running from the backside of the barn.

“Rarity,” Twilight said, “what’s—?”  She skidded to a halt with her mouth hanging open.

Applejack started chuckling.

“Oh, I’m hideous!” Rarity cried.  “I’m a monster!  I can never be seen in public again!  It’s awful!  It’s terrible!”

“It’s pink,” said Twilight.








Megan left Heart Throb, but she didn’t make it back to Buttons’s party.  When she reached the edge of the woods, she found a blue pegasus pony waiting for her.

“Megan,” said the pegasus, “although I hesitate to interrupt your celebratory excursions, there is a subject of paramount import requiring our interlocution.”

“Come for a walk with me, Wind Whistler,” Megan answered.

The two strolled along the forest’s edge and stopped by the deeply cut bank of a stream.  The clear water babbled and murmured as it rolled over the smooth stones lining its bed.  Megan picked up a rock and skipped it.

“According to my meticulous calculations,” said Wind Whistler, “the little ponies are not reproducing at replacement rate.  And at present, Baby Sniffles and Baby Lucky are our only colts.”

Megan took up another stone and rubbed her thumb across it, removing a patch of moss.  “I could have told you that.”

“When Queen Majesty ruled in Dream Castle, she had a magical mirror, and that mirror gave us the baby ponies, who will preserve our race for another generation.  Majesty’s wishing tree produced the baby sea ponies, and Majesty conjured Baby Lucky out of thin air.  She often produced ponies on a whim like that, but now that she’s gone—”

“You’re going extinct,” said Megan.  She threw the rock.  It struck the stream at the wrong angle and sank.

“There remains,” said Wind Whistler, “the improbability that we may as yet discover another mystical artifact with similar metaphysical properties as the mirror or the tree, able to produce new ponies through magic.  I do not, however, believe it wise to rely on such a supposition.”

“Any chance you can get the mirror working again?”

“I have studied it closely, but it has not functioned since the demise of Her Majesty.  That is to say, I find myself entirely unable to operate it or discover the modus of its functionality.”

“Have you asked the princess ponies for help?”

Wind Whistler paused and raised an eyebrow.  “That is indeed a logical course of action.  I shall dispatch Whizzer to contact them tomorrow.”

“What about Spike?  He used to work for Majesty, didn’t he?”

Wind Whistler shook her head.  “When Tirek murdered Majesty and kidnapped Spike, he, by some means we have been unable to reverse, adversely affected the dragon’s memories.  Spike has no recollection of our former monarch, nor of her magical artifacts.  It is most regretful, for Majesty made Baby Lucky to be Spike’s playmate, yet Spike does not remember their time together—”

Megan sat down on a large, gnarled root overstretching the bank.  “I’ve known about this for a while, Wind Whistler.  Majesty’s not here anymore to create new little ponies.  What you really need isn’t a baby-producing mirror.  You need the big brothers to settle down and stay.  You need to have more children of your own.”

“We do consider the baby ponies to be our children, Megan.  Nonetheless, you are correct.  But it was only with utmost exertion that we persuaded the big brothers to postpone their further peripatetic activities for the eleven months until Buttons foaled.  I do not know if they will be receptive to further argumentation on this point.”

Megan glanced into Wind Whistler’s unreadable eyes.  “You want me to talk to Slugger, don’t you?”

Wind Whistler nodded.  “That was, ultimately, the objective of my entreating you to join me in this conversation.”








Tears streaming from her face, Rarity again lifted a leg to her head and swooned, but this time Applejack ran in and caught her, allowing Rarity to fall across her back.  “Pink!” Rarity wailed.  “Oh, it’s horrid!”

“It’s not really pink, Rarity,” said Applejack.  “It’s more like a kind o’ purple.”

“Purple!” Rarity cried.  “Even worse!”

“You know,” said Twilight, “I don’t think purple is such a bad—”

“It’s more of a light fuchsia, really,” said Megan.

Now draped over Applejack, Rarity swung her legs in a full-on tantrum.  “I look positively dreadful!  I can’t go to the show like this!  I simply can’t.”

Megan rubbed her chin.  “Now that I think about it, I’m not sure anyone would even notice—”

“Notice?” Rarity cried.  “You think nopony will notice how garish—?”

“Well, considering that you’re already a—”

“Oh, I shall be a laughingstock!”

“But you’re a—”

“My reputation!  My career!  My ambassadorship!  My coat!  This is the worst day of my entire life!”  Rarity drooped, limp and lifeless, her head hanging a few inches from the ground.

“Rarity,” said Applejack with her eyes narrowed in an expression of longsuffering, “wouldja mind gettin’ off my back now?”

Twilight leaned toward Megan and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “Give her a few minutes and she’ll probably get over it.”

“I figured,” Megan whispered back.

“But what exactly happened?”

Megan sighed.  From the table, she picked up the bottle of whitening shampoo and squeezed out a drop.  “This is supposed to make a coat whiter, but as you can see, it’s bright pinkish purple.  Leave it in too long—”

“And it stains,” Twilight said.

“Exactly.  I got distracted.  We started arguing, and . . .”  Megan threw up her hands.  “You’d think magic ponies would be easier to work with than regular horses, but no, every one of you has to argue with me.”

“When it’s my turn,” said Twilight, “I promise you can do whatever you need to, and I won’t complain.”

“You wanna go next?”

“Not really.”

Applejack bent her legs, apparently preparing to buck Rarity off.  Obviously sensing this, Rarity pretended to revive from her affected faint and slid from Applejack’s back, returning to her own hooves.  She took a deep breath and asked, “How long, Magog, will the stain last?”

“I don’t really know.  But remember, you’re only appearing before humans today.  I don’t think any of them will know that the magic unicorn is supposed to be white instead of pinkish purple.”

“I don’t really see anything wrong with a purple magic unicorn,” said Twilight.

“But it doesn’t match my horn or hooves,” Rarity complained.  “And it just doesn’t go with my hair!”

“Let me black your hooves,” said Megan.  “I know you’re not a fan of black hoof polish, but it will look better with your coat than the white you have on now.  As for the horn, well”—she shrugged—“I think a white horn with a pinkish coat is rather striking.  Don’t you, Your Highness?”

Twilight frowned, so Megan elbowed her in the shoulder.

“Oh, yes!” said Twilight.  “Yes!  Quite, er, fetching, really.”

Megan glared at Applejack.

Applejack looked back and forth between Megan and Twilight and said, “Looks mighty fine to me.”

Twilight spread her feet, opened her wings, and arched her neck.  Her horn glowed.  “I could try to make her coat white again with magic, though this spell has some risks.  There’s a small chance her hair will fall out—”

Megan swiftly swatted Twilight’s horn and stopped the spell.  “Let’s keep today’s disasters to a minimum, please.  Just step aside, Princess:  I’m about to braid.”  She cracked her knuckles and moved in.








“If you leave, Slugger,” Megan said, “I will never forgive you.”

The baseball glove and bat symbol on his hip glistened in the sun as Slugger, with his mouth clenched on the lever of the water pump, bobbed his head up and down, spraying water into Megan’s cupped hands.  She took a small drink and then raised her arms and let the rest of the water trickle into her hair.  It had been a long, hot day.

Slugger let go of the lever and rubbed a hoof against his jaw.  “Everything went okay, didn’t it?”

“Just fine.  Buttons isn’t the first horse I’ve helped give birth.”

“The babies look healthy.”

“They are.”

“Then it’s time to go.”

Megan stood and wiped her hands with a towel.  “Why, Slugger?  Why can’t you stay?  Why do you big brothers have to wander around like this?”

He ducked his head.  “Salty, Score, Tex, Steamer, and the others.  They want to.  There’s a lot of the world—”

“The world?”  Megan leaned on the pump.  “Your world is right here in Dream Valley.  You love Buttons, don’t you?”

Slugger mumbled into his neckerchief, “I was real happy when she agreed to join my herd.  I love all my mares, but—”

“But what?  Can’t you see this isn’t working?  Can’t you see that it isn’t enough for you to swing through here in late spring and then head out again on your . . . whatever it is you do?  I don’t know why, Slugger, but the little ponies just aren’t having foals.  Surely you’ve noticed.  This isn’t good enough.”

Still unable to meet her eyes, Slugger shrugged.  “I didn’t do anything different with Buttons than—”

Megan raised a hand and stopped him.  “I know that.”  She felt her face warming, and that irritated her.  “Look, maybe if you stayed around for at least the whole season—”

Slugger furrowed his brow and rolled his eyes up, apparently calculating in his head.  “That’s, like, four months!”

“About.  Maybe five.”

“But—”

Megan felt herself blushing strongly, which irritated her further.  Her neck itched under her long hair, so she rubbed it.  She could talk about breeding stock back home without any difficulty.  It was just part of work on the farm.  Here, it was different.  “Look.  I honestly don’t know why, but the little ponies aren’t very fertile.  If you covered them every time they went through their cycle instead of just once a year, they’d have a greater chance of getting pregnant.”  She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  That had been hard to say.

Slugger pawed the ground.  He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

“Besides that,” Megan said, bending down until her head was level with his, “it would be nice, now that you’re a father, if you acted like one.”

At last, he looked up at her.  In his face, she saw genuine confusion.  He slowly shook his head back and forth.  “Acted?  Like a father?  What do you mean, Megan?  How exactly is a father supposed to act?”

Inside Megan’s chest, something clenched into a knot and then snapped.  Some feeling, sharp and painful, rushed out into her limbs.  Her head buzzed.  The ponies or other creatures of Dream Valley, sometimes even enemies, had often asked her questions.  Before now, she had always had an answer:  she had taught them friendship, love, and peace.

But to this question, she had nothing to say.

She righted herself.  Tears sprang into her eyes.  She slapped her leg and her voice cracked as she said, “Never mind, Slugger.  You’re acting like a father right now, you selfish son of a bitch!”

She turned away from him and ran.








Megan could tell that Rarity was doing her best to behave and to be accommodating, but she still found the pony difficult to work with.  The staining of her coat was too much of a coincidence; true, Rarity was a unicorn rather than a pegasus, and the shampoo had left her coat a color not quite the same shade as Heart Throb’s bright pink, but the resemblance was still uncanny.  As Megan brushed Rarity’s coat down, she could feel her own heart hammering.  Several times, she had to stop and wipe her face.  Her eyes stung with sweat.

To take her mind off it, she tried to lose herself in the task.  She rinsed the hairspray out of Rarity’s mane and started a diamond braid.  Using hair bands, she divided the mane up into separate plaits, divided the plaits in half, and banded each half to the one across from it.  Then she repeated the process.  She did this in three large sections until she had three triangles, each made up of diamonds formed by crisscrossing segments of hair.  She finished off the tip of each triangle by braiding the hair together in the regular fashion and securing it with another band.

“Your hair has a lot of body to it,” Megan said, “but around here we usually expect a mane to lie against your neck.  I hope you don’t mind.”

“I’ll make do,” said Rarity with a sigh.  “Though, really, I will have to do something about you humans’ ideas of style.”

“Feel free.  You can revolutionize human fashion and horse grooming at the same time.”

“Oh, don’t try to cheer me up about it, Magog, please.”

After making a French braid with Rarity’s forelock, Megan started on the tail, first brushing it out to straighten the hair and remove the large curlicue in which Rarity usually kept it.  “You’ve got a completely new style for today.  Think of it that way.”

Rarity leapt forward, yanking her tail out of Megan’s hands.

“Hey,” Megan said, “what the—?”

“Idea!” cried Rarity in a singsong.

“What—?”

“Oh, Magog, darling, it’s brilliant!”  Rarity spun around and bounced back and forth on her hooves.  “Why, we can start on it right away.  There’s some chance I can have it done by this afternoon, even.  Oh, goodness, yes.  This will be wonderful—”

“What are you on about?”

Rarity giggled.  “Why, your horses here can’t talk, as I believe you’ve explained—”

“Yes?”

“And it’s customary for you to ride about on their backs—”

“We’ve been over this.  Why—?”

“Yet you dress them in this tacky . . . is that what you called it?  Yes, you dress them tacky; you demonstrated that to me earlier.  Very tacky.  And you style their hair.  Why, we could style humans’ hair to match that of their horses, and we could design, um, tacky for you to look just like the tacky—”

Megan pressed her palms against her forehead.  “Rarity, stop.  Clothing and tack:  it’s all regulated, and we don’t have time—”

“Oh, darling, please.  Even if we don’t have time to make you a brand new ensemble, I could style your hair to resemble mine.  And I’m sure we could make a cute miniature saddle for you to wear on your—”

“Don’t be ridiculous.  I am not wearing a saddle.”

Rarity fluttered her eyelashes.  “At least let me braid your hair.”

Megan narrowed her eyes.  “No.  Absolutely not.”

“Why not, darling?”

Megan looked back and forth across the yard as if searching for the best avenue of escape.  “Because.  Because . . . I don’t know, but you cannot braid my hair.”

“Oh, but Magog, dear, you really do have a fabulous yellow mane, though it looks a tad unkempt.  Not unlike Applejack, really, who’s even worse than Rainbow Dash when it comes to personal upkeep, though she will at least agree to join me at the spa from time to time.  I’m always telling her that with a little proper grooming, she could—”

“Rarity, shut up!”

Rarity immediately closed her mouth, looking mortified.

Rubbing her temples, Megan said, “We are not here about my hair.  We are here about your hair.  Will you please, please just let me finish braiding your mane so I can get out of the private hell you ponies have been putting me through for the last week?  Dammit, I hate this.”  She walked to the barn, punched the wall, and winced.

Rarity raised a hoof to her mouth.  “Oh, my.”

“Yes.”  Megan nodded.  “You understand, yes.  Thank you.  Now, just hold still and close your mouth, and then—”

“Oh, my.  You are clearly so stressed.  Why didn’t I see it before?”

“Yes, I’m stressed.  So—”

“Oh, darling, there is only one help for that.  Stay right there.”

Rarity turned and galloped toward the airship.

“Wait—!” Megan yelled.

It was too late.  Within minutes, Rarity had levitated a large chest from the airship’s cabin, plunked it in the middle of the yard, and thrown it open.  A collapsible dressing table and mirror, complete with a stool and a neatly arranged hair-styling kit, popped out of it and unfolded by means of hundreds of tiny, spring-loaded hinges.  Rarity pulled off Megan’s Stetson and pushed her down onto the stool.

“Now, darling,” Rarity said with her front hooves resting on Megan’s shoulders, “I want you to relax.”  She peered into the mirror over Megan’s shoulder and turned her head back and forth to see what Megan had done to her mane.  “Oh, my.  That is interesting.  Not something I would have chosen for myself, mind you, but interesting all the same.  I’m sure I can give you a matching coiffure.  Hold still.”  Rarity took up a brush and combed out Megan’s waist-length hair.

Megan thought about objecting, but, having been standing or riding all morning, the chance to sit down was too welcome, and the feel of the brush’s gentle pull was too relaxing.  She slumped on the stool and submitted.

“I’ll admit,” Megan mumbled as Rarity, with a combined use of her hooves, mouth, and levitation magic, expertly plaited her hair, “I’ve not been looking forward to working with you.”

Rarity paused to put down the brush, which she had been holding in her teeth.  “But why, Magog?”

Megan knitted her fingers together in her lap.  “Do you know anything about your family?”

“Yes, of course—”

“I mean way back.  To Dream Valley.”

Rarity laughed.  “Oh, darling, nopony knows about that.  Canterlot’s stud books don’t stretch back that far.”

Megan started.  “Canterlot’s what—?”

“Stud books.  The genealogies.  Canterlot keeps a record of—”

“Why do you call them that?”

“Well, I honestly don’t know.  It’s just a traditional name.  Does it matter?”

Megan lowered her head and rubbed her eyes.  “Coincidence.  It’s got to be a coincidence—”

“Magog, you really are acting strange.  Oh, dear, we’ve been so caught up in the excitement and anticipation that we’ve just not noticed how you were feeling!  Please tell me what the matter is.”

“Will you hate me?”

“Of course not.”

Megan swallowed.  “I tried to tell Princess Sparkle that I’m not your legendary hero, but it’s like she wouldn’t listen.”

“Oh, please don’t mind her.  She's new at being a princess, and she’s as excited and nervous as the rest of us.  Why, I knew her back when she was just a student:  always very bright and very talented at magic, but never a socialite.  Being ambassadors is a new thing for all of us, and as you can imagine, we’re not terribly good at it yet.”

Megan closed her eyes and allowed her upper body to rock back and forth gently under the tugging of Rarity’s ministrations.  The comb through her hair and the pony’s gentle touch really were soothing.  “Back in Dream Valley, I knew a pony a lot like Rainbow Dash, and Rainbow told me that pony might be her ancestress.”

“I suppose she might be right.  Who knows?”

“I knew a pony a lot like you, too.”

“Really, now?  Why, that’s simply marvelous.  Though, honestly, I would like to believe good fashion sense is something anypony could learn, and not the sort of thing that runs in the blood.  Still, I suppose I and this pony you knew could be related.  Tell me about her.”

Megan’s mouth was dry.  She licked her lips and said, “I did something to her I’m not proud of.”

Rarity paused.  “Magog, dear, it was a long time ago.  Oh, it wasn’t so long for you, was it?  I suppose old wounds are still fresh.  Please know that we all think very highly of you, but we know you’re not perfect, darling.  Whatever you might have done, we’ve already forgiven you.  Goodness, whatever it is, we’ve forgotten it.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you, then.”

“You don’t have to, but if you need somepony to listen, I will.” 

Megan looked down at her hands and rubbed the calluses at the bases of her fingers.  After a minute, she said, “Okay, I’ll tell you.  It went like this.”








Leaving Slugger behind, Megan wiped tears from her eyes and marched into the midst of the party at Paradise Estate.  Sensing that something was wrong, the ponies paused in their activities.  The music hit a sour note and died, and the big brothers halted in the middle of their game.

Megan’s stomach clenched when she saw that Heart Throb had returned to the party.  In the midst of dancing with her friends and showing off her dress, Heart Throb paused and looked expectant.

“Listen up,” Megan called.  “We’re having a meeting.  Gather round.”

Their faces lined with worry, the little ponies crowded close, standing or sitting on the grass.  The flutter ponies hovered in the back, their gossamer wings flapping silently.  Danny, along with the sea ponies, swam to the edge of the pool and leaned on the lip.

Megan cleared her throat and stared at the ground for a minute.

“Megan?” Galaxy whispered, her jeweled eyes glinting in the sunlight.  “Is something wrong?”

Megan looked up.  “You’re dying,” she said.

The ponies gasped.  A wave of murmurs and whispers washed across the crowd.

“You don’t realize it, but you are.”  Megan paced back and forth.  “In the past, you relied on Queen Majesty to ensure that the valley was populated.  She used magic to give you the ponies you call your babies.  Well, Majesty is dead.  Tirek killed her.”

She paused, clenching and unclenching her fists.  “And I killed Tirek.”

She ripped the locket from her neck and opened it.  With a blinding flash, the Rainbow of Light leapt out and into the sky.  The ponies fell to the ground, gasping.  Twisting and dancing in the air, the Rainbow shot through several tufts of clouds, striking them out of existence.  Then it settled into a slow circling, like a shark swimming around its prey.

Megan shouted, “Your queen is dead, ponies!  Do you think life is still nothing but parties and games?  Do you think you can spend all your time frolicking in meadows and chasing butterflies?  It doesn’t work like that!”

She waved an arm toward the steep, forbidding mountains visible on the western horizon.  “I’ve seen your world!  It’s a wasteland full of monsters, witches, and selfish kings.  The Jewel Desert stretches for miles upon miles, Grundleland lies buried under the Smooze, Bumbleland lies buried under perpetual snow, and volcanoes fill the Eastern Limb.  Dream Valley is the one bright spot in all of Ponyland, but someday you ponies will grow old and die, and there will be no goodness left.  Your magic will die with you, just as Majesty’s died with her.”

“Megan,” cried Truly, “just what are you sayin’?  Ain’tcha gonna be happy on Buttons’s big day?”

“Heavy hooves!” said Applejack.  “It’s just not nice, going on like this!”

“This is about Buttons,” Megan answered.  “This is about all of you.  If the ponies are going to continue, you need to have more children.  And if you and your children are going to survive, it’s time to get organized.”  Her hands trembled.  “I won’t always be here for you, you know.  I can’t replace Majesty.  I have my own world.”

For a full minute, all was silent.

Finally, Megan took a deep breath and added, “You should divide up according to your abilities.”  She pointed to a knot of unicorn ponies.  “It’s not good enough for the unicorns to know just one or two spells each.  They need to study magic, like a discipline.”

“You mean school?” Baby Sweet Tooth cried.

“Yes,” Megan said.  “Like school.  We’ll go to the Moochick tomorrow and ask if he’ll teach you.”

She pointed at a crowd of the pegasi.  “And since the pegasus ponies can fly, and since they’re strong, they need to learn to fight.  It will be their job to protect everyone else.”  She spared a contemptuous glance toward the big brother ponies, who huddled together in a group, and added, “Since it’s obvious the stallions won’t do it.”

Megan looked to the back of the crowd where Rosedust, her mouth hanging open in shock, hovered with the rest of the flutter ponies.  “The pegasi can train with the flutter ponies, if Queen Rosedust agrees.”

Rosedust cleared her throat.  “We are, of course, always happy to assist the little ponies in their endeavors . . .”  Her voice faded, and she looked around uncertainly.

Megan continued, “The earth ponies can take up the remaining work.  We need to plant fields and store grain.  We can’t always expect the meadows to have enough grass and flowers to eat.”

“Majesty’s storehouse!” Cupcake said.  “It’s still full of all sorts of good things!”

“But it won’t last forever,” answered Megan, “like everything else Majesty made.  In time, there won’t be any more flour and sugar unless you learn to make more, or trade for it.”

Cupcake gasped.

Megan swept her eyes over the ponies again.  “Each of these groups needs a leader.  No fighting, no bickering—we’ll have nominations and then vote.  We need a new queen for the earthlings, a queen for the unicorns, and a queen for the pegasus ponies.”

Throughout Megan’s speech, Wind Whistler had stood to one side, gazing at Megan with an intense but unreadable expression.  “Perhaps the unicorns and earth ponies can have queens,” she said quietly, “but, given the nature of the task you have assigned the pegasus ponies, I think calling our leader ‘commander’ might be apposite.”

Magic Star, standing in the midst of the crowd, reared and said, “We earth ponies can’t take the same title Majesty had.  We’ll have a commander too.”

“Perhaps a ‘chancellor’ would be right for the earth ponies,” said Wind Whistler.

“Whatever you want to call it,” Megan answered.  “I don’t care.”

She turned her eyes again to the big brothers.  “And as for you,” she said, marching toward them, “things are definitely going to change.  No more wandering around, leaving your mares behind to fend for themselves.  Where were you when Tirek killed Majesty and turned ponies into monsters?  Where were you when Grogar abducted the unicorns?  Where were you when Porcina turned Dream Valley to glass?”

Overhead, the Rainbow of Light cracked like a whip.  The big brothers cowered.  With their mouths hanging open, they glanced at each other and silently lowered their heads.

“I’ll tell you where you were,” said Megan.  “You were off gallivanting around the world, playing with your stupid boats and trains and trucks.”

“But y’all know we saved ’em from that witch Somnambula,” Tex mumbled.

“And then you wanted to leave them again,” Megan snapped.  “No more.  You’re staying right here.  You’ve got your own job to do.”  She huffed for a moment, staring them down, trying to control her rising rage.  “They need children.  That’s your job.  Your only job.  I suspect it’s all you’re good for.”

They looked up at her with faces pleading, eyes open in shock.  She could tell from their expressions that they knew what she was doing to them:  they had formerly been Dream Valley’s boss stallions, but if the little ponies took Megan’s advice, the big brothers would be nothing more than studs.

Megan turned away from them and, with her eyes to the ground, added, “Every mare who isn’t attached to a herd needs to be.  That is all.”  She raised the locket into the air.  Twisting like a miniature tornado, the Rainbow of Light shot down into it, and she snapped it closed. 

Aside from the chirping of some distant birds and the steady rush of the waterfall, Dream Valley was silent.  The ponies stared at Megan with wide eyes and gaping mouths—all except Wind Whistler, who still wore that curious, indecipherable expression.

With a sharp cry, Heart Throb pushed her way through the crowd, knocking other ponies aside until she stood before Megan.  She shook her head in three sharp jerks and, with tears running down her cheeks, gasped, “Megan, please—”

Megan tried to look in her eyes, but found she couldn’t.  “I’m sorry, Heart Throb, but I don’t think I can make exceptions.”

The sound of tearing fabric echoed across the fields as Heart Throb ripped away her dress.  She opened her wings, leapt into the air, and, still crying, flew to the west.

Megan sighed and snapped the locket back around her neck.  “Whizzer, let’s go after her.”

Whizzer took a step forward as if to comply, but then pawed the ground for a moment and at last turned away.

Megan looked around at the rest of the pegasi.  “Any of you—?”

Acting as one, the pegasus ponies slowly stepped back away from Megan—all except Wind Whistler, who looked up and, with a small smile, said, “You may ride me, Megan.  It would be, as always, an honor.”








“Well,” said Rarity quietly, “one doesn’t learn that in history class, does one?”

“I don’t know,” Megan answered.  “Does one?”

“One does not.”

Rarity had finished turning Megan’s long hair into a diamond braid to match her own.  Megan thought it looked silly, but decided to keep her mouth shut.  After all, she was doing similar things to the ponies’ hair, and she couldn’t think of a reason why they shouldn’t be allowed some turnabout.  She expected that everybody would be too distracted to look closely at her anyway when she arrived at the horse show with six brightly colored magic ponies in tow.

Megan finished the braid on Rarity’s tail and then knelt in front her and, with a piece of sandpaper, scraped the white polish from Rarity’s hooves in preparation to apply black.

“This polish doesn’t come off easily,” Megan said.

“It’s an ancient recipe made from glitter sand,” Rarity replied.  “Very glossy and very long-lasting.”

Megan continued sanding in silence for several minutes, remaining on her knees and keeping her head down.

“That poor dear,” Rarity murmured.

Megan’s hands shook.

“They do teach us that, according to tradition, Magog the Mighty organized the three tribes.  They don’t give many details, though.  It’s easy to imagine you sitting on a throne, perhaps with a gorgeous silk robe and a golden tiara, holding a scepter and making pronouncements.  The way you tell it, why, you just walked in and announced it off the top of your head, no ceremonies or anything.”

“That’s how it happened,” Megan answered.  “We had a lot of parties in Dream Valley, but not a lot of ceremonies.”  She took the jar of hoof black and began to paint Rarity’s hooves, but then paused and looked up into the pony’s eyes.  “Rarity, what I made Heart Throb do—was it really so bad?”

Rarity looked away and clenched her teeth.  “I can certainly sympathize with a girl looking for her true love.  And I think I can understand why you did what you did.  A little bit, maybe.”

Megan looked down and continued to paint.

Rarity said quietly, “Really, though, dear, we’ve tended to think of you as a stern, forbidding warrior, always fighting.  Magog at a party with cake and balloons isn’t the sort of thing I ever would have pictured, not in a million years.”

Megan looked up again.  “I’ve been trying to tell you since you got here that I’m not who you think I am.”

“No, dear, you’re not.  You’re someone much more”—Rarity waved a hoof, apparently looking for the right word—“gentle.  You made hard decisions, and you didn’t always make the right ones, but you tried.”

“But what about my bad decisions?”

“Well, as I said, Magog . . .”  Rarity smiled.  “I mean Megan.  As I already said, I, at least, forgive you.”

Megan knew that Heart Throb was long gone, but, nonetheless, hearing those words in Heart Throb’s voice set her heart at peace.  She closed her eyes and wiped a tear from her cheek.

After adding one last stroke of black to a hoof, Megan closed the jar, rose from her knees, and stepped back.  “We’re done here,” she said, “and you really are beautiful, Rarity.”








Into the barren, nameless, jagged mountains of the west, Wind Whistler flew with Megan on her back.  The sun tilted down toward the horizon, and the world became a mixture of long, gray shadows and streaks of orange light.  Rays of sun, marked by dancing dust, stretched like fingers between the mountains’ peaks.  Wind Whistler wasn’t the fastest flyer, especially while carrying a rider, and they soon lost track of Heart Throb, but it didn’t matter:  Megan knew where she was going.

“What you did today took courage,” Wind Whistler said.

“Did it?” Megan asked.  “Courage or stupidity?  Or rudeness?”

“We’ve been in a state of slow dissolution since Majesty died, Megan.  We need organization and we need children.  This is an emergency we have ignored for too long.”

“What about you, Wind Whistler?  You’re not attached to a herd, either.  Are you willing—?”

“I am unattached due to lack of interest rather than emotional sentiment, Megan.  In my case, the new order of things means only a minor inconvenience and an equally minor indignity.  I shall adjust.”

Megan was silent for some time as she pondered those words.  New order of things . . .

When she spotted a familiar ledge in the mountains below, Megan leaned down and told Wind Whistler to land.  After the pegasus alighted, Megan dismounted, told her to wait, and picked her way across the jumbled boulders of a scree slope for almost half a mile until she came upon the golden door.  Built into the rugged mountainside and carved with ornate relief sculptures of fantastic beasts, the door stood over a hundred feet high.  Near its base was a simple knob, from which hung a small placard that said merely, “Keep out.”  Heart Throb sat on the threshold with her head bent low as she weakly and steadily pounded a hoof against the door and sobbed.

“Let me in!” she cried.  “Let me in!  Prince Charming, aren’t you there?  Can’t you hear me?  It’s your Heart Throb!  Please!  Please let me in!”

Megan stood back for a minute and gazed up at the bare, needle-like mountain peak and at the door leading into it.  This was the portal to the Land of Legends:  inside lived the characters from all the stories Megan had ever read.  To maintain the balance of the world, those characters had to stay inside, and everyone else had to stay outside.  That was the order of things.

Her boots crunching against the sand, Megan slowly walked up behind Heart Throb and laid a hand on her head.

Heart Throb’s ears drooped, and she heaved a great groan.  “Don’t do this to me, Megan.  Anything but this.”

“You can’t live in a fairy tale, Heart Throb,” Megan whispered.  “You know that.”

“Why, Megan?  If you must lay down some new rule, can’t you allow for just one exception?”

“Then every other pony will want to be an exception.”

“But why are you doing this?”

Megan dropped to her knees, wrapped her arms around Heart Throb’s neck, and pressed a cheek against her mane.  “You know why.  Everything I do is for you.”

“You never had to help us, you know,” said Heart Throb.  “Whenever we asked, you could have said no.”

“No,” Megan answered, “I couldn’t.”  She squeezed Heart Throb more tightly.  “You are my little ponies, and whatever I have to do to protect you, I will do.”  She swallowed a lump and felt a tear coursing down her face.  “Even if I have to hurt you.”


> 5. Danny Grooms Pinkie Pie
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson


V. Danny Grooms Pinkie Pie

Megan believed she had kept it a secret from her family, but she often slept in the barn.  She preferred the company of horses to that of people, and she was soothed by the animals’ warmth and by the sounds of their swishing tails, shifting feet, and soft nickers.  Covered by a few blankets, she often lay in the hay in the dark, listening to her heart thud slowly in her ears, feeling her own chest rise and fall, and hearing the horses softly blowing air through their nostrils while the crickets chirruped rhythmically in the fields.

For several months after the closing of the Rainbow Bridge, she had spent as much time as she could with the horses, trying to get them to talk to her, much as Gulliver had done after returning to England from the land of the Houyhnhnms.  One day, Danny had found her while she was petting T.J., her gelding Dales Pony, and slowly pronouncing vowels in the hopes that he would repeat them back.

Danny had ridiculed her.  After that, she had stopped the futile language lessons, but every once in a while, she still carried her bedding out to the barn.

A few nights before the horse show, her stomach had ached from anxiety as she wondered what would happen when the ponies presented themselves to the world.  She tossed and turned in bed for a few hours before she finally got up, tugged on some sneakers, pulled up her blankets, and slipped outside.

The sight of Princess Twilight Sparkle and the other ambassadors had rubbed her nerves raw.  On the one hand, she feared for them.  On the other hand, they brought with them sharp pangs of loss:  years ago, Megan had reconciled herself, or so she thought, to being unable ever again to see Sundance, Fizzy, Buttons, or her other little pony friends.  When Rainbow Dash had brought Twilight over the rainbow and Twilight had blithely said that five thousand years had passed since Megan was in Ponyland, it had been like a sledgehammer to the stomach.

When she stepped outside, the band of the Milky Way was bright and clear overhead.  The Rainbow Bridge, faintly twinkling with its own embedded stars, cut a defiant arc across it.  With the pile of blankets rolled on her shoulder and her breath frosting white in the air, Megan crunched through the grass toward the barn in the hopes that the sound of T.J.’s snorts and whinnies could lull her to sleep.

She heard voices and stopped.  As she always did when encountering the unexpected, she assumed danger:  dropping the blankets, she went into a crouch, stealthily crept to the barn wall, flattened herself against it, and listened.

From inside the barn she heard a squeaky voice say, “She musta been a whole lotta fun, huh?”

She frowned.  That sounded like Ambassador Pinkie Pie, but Megan had thought all the ponies were back across the rainbow.

“Yeah.  She was.  Always pulling pranks, always trying to startle everybody.  I guess she was kind of annoying, really, but so was I when I was younger.”  That voice was definitely Danny’s.

“You’re a lot like her,” Danny continued.  “I mean, I don’t mean you’re annoying, but I mean you—”

Megan heard Pinkie release a loud giggle ending with a snort.

“Well,” Danny said, “I just couldn’t believe it when I saw your symbol.  It’s just like hers.”

“My cutie mark?  It means I love to throw parties and have fun and make everypony smile!”

Danny chuckled.  “Yeah.  Exactly like her.  I think that must be what her mark meant, too.”

Pinkie made an exaggerated “Hmm” sound, ending with the noise of air being blown from between closed lips.  “Maybe . . . maybe she could be my great-great-great-great-super-duper-really-great-great-gran-granny Pie.”

“Maybe.  She was a pegasus, though.”

“Oh, I’m sure I got some pegasi in the ol’ family tree, silly.”

“Really?  I didn’t know you could—eh, never mind.  When I knew her, she didn’t have a foal . . . well, I mean, she sort of did, but it wasn’t really hers.  If you know what I mean—”

“Was she your P.F.F.?”

“My what?”

“Your pony friend forever!”

Danny gave a low, melancholy laugh.  “She was my friend for sure.  But I guess not forever.”

“Don’t say that!  Just because she’s not around anymore doesn’t mean she’s not your friend.”

“But—”

“Don’cha know, silly?  She’s right there!”  Megan heard a tap, as if Pinkie had lightly slapped her hoof against something.

Danny laughed again.  “I should have known a pony would say something like that.”

“Ooh, I love making new friends!  Do you wanna be my friend?”

Danny’s voice grew quiet.  “Yes, Pinkie.  Yes, I’d like to be your friend.”

A sharp pang of annoyance spiked through Megan’s insides.  She wanted to march into the barn, grab Danny by the ear, tell him it was past his bedtime, and drag him back to the house.  He had no business making a rendezvous like this so late at night, especially when it interfered with Megan’s own eccentric sleep habits.

Her hands trembled.  She stood there for a minute, clenching and unclenching her chilled fists, watching her misty breath glisten with faint light reflected from the Rainbow Bridge, feeling the cold air around her jaw like a clamp.  In her chest, the spike of anger and irritation gradually dissolved into melancholy.

Danny wasn’t a little kid anymore.  He was sixteen, and he was too old for her to mother and watch over.  She knew that.  And she knew that she had failed at the job of mothering him anyway.

She wrapped her arms around her stomach, tried to push back the pain of the knots in it, and wondered at her own rage.  She had just been thinking that her pony friends were all dead, only to find her brother making friends with these new ponies, ponies to whom Megan couldn’t relate, with whom she somehow couldn’t connect.

At the age of twelve, she had entered Dream Valley shortly after the death of Queen Majesty.  Directionless and confused, the ponies she had met had spent their lives playing and dancing in the sun, even as danger threatened to engulf them.  They were like children who laughed and returned to their toys immediately after learning that their parents were dead:  they had lived as they had when Majesty was still alive, for that was all they knew how to do.

So Megan had tried to take the place of their queen.  She had become for them the same thing she already was for her brother and sister—a second mother.  As Majesty had before her, she had instructed the ponies in friendship, kindness, and love, but she had also taught them sorrow and grief.  She had taught them to confront death and pain in the hopes that, with her guidance, they might finally grow up.

And now they had come back to her with an empire.  They had cities.  They flew in airships.  They had powerful princesses.  Their population numbered in the millions.  No longer at the mercy of every monster roving their land, they were the greatest force in their world.  They had beaten back the darkness and brought even the heavens under their control.

She couldn’t mother the ponies anymore, and when she heard them tell their history, she couldn’t help but think it was in spite of her, rather than because of her, that they had grown up.

She leaned against the wall for several minutes as she tried to get her breathing and heartbeat to slow.  She wiped a forearm across her face and was surprised to discover she was crying.  

No more sounds came from the barn.  She picked up her blankets and, as quietly as she could, trudged back to the house.








Megan had finished grooming Rarity.  After walking once around the pony to view her handiwork, she looked about and said, “Where is Pinkie Pie?  I’ve hardly seen her all morning.”

“I’ll see if I can find her,” Rarity replied.  “She’s probably around back with the others.”  She trotted off.

Only seconds later, Megan heard the pounding rhythm of hooves accompanied by high-pitched giggling and Danny’s nasal laughter.  Pinkie, with Danny on her back, galloped up the gravel driveway, trailed by a cloud of dust.  Danny was bent low over Pinkie’s neck, holding her frizzy mane with one hand and clutching his stomach with the other.  Pinkie’s giggles, interrupted by occasional snorts, did nothing to slow her breakneck pace.

Pinkie skidded to a halt in front of the barn, scattering gravel with her hooves.  Danny slid from her back and fell to the ground.  Pinkie paused to catch her breath.  The two turned silent for a moment, but then they looked at each other and started laughing again.  Pinkie rolled over onto her back and kicked as she chortled.

With her arms crossed, Megan silently tapped a curry brush against her shoulder while she watched this spectacle.

“Did you see him?” Pinkie squealed, jumping to her feet.  “He was all”—she dropped her jaw and contorted her face into an exaggerated expression of shock—“and then he was all”—she clenched her teeth and opened her eyes wide in a rictus of horror—“and then he was all”—she put a hoof to her forehead, swayed, and sank to the ground as if fainting away.  She cycled her hind legs furiously as she burst into fresh giggles.

Danny sat up and wiped his eyes.  “Oh, that was awesome!  You’re the best, Pinkie.”

“Where have you been?” asked Megan quietly.

Danny stopped laughing, but his chest heaved up and down as he struggled to get his wind.  “We went for a ride.”  He started laughing again.  “And what happened to your hair?”

“A ride?”  Megan’s sharp tone stopped the laughter instantly.

“Yeah,” Danny said, his voice now serious and faintly defiant.  “I went for a pony ride.  Got a problem with that?”

“Where?”

“None of your business.”

“Where?”

Pinkie slowly rolled to her feet and, brow furrowing, looked back and forth between Megan and Danny.

Danny stood, pulled his cap low, and glared into Megan’s eyes.  “Out to the road.”

Megan grabbed his collar.  Through clenched teeth, she hissed, “And who saw you, Danny?”

“Just old Sim Grimwood.  He was drunk, like most mornings.”  A grin split Danny’s face.  “Probably thought I was riding a pink elephant—”

Megan let go of Danny’s shirt, set her jaw, made a half turn, and slugged him in the chin.  Pinkie gasped and fell on her haunches.

Danny hit the ground with a thud.  Only momentarily stunned, he gained his feet and ran for Megan.  She prepared for another swing, but then a bright violet cloud, tingling like static electricity, enveloped her and jerked her into the air.

Megan quickly looked around until she spotted Twilight Sparkle, who, wings spread wide, now stood next to Pinkie with a frown on her face.

Aware that she couldn’t break out of the magical field, Megan relaxed.  “I had guessed that your magic was telekinetic.”

“I have every magic.”  Twilight lowered Megan to the ground and released her.  “What are you doing?  I never expected Magog and Danel to fight each other.”

“What are you talking about?” Danny said, rubbing his jaw.  “We fight all the time.”  He spat.  “She doesn’t usually throw punches, though.”

Gingerly, Megan flexed her fingers.  “And I think I hurt my hand.”

Danny took her hand, opened it, and tapped her wrist.  “Don’t you remember how Dad taught us, sis?  If you wanna hit a guy in the jaw, use your palm.”

She snatched her hand back.  “I was never quite so keen as you at learning how to fistfight, Danny.”

“Says the girl who punched a dragon on her first trip to Ponyland.”  He stuck his tongue in his cheek and rubbed it around.  “That was a pretty good hit.”

“Thanks.”

“For a girl.”

“You want seconds?”

He held up his hands and backed away.

Megan jumped in surprise when a pair of pink hooves reached over her shoulders from behind and tugged at the corners of her mouth.  “C’mon,” Pinkie said, “you don’ need to be such a big meanie meanpants.  Turn that ol’ frown upside down an’ give us a smile!”  Pinkie spun Megan around and wrapped her in a crushing hug.

Megan was both winded and dumbfounded.  She had noticed, when they first arrived, that these ponies had shorter muzzles and more bulbous heads than the ones she had known in Dream Valley, and she had soon discovered that they also had double-jointed knees they could bend like elbows.  They could move their bodies in eerily human-like ways of which the earlier ponies had been incapable:  Megan had been nuzzled, licked, and leaned on by plenty of ponies, but this was the first time one had hugged her.  Certain things they had said suggested that the new ponies aged the way humans did rather than the way horses did, too.  A lot had changed in five thousand years.

“Ambassador,” Megan gasped, “you’re crushing my ribs.”

Pinkie squeezed her a little longer and rocked her back and forth before finally letting go.

“Well,” said Twilight, “if that’s all over, can we get back to business?”

“Yes,” said Megan.  “Pinkie Pie, you’re next.”

“I wanna groom Pinkie,” said Danny.

Megan glared at him.  “What?”

Danny raised his ball cap and scratched at his orange hair.  “Hey, don’t you want some help?  You still got a lot of ponies to get through.”

“I don’t need your help, Danny.”

“Ah, stop bein’ a jerk, sis.  I know how to take care o’ horses.” 

“You and Pinkie’ll just screw around.”

“No we won’t.  C’mon.  Why don’t you go groom Twilight instead or something?”

Megan glanced at Twilight.  A large, forced grin formed on Twilight’s face as she slowly backed away.  “Who, me?  Oh, you can save me for later.  Maybe Applejack—”

Megan threw up her hands.  “Fine, Danny.  Fine.  Go groom Pinkie Pie.  I can’t imagine you’ll make this day much worse.”  She paused and watched Pinkie, who now bounced up and down like a Super Ball.  “I think we’ll put her in the jumper class.  Even you should be able to prepare her for that.” 

Pinkie stuck her legs out straight, arresting her own momentum and landing softly on the ground.  She raised a hoof, and Danny slapped a hand against it.

“Woohoo!” Pinkie cried.

“C’mon, Pinkie,” said Danny.  “I’ll getcha ready.”








Five years earlier in one world, five thousand in another, under Megan’s close supervision, Dream Valley changed.  The ponies had formerly spent almost all their time playing, but now they worked.

Because they had never needed to do any housework or upkeep when Queen Majesty ruled and they lived in Dream Castle, the ponies knew nothing of maintenance.  Consequently, Paradise Estate had gone to seed:  plaster was cracking from the ceilings, stucco was crumbling off the walls, and tiles were falling from the roof.  Paradise and Cherries Jubilee were in charge of cleanup and repairs, for which they’d enlisted the help of the bushwoolies.  They were also looking into the possibility of surrounding the house with a stone wall and a moat for added protection.

The ponies had visited the human, gnome, and elf villages outside the valley and traded some of Majesty’s gold for seeds.  Under the direction of Chancellor Magic Star and with a lot of advice and encouragement from Posey, the earth ponies had cleared trees to make room for fields, and they now pulled plows through the ground, struggling hard to make up for lost time and plant the corn.

The unicorns made regular early-morning treks to the Mushromp where the mysterious and powerful Moochick kept his hermitage.  The Moochick had agreed to help the unicorn ponies hone their magical skills, though it was unclear if the absent-minded little elf was even aware that he’d done so:  he reacted with surprise each morning when he opened his door to find several unicorns awaiting their lessons.  So far, Galaxy, Buttons, and Ribbon had learned several new spells, but Fizzy could still produce nothing but bubbles.

Megan had sent pegasi to contact the troggles, bipedal warthog-like creatures who had formerly served Grogar the demon ram, ruler of the black city of Tambelon.  Megan had cast Grogar and his city back into the Realm of Darkness, but the troggles now roamed free in Ponyland, mostly working as mercenaries and protecting villages from the dragons that ravaged them for food.  Being, as they were, on good terms with the ponies who had freed them from their former servitude, the troggles agreed to return to Dream Valley and teach the pegasi the art of fighting with the spear.  Under the troggles’ command, the pegasus ponies now stood in rows in front of Paradise Estate and practiced thrusts.  Heart Throb complained that the exertion was bad for her complexion, and Whizzer fought with enthusiasm but without discipline.  Commander Wind Whistler, to everyone’s surprise, showed a great deal of skill:  she insisted that it was the easiest thing in the world, merely a matter of directing the spear tip at the correct velocity.

Meanwhile, Danny spent most of his time in a weirdly shaped, cobbled-together building on the far end of the valley.  Formerly, the gizmonks, a pair of troublesome inventor monkeys, had worked in this lab before Danny and Surprise had driven them out.

Danny claimed he was trying to figure out the gizmonks’ security system so he could build something similar for Paradise Estate, but that was only a pretense; he really just wanted to tinker with the gizmonks’ machines and get away from his sisters.  Some of the big brother ponies, restless by nature and just as eager as Danny to escape Megan’s disapproving glare, frequently joined him:  Steamer, who had a keen interest in trains, and 4-Speed, who loved trucks, knew everything there was to know about engines, and they soon had the gizmonks’ power generators up and running again.

Upon visiting the grundles who had taken up residence in Dream Castle after the ponies had moved to Paradise Estate, Steamer had discovered that his model train sets were in storage there, untouched.  He set them up in the gizmonks’ lab, so now a miniature track snaked its way around the floor and wound its way up walls to the ceiling.  It passed through every part of the shop, so Danny and the stallions used the train to send tools or messages to each other when they were working in different rooms.

Danny was alone at the lab today, though he had started the model train running as usual.  Out on the back porch with a mask over his face and heavy gloves on his hands, he was in the process of stick welding a cracked boiler that had formerly been part of a steam engine.  The gizmonks had left behind a sizable supply of coal in the basement, and if Danny could get the engine running properly again, he could generate more electricity for the lab and stop using the smaller naphtha-powered generators that had originally, presumably, been the gizmonks’ backup source.

Sparks bounced onto Danny’s mask and apron as he focused on his weld.  The acrid smell of ozone filled his nose, and sweat ran freely down his face and stung his eyes, but he fought the urge to shake his head or blink.  He knew only the little of arc welding he had learned from his father, but he knew he had to focus.

For several tense seconds, the weld was his world, but then something coarse like sandpaper slid up the back of his neck.  Afraid he was being probed by some giant insect, he snapped off the electrode, leapt up, and swatted wildly at the air.

He heard a wild, high-pitched laugh behind him.  Yanking off his mask, he spun around to find the pegasus Surprise rolling on her back and giggling.

“Surprise!” he yelled.

She stopped laughing and gazed up at him.  “Did I surprise you?”

“Yes!  Don’t you know that’s dangerous?  I could have burned myself, or you could’ve got sparks in your eyes!”

She blinked a few times.  “But you were surprised.”

Danny shut down the diesel motor for the welding electrode, pulled off his gloves, and slung off his apron.  In vain, he mopped at his forehead.  “Man, it’s a hot one today.  I wish Megan would let me use the Rainbow of Light to make some clouds for this.”

Surprise sat up and smacked her lips.  “You’re all sweaty.  You taste like salt.”

Danny sat down and touched the back of his neck.  The rough thing he’d felt there had apparently been her tongue.

Surprise stood, walked to him, and licked his cheek.

“Hey!  What are you doing?”

“I told you.  You taste like salt.”

“Well, stop it.”  He scooted away.  “Aren’t you supposed to be training with the other pegasus ponies?”

She flopped down on the floor again.  “Don’t wanna.”

“I don’t blame you.”  Realizing he still had his gloves in his hands, he tossed them to the floor.  It was odd:  Danny knew his mother would have had a conniption if she had caught him welding without supervision, but here in Ponyland that hadn’t even crossed his mind before he’d started.  He already did other things here that were much more dangerous than welding.

“I think sis finally went off the deep end,” he said.  “I miss the days when we could just, you know, hang out.”

“You get to hang out with the big brothers, though,” Surprise said with a pout.

“Yeah.  They’re actually pretty smart:  4-Speed already knew what most of the stuff in here was, and he repaired the generators.  I think, if I can fix this engine, we can get the gizmonks’ sub-aetheric discombobulator working again.  That’d be cool.  Steamer and Salty are probably gonna be mad that I’m working on the boiler without them, but they can’t weld without hands anyway.  Oh, and we found a frame, with an engine, that 4-Speed’s sure is for a land buggy.  He thinks we can put it together if we scrounge for some wheels.  He’s super-excited that he might get to drive something.”

Still on her back, Surprise stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry.  “All he cares about is driving!”

“Well, yeah, but think how handy it might be for the ponies to have some vehicles—”

Surprise turned over onto her side and shut her eyes as if she were planning to take a nap.  “Lofty wants you to make her a hot-air balloon.”

“I would, and I’ve been reading up on ’em, but we don’t have enough silk.  I swiped a few of Heart Throb’s dresses, but that’s still not enough.”  Danny leaned back against the boiler and stared up into the bright afternoon sky.  “The gadgets in here are kind of a hodgepodge—steam engines and cameras and kitchen tools and stuff I don’t even know what it does.  But if we can get it all working, who knows?  Maybe the ponies can build more stuff like it.”

Surprise blew another raspberry.  “Rub my belly.”

Danny lowered his head and looked at her.  She still had her eyes closed.

“Rub my belly!  Rub my belly!”  She flailed as if threatening to throw a tantrum, but Danny could see she had a smile on her face.

He paused a moment longer, but then obligingly slid toward her and ran his hand along the fur on her underside.  She sighed in contentment and took to wiggling her hind legs while humming tunelessly.

After a minute, Danny whispered, “I don’t think I like Ponyland anymore.”

Surprise stopped humming.  She opened her eyes and raised her head.  “You still like me, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

She lowered her head again.  “Good.”

“But, I mean, it’s not fun.  Not like it used to be.”

“I know what you mean.  I don’t wanna fight, an’ I don’t wanna work.  I wanna play.  Come play with me, Danny.”  Surprise rolled over and rose to her feet.  After shaking herself off, she flexed her wings.  “Climb on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Don’t know.  Someplace fun.  Scoops says she’s found a couple of guys who can keep our ice cream supply going, and she’s building a sweet shop.  We can go there.”

“But she hasn’t built it yet.”

Surprise stuck out her tongue again.  “I know a gnome village only a few miles from here.  Let’s go there.  Maybe they have ice cream.”

“We have ice cream.”

Surprise rolled her eyes.  “But for that, we gotta go back to Paradise Estate, an’ then we gotta see your sister!”

“Oh yeah.  I forgot.”  Danny climbed onto Surprise’s back.

“Got your camera, Danny?”

“Yep.”  He pulled it out of his satchel and slung it around his neck.

“Good!  We can take some pictures from the air again, too.”  Surprise pranced into the yard, flapped her wings, and leapt.

Danny’s stomach lurched, and he clenched his legs tight around Surprise’s barrel as she gained altitude.  When she leveled out, he pulled his cap down tight and stretched out his arms, letting the wind blow across his body, dry his sweat, and cool him down.

Dream Valley, green and lush, stretched out below.  In the distance sprawled a blot of pink, the villa that was Paradise Estate.  Danny lifted his camera to his eyes:  through the zoom lens, he could make out the pegasi and troggles in front of the house.  Two by two, the pegasus ponies launched into the air, spears clutched in their pasterns, and dove toward the ground, apparently practicing attacks from above.

Danny snapped a picture.

“Let’s get away, Danny,” Surprise said.  “Just you and me.”

He lowered the camera.  “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”

“I mean for good.”

Danny felt his gut tighten as if he had a bad stomachache.  Unsure what else to do, he patted her withers.  “You don’t wanna do that.  What about Baby Surprise?”

Surprise was quiet for a minute.  “We could take her too.”

“This isn’t gonna last forever, Surprise.  Megan’ll get tired of it.”

Surprise shook her head, which destabilized her flight.  Sucking air through his teeth, Danny clutched her mane as she dropped a few feet.  Once she was steady again, Surprise said, “It’s not just Megan.  Wind Whistler’s gotten real bossy.  More than usual.  She wants us to do those dumb drills all the time.”  Surprise stuck her tongue out.

“Well, she’s commander now, right?  I guess she takes the job seriously.”

“Don’t wanna be serious.”  Surprise dove.  Danny leaned down and grabbed her neck.

“And Megan won’t let the big brothers leave!” Surprise shouted over the rush of wind.

“Do you want them to?”

She pulled out of her dive and corkscrewed in the air.  Danny grabbed her tight and felt the sweat renew itself across his back.

She flapped hard and lifted on an updraft rising from the rugged hills at the valley’s rim.  Opening her wings wide, she soared in a circle.  “I don’t wanna join a herd,” she said.  “But Wind Whistler’s gonna make me.”

“You could have more foals.”

“I got Baby Surprise.  That’s enough.”  She dove again, and this time she flew low enough that leafy tree branches scraped against Danny’s sneakers.  “Let’s find another valley, Danny.  You an’ me an’ Baby Surprise.”

“I can’t stay forever,” he said.  “I gotta go back home and go to school, and Mom gets worried when we’re gone all the time.  We can only stay here over the weekends.”

“School?”

“Yeah, school.”

“Sounds like serious stuff.”  She shot up into the air, and he slid backwards onto her croup.  Struggling to keep from falling, he clutched her mane, but her hair came away in his hands.

His insides lurched, and he thought for sure he would be dead in a few seconds, but before he fell free of her back, Surprise reached her hind legs forward and wrapped her fetlocks around his ankles, arresting his slide.

The air grew sharp and cold as she rose higher.  She leveled out again suddenly, throwing Danny forward onto her withers.

He gasped, “Megan would kill me if—”

He sucked in his breath as Surprise dipped into a bank of cloud that left her coat and Danny’s skin streaming with water.

Surrounded by cold white mist, with his head against her thick mane, Danny could hear Surprise whispering, her voice barely audible above the wind whistling past his ears.

“I always feel like I have to move,” she said.  “I can’t hold still.  If I sit down for too long, or if I try to watch something for too long, I get all twisted up inside.  I want up.  I want to run around.  I tried to watch a ladybug climb a blade of grass once, but I couldn’t do it.  I yelled, ‘Too slow!’  And I jumped up and took the ladybug on my hoof and threw her into the air so she’d fly.  All the other ponies are too quiet, too slow.  Everything is.”  She whinnied softly.

“Except you,” she added, her voice even lower so he had to strain to make out her words.  “I feel like I can hold still and be quiet when I’m with you.”

He lay there for a minute, breathing against her mane.  The soft feathers of her wings brushed up and down along the backsides of his arms.  He could feel his heart pounding hard but slow against her withers.  His insides were knotted up with a sensation he’d never felt before, one both painful and pleasant.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

Slowly banking back and forth, Surprise lowered gently out of the clouds.  Down below, surrounded by rugged crags strung with white tufts of fog, stood the straw huts and the lazily turning windmill of a village of gnomes.








Fists on hips, Danny looked at the card table where Megan had laid out her equipment for grooming.  Pinkie, with her front hooves resting lightly on his back, peeked over his shoulder.  

“To be honest,” he said, “I usually let my sisters do this stuff, cuz, y’know, braiding hair is for girls.  But I can do this.  I can.  Still, I might be a little outta practice.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” said Pinkie.  She dropped to the ground and bounced back and forth behind him.  “Just take a little off the top, fluff out the sides, and make sure it’s nice an’ curly!”

“This isn’t a barber shop.  And, um, I’m supposed to braid it.”  He picked up a mane comb.  “Do you mind if I, you know, pull out a bunch o’ your hair?  To thin it?”

“What?”  Pinkie jumped onto her front hooves, kicked her rear legs in the air, spun, and looked at Danny upside-down.  “Why would you wanna pull out my hair, silly?”

“We do that to the . . . okay, never mind.  I’ll skip that part.  We’ll just have to figure out how to manage your hair as it is.”

After Pinkie landed back on all four feet, Danny dug a hand into her mane.  “You’re sort of like a Bashkir Curly, I guess.  But we’ve never had one of those.”  He lifted his cap and scratched his head.  “I’m not sure how to groom a horse with curly hair.  This could be interesting.”

Looking away from her, he grabbed a bottle of essential oils from the table, but when he turned back around, he found Pinkie jumping around the yard.

“Uh, Pinkie?  You’ll have to hold still for this.”

Obligingly, and with a shrill skidding sound, she pulled to an abrupt stop in front of him, and he began to comb.

“All done yet?” she asked.

“No, I’m just starting.”  As Danny tried to pull the comb through her hair, it got stuck.  “Hmm, it’s really tangled—”

He tried to tug the comb out, but found it lodged in place.  At first, he thought perhaps some hair had wrapped around it, but the comb wouldn’t come even partway out of her curls.

Frowning, he scratched his head.  Pinkie began shuffling back and forth on her hooves.

“Done yet?” she asked again.

“Uh, no—”

“Hey, wanna play a game?”  She bounced onto her hind hooves and reared.  “I’m thinking of a number between one and fifty million, and you gotta—”

“Pinkie, c’mon.  If I don’t do this, Meg’s gonna be mad.  Madder’n usual, I mean.”

With a loud thud, Pinkie’s front hooves hit the ground again.  Danny grabbed the comb and pulled.  He strained, clenching his teeth and leaning backwards.  Pinkie’s mane stretched like gum, but the comb still wouldn’t come free.

“What in the world?  What is this?  It’s like your hair’s made o’ glue!”

“Oh, do you want your comb back?  Here.”  Pinkie closed her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut, and puffed out her cheeks.  The comb shot free, and Danny staggered backwards.

He smashed into the table, upsetting it, and then collapsed onto his rump.  His head cracked against something, sending flashes of light into his eyes.  Wincing and rubbing the back of his skull, he climbed to his feet to find Pinkie now balancing on one hoof and spinning like an equine ballerina.

“Well,” Danny said, “maybe I should curry your coat first anyway.”








Danny and Surprise lay on a grassy hilltop outside the gnome village.  Near their heads stood a picnic basket, and beside it lay two tin dishes that had formerly held meat pies, but now held nothing but a few crumbs.  Beside those lay a half-eaten dish of pastries, a nearly destroyed wheel of cheese, and several empty bottles.

After gathering food in the village, they had spent most of the afternoon sitting on this spot and gorging themselves.  The gnomes had sold them bottled sarsaparilla:  Danny liked it because it was sweet; Surprise giggled when the bubbles tickled her nose, and she claimed the drink made her feel lightheaded.  They had eaten until they were stuffed, and then they had lain down to watch the clouds.

“I could live like this forever,” Surprise said.

“Not forever,” Danny answered.  “I had to give them my watch and my calculator to get this food, but they wanted gold.  You ponies need to figure out how to get some gold.”

Surprise hiccoughed and giggled.  “Majesty left us lots of gold.”

“It won’t last.”

She sighed.  “Stop, please.  Let’s just enjoy the afternoon.”

He turned his head and smiled at her.  “I guess I can do that.”

Giggling, Surprise started rolling back and forth in the grass.  “Ah, that feels so good!  Come roll with me, Danny.”

“What?  I don’t wanna—”

She almost rolled on top of him.  He yelled in alarm, but she reached one hoof past his shoulder and stopped herself before she crushed him.  After swiftly nuzzling his cheek, she rolled back the other way and, laughing all the while, rolled right down the hill, stopping at last in a bed of wildflowers and tall grass.  When she sat up, a bright green butterfly landed on her nose.

Hands in his pockets, Danny walked down the hill to join her, and the butterfly flew away.  He sat down, cross-legged, across from her.

She threw herself back down into the grass.  “Do you ever wonder about the Rainbow Bridge?”

“It’s weird, but we didn’t think about it much before the pegasi showed up.  The rainbow was always there, hovering over the ranch, but none of us knew what it was until ponies started crossing it.”

“Maybe Majesty made it.”

“Maybe.  It sounds like, if anybody could have made it, she could.”

Surprise turned over onto her stomach and poked at a flower with one hoof.  “Sometimes I wonder if things are the same on both sides.  Once, I was playing a record on the phonograph, and I realized I could make it go really, really fast so the voices would get all squeaky, or I could make it play really deep and slow.  And I wondered if Ponyland and your land were like two records, and I wondered if they played at the same speed.”

Danny plucked a stem of grass, stuck it in his lips, and lay down.  “I don’t know.”

“I wonder, if you went home and didn’t come back until you were all grown up, maybe I’d still be here, and it would be like only a couple of days had gone by, and I’d say, ‘Oh, Danny!  You’re all grown up!’  But on the other hoof, if it went the other way, maybe you’d be all grown up, but I wouldn’t even be here anymore, and maybe Baby Surprise’d be grown up and maybe have her own babies—”

Danny chewed the grass stem and stared up at the drifting clouds overhead.  “I dunno, Surprise.  Why are you thinkin’ ’bout this stuff?”

She turned her face toward his.  “Because I want you to hurry an’ grow up.”

A lump formed in his throat and his stomach clenched again.  He turned and looked into her lavender eyes.  A faint breeze tousled her curly mane and made the grass wave in front of her face.  They gazed at each other in silence for a few minutes before Surprise closed her eyes and feigned sleep.








“You’re making this difficult, Pinkie.”  Every time Danny touched Pinkie with the curry brush, she started giggling.  “C’mon, just hold still.”  He started brushing more vigorously, hoping it would somehow hold her in place, but she collapsed onto her back in a fit of laughter, causing him to fall across her barrel.

“That tickles!” she squealed.

“Man, even your coat is curly.  I wonder if I’m doing this right—”

“I got my hooves polished to come here.  Lookee.”  She raised a front hoof, which was trimmed, painted pink, and buffed.  He took it in one hand and peered at it.

“Well, that’s good.  Less work for me.  Still, I gotta brush your coat and braid your hair.”

She slid out from under him and leapt to her feet.  He hit the ground with a thud.

Brushing himself off, he got back up and said, “If we’re gonna get this done, you gotta hold really, super-duper still.  Okay?”

“Hmm.”  She rubbed her chin.  “Once, I did stare at a wall an’ watch paint dry.  It was really, really tough, but I had to do it for my friends.”

Danny scratched his head.  “You had to watch paint dry for . . . ?  No, never mind, I don’t wanna know.  Think of this as like that.  You an’ your friends are ambassadors, right?  You don’t wanna disappoint your friends.”

She poked his nose with a hoof.  “That’s true!”

“So just stare at the barn wall here, and don’t move.”

“But the paint on the barn’s already dry, silly!”

Danny ripped his cap off and scratched his head more vigorously.  “Yes, I know, but—”

He stopped and spun, looking around the yard for anything that might seize her attention.  “Why don’t you, um, watch the grass grow?”

She stuck out her tongue.  “Boooring!”

“Of course it’s boring!  That’s the . . . okay, fine.  How about you watch the clouds?  Look at that one there.”  He put an arm over her shoulders, placed his cheek against hers, and pointed at a white tuft floating near the horizon.  “It looks kinda like a peacock.  Uh, no, more like a turkey.  A chicken, maybe?  Just stare at it, okay?”

“Okee dokee.”  Pinkie threw herself onto her back again.

“Pinkie!”

“What?  This is the perfect position for cloud-gazing.”

“I need you on your feet.  Please?”

Pinkie jumped up with a slight frown.  “Okay, but it’ll be hard to get in the cloud-gazing mood—”

“Just stand there, hold still, and report to me what the cloud looks like.  Don’t take your eyes off it.”

She spread her feet, set her shoulders, opened her eyes wide, and furrowed her brow.

With a sigh of relief, Danny set the curry brush to her shoulder.

She snorted.

“The cloud, Pinkie.  Focus on the cloud.”

“It looks like a meadowlark.”

“Good.”  He pressed down and moved his arm in a circle, currying her coat.

She snorted again and her barrel started shaking.  The muscles under her skin twitched madly as if she were shaking off a horde of flies.

“The cloud, Pinkie!  Watch the cloud!”

Her voice strangled, Pinkie said, “It looks like a pigeon—”

Another snort cut off her words.

“That’s it,” he said.  “Stay focused.”

One of her hind legs started to lift, as if she were a dog wanting to scratch.

“Stay focused!”

“It looks like a duck.”

“Good.”

“Now a goose.”

“Okay.”

“Now an aepyornis.”

“Wait, what?”

Bursting into a fresh fit of laughter, Pinkie shied from him and scratched vigorously at her barrel with a hind leg, smearing dust across her coat.

“Pinkie!  You didn’t focus!  You told me you could stare at something—”

“Not while getting tickled!”

“Well, dang it, you’re just gonna have to focus extra hard!”

They faced each other silently for almost a full minute.  Danny fingered the curry brush, holding his arms at his sides.  Pinkie, eyes narrowed, watched his hands.

He took a step forward.  “Pinkie—”

She took a step back.

“You know this is serious,” he said.  He took another step.

Again she stepped back.

“The future of two worlds depends on you having a well-brushed coat!”

She didn’t answer.

In a flash, Danny raised the brush as if drawing a pistol from his hip.  He sprinted for her and leapt onto her back.  Neighing loudly, she bounced around the yard and tried to unseat him as he clutched her neck and vigorously brushed any spot of fur he could reach.

“Hold still, Pinkie!”

Her neighs turned to frantic laughs punctuated by loud snorts, and her jumps grew higher and more rapid.  “Oh, stop it!  It tickles!  It tickles!”

She hit the ground hard and skidded to a stop, throwing Danny over her head.  He spun in the air and slid across the yard on his back, coming to rest when his legs struck a rickety old fence.

Feeling sick, he lay in the grass and stared into the sky.  Struggling to keep his gorge down, he noticed a small cloud floating overhead.

“Huh . . . y’know, from this angle, that kinda does look like an aepyornis.”








When the sun tipped toward the horizon, Danny and Surprise headed home.  They landed beside a dirt path some distance from Paradise Estate, and Danny dismounted.  He heard the whine of wheels spinning over gravel, and then Speedy appeared on her rollerskates.  She turned her hooves sideways, pulling to an abrupt halt and spraying rocks.

Her expression blank, Speedy swiveled the faceted jewels in her eye sockets up toward Danny.  Like all twinkle-eyed ponies, she had a face that, no matter her mood, was unreadable:  even when her mouth turned up, those glistening stones in her eyes remained expressionless, making the smile appear feigned.  Danny knew the story of how the twinkle-eyed ponies had lost their sight and received magic stones to replace their eyes; he felt sorry for them, but, though he had never admitted it aloud, they made his flesh crawl.

“Megan and Wind Whistler want to see you two,” Speedy said, her voice as flat as her expression.  She blinked a few times, and the sight of her eyelids sliding over those jewels made Danny think he might lose the picnic lunch he’d just had.

Having delivered her message, Speedy turned and skated away.  Danny and Surprise walked slowly after, in no hurry to get home.

When they reached the villa, they found Megan and Wind Whistler standing in the enclosed courtyard.  Danny crossed his arms, leaned against a wall, and prepared himself for a berating.  Surprise sat down next to him.

Several minutes passed before Wind Whistler spoke.  “No pegasus is allowed to vacate the premises without express permission from the commander,” she said, “and no pegasus is allowed absence from combat training without grave reason.”

They were all silent for a moment until Surprise looked up and, with voice shrill like an angry child’s, shouted, “I don’t want combat training!”

“That is not your decision to make,” Wind Whistler answered, her voice rising only a little.  “The needs of the community outweigh your personal desires, Surprise, and logic dictates—”

“I don’t care!” Surprise screamed.  “I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care!”

“You are confined to your quarters until further notice,” Wind Whistler snapped.

“I don’t have a quarters!” Surprise snapped back.  “I have a room, and I go there when I want.”

“I am your commander,” said Wind Whistler.

“You’re not the boss of me!”

Her face still impassive, Wind Whistler stepped forward.  Her usually calm voice took on a dangerous edge.  “I am most certainly the boss of you, as you are about to discover.  We have tolerated your childish antics for far too long, but things are going to be different now in Dream Valley.  No more illogical foolishness.”

Surprise stuck out her tongue.

“Insolence,” Wind Whistler said.  “Insubordination.”  She looked over her shoulder.  “Megan, we are going to conduct a court martial.”

Megan shifted, looking uneasy.  “I don’t know if—”

“You wish the pegasus ponies to be a guard unit, do you not?  A military unit?  Then we must conduct ourselves as a military unit.  Am I not commander?”

“You are, but—”

“Then I have the authority of a commander and all that pertains to such authority, including the right to discipline those under my command.”

“Maybe we can talk this out,” Megan said.

“What, precisely, would be the purpose of interlocution with someone who will not hear reason?”

Twisting her mouth, Megan shifted again.  “Perhaps, if we just understood why Surprise—”

“I can tell you why,” said Wind Whistler with uncharacteristic vehemence.  “It is because she obeys her passions instead of governing them.  It is because she, like most of the ponies, wants to let sentiment instead of reason direct her life.  Well, if pleasure and pain are all that can move her, then I can give her pain and take away her pleasure.  I will rule her if she will not rule herself.”  Taking a deep breath, Wind Whistler added more calmly, “I leave you to discipline your brother, who is under your command, not mine.  I will deal with Surprise.”

Megan glanced back and forth between Surprise and Danny, paused a moment, and nodded.

Wind Whistler walked to Surprise and champed her flank, taking off a patch of hair.  Surprise yelped.

Danny stood straight and, clenching his teeth, raised his fists.  But he made no further move.

“To your quarters,” Wind Whistler said.  Sulkily, with many angry glances over her shoulder, Surprise walked into the house, Wind Whistler following close behind.

His fists still raised, Danny breathed hard through his nose.  He glanced at Megan, who watched him with her arms crossed.

“I wanna go home,” said Danny.  He shook, and tears started pouring down his face.

“You’re in trouble,” she answered.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” he shouted.  “You’re not Mom, Megan!  And you’re definitely not my ‘commander!’”

“Somebody has to watch out for you!” she shouted back.  “You’re always running around, getting hurt, making trouble, and screwing off!  And Mom can’t watch you!  She’s too busy dealing with the ranch, now that Dad’s run off with that floozy—”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up!”

“Don’t talk about him like that!”

Megan marched to Danny, grabbed his collar, and slapped him.  He raised a fist, but just as quickly dropped it again when he saw anger, doubt, and agony pass across Megan’s face like clouds rolling over the sky in a high wind.

She grabbed him roughly around the shoulders and hugged him tight.  He could feel that her cheek was wet.

“I want you safe, Danny.  And I want Molly safe, and the ponies.  Do you understand that?  Don’t go flying off again without telling anyone.  Just don’t.”

He waited several seconds, but finally hugged her back.  After he thought he was calm enough to speak without his voice cracking, he whispered, “I just want things to go back to how they were.”

“They can’t, Danny.  You know that as well as I do.”








Danny staggered to his feet again.  He’d lost track of the number of times he’d been knocked down that day.

“Man, no wonder sis is so bent outta shape.  You ponies really are hard to groom.”

“I’m sorry,” Pinkie said, landing beside him and poking him in several places.  “You’re not hurt, are you?  Getting hurt is no fun . . . well, unless you’re playing freeze tag and you’re running real fast to get away from the pony who’s it, and then you trip over a stump, and then you fall down because you tripped over a stump, and you say ouch because you fell down because you tripped over a stump.  And then you’re hurt, but you were having fun when you got hurt, except it wasn’t actually fun getting hurt but only fun while you were getting hurt, and then it’s like you’re having fun and not having fun at the same time, and not having fun while you’re having fun is no fun!  So—”

Danny pressed a hand over Pinkie’s mouth.  “Our mom always used to say, it’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.”

“Ooh!”  Pinkie backed away from his hand so she could speak again.  “That must be why I’m always having fun and games, because I haven’t lost an eye yet!”

“Uh . . . yeah, okay.  I used to know a bunch of ponies who’d lost eyes—”

“Were they having fun and games?”

“Didn’t sound like it, from what I heard.  They were nice and all, but they freaked me out.”

“I’m gonna keep careful track of my eyes, then, so I don’t freak you out.”  She reared and shouted, “Oh no—!”  Cautiously, she touched her front hooves to her face.  “Oh, nope, I was wrong.  I still have two.  For a moment there, I thought I lost one.”

Danny rubbed his hair and pulled his cap down tight.  “Let’s just call your coat good and work on your mane and tail, huh?”








Danny marched into Paradise Estate’s Pretty Parlor where Candy Kisses was putting on her makeup.  With a gasp, she shied and dropped her lipstick.

“Danny!  Don’t walk in on a girl like that!”

“Sorry, but I really need your help.”

“Why?”

Danny took off his cap and rubbed his hair.  “Well, it’s sorta . . .”

Candy Kisses raised an eyebrow.  “Girl trouble?”

“How’d you know?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Because that’s all anybody comes to me to talk about.”  Stretching out one hind leg, she displayed her hip symbol, which looked like a stain left by a lipstick-coated kiss.  “Honestly, I might start wearing a skirt all the time to cover this thing up.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Do you want a giant pair of lips on your butt?”

Frowning, he stuck his hands in his pockets.  “Not really—”

She moved to a velvet-covered chaise longue and patted the space beside her.  “Sit down.  Tell me your troubles.  Let’s get this over with.”

“Look, if you don’t—”

“Sit down, Danny.”

Danny quickly planted himself beside her.  Staring at his hands, he twiddled his thumbs and, after an uncomfortable silence, said, “Could you, um, teach me—?”

He paused when sweat broke out along his spine.  He glanced sidelong at her and saw her staring at him with a glum, impatient expression.

He squeezed his eyes shut and blurted, “Could you teach me how to kiss a girl?”

Another uncomfortable silence followed.  Candy Kisses snorted.  “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you again?”

“Eleven—”

“And that’s, like, what?  Two in human years?  You don’t need kissing lessons, kid.  Wait until you’re at least four.”

“C’mon, Candy, ya gotta help me.”

She hung her head.  “Why don’t you ask Kiss n’ Tell instead?”

“She told me to ask you.”

“Kiss n’ Make-up?”

“Also told me to ask you.”

Candy Kisses snorted again.  “Don’t you see a pattern here?  My sisters and I are—”  She stopped and waved a hoof.  “Never mind.  It’s disgusting and it’s degrading, but it is what it is.”

“What’s ‘degrading’?”

“Being cursed with a special talent for kissing, that’s what.  Fine, I’ll teach you.  But these are emphatically not going to be hooves-on lessons, got it?”

“They’re not gonna be what?”

“Hoo boy, you really should come back when you’re older.  Okay, I’m not repeating myself, so listen up.  First, you close your eyes.  If you don’t close your eyes, you’re a punk.  Got that?”

“I guess.”

“Then you tilt your head.”

“Why?”

Candy Kisses paused.  “I . . . I don’t know, really.  It’s tradition.  Tilt.  Or you’re a punk.  Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Then you lean.”

“Lean?”

“Yes, lean.  Of course you lean.  Do you expect her to come to you?  If you do—”

“I’m a punk?”

“Yes, you’re a punk all right.  Close, tilt, lean:  remember that.  Then you kiss.  And that’s it.”

“But, wait a minute, that’s the important part, isn’t it?  I want to know how to do the kissing thing.  What’s the trick?”

Candy Kisses groaned and put her face in her hooves.  “Honestly, Danny—”

“Please, Candy!  Help me out!”

With a harrumph, she pushed herself off the chaise, spun around, and stood before him.  “What sort of kiss are we discussing?  There’s the Eskimo Nose Kiss, the Butterfly Kiss, the Light Peck on the Cheek, the Gentle Kiss on the Forehead, the French Goodbye Kiss—”

“French kiss—?”  Danny shrank back.

“Not that kind of French kiss, you idiot!  You kiss the air beside her cheeks!  The air!”

“Okay, fine!”  Danny wiped his damp forehead with a wrist.

“There are many kinds of kisses, and each one carries a special meaning.  Like flowers.”  She turned her head aside and muttered, “Posey is so lucky, having a special talent for flowers—”

“I’m just looking for a regular boy-girl kiss.  I guess.”

She pursed her lips and nodded.  “Hmm.  Mm hm, mm hm.  A First Kiss, yes.  A difficult specimen.  It must be just so or else it’s ruined.  And, of course, as a first, it will be remembered forever—”

Danny swallowed.

“This will be your First Kiss, I assume—”

“Well, yeah, that’s why I’m—”

“And what about her?”

Danny blinked.  “I . . . I dunno.  I think so.”

“Then assume so.  Don’t ask her, please.  That would make you—”

“A punk.”

“Exactly.  The First Kiss must be slow, tender, gentle, and, above all, brief.”

“How can it be slow and brief?”

“Augh, you fool!  Must I explain everything to you?”  She tapped a hoof on the shag rug for almost a minute and at last said, “I suppose there’s no help for it.  You’ll simply have to practice.”

“Wait, what?”

“Kiss me, idiot.”

With his mouth hanging open, Danny stared down at Candy Kisses’s pink-lined lips.

“What are you waiting for?” she demanded.  “You wanted lessons, didn’t you?  Well, what are lessons without practice?  You don’t learn to play an instrument merely by studying the theory:  you must pick up the instrument and play, and you only learn to play well by playing badly.  Kiss me badly, you silly boy.”

Danny closed his mouth, swallowed again, and found his voice.  “But then it wouldn’t be my first kiss.”

A grin spread slowly across Candy Kisses’s face.  “Very good.  Lesson’s over.  You passed.  Now get out of here.”  She shoved him off the chaise and onto the floor.  Then she returned to her vanity and continued applying her makeup.

Danny stood and brushed off his jeans.  “I don’t get it.”

She sighed and stared at him in her mirror.  “Danny, there’s no ‘trick’ to kissing.  That was your mistake.  Love isn’t a hoofball game; you don’t try to approach it with a bunch of skills and techniques.  It’s more like a journey of exploration:  you learn new things about each other and you cherish even the disappointments and mistakes because you love each other.  Got it?”

“I—”

“You also don’t walk in on a lady while she’s applying her makeup.  Goodbye, Danny.  I trust you can find the door.”








Danny had a mane comb and Molly’s hairbrush stuck in Pinkie Pie’s mane when Megan walked around from the back of the barn with Rarity, Applejack, and Twilight in tow.  Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy were apparently still down by the creek.

Danny glanced up briefly as he struggled to convince Pinkie to hold still.  “I thought you were gonna work on Applejack.”

“Actually,” Megan said, “I had an idea.”

“Ooh, goody!” said Pinkie.

“What is it?” Danny asked.  “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I realized we’ve gone about this the wrong way,” Megan said.  “Rarity styled my hair earlier—”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Danny said as he yanked on the hairbrush, trying to dislodge it.

“So I asked her if she could help speed things up.”

“I figured you might be having difficulty here, darling,” Rarity said.  “But I’ve dealt with Pinkie Pie’s hair before.”  She chuckled.  “Once, when we were fighting a group of changelings—real ruffians, you understand—several of them turned into Pinkie Pie.  I restyled her hair so we could tell the real Pinkie apart from the villains.”

Danny grunted.  “I did not understand a word you just said.”  He strained as he yanked on the brush and watched Pinkie’s hair stretch.

“I shouldn’t have eaten all that taffy before we came this morning,” said Pinkie.  She hiccoughed.

“Let Rarity do Pinkie’s hair,” said Megan.

Danny let go.  Pinkie’s hair contracted, and the brush smacked her in the side of the head, knocking her over.

“I don’t need help,” Danny said as he marched toward Megan.

“Danny, you should be done by now.”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been Miss Speedy this morning either, you know.”

“I know.  That’s why I needed help.  But Pinkie’s especially difficult to—”

“No!”

Megan paused.

Danny lowered his voice, leaned toward her, and muttered through clenched teeth, “This is important to me.”

“Danny—”

Danny lowered his voice still further and hissed in Megan’s ear, “You’re not going to take her away from me again.  Not this time.”

He thought for sure Megan would get angry, but instead she pulled back and, arms crossed, stared at him for a moment, her jaw working.  She glanced around at the ponies before she said, “Come talk to me in private.  Behind the barn.”

She turned and walked away.  Danny followed, but Megan called over her shoulder, “Rarity, go ahead and get started on Pinkie.  Just a simple continuous braid will do.”








Danny knocked on Surprise’s door.  The knock was so faint, even he could barely hear it; nonetheless, Surprise shouted from inside, “Go away!”

“Surprise?” he murmured.

He heard the squeak of furniture shifting and the boom of something heavy hitting the floor.  After that came the distinct clopping sound of hooves on hardwood, and then the door burst open.  Danny stumbled backwards when Surprise barreled out.

She nuzzled his cheek for a moment, but then clamped her teeth on his shirt, dragged him into her room, and shut the door.

He sat on the floor, stunned, as she lay her head against his shoulder.

“Let’s run off somewhere,” he whispered.  “Like you said.”

“What about your home?  Your mom?  Your school?” she whispered back.

He shook his head.  “I don’t wanna go back there anymore.”

With a thump, she lowered her haunches and sat across from him.  He had never seen so much sorrow on her face.  “Why is it like this, Danny?  Why have Megan and Wind Whistler gotten so mean?”

“I don’t know.”  He watched tears roll down her cheeks.  Her eyes were pleading.

Danny had grown up surrounded by girls.  His older sister had always been bossy, and Molly had always followed him around, insisting on bothering him at recess when he was playing with his friends.  When he had joined Megan in Ponyland in the hopes of embarking on a great adventure, he had discovered it was full of yet more girls.  He had dreamed of the day when he might finally grow up, escape Megan’s shadow, and do the kinds of things he wanted to do.

Only recently had he begun to think that girls might be more interesting than he had previously supposed.  A few months earlier, while playing hooky from school, Danny and his best friend Jake had been hanging out in a trash-strewn alley.  They kicked cans around and complained about their teacher, and then Danny noticed the corner of a magazine sticking out of a nearby dumpster.  Even before he caught a good glimpse of the image on the open page, he somehow sensed what it was.

Jake pulled it out, smoothed out the creased pages, and chuckled.  Danny backed away.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jake said.  “Chicken?”

“No.”  Danny snatched the magazine and leafed rapidly through it.  Most of the images, depicting things outside his previous experience, reached him as a series of disconnected impressions, refusing to come together into coherent wholes.  But when he reached the centerfold, he stopped and stared.  His throat closed up, and it felt as if someone were punching him in the stomach, or perhaps a little lower down.

Jake looked over his shoulder and sniggered again.

Since that day, he had warily watched the girls at school, trying to relate them to the pictures he’d seen.  He couldn’t quite do it; he couldn’t really believe that the chattering girls with their skinny legs and bobbing pigtails and dolls and jump ropes were the same variety of animal he had seen in the magazine.  He tried to imagine kissing them, but that couldn’t quite come together in his mind, either.  Nonetheless, a newfound mixture of confusion, desire, and anxiety roiled constantly and unpleasantly in his gut.

Then there was Surprise.  Even though she didn’t look like one, he knew she was a girl.  She didn’t make his face heat up or fill him with anxiety the way the magazine pictures had, but he enjoyed talking to her and spending time with her.  And perhaps, because she looked more like one of the horses on the ranch than like the girls at school who previously had been mere nuisances but were now dark and mysterious creatures, he didn’t find her frightening or confusing.  He could relax with her, as she had said she could with him.  Or, at least, he usually could.  Now was different.

Sitting on the floor in her room, watching the tears roll down her cheeks, Danny clenched and unclenched a fist, trying to make up his mind.  His head floated, his throat burned.  It felt as if his ribs were crushing his heart like a vice.  He was so nervous, he was afraid he might throw up.  Slowly, awkwardly, almost losing his balance, he rose to his knees.  After swallowed a few times to get the extra saliva out of his mouth, he leaned toward her.  He leaned so far, he was afraid he’d fall over.  He didn’t just close his eyes, but squeezed them shut.  He almost forgot to tilt, but remembered at the last moment.

Her lips were rough, and she didn’t respond at all; it was like kissing warm stone.  Remembering that it was supposed to be brief, he pulled back and opened his eyes.

Tears streamed more quickly down her face.  She lowered her chin and slowly shook her head.

All feeling dropped away from his heart and left him empty.  Numbly, hardly aware of what he was doing, he stood, walked to the door, and put his hand on the knob.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He leaned his face on the door; the lacquered wood felt cool against his burning forehead.  “So am I.”

“I’ve been so stupid!”  She pressed her head against the floor and burst into sobs.

“It’s okay, Surprise . . .”

“I can’t leave!  My friends are here, my baby is here.  I want to, I wish I could, but I can’t!”

“I know.”

“And you’re a child.”  She managed a weak laugh.  “You’re older than I am, but you’re still just a child.”








Behind the barn, Danny tossed his hat to the ground and rubbed his palms through his hair.  “Okay, look, Meg, I’m gonna tell you somethin’.  And if you ever repeat it, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Megan raised an eyebrow and glanced sidelong at him.  “What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll keep it secret.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Pinkie promise.”

“What are you, five?”

“Like this.  Pinkie Pie showed me.”  He crossed himself and stuck a fist to his face as he recited the couplet Pinkie had taught him earlier.

After he finished, he watched Megan for a moment.  “C’mon, Meg.”

With a small sigh and a weak, indulgent smile, she repeated, “Cross my heart and hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.  There.  You happy?”

He took a deep breath, looked down, licked his lips, and spread his hands as if laying them on a table.  “Okay, here goes.  And just remember, I was eleven at the time, so don’t get on my case.”

“Get on with it, Danny.”

“Okay.  Back in Ponyland . . . back in Ponyland . . . I had a crush on Surprise.”  He winced and glanced sheepishly at Megan.

She blinked a few times.  “Danny, I already knew that.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it was obvious.  Everyone knew it.”

“What?”

“Like you said, you were eleven.  Relax.”  Megan shook her head and waved a hand in the air.  “Is that what this is about?  Is that what has you so upset—?”

He could feel heat creeping into his face.  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Well, it’s just, I mean, after all this time, meeting Pinkie—”

Megan laughed.

“Hey, don’t—”

She laughed louder, slumped against the wall, and slid to the ground.

“Go ahead,” he said, crossing his arms.  “Let it all out.”

She stopped, but then she glanced at him and started laughing again.

After a minute, she wiped her eyes and tucked her face between her knees before she came up for air and said, “Oh, thank you, Danny.  I haven’t laughed like that in years.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

She rolled her eyes at him with a grin.  “Don’t be mad.  You gotta admit it’s funny.”

He leaned against the wall and scratched his head.  “I don’t think it’s funny.”

“C’mon.  So you met a girl—or a horse, rather—who reminds you of a silly childhood crush.  So what?  You’ll get over it.”

“It wasn’t silly, Megan, and do you really think it’s that easy?  After what you did to her?”

Silence.  Megan rose slowly to her feet.  “After what I—?”

“Yeah, you.”

“I tried to protect her.”

“Protect?”  Danny’s voice rose.  “You call that protecting?  You think you can just screw up everybody’s life as long as you tell yourself you’re protecting—?”

She shook her head.  “Don’t.  Don’t even.  I swear, Danny—”

“Shut up, Megan.  I’m sick of it.”

“Oh, what are you sick of, Danny?  Did I interrupt your playtime?”

“Grow up!”

“You are saying that to me?”

“Yeah!  I am!  You’re always whining like you got it so hard.  You been whining for five years.  Oh wah, I had to go to the land of magic ponies, oh wah, I gotta take care of my brother and sister, oh wah, my daddy left me—”

She hauled back and tried to punch him again, but this time he was ready.  He deflected the blow with a forearm, grabbed her collar, and slammed her against the wall.

Her teeth clenched, she whispered, “You are just as bad as him.”

“You don’t understand me, Meg.  Don’t pretend you do.”

“I understand you just fine.  You’re a jerk who chases anything in a skirt, and that’s why I always find you feeling up every bimbo in the school—”

He gave her another shove and stepped away.

“Is that what happened with you and Surprise?” asked Megan with a glare.  “Did you get mad cuz she wouldn’t put out?”

He struggled to hold them back, but a few tears ran down his face.  “You don’t understand a thing, Megan.  Not a damn thing.”








“We are here today for the court martial of Surprise,” said Wind Whistler to the assembled ponies.  Surprise, her eyes red and puffy, sat on the grass between Danny and Megan.  Megan had forbidden Molly to attend this particular event, convincing her to babysit the baby ponies for the afternoon instead.

“Discipline and order,” Wind Whistler said.  “Sensibility and reason.  A place for everything and everything in its place.  Sentiment was the way of the past, but logic is the way of the future.  Before, ponies wandered hither and yonder, following their hearts.  But from now on, we shall walk the narrow path, guided by our minds!”

Surprise heaved a deep sigh.

“The pegasus ponies made me their commander,” Wind Whistler continued, “and so as commander, though it pains me, I must discipline them when they refuse to heed my authority.  Surprise, without leave, absented herself from combat training, and she left the perimeter without permission.  For these crimes, I shall punish her with two weeks of isolated confinement.  That is all.”

In anger, Danny jumped up, and he was startled when he looked out over the crowd of ponies to see that many of the twinkle-eyed ponies had leapt to their feet as well.

“You can’t do this,” Danny said.

“I can and I shall, Danny,” Wind Whistler answered.  “The earth ponies, sea ponies, and unicorns may conduct themselves as they see fit, but the pegasus ponies are now warriors, and warriors cannot afford to be democratic.  I am their leader, and my word is law.”

Galaxy, her jeweled eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight, stepped forward and said calmly, “Wind Whistler, shouldn’t you have some rules written up first to ensure that, if you must punish somebody, you do it in keeping with—?”

“You know I have always sought to conduct my life in accordance with the dictates of reason,” Wind Whistler replied.  “Do you think my decisions are unjust?”

Galaxy paused.  “Well, I don’t know—”

“You are the queen of the unicorns, not the commander of the pegasi, and have no say in this matter.”

“Actually, we decided my title would be ‘princess.’  To honor Queen Majesty—”

“Very well.  Nonetheless, this is not your business.”

From the midst of the pegasus ponies, Masquerade flapped her wings and rose into the air.  “I agree with Galaxy.  We have to have rules and laws.  Shouldn’t we—?”

“You are a pegasus,” Wind Whistler snapped.  “You cannot question my authority.  Sit down.”

“I’m also a twinkle-eyed pony,” Masquerade said.  “I know what it means to—”

“Sit!” said Wind Whistler.

Masquerade slowly dropped back to the ground.  Though she muttered under her breath, because of the silence, her next words resounded across the meadow:  “I know what it means to be a slave.”

“More insubordination?” Wind Whistler cried.  “Is it not enough that I make an example of one of you?  Must you all question my authority?  Masquerade, you too shall be confined for two weeks.”

Masquerade gasped.

Now Galaxy lost her usual calm.  “Wind Whistler, you cannot do that to a twinkle-eyed pony.  No isolation, no closed rooms, no dark spaces.  You cannot do that.  I won’t allow it!”

“It is not your place to say,” Wind Whistler replied.

“No twinkle-eyed pony must face such indignity again!”

“It is not your place!” Wind Whistler shouted.

All the gathered ponies gasped; most had never heard Wind Whistler raise her voice before.

Wind Whistler closed her eyes for a moment, apparently gathering herself.  “We have the stone prison where we kept the Crabnasties.  We shall put both Masquerade and Surprise inside with adequate food and water until the time of their punishment is at an end.”

“No!”  Masquerade staggered backwards, stumbling into the pony behind her.  “Not that, Wind Whistler!  Please!  Not in the dark!”

“You should have considered the repercussions before you uttered insolence.”

“That’s it,” said Galaxy through clenched teeth.  She cried, “All twinkle-eyed ponies who value freedom, rally to me!”

Fizzy, Mimic, and Speedy, the twinkle-eyed unicorns, quickly gathered around Galaxy.  Tic Tac Toe, Bright Eyes, Quackers, Sky Rocket, Party Time, and Gingerbread, all of them twinkle-eyed earth ponies, soon joined.  More hesitantly, Masquerade, Locket, Sweet Pop, and Whizzer, the twinkle-eyed pegasi, joined as well.

“We’ll form our own group if we have to,” Galaxy said.  “After all, we learned to rely on each other down in those mines—”

Wind Whistler marched forward, but the twinkle-eyed ponies clustered close around Galaxy, protecting her.

“It’s a coup, is it?” Wind Whistler said.  “A mutiny in my ranks, perpetrated by the leader of a rival group—”

“Stop it!” Megan shouted.  She stepped between Wind Whistler and the twinkle-eyed ponies.  “None of us are rivals here!  We’re friends.  We’re getting organized so we can work together, not so we can fight each other!”  She looked around at all the ponies.  “I think Surprise and Masquerade deserve a warning for now.  We don’t need to punish them if they can behave themselves.”  She dropped a hand onto Wind Whistler’s neck.  “Don’t you agree?”

Wind Whistler said nothing.

“It’s settled, then,” said Megan.  “Everyone, let’s get back to work.”

Slowly, with many whispers and glances over their shoulders, the ponies dispersed to their various tasks, leaving Danny standing beside Surprise, who still sat on the ground with her head hanging low.  He saw her shoulders heave once, suggesting she had been silently crying all the while and was just now struck with a violent sob.

Frustration coursed his veins.  He had wanted to defend her, but after his initial outburst, no words had come to him.  He had stood by silently and let others stand up for her.

Quietly, he knelt beside her and touched her withers.  Her shoulders heaved again.

“Surprise—”

“Go away,” she cried.  “Oh, please, Danny, just go away!”  Tears had left spidery, crisscrossing stains in the fur on her cheeks, like cracks twisting through weathered stone.

Something in his stomach shriveled.  His hand, as if lifeless, slid from the base of her neck and dropped to the grass.  He watched her in silence for several minutes.  Her muzzle lowered almost the ground, her eyes squeezed shut, she moved not at all except when her sorrows racked her.

At last, when Danny was sure she intended to give no further acknowledgement of his presence, he stood, looked down at her for a moment longer, and walked away.  Without knowing where he was going, he strode downhill, deeper into the valley, toward the high pinnacles of Dream Castle and the twinkling arc of the Rainbow Bridge.

At that moment, he was unaware that he would never see Surprise again.


> 6. Megan Grooms Applejack
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson


VI. Megan Grooms Applejack

Sun Tuesday came again.  Megan and the little ponies, loaded with food and gifts and with the big brothers in tow, walked eastward through the field of giant sunflowers on the way to Flutter Valley, where they would join the flutter ponies in paying homage to Mister Sun.  Last time, the ponies had walked this road in joyous celebration, but now it felt more like a forced march.  Wind Whistler led the way.

Appropriately, the sky was clear and the day was hot.  The sun’s rays pulled the moisture from the ground and into the air, and the heavy humidity matted the ponies’ fur against their skin and made Megan’s hair feel like a lead weight.  The sunflowers, their golden faces turned upward, spread a rich fragrance and provided shade, but the air beneath them was thick, still, and suffocating.

The group emerged at last from the sunflower forest and followed the winding trail up the stony crags guarding the valley of the reclusive flutter ponies.  Now that they were exposed, the sun beat more intensely against their necks, but a faint breeze touched their sweat-moistened skin and provided some relief.  Passing single-file through a narrow gap between the granite peaks, they entered into a lush valley filled with flowers and trees and dotted with simple cottages.  Here, the air became cool, and the sun, its heat diffused by the flutter ponies’ magic Sunstone, became bearable.  Already, the flutter ponies flitted like butterflies around the high dais at the valley’s center.  Perched on the dais, the Sunstone itself glowed with concentrated sunlight.

In reverent silence, stepping lightly, the little ponies joined the flutter ponies and bowed their heads in respect to the sacred stone.  Queen Rosedust, her regal plume bobbing above her forelock, gave a small nod to Megan, lowered herself to the ground, and announced, “The sun is the lamp that lights our valley.  It gives color to our fields and flowers and spreads beauty and love with its warmth.  As Rosedust, queen of the flutter ponies, I declare this day Sun Tuesday.  Let the celebration begin!”

Flying in concentric circles above the Sunstone, with their delicate wings sparkling like dew on a spider’s web, the flutter ponies sang in somber tones:

From the sun comes light,
From the sun comes power,
It’s the sun up high in the sky,
That makes the flowers flower.

From the sun comes warmth,
From the sun comes daytime,
It’s the sun and its light beaming bright,
That brings the fruit at May time.

Winter, summer, spring, and fall,
The sun shines through it all.

From the sun comes warmth,
From the sun comes daytime,
Here’s to the sun up above,
From the sun, from the sun, from the sun,
Comes love.

Rosedust bowed her head and whispered, “Amen.”

The little ponies had prepared cakes and pastries.  As soon as the ceremony was over, they spread their treats on the grass and invited the flutter ponies to eat.

Megan sat alone.  Nibbling on a cupcake, she stared into the north toward a solitary column of white cloud.  Topped with a feathery disc hundreds of miles wide, the cloud stretched into the sky like a pillar to the gods and spun like a slow-motion hurricane.  Beneath that cloud, she knew, Bumbleland lay locked in perpetual winter.

With one hand, she shielded her eyes against the sun as she peered toward the valley’s fringe, where she spotted some of the bee-like bumbles.  Their heavy, round abdomens quivering and their sword-like stingers waving, the bumbles cast occasional dour glances toward the ponies’ celebration as they harvested flowers in accordance with their treaty with the flutter ponies.  They had heaped an enormous pile of lilies, hyacinths, tulips, and roses onto a large litter they were presumably preparing to carry home to Queen Bumble, who would feast on the flowers’ nectar.

Megan started when Rosedust sat down beside her.  For a minute, the two were silent as they stared to the north.  Finally, Rosedust said, “The greatest things in life are beautiful, powerful, and fragile.  A flutter pony’s wings are made of gossamer and morning dew:  I have not enough strength to carry a rider on my back the way a pegasus can, but I can produce the Utter Flutter, which is strong enough to drive back even the greatest weapons of the witches.  Yet, merely reach out your hand and break my wings, and I shall become powerless.”

She turned and gestured toward the Sunstone.  “Our valley is a beautiful gem in the midst of a wasteland, preserved by a stone that can burn to ash most anything it touches.  That same stone is the link that bonds Mister Sun to our world, making him rise in the morning and go to bed at night.  Remove it from us for only a single day, and our lovely valley will become full of thorns, brambles, and mires, and cannot be recovered.”

She lowered her hoof, turned her head, and looked directly at Megan.  Megan couldn’t meet her eyes, but instead kept her gaze on the roiling storm in the north.  “You too are beautiful,” Rosedust said.  “You have saved the ponies countless times and have stood against countless monsters, yet you are only a young girl.  What would it take to break you, Megan?  I suspect it would not take much.”

Megan finished her cupcake and wiped the crumbs from her hands.  “Nobody’s broken me yet.”

“Nor me.”  Rosedust opened her translucent wings wide so that they fractured the light from the Sunstone and spread glints of color across the grass.  “Perhaps it is only a matter of time.  Where are your brother and sister?”

“I thought it best to leave them home for a while.”  Megan nodded toward the distant cloudbank.  “Why is Bumbleland always covered in snow?”

Rosedust shook her head and her lips twitched with a sad smile.  “No one knows.  Queen Bumble and her swarm used to live in Flutter Valley until we had to drive them out.  Some say the coldness of the bumbles’ hearts keeps their land covered in snow and ice, but you know how rumors are.  A few of my flutter ponies claim that, at night, you can hear monsters howling in the clouds, monsters who feed on hatred and envy.”  Her smile grew larger.  “I’ve never heard them myself.”

“If all it takes is a little resentment to freeze a land,” Megan said, “Dream Valley might soon turn cold.”

Rosedust chuckled.  “It can’t be too cold.  I understand Buttons just had foals and Truly is expecting—”

In spite of her dour mood, Megan laughed and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.  “That silly pony.  She thought she’d just been getting fat, but it turns out she’s bred.  I guess, since the little ponies have never had foals before, it’s understandable, but still—”

“I’m sure Tex is pleased.”

“Oh, yeah.  He’s full of himself.  He’s already named the babies Milkweed and Tumbleweed—”

“Two of them?”

Megan laughed again.  “He’s sure that, if Slugger could sire twins, he can too.”  She shook her head.  “Boys.  They think it’s a competition.  Honestly, I was shocked when Buttons foaled two:  back home, I’d expect that to kill a mare, or the babies, but I guess things are different here.  Everyone’s excited—some of the baby ponies just got their first teeth, and they claim that makes them old enough to babysit the newborns.”

Rosedust smiled, and her broad, flat teeth flashed in the sunlight.  “I predict that these newborn twins will be spoiled rotten.”

Megan paused, frowned, and leaned back on her hands.  “I just realized I’ve never seen a stallion in Flutter Valley.  How—?”

Rosedust gave a short sigh and arched an eyebrow.  “We do things differently here, Megan.  Our stallions don’t rove about unchaperoned the way the big brothers do.  We keep them sequestered, as is proper for males.”

Megan fell onto her elbows, pulled a long stem of grass, and put it in her mouth.  “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Fathers belong at home with their infants.  That’s why I keep telling the sea ponies to go home, but they don’t listen.”

Megan knitted her brows together and turned her head to look at Rosedust.

“Didn’t you know?” Rosedust asked.  “The sea ponies have a kingdom of their own, Megan, far out in the Sparkling Sea.  The last time they went home, they told me, Majesty created the baby sea ponies from a magical tree so that the little ponies wouldn’t get lonely.”

Megan nodded.  “Wind Whistler mentioned that.”

“But they have their own babies—their real babies—back home, left behind with their mothers.”

“But the sea ponies are mares—”

“Among sea ponies, it’s the stallions who bear the young.  That is why their kingdom has a king, since every pony knows that only one who has the qualities of a good mother is fit to be a ruler.  Alas, like the stallions of the little ponies, the mares of the sea ponies wander hither and yonder, shirking their responsibilities.”

Megan lay down, tucked her hands behind her head, and spat out the grass she was chewing.  “Yeah.  It’s hard to keep fathers at home, isn’t it?”

“Like I said, we lock ours up.”

“Like I said, that’s a good idea.  Maybe Dream Valley deserves to freeze.”

“There is an old saying amongst flutter ponies:  ‘Mister Sun sheds his light on the evil and on the good.’  I don’t believe there are any cold monsters hovering over Bumbleland; if Dream Valley is in danger of freezing, the danger probably comes from fellows like that penguin king you confronted.  But I think it isn’t cold weather you should be concerned about right now.”

Megan merely stared quietly at the sky.

“I’ve heard about your troubles, Megan.  It’s not easy to be a queen—”

“I’m not a queen.”

“Are you sure?  You’re young for one of your race, I know, but I have noticed that you have the qualities of a mother.”

Megan didn’t answer for a minute.  “Did you know Majesty?”

Rosedust shook her head.  “We had no contact with Dream Valley until you found us and insisted that we destroy the Smooze and drive the witches back to the Volcano of Gloom.  I never met Majesty, but I am certain that the little ponies view you as her—”

“I’m not.  I’m a girl, like you said.”

“And yet—”

With a sharp snap, Megan sat up.  “I just want them to learn to take care of themselves.”  Realizing that her voice had gotten louder than she wanted, she took a deep breath to calm herself.  Glancing around, she saw that some of the little ponies were watching her.

Rosedust leaned close and whispered, “You want them to, but will you let them?”

Looking down at her hands, Megan rubbed a callus at the base of her thumb.  “Who asked you to speak to me?”

“Galaxy.  She has concerns.”

Megan tasted acid in her throat.  She clenched her fists until she could feel her nails digging deep into the skin of her palms.  “Galaxy can talk to me herself.  She knows that.”

“Does she?”

“I know what she’s worried about.  I’m trying to deal with it.”

“Perhaps that is your mistake.  Perhaps the time has finally come for you to stop trying.  Be a queen or be a girl, Megan, but do not try to be something in between.  You must choose your destiny, or it will be destiny itself that breaks you.”








When Megan returned from the backside of the barn, the last thing she wanted to do was groom another pony.  Feeling heat in her face, struggling to keep her fists at her sides and her breathing even, she stomped into the yard and glared at Twilight Sparkle and Applejack, who stood by as Rarity finished tying up the pinwheel she’d made in Pinkie Pie’s tail.

“It’s really not in fashion, but I made it work,” Rarity said.  “Braided tails with pinwheels were all the rage about fifty years ago, but that’s old enough to be retro, don’t you think?  Perhaps we could bring back the trend.”

Megan swallowed, took a deep breath, and said with forced calm, “It’s appropriate for a jumper, and it’s not out of fashion here.”  She leaned over to examine the continuous braid in Pinkie’s mane.  Holding it in place were steel bands, beneath which, Pinkie’s hair bulged and quivered as if it were trying to break out.

“Will these hold?” Megan asked.

“Well, it is Pinkie,” Rarity replied.  “Who can say?”

“Where did you get them?”

“I always travel with a styling kit, darling, in case of hair emergencies.”

Pinkie giggled and snorted.

Megan righted herself and brushed her hands down the front of her jeans.  “Well, it’s the jumper class.  She’ll only be judged on her jumping, not on how she’s turned out, so if her mane gets loose, it’s not the end of the world.”  Twisting her mouth, she shook her head, pressed a hand to her left temple, looked down at the ponies, and said, “But I’m being ridiculous.  I’ve been talking like you’re actually going to enter this show.”

“Shoot,” said Applejack, “we are enterin’, ain’t we?  What else we been gettin’ all gat up for?”

“Yeah,” said Pinkie.  “We’re gonna have a super-duper meet-the-humans-for-the-first-time welcoming party!  Ooh, after the show’s over, we could throw an after-show party and make a big cake and we could hide inside the cake, and then we could—”

“There’s not going to be a show.  As soon as you six show up at the fairgrounds . . .”  Megan shook her head.  “Never mind.  You’re bent on it, so let’s get it over with.”  She turned to her table of supplies to see that everything Danny had scattered around the yard, Rarity had picked up and organized into neat rows.  She smiled in spite of herself.

Danny, eyes red, walked around from behind the barn, gave Megan a brief but rage-filled glare, and marched straight toward Pinkie.

Apparently sensing the tension, Twilight glanced back and forth between Megan and Danny before laying a foreleg across her breast and dipping her head low.  “Hail Danel, mighty warrior—”

Danny ignored her.  He bent down and whispered something in Pinkie’s ear.  Pinkie replied with a wide grin and a giggle.  Then, humming to herself, she bounced along after Danny as he headed toward the house.

“Hey!” Megan called.  “Don’t run off!  We don’t have much—”

“We’ll be back in a few minutes, sis!” Danny shouted.  When Pinkie paused for a moment in her jumping, Danny climbed onto her back, and she ran at a full gallop up the drive toward the county road.

“Dammit!” yelled Megan, snatching Molly’s brush from the table and hurling it to the ground.  “He’s gonna wreck her braids, get her coated in dust—”

She stopped herself, took another deep breath, and muttered, “But it’s the jumper class, so it doesn’t matter.”  More loudly, she added, “All right, who’s next?”

“That’d be me, I reckon,” said Applejack.

Megan nodded and said to Twilight, “Your Highness, why don’t you go find Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash?  And see if you can track Molly down while you’re at it.  We need to leave soon.”

“I’m on it,” said Twilight.  She spread her wings wide and, with a furrowed brow and obvious signs of strain, took off into the air.  She circled overhead once before swooping toward the forested creek.

“She doesn’t fly like a regular pegasus, does she?” Megan asked.

“Ain’t never noticed,” Applejack replied.  “I been up in a few balloons, o’ course, but I’m happy to keep my hooves on the ground.”

“She’s much more majestic than a regular pegasus, I’d say,” said Rarity as she began the complicated process of folding her portable salon back into its case.  “Not that there’s anything wrong with a regular pegasus, of course.”

“Must be the wingspan,” Megan said as she found the brush she’d thrown.  “She flaps less, glides more . . . well, never mind that.  Applejack, come here, and if you give me any grief, I swear I’ll kill you.”

Applejack lifted a hoof, leaned back, and opened her eyes wide.

“I don’t mean it,” Megan added.  “I’m just mad at Danny right now.”

Applejack paused only a moment longer before trotting to Megan’s side.  “You just do whatever you need to, an’ I won’t give you no trouble.”

“Then, for starters, I’ll need to take your hat.”

Applejack stepped back.  “Beg pardon?”

Megan put her fists to her hips and glared.  “You just said—”

“Sure ’nuff, I did.  My hat.  Here ya go.”  Applejack doffed her Stetson and held it out on one hoof.  It was dusty, misshapen, and frayed, but Megan, familiar with the attachment farmhands could have to their hats, laid it carefully on the table.  “I’ll take good care of it, but horses around here don’t wear hats unless we’re trying to make them look silly.”

“Silly?  ’Scuse me, but—”

“It looks fine on you, but as I said, our horses don’t wear them.”

“Well, I s’pose I can live with that.  Had t’ leave my hat behind when we went to Aquastria, too.”

“Aquastria?”

“Kingdom o’ the sea ponies and mermares.  Out in the Sparklin’ Sea.  Took a trip there ’bout a year back or more.  Couldn’t wear my hat under the water, o’ course.”

“Sparkling Sea,” Megan muttered.  “That sounds familiar.  So the sea ponies are still around?  How long have they been in this Aquastria?”

“Well, Twilight’s the one knows her history, but they been there always, far as I know.  Sea ponies are a mite different from the land tribes, an’ I don’t think they were in the Exodus from the Valley o’ Dreams, if I remember my schoolin’.”

“Exodus?  Is that when everyone left because of the windigoes?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Megan took up her curry brush and began going over Applejack’s coat.  Unlike the velvety fur that covered the other ponies, Applejack’s coat was coarse, more like an ordinary horse’s, perhaps due to long hours of outdoor labor.

“Whoowee,” said Applejack, a dippy grin passing over her face, “that does feel mighty fine.  I ain’t quite so big on the spa trips as Rarity here, but a massage from time to time helps get the stiffness out.”

“This isn’t a massage,” Megan said.  “The idea is to get any dirt out of your fur, though it might be superfluous, since most of you seem pretty clean.  Well, except Rainbow Dash.”

Applejack chuckled.

“I do massage my horses, though,” Megan said.  “I’ve got special tools for that.”

Rarity now stood with her front hooves on the case of her collapsed salon, which she was struggling to force closed.  Though obviously straining, she looked up for a moment and said, “You see?  Like I told you, darling, you could come to Equestria and open your own spa.”

“Sooner or later, I’m going to get certified in equine massage therapy, but I haven’t done it yet,” Megan replied.  To Applejack, she said, “I figure I’ll put you in the western class.  It doesn’t require braids, but, ordinarily, I’d have to thin your mane and comb it flat against your neck, so I assume you’d rather I braided it instead.”

“Uh, thin my mane?  Thin it how?”

“By pulling most of it out.”  Megan took up her mane comb and held it in front of Applejack’s face.  “See, I’d wrap this around the hairs and—”

“Let’s just do the braid, then.”

“I thought you’d say that.”  Megan put down the comb and continued currying.  She paused for a moment when she reached Applejack’s right haunch, and she carefully laid a hand over the cutie mark there, as if checking to make sure it was real and not dyed into the fur.

Applejack turned her head and looked back at her.  “Problem?”

“No, it’s just . . . is Applejack a common name?”

“Well, I reckon there’ve been a few Applejacks ’mongst orchard folk.  If’n I rightly recall ol’ Granny’s stories, I had a great-great-auntie named Applejack—”

“Wait, did you say orchard?  Rarity said you were a farmer—”

“Yes, ma’am.  Sweet Apple Acres.  We got the finest apple crops in all of Equestria.  Growin’ apples has been the family way for, well, I don’t even know how long.  An’ those o’ my kin what weren’t growin’ trees were seed collectors an’ settler ponies an’ such.”

When Rainbow Dash had first introduced the other ambassadors, Megan had hardly heard the names Rainbow’d listed off because she had been too busy staring at Applejack.  When Rainbow had actually said, “And this is Applejack,” Megan had come back to her senses as a knife had twisted in her chest, and she had turned away to hide the tears that had begun forming in her eyes.

Now Megan stepped back to examine Applejack in profile.  The orange coat, the unkempt flaxen mane, the symbol on her hip, and the freckle-like spots in the fur of her cheeks certainly resembled those of the Applejack Megan had known in Dream Valley, but the resemblance ended there.  The old Applejack had been plump and clumsy, and her face had usually been set with a morose frown or a good-natured but vacant grin.  This Applejack was sturdy and lean:  Megan knew how to admire a horse, and she could certainly admire Applejack’s defined musculature and rounded hindquarters.  And though a good-natured grin did sit on Applejack’s muzzle, it was not vacant; her bright green eyes shone with cleverness.

“I used to know a pony named Applejack,” Megan said.  “She looked a lot like you, and she had an apple orchard, too.  In fact, she did a lot to help the ponies start growing their own food.  She was one of the first earth ponies to really learn how to care for the land.”

“Well, don’t that beat all,” Applejack said.  “Why, then, I reckon the Apple family must go all the way back to the Valley o’ Dreams.  I never would o’ guessed.  Our stud books—”

“Don’t go back that far.  I know.”  Megan stepped in again and continued currying.  “It keeps surprising me, but maybe it shouldn’t.  I suppose the ponies I knew have to be your ancestors.”








The day after Sun Tuesday, Megan walked into the Mystificent Forest, where she could find relief from the burning heat.  The black earth, laden with twigs and fallen leaves, was moist, and its dampness cooled the air.  The sunlight struck the forest floor only in occasional shafts of gold between green-tinted shadows cast by the leafy canopy.  Moss grew thick on the bark of the oaks and elms, and tufts of Spanish moss hung like women’s hair from the branches.  Rhododendrons and vine maple grew in thick, tangled patches, but between them were clumps of low bear grass where it was possible to walk.

Megan stopped before a stump crowned with jagged, upthrust chunks of shattered wood.  Perched atop the stump was a fat banana slug, its little optic tentacles waving in the air.  Megan hunkered down and peered at it.

Applejack, her mouth twisted in a pensive frown, had joined her on this walk.  Although the forest was cool, the two had only been able to reach it by trudging through sun-drenched fields buzzing with flies and midges, so sweat now matted Applejack’s coat and made the seven apples of her hip symbol glisten as if they were real.  “Heavy hooves, Megan.  This forest isn’t safe.  Shady says the Dell Dwellers live in here—”

“I know,” said Megan, still watching the slug.  “I’m hoping we can find them.  They shape the rocks and make the trees grow.  They might be able to teach you and the rest of the earth ponies how to take care of nature the same way they do.  Then farming will be less of a problem.  They can help you with your orchard.”

Applejack paused, shifting back and forth on her thick hooves.  “Are they safe?”

“Wind Whistler says they are.”  Megan turned her eyes from the slug and stood up.  “The trapdoor to their realm should be near here, if I understood Fizzy rightly when she gave me directions—”

“Applesauce!  You asked Fizzy for directions?”

“Probably not my brightest moment, I admit.”

“Fiddlesticks, Megan!  We’re gonna get lost!”  Applejack, eyes wide and teeth clenched, took a step backwards, and the forest floor creaked under her hooves.

Megan frowned.  “That wasn’t a twig.  That sounded like—”

Applejack gasped as the ground gaped open beneath her.  “Megan!” she screamed, and then she slid down into darkness.

Without a hesitation or thought, Megan pointed her hands and leapt as if diving into deep water.  She slipped through the trapdoor just before it snapped closed.

A stream of leaves, twigs, and dirt fell with her.  She struck a hard, smooth surface tilted at a steep angle.  It knocked the wind from her lungs, and she began to slide.  Gasping, she thrust her arms out and tried to grab something to arrest her descent, but only met more of the same surface.  Unable to find a purchase, she plummeted headfirst into pitch darkness.

She sucked in air and rasped, “Applejack!”

Applejack, somewhere down below, shouted, “Megan!  Not the dark again!  Not underground again!”  Her voice was shrill, edged with panic.

Again.  Megan’s mouth went dry.  Applejack and the twinkle-eyed ponies sometimes spoke fearfully of darkness and close walls.  She knew only sketchy details of the reason why.  Something about a mine and a wizard—

Her body slid partway up a rounded wall as she struck a curve.  With a hand, she found a lip and thereby discovered that she was sliding down a trough rather than a tube.  She tried to grab the lip, but her momentum was too great, and it slid from her grasp and took skin off her fingers.

“Megan!” Applejack shouted again.  She sounded even farther away.

“You’re all right!” Megan shouted back.  “I’m here.  You stay calm, Applejack!  Just remember, Megan’s right here!”

The darkness lessened, and Megan could now see stalactites, edged with green light, glistening overhead.  The light was coming from down below, where, over the lip of the trough, she could see an army of tiny men with white beards and pointed hats.  Standing in assembly lines before conveyors, they trimmed stones, watered potted seedlings, and ground rocks into earth.

“The mines!” Applejack shrieked.

“Stay with me, Applejack!” Megan called.

The trough grew steeper, and Megan hit her face hard on the bottom, scraping a patch of flesh away from her chin.  Up ahead, Applejack, her orange coat looking like dark rust in the greenish light, shot out of the end of the trough and crashed into a barrel, turning it over.  All at once, all the gnome-like men threw away their tools, ran, and shouted in panic until the walls and ceiling of the enormous cave echoed with their screams.

Megan crossed her arms over her head to cushion the blow, squeezed her eyes shut, and slammed into Applejack’s backside.  Her weight was barely enough to move the pony, but Megan felt the shock run all the way from her arms to the balls of her feet, and she bit into her tongue as she felt her shoulders wrench.

Rolling onto the floor, she suppressed a scream, but choked on her own blood.  Sharp, burning pain stretched from the tops of her shoulders down to her chest.  Struggling to sit up, she spat out blood and tried desperately to breathe.

For a moment, she thought she was hallucinating.  Floating through the air before her eyes were tiny bubbles in every color of the rainbow.  They swirled around Megan in a vortex, buffeting her.  Everywhere they touched, she felt a shock of wet, cold viscosity, as if the bubbles were made of chilled slime.

And each bubble had a face, and each face was turned up in a sneer, and from each bubble’s mouth came derisive laughter that never changed nor faded, as if it had been caught on tape and played in an endless loop.

As the bubbles touched her, she felt everything slip away:  her moods, her desires, her mind, her very self leaked out of her body like sweat from her pores.  But they didn’t leave her empty.  Something else was leaking in.

Blood and spit dripping from her chin, she looked up and met Applejack’s eyes.  The pony’s face had changed.  The vapid smile had disappeared, replaced by something more clever, more aware.

“Applesauce,” said Megan.  “We’ve really done it this time.”

“Stay calm,” Applejack answered.  “I’ll think of something.  I always do.”

“I could really go for an apple right now.”

“Silly human.”

Memories flashed through Megan’s mind as Applejack’s personality overwrote her own:  she could feel what it was to walk on four hooves, to manipulate things with her mouth.  These were not foreign to her, but things she had always done.  She forgot that she once walked on two legs; she had never done so in all her life.  She stared stupidly down at her body and wondered why it was so light and frail, why her orange coat was gone, why she was clad in these uncomfortable overalls, and why she was so cold.

She wanted an apple very badly.  She always liked to eat apples when she was stressed.  She tried to stand, but her hind legs were too long and her front legs were short and shaped wrong.  She fell on her face and started bleeding again.  But that was okay:  she fell on her face all the time; that was why everyone called her a silly pony.  Like that one time when Lemon Drop yelled at her for knocking over the jumps.  And then Firefly yelled at her for knocking over her bubbles.

Streams of memories flitted through Megan’s mind.  Memories of tripping, falling, being made a fool of, being laughed at, gorging herself on apples in secret to take the edge off the other ponies’ mockery.

Megan sucked in her breath.  She remembered Queen Majesty—a beautiful white unicorn whose coat shone like the full moon.  Majesty’s face, both terrible and serene, emanated a sense of worlds beyond worlds, as if heaven touched earth in her presence.  She was frightening and horrible, yet lovely; Megan wished both to gaze upon her for eternity and to run, screaming, away from her.  Unable to do either, she prostrated herself in imagination before the memory of the immortal queen of the ponies, the deathless one who had died in single combat to protect the ones she loved.

In her mind’s eye, Megan watched, helpless, as Tirek the centaur, a great monster with a stern, red face and curving, razor-sharp horns, opened a sack that pulsed like a heart.  Tirek boomed, “Behold the Power of Darkness!”  Before Megan’s eyes, black smoke enveloped the white queen.  As her flesh peeled back, her bones charred, and her face blackened and flecked away like seared paper, Majesty released a piercing shriek that almost rent the world.

Megan remembered, too, being a clumsy pony on a rickety bridge leading to Castle Midnight, Tirek’s high fortress.  Beside her was a gangly but lovely creature with pink skin and a flowing yellow mane.  This creature, small and weak, but soft-voiced and kind, had vowed to be the ponies’ new champion.

A rotten plank cracked beneath Megan’s hooves.  She and the new champion plummeted into the churning waters below.  Megan couldn’t quite understand what happened next:  the water was shockingly cold, striking like a thousand knives through the hairs of her coat.  Like a vice, the water closed over her barrel, pushed against her ribs, and stole her breath.  The soft hands of the champion slipped from her mane, and the world fell silent.

But then there was air and warmth, and from everywhere came enchanting voices singing together, “Shoo be doo, shoo shoo be doo, shoo be doo, shoo shoo be doo.”  With the champion, she sat in the mouth of a giant clam at the bottom of the river, yet she could breathe, and all around were sea ponies dancing and singing, their long tails curling and uncurling as they promised comfort and aid.

Another memory hit Megan like a hammer to the skull:  it came from the time when Majesty still ruled, a time when Megan had learned a very great secret that the other ponies didn’t know, a secret that, Megan thought, perhaps even Majesty did not know—at least until it was too late.











Megan had been especially clumsy that day.  She’d tripped over everything until the other ponies, exasperated, had driven her off.  Weeping, she ran away into the forest in the hopes that perhaps she could get Witch Knows-a-Lot to enchant her and at last remove her ungainliness.

She wandered and stumbled for many hours until the day was almost over.  The sun was a golden beacon perched on the rim of the world, and Megan, now lost, found herself in a rocky waste with no clear memory of how she had made her way there.  Unsure in which direction Dream Valley lay, she shivered partly from fear and partly from the chilly air.  A harsh wind swept across the badlands, picked up dust and grit, and flung them in her face.

“Applesauce,” she muttered.  “I best find some sheltered place to sleep.”

She leaned against a rocky wall and gasped when, with a harsh, hollow noise like grating stone, the wall opened to reveal a dank tunnel full of inky darkness.

Megan trembled again, but not from cold, as she stared into the black.  Still, the opening promised shelter from the wind, so she stepped inside.  As soon as her tail cleared the entrance, the stone again ground shut.

“Fiddlesticks,” she whinnied.  “I’ve really gone and done it this time!”  Though she couldn’t see, she could hear a steady clanking up ahead, as if metal were repeatedly striking against stone.

The floor of the cave was slick under her hooves.  Several times, she fell as she tried to make her way.  Fragile soda straws and helictites shattered to dust when she stumbled against them.  She fell through shelfstone and plunged up to her knees into cold, slimy water.  Still, she climbed from the water and kept walking.

Gradually, she began to be able to discern shapes in the dimness.  Cave pools, often surrounding lumpish, glistening stalagmites, glowed with soft green light.  Layered draperies of calcite pulsed and shimmered with color, but fringed the mouths of pitch-black tunnels.  Hints of red and blue shone from shafts overhead.  Some of the stalactites twinkled with faint inner fire, as if they were made of crystals encasing fireflies.  Megan found one hanging as low as her nose; cautiously, expecting it to be hot, she reached out and touched it, but found it cool.  As soon as the toe of her hoof struck its surface, its glow disappeared, and it turned to dull, gray rock.

The glow grew brighter until it became like reddish dusk, and the details of the cave’s delicate formations were plain to Megan’s eyes.  On the center of a great shelf above a vast pit, the bottom of which Megan could not discern, stood a tall throne covered in bright, uncut jewels of every color, and sitting on the throne was a wizened old man with a long beard.  In his gnarled fingers, he held a rough oaken staff.

Her knees shaking, Megan approached the throne.  “Excuse me, sir, but I seem to have lost my way.  Could you—?”

With long fingernails filed to points, the man stroked his beard just below his chin.  His eyes crinkled as he smiled.  “Ho ho, what have we here?  Another pony to dig my jewels.”  His voice was musical and gentle, but roughened slightly with age.  It was like the voice of a doting grandfather.

Megan’s knees shook so hard, she fell back on her haunches.  “Who are you?” she cried.  “Where am I?  Heavy hooves, I want to go back home!”

The old man, leaning on his staff, rose slowly to his feet and pointed at Megan.  “I am the Jewel Wizard.  Welcome to my Cave of Jewels.  You will stay here and dig jewels with the other ponies.”

“Other ponies—?”  Megan stood and tried to run, but was shocked to find that the old man, in spite of his feeble appearance, had rushed upon her and seized her by the mane.  Megan couldn’t pull free of his grip.  As if she were nothing but a sack of grain, he dragged her across the cave and into a tunnel where several other ponies were using their hooves to smash stones and reveal the glowing jewels within.

“They will show you what do to,” the Jewel Wizard said.  With one hand, he tossed Megan, leaving her in a heap.  Then he slipped away into the darkness.

Megan rose shakily and walked to the nearest pony, an earth pony with three gingerbread men on her hip.  “I’m so glad to see you,” Megan said.  “We’ve got to get out of here—”

Megan gasped when the pony turned a dirt-streaked face toward her.  The pony’s eyes shone dully in the dim light:  they were blank, without irises or pupils, as if someone had spooned egg white into them.

“Too late for us,” the pony whispered, her voice as hollow as if she were speaking through a brass tube.  “You need to get out while you can still see.”

Megan whinnied loudly when she felt a whisker-coated nose rub against her shoulder.  She turned to see a pink pegasus pony with atrophied wings dragging along the ground.  The pony’s feathers were matted and filthy, and her eyes, too, were white and blank.  “We’ve been in the dark so long,” she said in that same hollow voice.  “In the dark, in the dark, in the dark . . .”

Megan screamed.








The Jewel Wizard had magic whips.  When Megan refused to dig or failed to dig fast enough, an invisible lash fell across her back and seared like fire.  Tears poured from her eyes as she smashed her hooves into the stone walls of the cave, monotonously chipping and scratching, burrowing like a mole in search of those glistening crystals for which the wizard lusted.  Whenever exhaustion overwhelmed her and she collapsed, the whips were there to goad her on again.

Her hooves became cracked and jagged, her coffin bones bruised.  She could barely walk, let alone dig, but the whips didn’t care.  Still they smote her and drove her into narrow, twisting tunnels where she crawled in pitch blackness as the rough stone ceiling scraped fur from her back and the rough stone floor scraped flesh from her legs and belly, until at last she saw a glimmer of red or green or blue up ahead, and at last she placed her hooves against the stone encasing it and chipped away for hours or perhaps days.  Then, unable to turn around, she wearily crawled backwards with the glowing jewel in her mouth.

She could not discern the passage of days and nights.  She did not know how long she was forced to work, but every so often, just when she thought she could not lift her burning legs to take another step, the whips ceased, she fell against the cool ground, and nothing struck her to make her rise again.  Then the Jewel Wizard appeared and laid before her muzzle a bowl of watery gruel that tasted like oats.  Sometimes, he whispered kind words of encouragement and scratched her behind the ears.  Somehow, the sweetness of his voice and the pleasant lines of his seamed face made the torment all the more horrible.

When she was allowed to sleep, she nestled with the other pony slaves, who always slept close together for warmth.  There were sixteen of them, they were all blind, and they all had hollow voices, as if they were fading into ghosts.  Coughing and wheezing echoed through the cave in which they slumbered, but Megan slept anyway, being too exhausted to be kept awake by the noise.

The one with the gingerbread men on her hips was named Gingerbread.  During one sleep period, she nestled against Megan, pressed her nose to Megan’s cheek, and whispered, “Can you still see?”

“Yes,” Megan whispered back.  “For now.”

“Soon you’ll be as blind as we are.”  Working her mouth as if she were nibbling short grass, Gingerbread gently ran her velvety nose and hard, dry lips over Megan’s face.  “I think you must be very pretty.”  Her voice cracked as she added, “I know I was pretty once, long ago, before the Jewel Wizard found me.  If you can see, tell me please, am I still pretty now?” 

Megan could dimly discern Gingerbread’s outline in the dark.  Gingerbread’s ribs showed through her sides, and her haunches had become bony and wasted.  Grit was smeared over her face, and fluid, now caked with dirt, had run in rivulets from her useless eyes.  Her coat was mangy and dirty.  Crisscrossing her body were cuts, abrasions, and scars.  Her joints were swollen and bruised, and on her legs were running sores.

“Yes,” Megan said.  “Yes, you’re still very pretty.”

Gingerbread smiled, closed her blank eyes, and slept.








One of the blind slaves, Sweetwater, was especially thin, and oftentimes her high-pitched, wheezy cough would echo through the darkness.  Megan noticed, when the gruel was served, that the other slaves did not finish theirs, but left half an inch in their bowls and, silently, by feeling their way along the ground, pushed those bowls in front of Sweetwater and coaxed her to drink.  Megan’s stomach gnawed her, but she knew she still had a plump body from eating heartily in Dream Valley.  Guiltily, she began to push some of her rations in front of Sweetwater as well.  Sweetwater coughed and, urged by her friends, ate as much as she could, which was often not much.

When Sweetwater stood and walked from her meal, Megan looked at her frame:  all of Sweetwater’s ribs stood out through her mostly hairless skin, and her belly hung from her spine like a loose burlap sack.

That pink pegasus with the dragging wings, whom the others called Whizzer, whispered, “Sweetwater doesn’t have long.”

“She’ll go like the others,” Gingerbread whispered back.

“Long for what?” Megan asked.  “Like what others?”

They didn’t answer, but the time came when Megan, staggering back to the sleeping cave from another long session of digging and pain, found Sweetwater stretched out on her side as if taking a nap.

“You can’t sleep here,” Megan said.  “Come on home.”  She bent close and nuzzled Sweetwater’s cheek, but no breath came from Sweetwater’s nose, and her white eyes didn’t blink.  Her lips were spread back from her worn teeth.

From somewhere up the tunnel, Megan heard a hacking cough and then another.  She understood:  the ponies had dust in their lungs from digging in the tunnels.  That was why their voices sounded hollow.  That was why they coughed.  She breathed deep and realized her chest felt heavy and tight.  She murmured and realized her voice was beginning to sound hollow as well.  Soon, she would be blind.  Soon, she would begin to cough.  In time, she would become like Sweetwater.

Sometimes, as she worked on the edge of one of the cavern’s many dark cliffs, Megan would look down to see needle-like stalagmites jutting upward through the darkness.  She would get dizzy, and the stalagmites would seem to leap up, as if they were reaching for her.  She tried not to think about it, but she couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel if she were to fall and those sharp fingers of rock were to gouge into her skin, pry past her ribs, and dig deep into her body.  The thought always gave her a sickly, crawling sensation.  That same sensation ran across her flesh now.  The muscles under her skin quivered and shook as if a horde of flies were on her, for she realized the thing she had never realized before, the secret even Majesty didn’t know, or might not:  she was going to die.  Somehow, soon, whether on a rock or through slow starvation and lung-sickness, she was going to fall down and not get up.

When that revelation struck her, the world changed shape, and all at once the magic whips of the Jewel Wizard no longer mattered.

Wincing as her bruised feet sent shocks up her legs, she marched into the sleep chamber and said to the gathered slaves, “Follow me.”

Whizzer raised her head and blinked her opaque eyes.  “Follow?  Where?”

“Just do it.”

“Now is a moment of rest,” said Gingerbread.

A pink unicorn, Galaxy, didn’t even bother to move.  From the spot where she had stretched out on the floor, she said, “Why make efforts now?  There will be work and pain enough tomorrow.”

“Applesauce,” said Megan.  “I’m going for help.  Let’s get out of here!”

“Stay,” Galaxy said.  “Don’t try to fight.  Don’t try to resist.  It will all be better if we just give in.”

“At least try!” cried Megan.  “Please!  What can he do to us?  Kill us?  We’re dying anyway.  Let’s die trying to reach freedom instead of while toiling as slaves.  If you love freedom, if you even remember freedom, then rally to me.”

For a moment, the slaves were silent, but then Whizzer, though her knees wobbled, rose to her hooves.  “I remember freedom:  once I was the fastest pegasus in the air, and I chased clouds and sunbeams all day long.”  One of her limp wings twitched.  “I know I’ll never fly again, but I still want to be free.  I will follow you.”

Gingerbread, grunting, took to her feet as well.  “In deep winter, at the time of Yule, frost would hang heavy on the fir trees.  Snow would glisten on the ground like diamonds, but crunch to powder underhoof when I ran across the fields.  I would snort and whinny and watch my breath turn to crystals on the air.  I baked gingerbread ponies and made gingerbread houses.  Whole towns, whole cities, I made from sweets, and ponies would come from all around to taste my work.  The kitchen was so warm, and the smell of sweet ginger filled it.  I may never bake again, but I still want to be free.  I will follow you.”

Another pegasus named Masquerade was so thin she was almost a skeleton.  She tried to stand but couldn’t.  Hearing her stumble in the dark, a unicorn named Fizzy lifted her to her hooves and propped her up.  Masquerade said, “I used to throw lavish, beautiful balls in late fall when the leaves adorning the trees were gold and red and orange like flame.  The leaves floated to the ground on the breeze to remind us of the snow to come, and they crackled under our hooves with a sound like fire in pine logs to tell us of the warm hearths around which we soon would sit to sing carols and drink from steaming mugs of cider.  All the ponies came to my autumn parties, and I gave each one a special costume, made just for her.  For that night only, every pony could be somebody else.  I may never be able to sew again or design another gown, but I still want to be free.  I will follow you.”

One by one, the others rose as well.  Each spoke her story.  Each declared her need to be free.  At last, only Galaxy remained on the floor.

“It’s not worth it,” Galaxy groaned.  Through the darkness, Megan could see fresh tears streaking Galaxy’s cheeks.  “We’re blind.  We’re blind!  I used to spend all night gazing at the stars—they were scattered across the heavens like beaten sugar thrown from a bowl across black silk, but they burned and shimmered like orbs of fire.  I could gaze at them for hours, and I wept at their beauty.  What does it matter if I am free?  Everything that was dear to me I have lost and can never have back again.”

A tear ran down Megan’s own face.  “Heavy hooves,” she said.  “I can’t give you back your eyes, but at least take back yourself.  This wizard’s taken so much of you already.  Don’t let him have the rest.”

“Come with us, Galaxy,” Gingerbread whispered.  “Please.”

“In the old times, Galaxy,” said Whizzer, “you were never one to give up, no matter how hard it was.”

“Please,” said Masquerade.

“Please,” said Fizzy.

“How?” Galaxy asked.  “Without our eyes, how can we find the way?”

“I will sing to you,” Megan answered, “so you can follow.”  She looked back and forth among the blind, exhausted, sickly ponies.  Though her throat hurt, her chest felt heavy, and her voice sounded rude and ungainly in her ears, she began a piping chant to Mister Sun.  She turned and walked, and she heard the slow, steady beat of hooves behind her.

Megan picked her way across the broken cavern floor until she found the glowing, jeweled throne where the wizard sat.

The Jewel Wizard stood and said in his gentle voice, “What do you want, slaves?  Now is the time for sleep.  Return to your place.”

“No,” Megan answered.  “No more.”

“You will not work?”

She shook her head.

“Then you will suffer.”

As she had expected, the invisible whips lashed against her back.  Her knees and hocks buckled, and tears fell from her eyes, but she kept her hooves, gritted her teeth, and said, “No more.”

“Then you will die.”  The Jewel Wizard raised a clawed hand, and lightning arced from his fingertips.  The bolt struck Megan in the breast, and she fell back onto her haunches and howled.

“I give you one more chance,” the Jewel Wizard said, his voice soft and kind and reasonable.  “You may dig stones for me and sleep and eat your meals, or you may perish in agony.  Choose.”

Megan didn’t answer.  She only rose and took a deep breath.  She winced against the burning pain stretching across her chest.  Trying to ignore how much they hurt, she dug in her back hooves, and, with a snort, she charged.  She ran straight at the wizard, reared, and, lashing out blindly, struck him across the face.  A streak of bright red stretched from his forehead to his left cheek, and his eyes opened wide in mild surprise as he staggered backwards, slipped, and tumbled from the edge of the cliff.  He fell into the deep pit, of which Megan could not discern the bottom.  He did not scream.  He made no noise at all, but he disappeared into darkness, and Megan never heard him strike.

But a few seconds after he tumbled, his high throne split in half, and then the two halves exploded with a roar.

Shards of crystal blasted into the air.  Megan turned, covered her head with her hooves, and closed her eyes.  Something sliced her left side, feeling like a hammer pounding against her ribs and refusing to let up.  A similar blow slammed into her left hind leg.

The explosion echoed from the cavern walls, and stalactites cracked and fell, shattering with a sound like breaking glass.  After a minute, all was silent except for the quiet trickle of gravel and the hiss of settling dust.  Megan raised her head and opened her eyes to a scene of new horror.

The slave ponies sat in a row before the ruined throne.  Every one of them had long stringers of blood dripping from her face.  Every one of them had her mouth hanging open in a silent scream of pain.  Every one of them had shards of crystal lodged in the sockets of her eyes, and, from around the crystals, blood bubbled up like water from a seeping spring.

Tears poured from Megan’s own eyes.  “Oh, Majesty,” she moaned.  “Oh, Majesty, where are you?  Why have you left me here?  Will it not end?  Will none of this ever end?”  She turned her head and vomited on the cavern floor.

Then began the endless trek.  With acid burning in her throat, she walked, though her hooves were cracked to the very bone and sent pains like knife cuts straight up into her skull, and though festering wounds on her knees wept pus.  Her head throbbed, and her chest, burned by the wizard’s magic, blazed as if struck by a branding iron.  Behind her, the slave ponies followed.  In too much pain to scream or moan, they merely breathed in rhythmic gasps as they stumbled in the dark.  They were past the point of crying, past the point even of giving up.  They walked and kept walking because the act of lying down to die would have taken too much thought, too much will:  their decision to follow had drained the last of their energy, and they now staggered on because they had suffered until they could do nothing except suffer further.

After what seemed like years, decades, or centuries, they turned a corner in the cavern, and Megan beheld a blinding white light from outside.  At last, the dusty, suffocating air of the cave fell away, and she breathed fresh, clean air for the first time in more days than she knew.  She fell down at the cavern mouth, kissed the ground, and wept.

But, without slowing, the slaves staggered on and walked around her.  They stepped out into the wasteland, stood together in a row, and faced the sun, which cut its lonely trail across an empty blue sky.  As one, they fell to their haunches, and then Galaxy, whose blood still ran down her face like tears, shrieked in a voice that would haunt Megan’s nightmares for many years after—

“I can see!”











When Megan came back to herself, she was no longer looking in Applejack’s face, but in Wind Whistler’s.

As usual, Wind Whistler was calm, and her expression was unreadable.  “You are injured,” she said, “but your wounds, though unsightly, appear to be minor.”

Megan blinked.  The memories of being Applejack grew hazy, as if they had been a vivid dream from which she had just awakened.  “Wind Whistler—?”

“Applejack ran into Paradise Estate.  She was talking like you.  She quickly explained what had happened, and I realized we could resolve the predicament by means of the same method we utilized on the previous occasion.  I brought Fizzy and Shady for the purpose.”  She nodded back over her shoulder, where Fizzy the twinkle-eyed unicorn and Shady the earth pony stood beside a dazed-looking Applejack.

Megan rose slowly to her feet and massaged her temples.  “It’s like Applejack and I traded places—”

“That is the effect of the frazzits,” Wind Whistler answered.  “It is necessary for the frazzits to remain inside their barrel in order to maintain the order of nature.  Knock over their barrel and release them, and the first thing they do is switch the personalities of anyone nearby.  You can ask the Dell Dwellers about it.”

Megan turned to find several of the gnome-like men facing her.  She hastily rubbed at the caked blood on her chin.  One of the Dell Dwellers, with a face deeply etched as if whittled from wood, gave her a deep, solemn bow.








“So, this Applejack you knew way back when, what was she like?”

Rarity had finished packing her salon and had dragged it back to the flying boat, after which she’d disappeared into the boat’s cabin, so Megan and Applejack were alone for the moment.  Megan walked to her table and set down the curry brush.  Facing the cracked, weather-worn paint on the barn wall, she said, “She was strong.  And smart.  And brave.”

Applejack chuckled.  “Well, I’ll—”

“And nobody knew it.”  Megan took up the body brush, returned to Applejack, and began going over her coat again.  “They all thought she was foolish, or at least most of them did.  Except the twinkle-eyed ponies.”

As Megan brushed down Applejack’s fur, Applejack’s eyelids lowered and her lower lip twitched.  “The . . . uh, sorry?  You lost me.”

“We lost them, too.”

Apparently unable to maintain her concentration in the face of Megan’s brushing, Applejack snorted faintly and swished her tail.  “Um . . . what?”

Megan shook her head, chuckled softly, and sighed.  “Never mind.  It’s a long story, and I don’t think I can tell it now.”  She tapped her chest.  “It still hurts.”

Applejack opened her eyes wide again and winced.

“Sorry,” said Megan, “am I brushing too hard over your withers?”

“No, no.  You’re doin’ just fine.  But I’m mighty sorry ’bout askin’ ya questions an’ all.  It’s easy to forget it weren’t that long ago for you.  For us—”

“It’s ancient history.”

“Yes’m.  Just t’ warn ya, Twilight’s likely t’ grill you somethin’ fierce.  She loves readin’ and research an’ whatnot, an’ havin’ you—”

“I know.  I’ve been putting off dealing with her, and I think maybe she’s been putting off dealing with me, too.”

“If’n ya want, I can talk to her—”

“Don’t bother.  I think we can come to an understanding.”  Megan continued brushing in silence for several minutes.  She could sense Applejack relaxing, and in time the pony dipped her head almost to the ground.

“You must be tired, too,” Megan said.  “I guess being an ambassador is probably stressful work.”

“Well,” Applejack mumbled, “I can’t claim t’ be cut out for it.  Been a farm pony all my life.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Why?  Well, for Twilight, o’ course.”

Megan finished with the body brush, returned to the table, and picked up her finishing brush.  “You don’t have to do what Princess Twilight says, do you?”

Applejack frowned.  “Ain’t never gave it much thought.  She is a princess, but it ain’t like she orders me around—”

“So why are you here?”  Megan walked back to Applejack and made sweeping strokes across her body to smooth her coat.

“We’re friends,” Applejack said.  “That’s all.  It can be hard sometimes, an’ I admit I don’t feel quite right without my hooves in the soil, but we got hired help on the farm now, so’s I can rest easy on that score, at least.”

Gently taking Applejack’s chin, Megan made a few strokes across her face and made sure the fur was clean around her eyes.  “It’s very kind of you to help your friends.  And thank you, too, for being so understanding with me.”  Smiling, she shook her head.  “You really do look so much like her.”  Without a thought, she leaned down and kissed Applejack’s nose.

When she drew back, she saw in Applejack’s eyes an expression of shock, and she felt her own face turn warm.

“Uh, sorry, sugar cube, but what—?”

“Sorry.”  Megan quickly turned around, walked back to the table, and made a clatter with her supplies.  “I kissed ponies all the time in Dream Valley, and they kissed each other, and you look so much like—I just didn’t think—I mean, hell, I kiss my own horses—”

She glanced over her shoulder when she heard Applejack chuckling.

“Well, I don’t kiss much o’ nopony,” Applejack said, “’cept Apple Bloom or Granny on occasion—”

Megan put a hand to her face and began laughing as well.  “Wow.  Things really have changed.”








Still in a daze, Megan had spoken with the Dell Dwellers for almost an hour.  They had thanked her and the ponies for returning the frazzits to their barrel and restoring the balance of nature.  They had agreed to teach the earth ponies how to tend to the trees and other plants, and how to grow and shape the forest’s stones by means of an art they called “rock-farming.”  Megan had thanked them dully and shaken hands all around before she and the others had finally made their way out of the Dell Dwellers’ underground home.

Now Megan lay in the midst of a patch of feathery ferns in the middle of the woods.  Having pulled the ribbon out of her hair, shaken out her ponytail, and propped her head on a mossy rock, she gazed between the leaves overhead and watched the wispy clouds dart across the sky.  The air was warm, but every so often, a faint breeze, cooled by the moisture of the forest floor, prickled her skin.

Applejack lay with her heavy head resting on Megan’s left shoulder.  She made Megan’s side, from her armpit down to her knee, uncomfortably hot.  With eyelids half lowered and her tangled forelock hanging low over her face, Applejack breathed steadily and deeply as if asleep.  Megan dug a hand deep into Applejack’s mane and squeezed the pony tight.  She laid her other hand against Applejack’s barrel to feel the smooth texture of her coat, the muscles twitching under her skin, and the rise and fall of her ribs.

Megan had often lain with a pony tucked against her this way.  The first time she had spent a night in Ponyland, she had nestled under downy covers on a bed soft as a cloud and smelling of lavender.  She had been alone when she’d lain down, but had awoken the next morning from a deep and dreamless sleep to find Sundance’s nose against her cheek.  It has seemed strange to her at first, but in time she had realized that the ponies, in some ways, were not much different from dogs or cats or, for that matter, miniature horses kept in houses, all of which would climb into bed with a sleeping human if allowed.  The little ponies could talk, but they were still herd animals, and herd animals were always hungry for company.

“How much did you see?” Applejack whispered.

“Everything, I think.  But it’s all jumbled up now, faint, like a dream.”

“I knew what it was like to be you.  To walk on two legs.  My back felt funny.”

Megan chuckled quietly.

“And I saw Tirek again,” Applejack whispered.  “I knew how you felt . . . it was so different from how I felt.  I mean, when I was me.”

“I know what you mean.”

“I never knew you were so scared.”

“I was scared,” Megan said, “but I tried to do the right thing anyway.”

Applejack paused, but then slowly shook her head.  The whiskers on her muzzle tickled Megan’s chin.

Megan frowned and looked down into Applejack’s eyes.  Applejack’s nose was an inch from her own.  “You didn’t want to do the right thing,” Applejack said.  “It never crossed your mind at all.  I mean, it did before.  But when you were there in front of him, you didn’t care about doing the right thing.  You were just angry.”

Megan swallowed.  Her hands trembled.  “Yes. . .”

“And you killed him.”

“Yes.”

“I saw Grogar, too—that awful old ram with the glowing eyes.  He shot lightning from his horns, he had you pinned under the bridge in Tambelon, and you were afraid you’d die or go to the Realm of Shadows.”

“Yes.”

“You rode North Star’s back until you found Grogar’s magic bell, and you struck it and sent him and his city away.”

“Yes.”

“But you weren’t thinking about saving the ponies.  Not one bit.  You were just angry then, too.”  Tears welled up in Applejack’s eyes.  She blinked, and the tears spilled over onto her cheeks.  “I did the same, once . . .”

Megan tilted her head back, letting the soft moss close around her ears.  She took a deep breath.  “I saw.  I saw the Jewel Wizard, and I saw how you saved the twinkle-eyed ponies.”

“Heavy hooves, Megan.  Heavy, heavy hooves.”

“You did the right thing.”

“But he died, and he died because I pushed him—”

Megan gripped the sides of Applejack’s head, placing her thumbs and index fingers around the pony’s ears, and kissed Applejack’s mouth to quiet her.  Applejack tried to pull her head back, but Megan didn’t let go until Applejack gave a faint whimper from the back of her throat, as if gasping for air.

Megan released her and said, “He deserved to die.”

Applejack lowered her head back to Megan’s shoulder and nestled closer.  “Majesty killed sometimes to protect us.  She turned monsters into trees or made them bubble away into the air.  It was like, for a moment, I was her, like I was in her place.  She wasn’t there, so I did what she did, and I was angry, like how you get angry.  Just so angry I could kill.  But then I did kill, and I wasn’t angry anymore.  I felt awful, and I realized I wasn’t angry at the Jewel Wizard so much.  I was angry at Majesty because she wasn’t there when I needed her.”

Applejack’s tears ran down her face until they soaked into Megan’s overalls.

“She left us and never came back,” Applejack said.  “I know it’s bad, but I got mad at her again when she left us, even though I know she was trying to save us from Tirek.  Because we needed her so much.”  Applejack’s eyes turned wide and pleading.  “I need her.  Who’s going to make sure I don’t eat too many apples if she’s not here to tell me it’s bad?”

Megan kissed her again.  “Majesty didn’t leave you on purpose, Applejack.  I saw that, too.  She wanted to protect you.”

“You saw her?”

“Yes.”

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.  Very.  I loved her very much . . . and I guess that came from you, too, didn’t it?”

“Yes.”  Applejack closed her eyes as if trying to sleep, or perhaps recapture a vision.  “Yes, I loved her.  I think having her must be what it’s like to have a mother.  And I think sometimes how lucky Buttons is to be a mother, and I wonder if Suffles and Snookums will love her like that.”

“I’m sure they will.”

The pony’s mouth twisted and became wistful.  “And I wonder if I’ll ever—”

“You might.”

“I don’t think Tex likes me as much as his other mares.”

Megan’s stomach clenched.  She gave Applejack a halfhearted pat meant to be reassuring.  “I’m sure he does.  Someday you’ll have foals of your own.  And you love Baby Applejack just as if she were your real baby, don’t you?”

“Megan.”  Applejack’s voice was almost a whimper as she met Megan’s eyes.  “You hate your father, don’t you?”

Megan’s stomach clenched again, but now it stayed clenched and became a hard, painful knot.  She chewed her lip a moment before she answered, “Yes.”  The word came out as a low, long hiss.  She looked away from Applejack and watched the sky again.

“Could you not, please?”

“What?”

Applejack touched a hoof to Megan’s sternum, right at the base of the pink heart sewn onto the front of her overalls.  “It’s just that you hurt people when you get angry.”

With a smile, Megan ran her fingers through Applejack’s forelock, pushing the hair back from the pony’s forehead.  “Don’t you fret, Applejack.  I’m not going to hurt anybody.”








Having finished with Applejack’s coat, Megan pulled the ribbon out of Applejack’s ponytail, shook out her mane, and began brushing with Molly’s hairbrush.  “You ever have braids in?” Megan asked.

“Well, a number o’ years back, Twilight took us all to the Grand Gallopin’ Gala in Canterlot, an’ Rarity made us dresses for th’ occasion.  I wore braids then.”

“What style of braid?”

“Uh, regular style?  ’Fraid I don’t know that kind o’ thing.  Rarity put ’em in.”

“Judging from what she did with Pinkie, she knows what she’s doing.  I hope you’re as happy with my work.”

“I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

After she finished brushing, she moved Applejack closer to the table so she could easily reach the needle and thread.  Then she threw a leg over Applejack’s back and climbed on.

“I know I’m too big for you, but am I too heavy?”

“No, ma’am.  I’m a sturdy pony, if’n I may say so.”

“You may.  I thought you looked strong, and I’m glad, too, since it’s easier to get the braid straight from this position.”  Taking clumps of Applejack’s hair in hand, Megan began making a continuous braid along her crest.

“Years an’ years o’ apple-buckin’,” Applejack said, “and not to brag, but I am the rodeo cham-peen o’ Ponyville.”

“Hmm.  You should do all right in the western class, then.  You memorized the forms, right?”

“Yes’m.”

“And you understood them?  The lead changes?”

“That’s where I switch which foot I lead with, I reckon.  Should be second nature to me by now.”

Megan took a deep breath, and some of the tension in her chest eased up.  She realized then that Applejack even smelled more like a normal horse than the other ponies did.  “Ah, this is nice.  This is more like what it’s usually like.”

“Beg pardon?”

“Grooming a horse—or pony.  All my horses here are well-behaved, and grooming is usually relaxing.  Today’s been awful, though.”

“Mighty sorry ’bout that.  I think we all just imagined, well, that you was different, and that this would be different.  We ain’t quite known how to act.”

“You are the first to live up to her promise to cooperate, that’s for sure.”  Megan finished the braid and tied it in place with yellow twine.  Then she climbed from Applejack’s back, walked in front, and began braiding her forelock.  “I think a minute ago you mentioned a granny—”

“Granny Smith.”

Megan chuckled.  “Really?  And is she actually your grandma?”

“Shore is.”

“Tell me about your family.”

“Well, there’s quite a few of us.  I got kin from Manehatten to Appleloosa, but right there on the farm, there’s just Granny, me, my li’l sister Apple Bloom, an’ Big Macintosh—he’s my big brother.”

“Ah, big brother.  Yeah, I get you.”  Megan finished Applejack’s forelock and walked behind, keeping a hand on the pony’s haunch out of habit.  She pulled the ribbon out of Applejack’s tail and, clutching clumps of hair in one hand and working in small sections to avoid pulling the hairs out, began brushing.  Applejack shuffled her hooves a bit, but otherwise didn’t react.

“You have any foals yet?” Megan asked.

“Who, me?  No, ma’am.  Ain’t even married.”

Megan lost her grip and accidentally yanked with the brush.  “Did you say married?”

“I said I ain’t married.”

“But you used the word?”

“Yes’m.  What—?”

“But you said you had a big brother—”

“I do.  Big Macintosh.”

“You mean he’s actually your brother?”

Megan took hold of Applejack’s tail again, but Applejack snatched it from Megan’s hands and wheeled around.  “What in tarnation did you think he was?”

“A lead stallion, of course.  Of a herd—”

Applejack’s cheeks turned bright red, her ears lay back, and she bit her lower lip as if struggling to restrain herself.  Her grip tightening on the brush, Megan stood and backed away.

“Land’s sakes,” said Applejack, “you think we live like goats or cows?”

Megan paused.  She had been serene a moment ago, but now she found anger again boiling up in her chest.  “Your ancestors lived like goats or cows, including Applejack the First.  Her ‘big brother’ was Tex, and he had about ten or twelve other mares, including Truly, North Star, Gusty, Bow Tie, Bubbles—”

Applejack clamped her mouth shut and shook.  “I don’ wanna hear it.”  She turned around again.  “An’ hurry it up back there.”

“Gladly.”  More roughly this time, Megan resumed brushing.








Her back was still sore from the trip to the Dell Dwellers, so Megan winced at each footfall as she rode Wind Whistler through the woods to the home of the bushwoolies.

“We are making excellent progress,” said Wind Whistler.  “We should have asked the Dell Dwellers for their assistance when we first encountered them.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Wind Whistler snorted softly.  “I must admit, I was not myself at the time.”

“Who were you?”

“Fizzy.”

Megan laughed.  “I wish I’d been there to see that.  You and Fizzy are about opposites—”

“And she’s twinkle-eyed,” Wind Whistler murmured, her voice barely audible.

Megan leaned down over Wind Whistler’s neck.  “Did you see . . . ?”

“Her memories?  Yes.  I did.  Though, if you are thinking of the memories I assume you are thinking of, there was nothing to see, strictly speaking.”

Megan sat straight again and stared into the trees as she rubbed at a knot in her left shoulder.

“And you saw Applejack’s memories, I presume,” said Wind Whistler.

“Yes.”

Wind Whistler nodded.  “The others are hard on her, but in spite of her lack of coordination and tendency toward gluttony, I have always known Applejack was a strong pony.  Fizzy’s memories confirmed my opinion.”

“She saved them from the caves.”

“Believe me, I know.  I endured the entire ordeal, working the mines until my hooves cracked and my eyes festered and went bad.  I felt my gut wither and wrap like a knot around my spine, felt my tongue swell in my mouth.  Worst of all, I could feel my eyeballs pop like grapes when the jewels from the throne lodged in my head and sent fiery pains straight to the tip of my tail.  I’ve never felt anything like it, Megan, and hope never to feel it again.”

“Stop a moment.”  Megan slid from Wind Whistler’s back and knelt in front of her.  “Why did you try to lock up Masquerade if you knew—?”

Wind Whistler raised one eyebrow.  “I wasn’t planning to, Megan.  I was planning only to punish Surprise, who, mind you, is not twinkle-eyed.  I would have been more than happy to leave Masquerade alone if she hadn’t been insubordinate.”

Megan shook her head.  “I’ve always known you to be reasonable and logical, Wind Whistler, but I’ve never known you before to be cold.”

“I’ve been mulling over some things, Megan.  I have come to certain conclusions.”

“But we’re already fixing the problem.  We’ve gotten organized.  Buttons has foaled, Truly is going to foal, and I’m sure other ponies will soon.  Maybe even you.” 

A small smile settled on Wind Whistler’s mouth.  “I have decided to attach myself to 4-Speed.  He’s rather coltish for my tastes, but, of all the big brother ponies, he seems, with his impressive mechanical aptitude, to have an intellect comparable to mine; or at least he could if he’d make better use of it.”

“Are you happy?”

“Are you asking me if I am emotionally uplifted by the prospect of breeding?  Certainly not, but I am willing to submit to it so long as 4-Speed washes beforehand and I am allowed to wash afterwards.  I am foregoing my own interests for the good of the group, Megan, and I do not understand why others cannot do the same.”  She drew close and placed a hoof on Megan’s shoulder.  “You, especially.  When we discussed the problem of our replacement rate, I was certain you and I were on the same page, so to speak.”

Megan began to fondle one of Wind Whistler’s ears, but stopped when she remembered that Wind Whistler didn’t like that.  “I understood what you were concerned about, and I guess I thought of it as being a lot like horse-breeding back home . . . but you’re not horses.  Not really.”

“Of course we are horses.  Just as you are an ape.  Nothing significant separates us from other animals.”

“Well, you talk—”

“And what is the significance of that?”  Wind Whistler took her hoof from Megan’s shoulder and pointed it into the trees where robins were chirping.  “Do not the birds communicate vocally?  And you forget that, in Ponyland, many creatures talk.  The trait is hardly unique.”

“But you live in a house—”

“Your own horses live in houses, and they wear shoes, and in winter they wear blankets.  We are all animals, Megan.  Some of us may have more highly developed mental faculties than others, but that is a mere difference of degree.  And advanced mental faculties are of no advantage if the species that possesses them dies out:  a stupid animal that produces a hundred offspring is superior to a smart one that produces none.  We ponies are accustomed to talking about compassion and love and friendship, and we act as if these emotions and sentiments are good things to be cultivated for their own sake, but once we are dead, they come to naught:  in the end, there is nothing except survival and succession; therefore, ‘good’ cannot refer to amiable feelings, but only to those traits that tend to lead to longevity and progeny.  This is the conclusion I have reached in my meditations.”

Megan stared into Wind Whistler’s deadpan face.  “I . . . but, I mean, don’t you think love is good—?”

“I think it leads to cooperation and reproduction, so, yes, I think love is good—but only up to a point.  When love becomes overdeveloped, it can be counterproductive, as in the case of Heart Throb’s infatuation with human monogamy.  Then it should be suppressed.”

Megan winced.

“You feel guilty on account of her,” said Wind Whistler.  “Guilt also serves a useful social function, but it too can be counterproductive.  I suggest you suppress yours.”

Megan had nothing more to say.  In silence, she and Wind Whistler pushed their way through the low bushes until they reached an earthen mound topped by a tall, black walnut tree.  The tree’s thick, tangled roots framed a doorway of rough stone, against which Megan knocked three times.

“Who is it?” a scratchy voice called.  Immediately following, several other voices chorused, “Yeah, who?  Who?  Who’s there?  Who’s knocking at the door?”

Megan laughed.  “It’s Megan and Wind Whistler.”

A little blue ball of fur pulled the door open.  “Hiya, Megan!  Hiya, Wind Whistler!”

“Hello, Hugster,” said Megan.  “May we come in?”

“Yeah, come in!”

Behind Hugster, other voices called, “Yeah, come in!  In!  Come inside!  Wipe your feet!  Come in!”

Megan ducked under a thick root and half walked, half slid down into the bushwoolies’ grotto, a spacious room equipped with a few sofas and chairs.  In one corner stood a fireplace with a brick chimney, but since the weather was hot, the hearth was cold.

Wind Whistler slid in after.

In the middle of the room, seated on a divan, was a pink pig.  Formerly heavyset, she had long jowls that hung down to her shoulders, and great flaps of empty flesh folded in rows across her middle.  In a front hoof, the pig held a brush, with which she vigorously combed a little pink bushwooly named Cheery.

The pig looked up and offered Megan a small smile.  “Hello, Megan, dear.”

“Hello, Porcina.  How are you?”

“Oh, we’re getting along fine.”  She patted her middle, which jiggled.  “On a diet of bushmelons and woolycakes, I’ve certainly lost weight.”

Hugster pushed up a chair opposite Porcina and invited Megan to sit.  Wind Whistler lay on the floor.  Megan sat down, and Hugster, without asking permission, climbed into her lap.  Chumster, staggering under the weight, waddled in with a tea set balanced on his head.

Megan quickly leaned over and took the tea set before Chumster could spill anything.  She placed the tray on an end table and poured three cups.

Porcina finished brushing Cheery and patted him on the back.  He leapt from the divan.  “I’m afraid I didn’t quite understand the message you sent,” Porcina said, “probably because the bushwoolies had garbled it by the time they brought it to me.  Something about the crowns?”

“Crowns, yeah, crowns!” Hugster cried.  He leapt from Megan’s lap, causing her to slop the tea, and ran off.  “Bushwoolies, get crowns!”  The bushwoolies turned into round balls and rolled quickly out of the room.

“The bushwoolies’ crowns came from the Heart,” Megan explained, “the center of all of Ponyland’s magic.  The princess ponies have to place their magic wands in the crowns from time to time to recharge them.  After Lavan the lava demon stole the wands, the princess ponies had to kill him, and then they decided to give the crowns to the bushwoolies for safe keeping, since the Heart is connected to the lava demons’ caves.”

Porcina sighed and shook her head as she took a cup of tea.  “It’s starting to make sense.  The bushwoolies said something like that when they came back here with those things, but I couldn’t quite understand them.”

Wind Whistler said, “The princess ponies have the most powerful magic in Ponyland, and, in fact, they are responsible for maintaining the balance of nature.  I’ve dispatched Whizzer and Firefly to the Royal Paradise to contact them in the hopes that they might be able to grant us some of their abilities.  We assume we’ll need the crowns for that purpose, so we’ve come to borrow them.”

Porcina frowned.  “But what exactly do you—?”

“The Dell Dwellers are teaching the earth ponies how to shape rocks and make the trees grow,” Megan said.  “The Moochick is teaching the unicorns how to learn more magic.  We’re hoping the princess ponies can teach us how to manipulate the weather the way they do.  We can change the weather with the Rainbow of Light, but it’s dangerous to use the Rainbow very often.”

“I assume they can teach this magic to the unicorns,” said Wind Whistler, “but I am holding out some small hope that they might confer their talents on the pegasus ponies.  Considering that we can fly, the ability to alter the weather would be of great advantage to us.”

Porcina gave a deep chuckle, and her rolls of flesh shook.  “What are you up to, Megan?”

With an uncertain frown, Megan glanced at Wind Whistler and then back at the pig.  “Me?  Why?”

Porcina laughed, drained her teacup, and set it down.  “Come, on, Megan.  Don’t play coy.”

Megan must have looked blank because Porcina cocked her head and paused a moment before adding, “Don’t you know your reputation in Ponyland?”

“I don’t get out much, Porcina.  When I’m here, I spend all my time with the ponies.”

“I knew it even back before we first met, when I had the raptorians kidnap some of the ponies for me so I could take their hair and make myself a new magic cloak.  I didn’t believe it at the time, but I had heard whispers:  the little ponies of Dream Valley have a protectress, they said, who looks like a human but has more power than an elf.  You disturb the ponies at your peril.”  Porcina’s smile faltered.  “When I saw you, I wondered if the rumor was true, yet I thought to myself, surely this little girl is no threat.  But then you took the cloak from the raptorians and used it on them—”

Megan rose halfway out of her seat.  “It ripped, Porcina.  The cloak ripped!  I didn’t want to do that to them, and you were the one who said we should leave them that way—”

Porcina nodded.  “Oh, yes.  Oh, yes.  I finally figured out what they wanted:  they had convinced me to use the cloak to change Dream Valley to glass so they could have it for themselves, a dead wasteland where they would have to tolerate not a single other living being.  But when I saw you and the ponies, I realized what a horrible thing I’d done.”

Megan’s heart thudded in her ears.  “That’s why you decided to change Dream Valley back.  Because you realized the ponies were people, like you.”

Porcina shook her head.  “You really don’t understand?  I changed Dream Valley back because I saw you, and I realized that, if I didn’t do something quick, I’d be next, and you’d deal with me just as you did with the raptorians.”

“That was an accident!” Megan shouted.

“You didn’t even blink!” Porcina shouted back.  “Accident or not, you have the heart of a killer, Megan.  And when I suggested that leaving them as statues was the easiest way to prevent their further mischief, I got not a word of protest from you!”

Megan and Porcina had both risen out of their seats, and now their noses were almost touching.  For a moment, they glared in each other’s eyes in silence.  Megan glimpsed her own reflection in Porcina’s wide pupils, and, to her shock, she saw that her face had become a mask of rage.  Embarrassment wrapped around her chest like a tight band.  She turned her head to see the bushwoolies, clustered in a group, holding their crowns in their hands and staring at her in shock.

Wind Whistler also watched intently, though her face was calm and unreadable.  She took a sip from her tea.

Porcina lowered herself back to her seat and, as if she were touching up her makeup, reaffixed her calm smile to her face.  “When I realized I had destroyed lives, Megan, I undid it.  I tried to make everything right again.  But you—you don’t ever stop until the job is good and done.  Why do you think I agreed”—she swept her forelegs in a broad circle—“to live in a hole in the ground and groom the bushwoolies for a living?  Because I knew if I didn’t show you I’d had a change of heart, you would have done me in, one way or the other.”

With a sad expression on his fluffy green face, Friendly rolled to Porcina’s hind feet and gazed up at her with eyes wide and moist.  “You no like grooming bushwoolies?”

Porcina clucked.  “Oh, of course I like you.”  She picked the bushwooly up and placed him in her lap.  For a few minutes, she combed his fur, but then looked up and said, “As you know, the bushwoolies have a hard time making good decisions, since they always agree with whoever spoke last.  They let me make their biggest decisions for them, so tell me exactly what you’re after, Megan, before I give you the crowns.”

Wind Whistler placed her front hooves on the armrest of Megan’s seat and raised herself up.  “This was my idea, Princess Porcina, not Megan’s.  I have come to the conclusion that optimal success of a species is measured by prolific reproduction, maximal utilization of resources, and robust health, all of which are interdependent.”

Porcina paused on an upstroke, her brush hanging in the air with a few wispy strands of green fur dangling from it.  “Can you say that in Ponese?”

“I’ll make it simple,” said Wind Whistler.  “The way to ensure a reliable supply of resources is to manipulate the environment.  This is the theory underlying agriculture, but we intend to take it a step further:  the ponies are interested in nothing less than absolute control of nature.”

Porcina’s brush clattered to the floor.  “What?  Why?”

“The goal will change as the project evolves.  First, it will be simply survival.  Then security.  Then prosperity.”

“And then?”

Wind Whistler smiled.  “Power.”

Megan cleared her throat and clasped her hands together.  “I didn’t like the sound of it at first, but imagine if there were more ponies, Porcina.  Imagine what they could do with their special kind of magic:  think of a world without witches or wizards, without dragons razing people’s homes.  Imagine the monsters being pushed back into the forests.  Imagine a world that’s peaceful and safe.”

Porcina glanced at Wind Whistler before returning her eyes to Megan’s face.  “You think the little ponies can do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Megan.

“But I know,” said Wind Whistler, leaning forward and licking her lips.  “It is improbable, perhaps, but not impossible.  A benevolent pony empire—that is my goal.  I will found it.”

Porcina’s lips spread wide in another easy smile.  She sat back on the divan and shifted her shoulders.  “Don’t you mean ‘our,’ little pony?  Don’t you mean ‘we’?”

“The vision is mine,” Wind Whistler replied, “though I confess I cannot make it a reality on my own.  Ponies are accustomed to following their whims—that is, you might say, our creed.  So our creed must change before this project can succeed:  we want discipline, trained intellects, and well-ordered appetites.”

“This world has seen a lot of would-be emperors,” said Porcina, struggling around her excess flesh to bend down and grab her brush.  “The knights errant have toppled some of them, and, if memory serves, the ponies have toppled several as well.”

Wind Whistler snorted faintly.  “Such would-be emperors were small-minded; they wanted personal wealth or personal power, or they wanted to destroy all but their own kind without heeding the consequences.  Take your raptorians, for example:  where would they have found food in a dead land of glass?  They never seriously considered their goals, but only followed their emotions.  Ponies typically do the same, but our emotions, fortunately, are superior to those of other species:  we incline to love and tolerance rather than greed or enmity, which means we are already better attuned than most to receive the lessons of reason.  Our goal will not be a world for ponies alone, but a wholesome, well-regulated empire open to all who value peace and order.”

Porcina raised an eyebrow.  “With the ponies at the top?”

“Yes, unless reason indicates that someone else is better suited to the job.  Ultimately, it will be logic that rules us.”

Porcina shook her head.  “But I still don’t understand why you want to control nature.”

“Is it not obvious?”  A gleam appeared in Wind Whistler’s eyes, and, on the chair’s armrest, she shuffled her front hooves.  “To make deserts bloom, to bring water to dry places, to ensure abundance for all.  Look at the barren hills and dry wastelands around us here:  imagine the Jewel Desert bursting with life, Bumbleland green, the Purple Mountains covered with trees.  Once people have learned to love reason and obey it, and once they have assented to the mutual respect that logic demands, nothing can pit them against each other except scarcity of resources.  So we shall have logic, reason, and also abundance—and with them, peace.”

“And how good are people at learning to love reason?” Porcina asked, her smile turning to one of patient amusement, as if she were listening to a prattling child.  “Those would-be emperors we mentioned, were they good at it?”

“People follow the dictates of reason when they know them,” Wind Whistler answered, her tone now carrying a note of impatience.  “No one commits evil except through ignorance.  All anyone requires is education.  That is all you required.  But we can worry about that later; our immediate concern is the princess ponies’ crowns.”

Porcina chuckled again, and soon her chuckles turned to deep, throaty laughter.  Her whole body waggled with it.  “This will come to nothing, but if the princess ponies are going to want their crowns in the near future, it seems to me they should have them.”  She called to the cluster of bushwoolies, “Do you want to let Megan and the ponies borrow those crowns?”

The bushwoolies immediately clamored, “Oh, yeah.  Borrow.  No, loan.  Loan and borrow.  Hand ’em over.”

Porcina looked to Megan and shrugged.  “I guess there’s your answer.”  She set Friendly on the floor.  “Friendly, Cheery, Chumster, Eager, Hugster, and Wishful, why don’t you bring your crowns here?”

The six bushwoolies named put their crowns on their heads and waddled forward.  Megan took the moment to drink her tea, which had turned cold.  It tasted faintly of cinnamon.

Hugster walked in front, and he said, “If princess ponies want crowns, bushwoolies come with you.  Crowns given to bushwoolies for safekeeping.”

“Safekeeping,” the others replied.  “Keep together, keep safe, guard ’em careful, safe.”

“Of course,” said Megan.

“It is admirable that you take your responsibility so seriously,” added Wind Whistler.  “Assenting to duty is the first step toward enlightenment.”  She finished her tea, glanced to Megan and the bushwoolies, and added, “Should we take our leave?”








Megan had braided Applejack’s tail in silence, but now that she was sewing the braid into place, she said, “I don’t understand what you’re so mad about.”

A few seconds passed before Applejack answered, “Tellin’ me I’m just like somepony you knew, then tellin’ me she lived all indecent—”

“I’m just telling you the truth.”

Applejack snorted faintly.

“Look, a lot’s changed in five thousand years.  Don’t expect me to know how you do things now.  I’m just telling you how it was when I was there.”

Applejack sighed.  “Well, shucks.  I s’pose I can respect that rightly enough.  Didn’t mean t’ get so sore.  It’s just—”

“Does a stallion in Equestria marry only one mare?”

“’Course he does.”

Megan finished sewing, stood straight, and stretched her back.  “When I was in Dream Valley, there just weren’t that many stallions, though I’m not sure why.  I guess Majesty didn’t make many of them.  Maybe she didn’t want bachelor herds running around.”  She looked down at Applejack.  “Do you have enough stallions now?”

“Whadda you mean by ‘enough’?”

“I mean, is there a stallion for every mare?”

Applejack laughed.  “More, or less, I s’pose.  Ain’t never thought much on it—”

Megan walked around Applejack to examine her work.  “So you still don’t have bachelor herds, I suppose.”

“’Fraid I don’ know what that is.”

“That’s probably just as well, but I’m wondering why things changed.  Why would ponies get married, and to only one other pony?”

Applejack frowned.  “Why, cuz you told us to, o’ course.”

Megan stopped walking and stared toward the airship in front of the house.  “Me?  No, I didn’t tell you that.”

Rarity, humming to herself, appeared over the bulwark of the airship’s gondola.  She smiled, waved, and then hopped to the ground and walked toward the barn.  “Oh my, Applejack,” she said as she approached, “you really should go in braids more often.  You look simply marvelous.  Megan, darling, you’re doing a wonderful job.  Why, I must continue to insist that you return with us to Equestria and be a stylist full-time.”

“Maybe I will.  Rarity, you remember that pony I told you about?  Heart Throb?”

“Yes—?”

“She won.”  Megan put her face in her hands and started chuckling.  “She won.  Damn it all to hell, she won and I lost, and I couldn’t be happier.”  She tipped her head back and laughed toward the sky.  “Rarity, damn you, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what, darling?”

“That she won?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

Megan threw up her hands.  “It doesn’t matter.  It just—marriage in Equestria, what’s it like?”

Rarity and Applejack frowned at each other.

“Well,” Rarity said, “the bride needs a dress, and it should be simply stunning.  White, of course, with a long train and perhaps some gold trim.  Some embroidered patterns can be quite chic.  Oh, the groom must look smashing as well:  a tuxedo is standard, but if he’s in the Royal Guard, he simply must wear his uniform.  And the bridesmaids need dresses, each one designed just to suit her.  The groom usually has a best mare, and she—”

Megan shook her head and punched her fist against her palm.  “That sounds like how we do it here.  Dammit, yes, that must have been Heart Throb.  She was reading all my books.”  She began pacing.  “I think maybe I can guess how this worked:  the arrangements we had back then made sense because Majesty had created mostly mares, but Heart Throb introduced the idea of monogamy, and it must have caught on over time as the population ratio evened out.  By marrying just one mare, stallions didn’t have to fight over harems—”

“Hold on just a minute,” said Applejack.  “What’s all this about things changin’ over time?  They got your Ordinances on a big stone in the middle o’ Canterlot, right under your statue, and it says on there—”

Megan stopped pacing, turned to Applejack, and scowled.  “What Ordinances?  What are you talking about?”

“Tarnation!  Your laws!  The laws you set down!”

“No.  No, I didn’t set down any laws.”

Rarity and Applejack looked at each other again, and now they looked worried.

“Surely you’re mistaken, darling,” Rarity said.  “You carved two stone tablets out of a mountain, and you inscribed them with your finger—”

“I think I’d remember if I did something like that,” Megan replied.  “I was too busy driving off dangerous monsters to take up sculpture.”








When Megan had first met them, the princess ponies had spent all their time arguing over which of them ought to be queen—though queen of what, Megan had never figured out.  Beyond the rim of the Jewel Desert, the princess ponies apparently lived alone in the Royal Paradise.  They had at last ended their perpetual bickering by agreeing to be queen in turns, and, since they had nothing to rule, this awkward solution presumably caused them few problems.

As it happened, when the princesses answered the call of Whizzer and Firefly to visit the little ponies in Paradise Estate, Tiffany, the only pegasus among them, was queen for the day.

High on her head, Tiffany wore a peaked lavender damsel hat topped with waving blue tinsel.  Both her coat and mane were of purest white, and the symbol on her hip was not a symbol at all, but a real sapphire embedded in a silver setting and sunk into her flesh.  The jewel flashed in the sunlight as if pouring forth blue fire.  Megan hadn’t known it the first time she’d met her, but Tiffany much resembled Queen Majesty.

At Tiffany’s request, all the little ponies gathered in front of Paradise Estate.  The princesses, without a word, walked among them and, with nudges and light champs, separated out all the pegasi, who at first stood together in a knot, but, after a sharp bark from Wind Whistler, finally organized into rows.

Tiffany set her star-tipped magic wand on the grass at her hooves and said to Megan, “I am this day the queen of the Royal Paradise, and my magic is in the ascendant.  The request you have made of us is difficult, but since I am queen, and since I am a pegasus pony, I am able, for this day only, to bestow upon the pegasi of Paradise Estate a small portion of the princess ponies’ magic.”  She looked to Wind Whistler.  “The rite may be dangerous, and I cannot guarantee your safety or the results.  Will you submit?”

“We will,” Wind Whistler answered.  “The pegasus ponies of Dream Valley are trained to face danger without flinching.”

Tiffany nodded and called, “Then let the bushwoolies stand forth.”

The six bushwoolies, with much shoving, whispering, and stumbling, waddled to the sides of their respective princess ponies and offered up their crowns.  The princesses placed their wands into the crowns’ centers, and a faint buzz filled the air, making the little ponies’ eyes twitch.

With arms crossed, Megan stood by the Estate’s front gateway and watched.  Near her, Applejack shuffled her hooves in the grass.

“Are they going to be okay, Megan?” Applejack whispered.  “If anything happens to Masquerade or Whizzer or Sweet Pop—”

Megan laid a hand on Applejack’s forelock.  “They’ll be okay.  Princess Tiffany won’t let anyone get hurt.”  Megan heard grass bend and sensed someone walking up behind her.  When she turned, she saw Galaxy stepping out through the gate.  Galaxy nuzzled Applejack, and then the two ponies stood together, not speaking, with their cheeks touching.  As always, Galaxy’s jeweled eyes were unreadable, but Megan could tell she was tense.

The princess ponies, holding in their mouths the wands freshly charged by the magic crowns, slowly circled the gathered pegasi.  Together, the princesses began to sway their heads, weaving the wands back and forth.  Light like liquid gold flowed into the wands’ tips and left shining patterns in the air.  The patterns hovered for a few seconds, but then broke into fragments like tiny stars and faded as they dropped to the grass.

Overhead, storm clouds gathered.  The clouds did not appear out of thin air, but flowed in a long, slender stream from somewhere in the northeast.  Directly above Dream Valley, the stream coagulated into a heavy, dark gray whirlpool.  The hairs on the back of Megan’s neck stood up:  she could feel static in the air, and the heady smell of the grass and flowers became more intense, as if it were about to rain.  The storm looked like the beginnings of a tornado.  Megan thought she heard a distant howl, as of some savage animal, but she might have imagined it, or it might have been only wind.

Applejack, eyes wide and worried, looked up at her.  Megan realized she still had her hand on Applejack’s head, and that she’d been clenching a fistful of Applejack’s hair.

“It’ll be okay,” Megan said again.  She said it quietly, but the meadow had grown silent, so her voice sounded loud and intrusive.  A few ponies glanced at her, and her cheeks warmed.

All together, the princess ponies dipped their heads with a sharp jerk and touched the ground.  Their wands flashed, and lightning cracked from the clouds.  Several ponies ducked, quivered, and covered their heads.

“Now!” Tiffany cried.  “Now, pegasus ponies!  Fly!  Fly to the clouds!  Take them!”

The pegasus ponies looked back and forth at one another, their brows furrowed.

“Now, or it will be too late!” Tiffany shouted.  “Gather the storm clouds and beat them back, or they shall destroy you!”

Unthinkingly, at this announcement of a threat, Megan let go of Applejack, balled her fists, and stepped forward.  But she could see nothing to fight.

Wind Whistler spread her wings first.  She leapt into the air, turned in a tight corkscrew, and headed for the center of the cloudy whirlpool, but Whizzer and Firefly outpaced her and disappeared into the storm.  Soon, the other pegasi followed.  The rest of the ponies, mouths hanging open, watched from the ground.

“Megan . . .”  Applejack’s voice cracked.

Megan clenched and unclenched her fists, rubbing her thumbs back and forth across her knuckles.  A minute passed with no sign of the pegasus ponies’ return.  From overhead, that howl came again, and this time it sounded nothing like wind.  For a moment, Firefly broke from the clouds:  she twisted her body and swung her limbs as she wrestled with a vague shape made of shadow.  Megan could see her for only a moment before the roiling clouds hid her again.

Megan’s right hand slid up to her collar.

Wind Whistler appeared then, dropping straight out of the clouds in a tailspin.  She corrected, twisted around, and shot upward.  The cloud reached out to meet her, and she kicked at it with her forelegs before she disappeared from view.

Megan found the chain around her neck.  She tugged it and pulled her locket out from under her shirt.

Squealing, Surprise rushed from the cloud in obvious terror, but the cloud shot out a tendril that enwrapped her like a hand and yanked her back in.  Heat lightning flashed back and forth like the steady pulses from a heavy gun.

The sound of wind faded, and everything in the meadow slowed down.  Megan became keenly aware of each blade of grass, of the position of every pony, of the intense smells of flowers and closely crowded horseflesh.  Her heart hammered loudly but steadily in her ears.  Pulling the locket, she snapped its chain.  Her arm trembled as she held it up, and her thumb found the catch—

“Stop, Megan!” Tiffany shouted.  “Stop, or you’ll ruin everything!”

“They’re going to die in that storm!” Megan shouted back.  “The wind, the lightning—”

“No!  They need to fight it!  If they don’t—”

Megan flicked the catch, the locket opened, and with a blinding flash, the Rainbow of Light flew out and arced into the air.

“Princesses!” Tiffany called.  Together, the princesses raised their wands and fired golden beams, which coated the Rainbow in a fiery glow.  The trapped Rainbow writhed like an enormous serpent.

Tiffany spat out her wand.  “Megan, please!  Call it back!  It’s not too late!”

“Tell me what’s happening in that storm first!” Megan shouted.

Tiffany looked back and forth across the meadow as if hunting for an answer.  “It’s . . . it’s like a butterfly, Megan.  Like a butterfly!  If the butterfly doesn’t struggle as it leaves its cocoon, its wings won’t finish growing and it will never learn to fly!”

Megan could feel the Rainbow of Light tugging against her heart.  She could feel it breaking free of the princess ponies’ magic.  A flash of purple and green appeared for a moment in the writhing golden snake.

Tiffany walked to Megan, reared, and laid her hooves on Megan’s shoulders.  “Please, Megan.  They must fight this battle themselves.  You cannot save them this time.”

As if it were mud washing off in a rainstorm, the gold surrounding the Rainbow bled away.  The Rainbow circled lazily in the air, awaiting its order.

Megan looked into Tiffany’s eyes and saw worry and fear, but a small smile touched Tiffany’s lips.

“Please, Megan.”

Megan met and held the princess pony’s gaze.  “Rainbow,” she said, “do your stuff.”

Tiffany dropped to all fours, squeezed her eyes shut, and dipped her nose to the grass.  “Then it’s over,” she hissed.  “The pegasus ponies could have had their new power, and Bumbleland could have at last been free!  Oh, Megan, what have you done?”

Like an arrow, the Rainbow shot upward.  All at once, with a white flash, the clouds burst apart and dissolved into thin air, revealing the pegasus ponies, all of whom were locked in absurd poses with hooves thrust out or teeth bared, as if they had been engaged in close combat.  Their wings were folded against their backs, and together they fell toward the earth.

Megan called to the Rainbow to catch them, but there was no need:  the pegasi opened their wings and flew together in a circle before landing on the grass.  As soon as they landed, they all began talking at once and jumping back and forth in excitement as the rest of the ponies clustered around them.

“That was so amazing,” Whizzer yammered, “I could hold the clouds in my hooves, and when I kicked, I made lightning, and I slammed that weird ghosty thing right in the face!”

“I could squeeze rain out of the clouds, and it was like I was swimming,” said Firefly.  “I could use this in a bunch of new stunts—”

“I was really surprised!” Surprise cried.

“Attention!” Wind Whistler barked.  The pegasi immediately ceased their chatter and gathered again in rows.  Wind Whistler turned and offered a small, controlled smile to Tiffany.  “Your Majesty, it appears we have acquired the ability for which we asked:  I believe, with some practice, we will be able to create any weather patterns we want.  This is indeed a bright day for Ponyland.”

With a tear running down one cheek, Tiffany said, “Then most of the spell was complete.  Thank Mister Sun for that, at least.  But there may be dark days ahead, little ponies, not for you, but for your grandchildren or your great grandchildren:  the power that locked Bumbleland in misery is free, and though it is weak now, in time it may gather strength unless your hearts remain—”

But none of the ponies were listening.  Galaxy whistled loudly, pushed past Megan, and marched up to Wind Whistler.  The twinkle-eyed earth ponies galloped to Galaxy’s side, and the twinkle-eyed pegasi broke rank to join her.

Galaxy bowed her head first to Tiffany and then to each of the other princess ponies.  “Your Majesty and Your Highnesses, thank you for this gift you’ve given to the pegasus ponies.  Now that they have it, and now that the earth ponies have the art of plant-growing and rock-farming, and now that the unicorn ponies have many new forms of magic, we shall take the portions of these powers that belong to us by right, and be on our way.”

Wind Whistler, eyes narrowed, stepped toward Galaxy, but the twinkle-eyed pegasi, faces blank and jeweled eyes glistening, gathered close and blocked Wind Whistler’s path.

“What is this?” Wind Whistler demanded.

“We would have left earlier,” Galaxy replied, “but Whizzer, Masquerade, and Sweet Pop didn’t wish to miss out on the chance to gain power over the storms.  We agreed to take our leave as soon as the ritual was ended.”  She turned toward Paradise Estate and called, “Applejack?  Have you made up your mind?  You know you are welcome to join us.”

Tears ran down Applejack’s face.  “Heavy hooves, Galaxy,” she said.

Megan called the Rainbow out of the sky and drew it back into her locket.  Tucking the locket into a pocket of her overalls, she walked toward Galaxy.  The twinkle-eyed ponies made way for her, but quickly closed in a circle again, shutting the rest of the ponies out.  “Galaxy,” Megan asked, “what’s going on?”

Galaxy smiled, stretched her neck, and nuzzled Megan’s cheek.  “Place your hand under my thigh, Megan.”

“Why?”

“Do it, please.”

Megan knelt beside Galaxy and reached a hand behind one rear leg.  Galaxy’s flesh was hot and soft, but Megan’s hand came upon something strange.

“Do you feel it?” Galaxy asked.

“Yes.  Some kind of growth?  A swollen gland?  It’s cold, and it feels like stone—”

“It is stone, Megan.”  Galaxy turned her head and nudged Megan’s cheek again.  “The jewels in my eyes are alive.  They’ve been growing, spreading their tendrils throughout my body.  I’ve known this for some time, and it’s happening to all of the twinkle-eyed ponies.  Who knows?  Perhaps someday our bodies will be nothing but living crystal.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, thank the stars.  But I think it likely that we will pass this, whatever it is, to our offspring.  We do not know what it will mean in the end, but if our children interbreed with those of the other ponies, it could mean that, many generations hence, all ponies will be made of stone.  We do not wish to see that happen, so we have decided to separate ourselves.”

Galaxy stepped away from Megan, and the twinkle-eyed ponies let her through.  She walked to Applejack’s side, turned, and called, “You all know of His Elevated Eminence, do you not?”

“Of course,” said Wind Whistler.  “He is a living mountain in the Purple Mountain Range, and he created Crunch the Rockdog.  Why—?”

“I have spoken to him,” said Galaxy.  “He is dying, so he cried out to me.”

A murmur passed like a wave through the crowd of ponies.

“In a cave at his base is the Heartstone, a heart-shaped jewel that contains his feelings.  He made Crunch to protect it, and he gave Crunch a piece of black onyx from the Volcano of Gloom so that the Rockdog might be invincible.  It was Megan, Buttons, and Wind Whistler who added to that onyx a fragment of the Heartstone so that Crunch might have feelings of love like his master’s.  A month ago, Crunch came here, asked me to ride on his back, and took me to the Purple Mountains.  There, His Elevated Eminence told me he wishes the ponies to take the Heartstone and carry it to a distant land to which it will lead us.  There, he said, we will be able to infuse the stone with our own feelings of love, and that love will spread across all of Ponyland.  We must do this soon, for if His Elevated Eminence dies before the Heartstone is removed, its magic will disappear and it will become a mere lump of rock.”

“But what happens to His Elevated Eminence when you take the stone?” Megan cried.  “When I had to take the stone last time, he turned mean and angry.”

Galaxy sighed.  “And he said he fears it will happen again, but he told me he would rather die in a fit of rage than die knowing he lost the chance to bring hope to all the world.”

“Then his wits are fading with his life,” said Wind Whistler with a deep frown on her face.  “Logic dictates that it is the goal of a good life to die well.  The first time he lost what he calls his feelings, he lost his reason also.  That is too precious a thing to willingly give up.”

“He is giving it up for our sake,” Galaxy answered, “and I agreed to take it.  The twinkle-eyed ponies must separate themselves; we are leaving Dream Valley, and we are taking the Heartstone to its new home.”  She turned and smiled at Applejack, whose eyes ran with tears.  “I hope, too, that we are also taking our savior.”

“You forgot something,” called a boisterous voice.

The little ponies parted, and, from their midst, the big brothers cantered forward.  “If you’re going to settle a new land,” shouted Slugger, “you’re going to need stallions!”  The rest of the big brothers laughed and whistled.

“Ah, yes,” said Galaxy with an amused grin.  “Silly of me to forget.  Barnacle, Chief, and Wigwam—are you ready to go?”

Out of the knot of big brother ponies walked a blue stallion with an orange sailboat on his hip, a white stallion in a red fireman’s hat, and an orange stallion wearing a headdress full of yellow feathers.  They nodded to Galaxy.

Tex tugged on his neckerchief and clapped Wigwam on the shoulder.  “I’m gonna miss playin’ with you, pardner.  You promise t’ be good to your twinkle-eyed mares, y’hear?”

In a slow and solemn voice, Wigwam answered, “And you be good to your mares also.  Take care of Truly.”

“I will, and if you can maybe come back sometime for a visit, I’ll introduce you to the foals.”

Wigwam smiled.  “Are you still convinced you will have two?”

“Of course.  Slugger can’t beat me at anything.”  Tex shook his head.  “I envy you.  You’re travelin’ again.”

“Yes,” Wigwam said with a nod, “but I think, over the past several months, I have realized that the goal of traveling is to find a place to put down roots, a place to become part of the land.  I have enjoyed our adventures, but I now know that adventures have an end.  This is your home, Tex, and, if all goes well, soon we will find ours.”

A few tears appeared in the corners of Tex’s eyes.  “Still, toastin’ marshmallows, playin’ Cowboys and Indians—they won’t be the same without you.”

“Of course they won’t.  They will be better, for you will do those things with your children instead.  Let us make a pact, friend:  we will not be sires merely.  We will be true fathers to our foals.”

“Blood brother oath,” said Tex.  “Just like when we were little.”

Each of them nipped a patch of skin off his front right fetlock.  They raised their forelegs and intertwined them, pressing the wounds together.

“Gross!” cried Fizzy.  “What is it with boys and blood?”

Megan laid a hand on Galaxy’s neck.  “But, Galaxy, you’re supposed to be princess of the unicorns.”

“Ah yes,” said Galaxy, “that.  I have already appointed my successor.”  She nodded to the group of big brothers and said, “Slugger, think you’re up to the job?  You’re a father now, so can you be a leader?”

“I’m going to do my best,” Slugger replied.  “Who knows?  Maybe I’ll knock it out of the park.”  He smiled at Megan.  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, Megan, about how I need to act like a father.  Well, I’ve decided you were right, and I’m gonna give it my level best.”

“If you just can’t understand unicorn ways,” said Galaxy, “you ask Buttons, and I’m sure she can help.”

“Oh, I already go to Buttons for everything,” he answered with a wide grin.  “I don’t call her my boss mare for nothing.”

Megan stared at Slugger.  “Surely you don’t mean—”

“That is right,” said Galaxy.  “The unicorns now have a king.  Twinkle-eyed ponies, are we ready to go?”

The twinkle-eyed ponies nodded and turned around to face the woods.

“Hold it,” said Wind Whistler, spreading her wings, leaping into the air, and landing in front of Galaxy again.  “Three of your ponies are from my ranks.  If they leave in this manner, they are deserters.”

“They were twinkle-eyed ponies before they were your toy soldiers,” Galaxy answered.  “And twinkle-eyed ponies stick together.  You don’t understand what we went through.”

“I do,” Wind Whistler said.  “I know.”  She nodded toward Fizzy.  “When we accidentally released the frazzits in the Dell Dwellers’ caves, I lived Fizzy’s life.  I experienced everything you experienced in the mines of the Jewel Wizard, but that doesn’t—”

“And yet you cannot sympathize,” Galaxy said.  “That was always your problem, Wind Whistler:  you simply don’t know how to sympathize.”  She looked around at the rest of the ponies before adding, “You can go ahead and build your little empire here.  We’ll build our own somewhere else.”

Wind Whistler’s mouth worked as if she were trying to formulate words, but she made no further sound.

The twinkle-eyed ponies, one by one, walked to Applejack.  Each one dipped her head to the grass in thanks and then lightly rubbed a nose against her cheek.

“We want you to come,” Gingerbread said.

“It won’t be quite right without you,” said Sweet Pop.

“We could have adventures and go really fast and now we can even move clouds and make rain, or, well, I can and Sweet Pop and Masquerade can, and isn’t that great?” blurted Whizzer.

Fizzy giggled.  “We could have all kinds of fun!”

Speedy said, “We could skate together—if you’re not too clumsy, of course!”

“Whatever you choose,” said Masquerade, “know that you will always be special to us.”

Applejack, eyes glistening, looked around at all of them.  She almost choked as she said, “Oh, applesauce.  I wish we could all be together forever, but . . . I can’t.  I just don’t want to run out on Tex, and he has to stay for Truly and the foals.”

“You taught me to be myself again,” said Galaxy.  “The twinkle-eyed ponies look to me, but I look to you.  If you come with us, we shall make you our queen.”

Applejack chuckled.  “No, Galaxy.  I just want to grow apple trees, harvest their produce, and enjoy the fruits of my labor.  That’s what Majesty made me for, and that’s what I intend to do.”

“Maybe we’ll visit,” Whizzer said.  “I can fly really, really fast, so even though our new home will probably be really far away, I bet I can come see you.”

“You’ll be welcome if you do,” Applejack replied.  “I’m going to take up baking, so if you come back, you’ll get apple pie.”

The ground shook, and the ponies gasped when the trees of the wood rustled and creaked as if a heavy wind were pushing them.  All except the twinkle-eyed ponies shrank back when an enormous bulldog, his thickly muscled body made of living granite, walked out of the forest and into the meadow.  His muscles were round but rough like windswept boulders, and on his ten-foot mouth sat a toothy grin.  When he saw the ponies, the grin widened even further and he bowed.  With each movement came a sound like that of brick dragging across concrete.

“We must go!” cried Galaxy.  “Twinkle-eyed ponies, rally to me:  it is time to seek freedom once more!”  Together, the twinkle-eyed ponies, with their three big brothers trailing behind, gathered around Crunch the Rockdog.  Crunch lowered his head so each of the ponies could give him an affectionate nudge, and then he raised a heavy stone paw toward Megan.  She, numbed and bewildered by all that had just passed, raised a hand in reply.  Then Crunch, surrounded by his ponies, turned and disappeared amongst the trees.

In the meadow, all was silent for several minutes.

“But I can sympathize,” Wind Whistler murmured.  “I really can.”

Tiffany heaved a deep sigh and gazed up into the empty sky where the storm had earlier gathered.  “I see,” she said, “that it has already begun.”








“Perhaps,” Rarity suggested, “you didn’t carve the tablets yourself, but had somepony else do it for you?”

“I don’t remember any tablets,” Megan answered.

“Well, you wrote the laws down on parchment, then.  After you left, somepony must have—”

“I didn’t write anything down.  Never even crossed my mind.”

Rarity paused, and her brow furrowed.  “But whatever can it mean?  You are supposed to be Magog the Mighty.  You were not just a warrior, but a judge.  Why, if you didn’t lay down the Ordinances, then whoever did?  And if the laws aren’t your laws, then—”

Megan stared into the blue sky and twisted her mouth back and forth.  “You’d already figured out that I’m not everything your legends say.”

“Oats an’ apples, this is different,” said Applejack.  “This ain’t about whether you wore bardin’ an’ had a spear, or whether you stood fifty hands high.  None o’ that really matters, but this is basic stuff.  This is about friendship an’ marriage an’ treatin’ parents right an’ bein’ honest.  We’re s’posed to do all those things because they’re your laws.  If they ain’t your laws—”

“So what?”  Megan turned back to the ponies and threw up her hands.  “So what if they’re not my laws?”

“Well,” said Applejack as she toed the ground, “why follow ’em, then?”

“How should I know?  Maybe they’re right.  Maybe they’re good.  Maybe they work.  I don’t see any reason you should follow a batch of rules just because you think I’m the one who gave them to you.  Do these Ordinances of yours work?  Are they good?”

Rarity and Applejack exchanged looks again.  Rarity raised a hoof as if to toy with her mane, but only touched air, as her usually full hair now lay flat against her neck.  “Well, I am certainly inclined to think so, for the most part.”

“Then there you go.”  Megan snatched up her hoof knife, pinched one of Applejack’s fetlocks to raise her leg, and began picking out her hoof.  “I did what I could for the ponies.  I didn’t have time to go writing down laws, and I was a kid, anyway.  I wouldn’t have known what to write.  I still wouldn’t.”  She glanced up at Rarity.  “But I did teach them some things.  Who knows?  Maybe somebody wrote some of it down.  I guess somebody could have.  So maybe you’re right, in a way:  maybe a lot of what I said is mixed into these Ordinances of yours.”

Megan felt some tension go out of Applejack’s leg.  “Well,” Applejack said, “then they really are your laws, I reckon.”

“They can’t all be mine.  I already told you I didn’t set down the marriage thing.”

Applejack’s leg stiffened again, but Megan ignored it and continued to pick.  Applejack’s hooves weren't in quite the good condition Rarity’s had been in.

“I would like to know who carved your tablets,” Megan said, “but I doubt I could find out.  My guess is, ponies added to the Ordinances over time, and someone only carved them into stone after a long while.”

“Your teaching could still be the basis of the laws, then,” said Rarity.

“Sure, if you like, though I don’t know why that matters to you.  And, Applejack, let me tell you something:  I know their behavior might seem strange to you now, but the ponies I knew were good ponies.  And that first Applejack might have been the best of them.  She did more than I ever did.  She even suffered terribly to save the twinkle-eyed pones from an evil wizard.”

“You mentioned them twinkle-toed ponies before,” said Applejack, “but who were they?”

“Good friends of mine.  I hated to see them go.”  Megan paused a moment and tapped the pick against Applejack’s heel.  “I wish I could say what happened to them.  They left us to settle a new home because their bodies were turning to crystal, but—”

She sensed something passing between the ponies, so she looked up from Applejack’s hoof.  Rarity and Applejack were looking at each other again, and their eyes and mouths were slowly widening into grins.  “The Crystal Empire!” they both shouted at once.

Megan looked back and forth between them.  “The what?”

“Oh, it’s a marvelous place!” Rarity cried.  “Everything is crystal, and the crystal ponies are the most beautiful and glamorous ponies in all of Equestria!”

Megan blinked.  “Really?  Crystal ponies?  You mean, made out of crystal?”

“Yes, darling, of course!  And with their Crystal Heart, they spread love and hope over all the land.”

Returning to Applejack’s hoof, Megan shook her head.  “Well, I’ll be damned.  They did it.  Congratulations, Applejack:  your ancestress founded an empire.  Indirectly, at least.  You asked me about it before, and I didn’t want to say, but now I think I’d better tell you.”

Applejack chuckled.  “Well, don’t that beat all?”

Rarity laughed as well, and Megan soon joined in, but after the laughter died down, as she continued working on Applejack’s hooves, Megan told the story of the first Applejack and of how she saved the twinkle-eyed ponies.
> 7. Megan Grooms Princess Twilight Sparkle
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Mighty Demon Slayer Grooms Some Ponies

by D. G. D. Davidson


VII. Megan Grooms Princess Twilight Sparkle

Megan held her father’s hand as she stared down at Blackie.  She saw blood, and a jagged shard of bone stuck out of the horse’s front right leg, right below the knee.  Blackie shivered and shook as if cold.  Molly was bawling, but she wasn’t hurt.

With his free hand, Megan’s father rubbed the reddish stubble on his long, lean jaw.  “He’s well past his prime,” he said in his slow, quiet, and gentle voice—that same voice that lulled Megan to sleep every night when he sat on the corner of her bed and read to her from the Grimms or Bullfinch or Hamilton or Swift or any of the other writers both she and he loved.  “Ain’t much help for it, I reckon.”

“Should we call the vet?” Megan asked.

“It’d take him a good hour to get out here, at least.  Blackie’s in shock, Megan, and even if the vet gave him an injection, his heart couldn’t carry it around his body for him.  It wouldn’t do no good.”  He slung the Winchester rifle off his shoulder.  “No, there’s just one way.”

He passed the gun to Megan.

She took the rifle in her small hands and stared down at it for almost a minute.  Then she gazed up at him.  “Why me, Papa?”

“Because,” he answered.  He didn’t look at her, but instead kept staring at the injured horse.  Still, she thought she saw a tear in the corner of his eye, and that frightened her:  her father never cried.  “Because,” he repeated, “you have to.  You have to be able to do this.  When somethin’ ain’t right, when somethin’ has gone bad, you gotta put it down.  You, Megan, have to do it.  Someday, you’ll understand why.”

With slow, faltering steps, Megan walked toward Blackie.  Molly’s bawling grew louder.

“Hush now,” her father said.  “Just hush now.  Megan’s gonna make the pain go away.”

Blackie’s labored breathing filled Megan’s ears, overwhelming even the sound of Molly’s sobs.  Megan loved horses and always had, and it was her dream to run a horse ranch of her own someday, but horses were no longer just horses to her:  she had been to Ponyland, and she knew the ponies might come back for her at any time.

She had told nobody about it except her brother and sister.  Molly had heard the story with rapt attention and an expression of awe; Danny had called it “junk,” but had listened anyway.  Telling them had eased the nightmares:  when Megan closed her eyes at night, Tirek still roared in rage or screamed in desperation and pain, but he was quieter now.

After she had slain Tirek, the ponies had gathered in front of Dream Castle and accepted her as one of their own.  She had knelt in the grass as, one by one, the little ponies had touched her nose with their noses, snorted in sharp puffs, and memorized her scent.  For over an hour, they had breathed on her.

Applejack, while walking up to Megan, had tripped over her own hooves and earned a ripple of laughter from the rest of the ponies.  Heart Throb had not only taken Megan’s scent, but had also given her a homemade Valentine’s Day card.  Whizzer had not been content merely to sniff her nose, but, jabbering all the while, had snuffled her in several places like an over-eager dog.  Surprise, instead of standing in line with the others, had sniffed her by sneaking up behind her.  Wind Whistler, after taking a few quick snorts of her face, had made an indecipherable comment about the chemical makeup of her pheromones.  Sundance had not only sniffed her, but had also given her a kiss.  Gusty, with one puff from her nostrils, had knocked Megan over with a blast of air, and then had tried to utter an apology while laughing uncontrollably.

After sniffing Megan’s nose, Galaxy, with her dead-looking jeweled eyes glimmering in the moonlight, had rubbed Megan’s cheek with her muzzle and whispered terrible vows of allegiance on behalf of the twinkle-eyed ponies—the same vows she had once sworn to Queen Majesty.

After Megan had been through all that, could she kill a horse?

Her hands trembled on the gun as she looked down at Blackie.  The horse lay on a patch of hard, sunbaked earth.  His foam-flecked lips were pulled back from his teeth.  Once or twice, he tried to roll from his side and return to his feet, but he tumbled back to the ground.  His black eyes rolled, showing the whites.

“Imagine two lines,” her father said calmly, “running from each ear to the opposite eye, forming an ‘X.’  You shoot straight at the center of that ‘X,’ and you won’t cause him no more pain.  He’ll go suddenly, just like that.  Horses’ eyes are sensitive, so, after you do it, touch his eye.  If there’s anything left in ’im, he’ll feel it in his eye.”

Megan swallowed.

“Hurry up now, Megan,” her father said.  “He’s hurtin’.”

She cocked the gun and put it to her shoulder.  Much to her surprise, Blackie raised his head.  His ears, laid back a moment before, now pricked forward.  He looked right at her, and he looked strangely calm.

She swallowed once more.

Then she squeezed the trigger.








With her shoes off, Molly sat on the bank of the creek and kicked her feet through the cool water.  Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy stood at her shoulder.  Rainbow looked uncomfortable; she had said that she wanted to throw herself down at the base of a tree and lounge around until Megan finished grooming the others, but Molly had warned her that she’d get dirt in her coat.  So she stood instead, but made it plain that standing around made her grumpy.  Fluttershy didn’t appear to mind as much, but hung her head and offered Molly occasional timid smiles.

They had been deep in conversation when Twilight Sparkle had arrived, told them that Megan was nearly finished with Applejack, and promptly flown off again.  Still, they knew they had a few minutes to linger before it was actually time to go.

“I really am sorry,” Molly said.  “I should have told you the truth.”

“It’s okay,” Fluttershy whispered.  “I understand why you said what you did.”

Molly put her arms around Fluttershy’s neck and pressed a cheek to hers before flopping onto her back and kicking her legs vigorously.  “It’s been rough on sis, you know.”

“Grooming us?” Rainbow asked.  “I figured, after I talked to her, that she’d be okay, but then she went off again—”

Molly, lying on the ground, rolled her head back and forth.  “Oh no, she loves grooming horses.  Sometimes I think working the ranch is the only thing keeping her together.  It’s everything else that’s rough on her.”  Molly touched a hand to her chest.  “She’s got something, all tight and twisted and bottled up, right here.  Right where she wears that locket she never takes off.  She used to take it off, you know.  Sometimes the ponies wore it.  Sometimes, when she came to our world with it on, she put it on the nightstand and didn’t worry about it.  But it’s always on now, even when she takes a bath.  It’s small and light, but she drags it with her like a big ol’ chain.”

“Why?” Rainbow asked.

Molly spread her arms out to either side and stared up through the tree branches at the blue sky.  “She did something.  Something bad.  She thinks I don’t know anything about it, but I know.”

“What did she do?” Rainbow asked.

Molly shook her head again.  “That’s for her to tell.”








Pinkie Pie slowed to a canter as she crested a low rise at the end of the driveway.  When she reached the Williams family mailbox, she stopped, and Danny climbed from her back.  With one hand on her withers and the other shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, he gazed across the county road; the land on the other side belonged to the nearest neighbors, who ran mustangs on their ranch.  Danny could see a few horses nibbling the yellowing grass and swishing their tails to ward off flies.

He didn’t speak, and, to his surprise, neither did Pinkie.  She seemed uncharacteristically pensive.

“I kinda sorta know almost how you feel even though I don’t know what you’re fighting about,” she said at last.  “I’ve sometimes kinda sorta argued with my family, too.”

Danny dropped his hands to his sides and looked down at her.  She kept her eyes on the horses across the road.  She didn’t bounce or skip, but she shuffled her hooves a little, as if it were hard to hold still.

“They run a rock farm,” Pinkie said.  “It’s super-duper hard work, and it can be real, real dangerous and scary, so when I was little, there was never any talking or laughing or playing while we harvested the rocks.  But once I got my cutie mark, I couldn’t be as serious as Mom and Dad wanted.  I just wanted to jump and roll and dance, and they said I might hurt myself or my sisters.”

She bounced a couple of times, but then held still again.  “Most ponies get their rocks from the Crystal Empire now, so lots of rock farmers are sad and lonely, and rock farms are closing.  My parents were gonna lose their farm, so I decided to be serious so I could help.  I really thought I could do it:  I’d stared at drying paint for hours, and I’d once even tried to give up seeing Ponyacci, my favorite clown, so somepony sad could see him and smile and laugh and cheer up.  I thought I could be serious if it would help somepony, especially Mom and Dad and the sisters.”

“How did it work out?” Danny asked.

She lowered her head and shook it.  “It didn’t.  I undecorated my room and painted it brown, and I even wore glasses, but I still couldn’t be serious.  But I did put on a rock concert to raise bits and save the farm and remind everypony how great rocks are!”

“There,” said Danny.  “In the end, you didn’t really have to be serious anyway, did you?”

She looked up at him with wide eyes and a broad smile, but the smile appeared strained.  “It worked for a little while, but the money from the concert ran out, and ponies went back to getting their rocks from the Crystal Empire, since they’re just so sparkly-sparklerrific, and granite and shale aren’t so sparklerrific.  The concert was the biggest, bestest, most wonderfulest party I’ve ever made, and ponies came from all over Equestria to hear Coldhay and Nine Inch Tails and all the other bands we had, and they ate our delicious apple rock cakes, and I was so happy I could do that for my family . . . but they lost the farm anyway.”

She lowered her haunches to the ground and looked across the road again.  “I couldn’t be serious then,” she said, “but I get more bits now for my ambassador-thingy than I ever got from working at Sugarcube Corner or from throwing parties.  I can send them some.”  She paused a moment and added, “So even if I couldn’t be serious for that, I gotta be super serious for this.”

Danny sat down beside her.  A few days after the ambassadors had first arrived, Danny had got to talking with Pinkie.  Time had slipped away as they’d chattered for hours, and she had decided to stay even after the others had returned home.  Danny and Pinkie had sat in the barn and talked long into the night, mostly about inconsequential things, but they had laughed and whispered and giggled, and Danny had felt as if he were sharing secrets and catching up on old times with a dear friend who had finally returned after a long absence.  He had told Pinkie all about Surprise, and she had told him many things about Equestria and her friends and the proper way to bake cupcakes.  Sometime after midnight, he had dozed off on a pile of hay, and when he had awakened early in the morning, she had still been there, slumbering beside him.

He had found in her the same silliness he had once known in Surprise, but he had found, too, that same tendency, every once in a while, to turn quiet and thoughtful. 

Pinkie looked at him now, and, once again, her smile appeared strained.  “I think you help,” she said.  “If you’re there, I think maybe I can be just a little itty bitty tiny bit more serious.”

“I’ll be there,” he whispered.  “You can bet on it.”

Then, to his own surprise, he leaned over and kissed her.








After she finished picking and rasping Applejack’s hooves, Megan used sandpaper to take off the orange hoof polish.  Then she painted on black while trying to ignore Rarity’s wincing.

“Really, darling, black can be quite striking when used correctly, and I suppose I don’t much mind it on my own hooves, but Applejack is an autumn.  She needs warm colors.”

“I already told you,” said Megan, “black is the only color I have.  You should have had Rainbow Dash and Applejack get their hooves trimmed and painted before you came if you wanted everyone’s hooves to match her coat.”

“That is the fashion, at least for mares, but of course you know it’s impossible to coax Rainbow Dash into a hooficure.”

“Not impossible,” answered Megan with a grin.

“Aw, I was busy,” said Applejack.  “I can’t just drop ever’thing an’ run off to the spa whenever Rarity has the inclination.”

“But, darling, we were preparing to be ambassadors.  Surely that deserves some extra preparation.”  Rarity again tried to toss her mane, and she again missed, since her mane no longer had any body to it.

“Well, shoot,” said Applejack, “that’s what we’re doin’ now, ain’t it?”

“I’m finished,” said Megan as she stood straight, arched her back, and grimaced.  “Frankly, Applejack, since you two are the hard-working physical types, you and Rainbow Dash should be more concerned about the condition of your hooves, not less.”

Applejack chuckled.  “Physical maybe, but hard-workin’ Rainbow ain’t.”

“Applejack!” cried Rarity.  “That’s simply not true.  Rainbow Dash just likes to . . . um . . . keep her strength up.  Well, if we’re all finished here—”

“Your princess,” Megan said as she looked around the yard.  “I still need to groom your princess, so where is she?”

“I’m here!  I’m here!” Twilight Sparkle shouted as, flying fast and hard, she zoomed in over the barn.  With her broad wings spread wide, she blotted out the sun for a moment as she banked in a wide circle.  She dipped, folded her wings, skidded into the yard, tripped over her hooves, and planted her face in the ground with a loud thud.

Looking woozy, she fell back on her haunches.  “Ouch!  Ooh, sorry, I’m still not great on the landings—”

“It certainly ruins the effect,” said Megan.  “Come on, Your Highness.  It’s time.”

Twilight, rubbing dirt and grass from her face, looked at Megan for a moment before swallowing loudly.  Mouth set, she climbed to her hooves and walked cautiously forward.  Her demeanor so resembled that of a nervous horse that, without thinking, Megan held out the back of her hand to let Twilight take her scent.

To her surprise, Twilight did indeed sniff her hand in a series of sharp puffs, just as any horse might do.

“I found Rainbow and Fluttershy,” Twilight said.  “They were down by the creek, and Moloch was with them.  They should be back in a few minutes.”

“Good.  That’s good,” said Megan.  “Applejack, Rarity, would you excuse us?  I need to work, and I think the princess and I need to talk.”

Rarity and Applejack frowned at each other.  “Well,” Rarity said, “if you must—”

“It’s okay, Rarity,” Twilight said.  “I think Magog is right.”

Hesitantly, with many glances over their shoulders, Rarity and Applejack walked around the barn.  Megan watched them until they were out of earshot, and then she turned to Twilight and, hands on hips, said, “Out with it.  Ever since Molly did up Fluttershy, you’ve acted like I have the plague.”

Twilight stared at the ground and pawed with a hoof.  After a minute, she asked, “Who are you?” 

“Megan Williams, age eighteen.  I’m graduating high school in a month and going to OSU to major in Agribusiness.  I help my mom raise prize-winning livestock, I’m a licensed welder, I’ve got several blue ribbons in pistol, rifle, and roping competitions, and I built that deck over there on the house.  Why do you ask?”

“Are you Magog the Mighty?”

“No.”

Both were silent for a minute.

Megan took up the curry brush, but when she touched it to Twilight’s shoulder, the muscles under the skin twitched, and her wings snapped open.

Megan grunted.  “You’re going to have to trust me if I’m going to do this.”

Twilight closed her eyes, nodded, and, with a noticeable wince, folded her wings.  “I’m still getting used to these.  It’s easier than it used to be, but they still unfold on their own sometimes.  Especially at night.”

Megan began currying Twilight’s neck.  “What’s your story, Your Highness?  Back in Dream Valley, I knew a Princess Sparkle, and I knew a Twilight, but neither of them looked like you.  What are you?”

“An alicorn.”

“Which is?”

“A combination of all three tribes.”

“Rarity and Applejack both mentioned tribes.  What exactly are they?”

Twilight pulled away.  “You are supposed to be the one who established the tribes.  The pegasi, the unicorns, the earth ponies—”

“Okay, okay, don’t get your tack twisted.  Yes, we had those in Dream Valley, and yes, I split them into groups, but we didn’t call them tribes.  So your little legend is true, okay?”

Twilight appeared to calm down, and she drew close again.  “The word tribe is sort of traditional.  We don’t live separately anymore like they used to.  You can say ‘breed’ instead.  It means the same thing.”

Megan grunted.

Twilight smiled and added, “Until I met you, I didn’t really think I cared about all the legends.  I didn’t believe most of them anyway.”

Megan moved the brush down Twilight’s neck, but noticed that Twilight’s muscles clenched in a spasm whenever the brush neared her shoulders.  “You mentioned that I ruined your paper.”

“You did.  Most ponies think the legends of Magog are real history, but there are two schools of thought on the subject.”

“Which is yours?”

“I learned at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.  Most of the professors there accept the ancient records, and everypony who graduates has to write a commentary on two texts—the Ordinances, which you’re supposed to have written, and the Aponycalypse of Starswirl the Bearded, which predicts your return.  My commentary was a little controversial because, instead of following my professors, I went with a lot of the views of the Timekeepers’ Gymnasium.”

“What do they say?”

“That you didn’t exist.”

“Ah.”

“Both schools are wrong,” Twilight said with a sigh.  “I tried to find a middle course.  I interpreted a lot as symbolic instead of historical, so I didn’t say the stories were false, but I didn’t say they really happened, either.  Most of my guesses were wrong.  We’re all wrong:  it happened, just not like we thought.”

Megan tried to curry near one of Twilight’s wings, but the wing snapped open and flapped, apparently of its own accord.  Megan skipped it and curried her back instead.  Twilight sighed, and her back depressed slightly under the brush.

“You say you went to a school for unicorns,” said Megan, “but you also say you’re not a unicorn.”

“I am a unicorn.  I used to be just a unicorn, but now I’m a pegasus and an earth pony, too.”  Her wings drooped to the ground, and she gazed down at them with a wistful expression.  “The change wasn’t easy—”

Megan took that as an invitation to try brushing Twilight’s shoulder, but the muscles again twitched and shuddered at her touch, so she moved back up to her withers.  “What exactly happened to you?”

“I studied friendship, and, from what I learned, I made my own magic.”

“That made you one of these—?”

“Alicorns.  Yes.”

“Are there a lot of you?”

“There are five now, including me.  Princess Celestia and Princess Luna were the first ones.  Princess Cadance was a pegasus who became an alicorn after she defeated a sorceress with her love and tolerance—”

Megan’s hand slipped.

“Ouch!” Twilight cried as the curry brush bumped her wing.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” said Megan, wiping her brow.  “Just lost my grip for a moment.  Go on.”

“Oh.  Well, Princess Cadance just had a baby, Princess Skyla, who was born as an alicorn.  That hasn’t happened before . . . what are you doing?”

Megan had put down the brush, and she now knelt by Twilight’s left side.  Gently, she probed at the muscles along Twilight’s wing.  As she did, Twilight winced.

“It’s no wonder you have trouble with these,” Megan said.  “You’re all seized up.”

“What do you mean?”

Megan let go of the wing, took a few steps back, and gazed at Twilight while rubbing her chin.  “The same thing could happen to the pegasus ponies back in Dream Valley.  Do you . . . ?  No, I suspect I know the answer—”

Twilight shook her head.  “You lost me.”

“This question is going to sound funny.  Do your friends ever rub you down with their teeth?”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what I thought.”  Megan pulled back her duster and stuck her thumbs in her belt as she walked around Twilight, examining her.  “Here on Earth, my horses . . . I hope it doesn’t bother you to be compared to a horse—”

“I am a horse.”

“Okay, fine.  Horses around here stay on good terms by scratching one another’s itches, rubbing out one another’s muscles, that kind of thing.  The ponies I knew in Dream Valley acted more-or-less the same way:  they always had their mouths on each other.  But Applejack gave me the impression that things are different in your Equestria.”

Twilight laughed, but her laugh sounded nervous.  “Well, we do take trips to the spa together.  Of course, I never went as often as Rarity or Fluttershy, because, at least when I was a student, I couldn’t afford it on my stipend . . . but we sometimes give each other facials, or—”

“But no rubdowns.”

“Not like what you’re talking about, no.”

One at a time, Megan cracked each of her knuckles.  “I imagine it’s partly because your wings are new, but all the muscles in there are too tight.  That’s probably why you have trouble keeping them folded:  they’re cramping up, so they want to straighten out.  The pegasus ponies I knew could have the same problem, but they always rubbed each other’s muscles after any long flights.  Or sometimes I did it.”

“With your teeth?”

“No, with my hands.  I do a lot of equine massage.  I’m good at it.”  She laid a hand against Twilight’s left shoulder.  Twilight winced, and the skin twitched again.  “It’d be best, of course, if I could give you a full-body massage, but I don’t think we have time for that.”

Twilight lowered her head and blushed.

“I’m going to loosen up your wings and shoulders.”  Megan moved her hands up to the left side of Twilight’s neck and, with her fingertips, rubbed in circles just under the poll.

After a moment, Twilight’s eyelids drooped.  Megan rubbed the bases of her ears and then gently pressed down to stretch Twilight’s topline.

After that, she knelt on the ground and, holding her hands in loose fists, gently punched Twilight’s left triceps, making the heavy muscles jiggle.

Twilight winced, and her wings snapped open and flapped frantically, but, after a minute, they dropped to the ground again.  Apparently unaware that she was doing it, Twilight licked her lips and made chewing motions, just as Megan’s horse T.J. did when he relaxed under a grooming or a massage.

Megan had often massaged T.J. on late evenings.  While a cool breeze blew into his stall, she would slowly work her hands over his muscles as he’d grunt and sigh and, drooling, chew on his halter rope.  Sometimes he would turn his head and watch her as she worked, with his dark eyes, full of mystery and apparent sadness, shimmering in the dim light.  Then the turmoil in her heart would, for a short time, be still:  she could forget her past, and she could focus simply on what she was doing.

But massaging Twilight Sparkle did not let her forget her past.  It reminded her of the one time when Wind Whistler had not merely permitted, but had asked Megan to touch her, and then Megan thought of everything that happened after that, and her memories brought with them a pang of guilt, hot and sharp like a fire-blackened knife. 

Megan shook her head to drive out unwanted thoughts.  “With these wings, you’ve basically got two sets of forelimbs with two sets of muscle groups,” she said.  “The muscles for your wings run through an opening between the muscles at your shoulders.”  She moved her hands up to Twilight’s shoulder and began a cross-fiber massage, slowly kneading up and down.  “You have an extra set of pectorals separated from your regular ones by a membrane.  The pecs for your wings are deeper than those for your forelegs, so they attach more firmly to your breastbone.”

Twilight laughed.  “Rainbow Dash has been making me work hard to strengthen my wings.  It’s really developed my chest, and for a while I was afraid I was starting to look like a stallion.”

“With all those extra muscles, you probably are bulkier in the front than you used to be, but I wouldn’t worry about it.  Rainbow has the same muscles, and she doesn’t look like a stallion, does she?”

“She does a little bit.”

“Oh.  Well, never mind.  Still, I think everyone worries when his body changes:  don’t tell him I said this, but when Danny was about ten or so and started developing more muscle in his chest, he was afraid he was starting to look like a girl.”

“Like a girl?  But that doesn’t make any—oh, wait, I remember.  Yes, I suppose I can understand that.”

Standing at Twilight’s shoulder, Megan bent down, reached around, and began massaging Twilight’s chest.  The upper pectorals were soft, but she could feel the rock-hard wing pectorals underneath.  She bore down as hard as she could, and Twilight scrunched up her face.  Megan continued to push until she felt a release, and Twilight sighed.  Twilight’s ears swung outward, and her eyelids lowered again.

“Anyway,” said Megan, “don’t let Rainbow make you do nothing but strength training.  You’ve got to stretch.  If your muscles get overworked, the membrane separating the pectorals for your wings from the pectorals for your forelegs can get inflamed.”

“The doctor said the same thing,” Twilight mumbled as she resumed licking and chewing.

“You might consider adding a little extra butter or egg to your diet.  Your body needs oil to keep that membrane lubricated.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I learned it from the original pegasus ponies.  Mostly from . . .”

Megan paused, bit her lower lip, trembled, and then silently walked around to Twilight’s right side to repeat the treatment.

After that, keeping her wrist supple and her hand loose, she pounded on Twilight’s neck for a while.

“You know,” said Twilight, “whenever I went to the spa with my friends, I always skipped the massage.”

“Why?”

“It made me uncomfortable.”

Megan paused.  A lump formed in her throat, but she swallowed it down and managed a thin smile.  “That reminds me of . . . no, never mind.  Just to warn you, this is going to hurt.”

“What?”

Megan wedged the fingertips of her right hand between Twilight’s neck and right shoulder, pressing until her hand was half-buried in the flesh.  Twilight squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, but after a few seconds, she relaxed and her head lowered.  Megan could feel the tight spots loosen up, so she pulled her hand out.  Then she moved a little lower and shoved her hand in again.  After that, she did the same thing on the other side.

When that was finished, Megan stood at Twilight’s left shoulder, bent down, and put her hands against Twilight’s sternum, just behind her forelegs.  She pressed upward and slid her hands back, forcing Twilight to lift her withers and stretch the muscles around her spine.  Twilight licked her lips.

Megan released the pressure, letting Twilight relax for a moment, and then pressed again.  “So, are all of you alicorns princesses?”

Twilight started, as if waking from a nap.  “Hm?  Oh.  Well, becoming an alicorn makes a pony a princess.  It shows that she’s learned what she needs to know to rule.  At least that’s what Princess Celestia says.  I’m not too sure about running a kingdom myself—”

“What kingdom do you run?”

“None, yet.  Maybe I’ll be a princess for a long time before I get a kingdom.  Who knows?”  Megan felt Twilight’s shoulders slump.  “I think I can get used to the pegasus wings and the earth pony heart, but I’m not too sure about the kingdom thing.  Even after Princess Cadance helped me with a new spell that was supposed to prepare me for it, and even with all the help from my friends, I’m still not sure.”

Megan dropped to her knees, gently lifted Twilight’s left wing, and, holding one hand cupped in the other, used her knuckles to make a slow cross-fiber massage up Twilight’s ribs, rubbing against the grain of the muscles.  “Are your friends going to be your advisors or what?”

Twilight sighed.  “I really don’t know.  They advise me a lot already, and the mayor of Ponyville has let me try out some new laws on the town—as experiments, you might say—but most haven’t turned out right.  Pinkie invented several new holidays, and some of those were fun, but she invented too many, so the ponies could never go to work.  Fluttershy wanted a special nature reserve just for baby animals, but it turned out that taking all the baby animals away from their mothers was a bad idea—”

“I could’ve told you that.”

“It does sound a little silly in retrospect.  We changed it into more of a regular nature reserve, and that’s worked out great.  Applejack suggested I make a law that ponies have to have dinner with their families every night—”

“And you did?”  Megan rose to her feet and backed away.

Twilight turned her head and frowned at her.  “Well, I tried it—”

“You’re a dictator!”

“What?”

“You can’t make a law like that!”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s . . .”  Megan raised her hands and looked around the yard as she tried to latch onto the right word.  “I don’t know.  You just can’t.”

“It didn’t work out very well.”

“Not everybody gets along with her family,” Megan muttered.  “Sometimes—”

“The idea was to build stronger, happier families,” said Twilight.  “But it was too hard on ponies away from home and on kids having sleepovers, and it wasn’t enforceable anyway.”

“So you dropped it.”

“Yes.”

“Good.”  Still seething, Megan moved to Twilight’s other side and continued massaging her ribs.

“So far,” said Twilight, her voice sounding cautious, “I think my new kingdom will have an official Cake Day and a home for animals . . . and I will encourage rather than require ponies to have dinner with their families.  Other than that, I’ve got nothing.”

“I guess it’s a start,” replied Megan through grit teeth.  She stood, stepped back, and cracked her knuckles.  “You ready for this?”

“Ready for what?”

“I’m going to work directly on your wings.”

Twilight swallowed.








Megan had slept overnight in Ponyland again.  She knew her mother worried sick and assumed the worst whenever she didn’t come home at night, but Megan still preferred to sleep in Paradise Estate whenever she could:  it meant she could tuck in the baby ponies and tell them a bedtime story, and it meant she could sleep in a large, luxurious, cloud-soft bed beneath a blue silk canopy embroidered with stars.  It meant she would sleep dreamlessly all night long and awake refreshed.

A glint of sun appeared above the mountains rimming Dream Valley and shot a single ray between the shutters of Megan’s window, bathing her face in gold.  She stretched, yawned, and rolled over to get the light out of her eyes.

Megan had often awakened in the morning to find that one of the ponies had climbed into bed with her sometime during the night, so she was unsurprised when she rolled into a warm wall of soft fur.  She merely reached an arm around the pony’s neck and pressed her face against the pony’s mane.  But when she at last sleepily opened her eyes, she saw that the hairs against her face were pink and that the fur under her arm was blue.  Frowning, she drew back.

“Wind Whistler?”

“Good morning, Megan.  I trust that your period of physical recumbence and reparative sub-normal mental operation was sufficiently rejuvenating.”

“I slept well, yes.”

“Excellent.  Rest exists to enable us to resume vigorous activity, so mental rest is at the service of mental activity.  Therefore, sleep is the balm of philosophers.”

“I’m not a philosopher.”  Megan considered putting her arm back around Wind Whistler’s neck, but, remembering that Wind Whistler did not enjoy physical affection, thought better of it.  “What are you doing in my bed?”

“I had reason to believe that you would not consider my presence an intrusion.”

“I don’t, but I didn’t expect to find you here.”

“Ah.”  Shimmying her shoulders, Wind Whistler rolled onto her belly, raised her head, and stretched her wings, letting the covers slide back to her haunches.  “To my chagrin, I admit that I find myself in a state of uncharacteristic inner tumult.”

“Why?”  Megan gathered more blankets to herself and tucked them up under her chin.  

“I have been contemplating certain things, and I have come to unexpected conclusions that, since I am able to find no fault in the logic that brought me to them, I must accept.”

“Hm?”

With a snort, Wind Whistler added, her voice now tinged with a faint hint of disgust, “And I am in season, so my emotions are more unruly than usual.  That distresses me, and, though I have carefully examined both my axioms and my deductions, I nonetheless fear that emotional volatility might be affecting my mental exercises.”

Megan chuckled.

Wind Whistler lowered her head and sighed.  “Theory is useless unless it manifests in praxis, so, having insisted that each of the other little ponies join with one of the big brothers, I decided that I had to set an example.  I spent yesterevening with 4-Speed.”

“How was that?”

Wind Whistler glanced sidelong at Megan.  “If you are asking for a detailed description of private events in order vicariously—”

“I’m not,” Megan answered, her tone now sharp.  “I just want to know that you’re happy.  And I work with horses every day, so there’s nothing you could describe for me that I haven’t seen already.  Would you like a detailed description of the time I slipped with an AV?”

Wind Whistler laughed mirthlessly.  “I see.  Well, 4-Speed and I went out to the meadow and galloped together.  I attempted to engage him in serious discussion, since I am more interested in the meeting of minds than the meeting of bodies, but he was not particularly amenable to conversation on abstract matters, and I certainly didn’t want to listen to him pontificate about monster trucks.  It took a good deal of willpower to force myself to submit to his caresses, which I mostly found obnoxious.  Overall, however, the experience was not entirely unpleasant.  Most distressing at the time was the momentary loss of my intellective faculty.”

Wind Whistler shoved her muzzle under a pillow, and her next words were muffled.  “Megan, I have never before had a foal.  You are aware that the baby ponies came to us when some of the others, unwilling to recognize proper boundaries, snuck into Queen Majesty’s chamber one evening during a ball.  Each pony who looked into Majesty’s mirror received a baby version of herself, but I was not one of those ponies, since I respected Majesty’s private space.  I . . . I willingly admit that I might not possess those intangible qualities generally considered maternal.  Although our inexplicably low fertility rate might make this possibility remote, there is nonetheless some chance I am with foal, and—”

Megan reached over and laid a hand on Wind Whistler’s back.  Wind Whistler fell silent for half a minute.

“Don’t, please,” Wind Whistler finally said.  “4-Speed’s hoof was in that spot—”

Megan pulled her hand away.  “Wind Whistler, a lady in my hometown used to say she was scared to death to have a baby—until she had one.  She loved her baby like nothing else in the world, and she turned out to be a fine mother.”

Wind Whistler snorted again, and the pillow over her face fluttered.  “I have in the past been displeased with the way most of the ponies have conducted themselves with their babies.  I believed that, though they did not conceive them in the ordinary fashion, since they brought them into this world, they ought to assume responsibility for them.  I said this was only logical.  Some, such as Ribbon, have adequately fulfilled their duty in this regard.  Others, such as Surprise, have almost wholly neglected it, leaving the rearing of their foals up to Truly and Paradise.”

“So you want to make sure you act like a good mother, then.”

“I do want that, Megan, but not for the reason you suppose.  I have reflected on why I consider some of the ponies neglectful mothers.  In so doing, I have reconsidered my axioms.  What is ‘neglectful’?  What is not?  Why do I consider ‘neglect’ to be a bad thing?  I assumed that logic supported my assumptions, yet I have found, to my distress, that I cannot make logical arguments for them.”

Megan pulled the covers down from her chin and sat up.  “Wind Whistler, you know what a good mother is.  Maybe, instead of all this, you should just try your best to—”

“Ah, but that is just it, Megan,” Wind Whistler answered, lifting her head out of the pillows.  “Why should I do anything at all?  Other ponies claim they know right and wrong because they feel it.  I have always claimed that doing the right and avoiding the wrong are duties, and that feelings need not be considered.  Now, suddenly, I find that I cannot discern the source of such duties.  I never tried to do so before.  It never occurred to me.”

“If you know what right and wrong are, what does it matter—?”

“Do I, in fact, know?  I may say, ‘Maternal instincts cause me to desire to protect my foals from harm.’  It does not follow that I have a duty to protect my foals unless we admit the additional axiom that I have a duty to obey maternal instincts, but I cannot discern anything that places such a duty upon me.  I have previously assumed that survival and reproduction were good in themselves, but I see now that this is an assumption for which I have no support.  What places on me a duty to help the pony race survive?  Why, in fact, is it better to have foals than to be barren?  Why not simply let the ponies die out?”

“The good of Ponyland,” Megan said.  “You think the ponies can civilize Ponyland, remember?”

“But why is that good?  Why civilize anything?  What makes one goal superior to another?  Why is the ponies’ desire for peace superior to the witches’ desire for bedlam?  All my arguments for the existence of duties are circular, for I cannot make them without referring to other duties.  I may arrive at one ultimate duty from which the others derive—a duty to propagate, perhaps, and to produce, so far as is possible, conditions amenable to propagation.  I had previously arrived at the conclusion that such conditions were all anyone meant by ‘good.’  But I still cannot justify my assumption that the creation of such conditions is a duty.  Indeed, it occurs to me that such justification is impossible, since, logically, a prescriptive statement cannot be a conclusion unless another prescriptive statement, express or implied, is in one of the premises.”

Megan leaned toward Wind Whistler and tapped her own chest.  “Don’t you feel, in here—?”

Wind Whistler stopped her with another snort and a wave of her hoof.  “Please, Megan.  Even if I feel like doing good and avoiding evil, what places on me a duty to obey that feeling?  You see my dilemma, I hope.”

Megan paused a moment and considered, but then at last leaned back against the pillows and placed her hands on Wind Whistler’s cheeks.  “You’ve been through a lot in the last few hours, so maybe—”

Wind Whistler sighed and sank her head onto Megan’s shoulder.  “Oh, Megan.  You are the only one who understands me now that Majesty is gone.  She created me to reason, to ponder.  She listened patiently to what I said, and she answered my questions or joined me in my intellectual quests.  The rest of the ponies merely look at me with blank stares.”

“I understand the words you use, Wind Whistler, but I can’t really follow your train of thought.”

A small, thin grin appeared on Wind Whistler’s muzzle.  “I know, but that is good enough.  You are only a child, after all.  Do you know why I do not appreciate being touched?”

“No, but I’ve wondered.”

“Because I am always contemplating.  The highest pleasure must come from the exercise of the highest faculty, which is the intellect, so, since I am always exercising my intellect, I am necessarily the happiest of ponies.  But, during the pleasant exercise of any faculty, pleasure from another source has the same effect as pain from the exercise itself.  That is to say, being petted—or nuzzled or what-have-you—is distracting to me.”

“Then why are you in my bed?”

Wind Whistler nestled closer.  She opened a wing and draped it across Megan.  “Because I now find myself with an uncharacteristic desire to be distracted.”








Megan took Twilight’s left wing and unfolded it completely.  Placing her buttocks against Twilight’s shoulder, she braced herself and pulled, all the while trying to kill the memory of Wind Whistler’s wings and the way they had felt under her hands.  Like Twilight, Wind Whistler had been uncomfortable having her muscles rubbed out, and so, like Twilight, her shoulders, chest, and wings had been too tight.  Megan hadn’t been quite as experienced in equine massage back then, but, on the one occasion when Wind Whistler had allowed it, she had done her best.

Twilight squeezed her eyes shut.  Megan kept pulling until Twilight released a long, low gasp.  Then Megan kneaded out the wing’s biceps and triceps, working steadily inward until she was massaging the thick pectoralis, at last reaching the point where it disappeared under the latissimus dorsi behind Twilight’s left foreleg.

When Megan at last let go, the wing fell limply to the ground.  Twilight stood with her head lowered sleepily and her ears tilted out.  Megan moved around and repeated the same procedure on the other wing.  Twilight raised her head and clenched her teeth when Megan pulled, but quickly lowered her head again and resumed her relaxed look.

Megan again kneaded the triceps and biceps.  At last, she stepped back and said, “Wake up.”

Twilight’s ears snapped forward and she raised her head.

“Fold your wings now.”

Twilight folded her wings.  Frowning, she snapped them open.  Then she folded them again.  “They don’t hurt!”

Megan crossed her arms and nodded.  “Good.  But the pain’ll be back if you don’t take good care of them, and you should get a good massage on a regular basis.”  

Megan walked back to her table of supplies as an excuse to look away from Twilight.  Annoyance bubbled up in her gut:  the memories of Wind Whistler wouldn’t leave.  She shook her head again, futilely, to clear her unwanted thoughts.  Taking up her curry brush, she said, “Grooming and massage are closely related.  I’ll give you the more vigorous treatment, and that should also help you loosen up.”

When she turned back around, she found Twilight twisting her mouth and shifting on her hooves.  Her irritation turned to vague unease, but Megan nonetheless walked to Twilight and continued currying where she’d left off, working on the pony’s shoulders and sides, which no longer twitched at her touch.

After a quiet minute of looking pensive, Twilight snapped her head up and blurted, “Look, I need to—well, thank you, first.  That really helped—”

“You’re welcome.”

“I . . . yes.  But I just want to say I’m really sorry I’ve not been more understanding.  And you’re right, I was avoiding you.  You’ve just seemed so angry today.  It was kinda disturbing.  But while you were working on my chest, you said something about your brother, and that reminded me of the time I . . . well, I remembered what you’re going through, and now it all makes sense.  I should have realized it before.”

Megan scowled.  “Realized what?”

“That I’ve been through the exact same thing.  In fact, I think maybe I went through it just so I could be prepared to meet you.  I’d wondered why it happened and what I was supposed to learn, but when the Rainbow Bridge opened, I realized—”

Megan paused with the brush on Twilight’s left shoulder.  “What did you go through?”

Twilight turned her head to look at her.  “High school, of course.  I know how it is to go through high school!  The way everypony—I mean everybody—sits in different groups at lunch, and all the pressure, and just, well, everything!  It’s really hard and really stressful.  So I want you to know that if you need to talk about any problems you’re having, about friendships or homework or, um, boyfriends—”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

A flush of pink appeared in Twilight’s cheeks, and she looked away.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  It was about half a year ago, just shortly after I became a princess.  An old student of Princess Celestia’s, Sunset Shimmer, stole my crown and took it through a magic mirror.  I followed her, and on the other side was another world.  I transformed into something . . . well, something that looks a lot like you, but not quite.  And I went to high school.”

Megan put the curry brush down and took up the body brush.  “Really?”

“Yes.”  Twilight kept her eyes to the ground.

“Where was this mirror?”

“In the Crystal Empire—but it used to be in Canterlot.”

Megan held a hand out over her head.  “Was it about this high?  Did it look sort of like a bedroom mirror, but rimmed with jewels?”

“Yes—”

“I might know that mirror.”

“It’s supposed to be ancient.”

“It would be, if it’s the one I’m thinking of.”








As the sun set, Megan, breathing hard from the climb, marched into the topmost tower of Dream Castle.  The grundle king, a trollish creature with crumpled brown skin and an obsequious demeanor, bowed deeply to her and gestured to a knot of ponies clustered around a high, oval mirror, which stood against the far wall.

“Welcome,” said the grundle king.

“Thank you,” said Megan.

Megan looked around.  This, apparently, had at one time been the inner sanctum of Queen Majesty.  Megan was surprised at how sparse it was; aside from a desk topped with a moldering stack of papers, it was nearly bare.  Thick, interlacing wooden beams supported the ceiling.  No tapestries hung on the walls, and only a small throw rug lay in the middle of the stone floor.  Against one wall, the bed was a barren mattress, which Megan could see, from the chaff coming from its seams, was stuffed with straw.  The mirror was the room’s sole opulent item.  Considering how lavishly the ponies were used to living, Megan was shocked to find that Majesty herself had been an ascetic.

She took a moment to mull over why this disturbed her:  it changed her impression of the dead queen, giving her the idea that Majesty had lived entirely for the ponies’ sake, reserving little or nothing for herself.  That plucked from her heart a faint note of guilt.

This was the farthest Megan had ever penetrated into the ponies’ former home:  on her first two trips to Ponyland, when she had fought first Tirek the centaur and then Catrina the cat-witch, the ponies had lived here in this towering fortress, but Megan had entered only the wardroom and the grand hall near the front entrance.  After the witches of the Volcano of Gloom had drowned almost all of Dream Valley under a slimy monstrosity called the Smooze, the Moochick had brought down Paradise Estate out of the sky to be the ponies’ new home, so Megan had never had much chance to explore here.

With the grundle king, an idiot grin on his face, repeatedly bowing as he walked alongside her, Megan strode to the ponies.  Most of the unicorns were here, along with the princess ponies, Slugger, and Wind Whistler.  “What is it?” Megan asked them.  “What happened?”

Wind Whistler looked up and gestured toward the brilliantly white Princess Tiffany.

Megan held Wind Whistler’s gaze for a silent moment, but, shrugging, turned to Tiffany and said, “Your Majesty—”

Tiffany cut her off with a wave of her hoof.  “You promote me, Megan.  My reign has ended.”  She cocked her head toward Princess Sparkle.  “Today, Sparkle is queen of the Royal Paradise.”

Sparkle was a unicorn with a lavender coat so faint as to appear almost white, but her hair was a vibrant, shimmering seafoam green.  She wore her damsel hat far back on her head to make room for her horn.  A faint pink appeared in her cheeks as she bowed toward Megan and whispered in a soft, shy voice, “Since I am the only unicorn amongst the princess ponies, the magic of unicorns is this day in the ascendant.”

“As you are aware, Megan,” said Wind Whistler brusquely, “the unicorn ponies have been studying Queen Majesty’s mirror in the hopes of controlling it.  You suggested to me that the princess ponies should examine it as well.”

“I remember you saying you wanted to make more babies out of it.”  Megan glanced at Buttons, who stood close to Slugger.  “Buttons?  Where are the newborn twins?”

“The first-tooth baby ponies are babysitting them,” Buttons answered. 

“Is that a good idea?”

“They’ll be fine,” said Buttons, a smile settling on her face.  “I’ll check on them as soon as we’re done here.”

“Since a few of us are having natural foals now,” said Wind Whistler, “our objective has changed somewhat, or, rather, it has expanded.  I hope to control the mirror entirely, not merely use it for the limited purpose of artificial propagation.”

“Controlling things entirely seems to be a preoccupation of Wind Whistler’s lately,” said Buttons, her smile growing wry.

Wind Whistler glared at Buttons and snorted.  “You should be glad for that, considering that Dream Valley will now have perfect weather forever on account of the pegasus ponies.”

Tiffany turned away and whispered, so quietly that Megan could barely catch it, “Don’t be so sure of that—”

Wind Whistler snorted again and stomped a hoof.  “If we may all be serious for a moment, please, we have had a breakthrough.  Each of the unicorns attempted her specialty magic on the mirror to see if it had any effect:  Buttons attempted telekinesis, Ribbon telepathy, Gusty wind-magic, and so forth.  The mirror had been unresponsive until today.”

Megan raised her eyebrows.

Sparkle, looking embarrassed, walked to the mirror, leaned her head toward it, and tapped its surface with her horn.  The mirror rippled like water.  With a faint blush, Sparkle lowered her head and added, “I thought it best to test the mirror with my wand.  When I did, it rippled like that.  You probably know, Megan, that all magic in Ponyland comes from the Heart, and that the Heart powers the princesses’ wands—”

“Yes,” said Megan.  “I know.”

Tiffany interrupted.  “But our wands are not all the same.  There are different orders of magic, and those orders become stronger or weaker depending on which princess is queen of the Royal Paradise.  I could give weather control to the pegasus ponies only when I was queen, and Sparkle could only get a response from Majesty’s mirror, probably, because she is queen.”

Sparkle’s blush grew warmer.  “Majesty was a unicorn,” Sparkle whispered.  “She created the little ponies, so her magic is of a different order from theirs.  However, I, like Majesty, am descended from the ancient line of unicorns who once lived in Argyte.”

“Majesty didn’t create all of the ponies?” Megan asked.

“Of course not, Megan,” Wind Whistler interjected.  “Only the little ponies and the big brothers.  She did not create the flutter ponies, the princesses, or the deserters.”

“You mean the twinkle-eyed ponies,” Megan snapped.

“I meant what I said.”

“I do wish,” said Buttons quickly, “that Mimic were still here.  Her golden horseshoes gave her several powers, and she was descended from a unicorn of Argyte.”

“She deserted with the rest of the twinkle-eyes,” said Wind Whistler, “so there is no point in wishing.”

A faint chuckle sounded somewhere among the rafters, accompanied by a voice that faded in and out as if drifting on wind.  “No point in wishing?  Oh, Wind Whistler, you never change, do you?”

Wind Whistler scowled.

Megan clenched her fists, bent her knees, and went up on the balls of her feet as she scanned the ceiling overhead.  “Who’s there?” she demanded.

The chuckle came again.  “Megan?  Don’t you recognize me?”

“I can’t see you,” Megan answered.

“Few ponies do.”

Megan looked down and sucked in her breath as violet mist crept in through cracks in the walls and crawled across the floor.  Whinnying, the ponies clustered close together.

“There she goes again,” said Gusty.

Ribbon closed her eyes and sighed deeply.  “She has grown more eccentric and more reclusive since she helped you defeat Tirek, Megan.  We’ve hardly seen her since then.”

Megan lowered her fists.  “She helped me . . . you mean—?”

The voice from the ceiling, now angry, boomed, “Where is Ember?  Where is she?  Bring her to me!”

“Ember?” Megan whispered.

Buttons nudged Slugger and hissed, “Order somebody to get Ember, Your Highness.”

Slugger started.  “Huh?  Me?  Oh, right.  Um”—he swung his head around to look at the other ponies and finally said to Gusty—“Gusty, go get Ember.”

Gusty rolled her eyes.  “Be right back, Your Highness.”  She blasted the double doors open with a gust of wind and galloped out, letting the air suck the doors closed behind her.

Wind Whistler stepped away from the others and bent her head to examine the mist.  “Ember did not come from the mirror like the other baby ponies,” she said.  “Majesty created her directly, much as she conjured Baby Lucky.”  Wind Whistler rolled her eyes up to the ceiling.  “And she used to treat Ember as a daughter, at least before she began hiding herself—”

The voice spoke again, and, as it spoke, it came nearer.  It flitted amongst the gathered ponies; one moment, it spoke from Megan’s shoulder and whispered in her ear, and the next moment, it spoke from behind Princess Tiffany’s back.  All the while, the mist in the room grew steadily thicker.  “I have wandered the dark spaces between the stars,” said the voice.  “I have delved into the deep places of the earth.  I have flown higher even than Lofty, and I have traveled farther even than North Star.  I have sought out mysteries no pony could divine, not by the subtle arts of the princesses nor by the cold logic of Wind Whistler, for Majesty was the most powerful pony who ever lived, and she created me to be her equal.”

“That is illogical,” said Wind Whistler with a harrumph and another stamp of her hoof.  “A cause must be greater than its effect.  No matter how powerful Majesty might have been, making you her equal was not within that power.”

The voice laughed wildly with a sound like that of a sudden gale on a summer evening.  “Perhaps not, my little philosopher, but she treated me as her equal, and I alone of all the little ponies never bowed to her.”

The door flew open in a fresh gust, and Gusty ran into the room with Ember at her side.  Without any sign of fear, Ember, a spindly earth filly, galloped straight through the mist and left behind a swirling wake.  “Mama!” she cried.

The disembodied voice grew tender.  “Oh, Ember, my darling.  How I have longed to see you these last two years.  My attachment to you has tied me to this world:  it has both kept me sane in my searchings and prevented me from penetrating as deeply into the mysteries as I might have.”

“Mama!  Where are you?”

“I am right here, darling.  I am by your side, where I have always been.”

“Will I be just like you someday?”

“No, sweetheart.  I would never curse you with that.  Now make a wish.”

Ember squeezed her eyes shut and danced back and forth on her hooves.  “I wish . . . I wish . . . I wish to be with you always, forever and ever!”

For a moment, the room was silent, but then the voice released a long, deep sigh.  “Your wish will be granted, yet it is wasted:  someday, we will be together in death, but that is a long, long time yet, and I am already weary.”

“Enough games,” said Wind Whistler.  “Enough of your cryptic, occultic balderdash.  Show yourself!”

The voice answered, “As you wish.”

The surface of the mirror rippled again, and a white glow appeared in it.  Megan covered her eyes as a hard beam of light burst from the mirror’s surface and cut through the room.  Some shape, silhouetted against that brightness, stepped out of the light, and then the light disappeared in an instant, as if it had shone from a door that had suddenly snapped closed.

Standing in front of the mirror was a pale pink unicorn pony with a wild, curly white mane shot through with a streak of purple.  She held her head high, and on her muzzle sat an expression of great dignity and great wisdom.  The lines in her face made her appear older than most of the little ponies, but her eyes sparkled with youth and mirth.

“Twilight!” Megan cried.

“I am,” Twilight answered.

Megan ran to her, but Twilight shied away.  “Do not cling to me, Megan,” she said, “for I have not yet ascended to my place.”  

Megan paused, her arms outstretched.  Twilight stepped around her as if she weren’t there and swept her eyes across the gathered ponies.  She walked toward Wind Whistler and stared into her face for a moment before she turned to Ribbon and said, “Ribbon, you have the magic of telepathy.  Have you ever read Wind Whistler’s thoughts?”

“No,” Ribbon answered.  “The other ponies’ thoughts flit through my mind all day as a constant hum, but Wind Whistler’s mind is like a wall, and I can peer neither over nor around it.”

“Blocking telepathy is merely a matter of mental discipline,” Wind Whistler replied.  “My thoughts are my own; I share them when, and only when, I wish.”

Twilight closed her eyes and, with lips parted, tipped her head back as if she were drinking something savory from the air.  “Wish . . . yes, wish.  I cannot read your thoughts either.  Nor could Mimic, though her telepathy was stronger than either mine or Ribbon’s.”  She opened her eyes and her look became solemn.  “I cannot read your thoughts, but I can sense them.  I catch glimpses, snatches of almost-meaning—”

“I must ask you to mind your own business,” said Wind Whistler.  “I am commander of Dream Valley’s military forces.  Therefore, my mind contains sensitive information:  I share it with the unicorns or earth ponies only on a need-to-know basis, and if I do need to share anything with the unicorns”—she inclined her head toward Slugger—“I will go to the unicorn king, not to a maverick of uncertain rank and disposition.  Your attempts to read my mind are tantamount to spying, and spying on your own is treason, and treason, in most civilized societies, is a capital crime.”

With a light chuckle, Twilight turned from her.  “I wish,” she said, and she disappeared as fast as a wink.

In an instant, she appeared beside Wind Whistler and leaned on her shoulder.  She whispered in her ear, “I know something you might want to know, Wind Whistler, but I don’t know if you need to know.  Should I share it?”

“You came out of the mirror,” said Megan.  “Is it some kind of doorway?”

Twilight smiled, walked to Ember, and gently nuzzled her cheek.  “Oh, yes.  A portal.  At one time, it was a portal to many different worlds.  The ponies accidentally opened it once and received the baby ponies.  Majesty often visited other worlds through this mirror, and sometimes she did not return for days.”  Twilight’s smile fell, and her eyes became distant and dreamy.  She lifted her head from Ember’s cheek and asked, “Did you know it has been two and a half years since Majesty died?  Two and a half years, and the portal has just now become active again . . .”

“When did you go through it?” Megan asked.

“I?  Two days ago.  That’s when it first opened, though the princess ponies did not detect it until today.  I had been watching it.”

“What’s on the other side?”

Twilight looked away from Megan, her mouth tight in a secretive grin.  “I think Majesty would not like—”

“Majesty is dead,” said Wind Whistler with a snort of obvious impatience.  “Stop playing games, stop pretending to be mysterious, and tell us what you know.  To what purpose can we put this mirror?”

“Purpose?” said Twilight with a start.  “Why, you can go in and out of it, at least as long as it is open.  I think it may not be open long—a few days, perhaps.  Maybe in another two and a half years, it will open again—”

Wind Whistler glanced at the mirror.  “You think it’s stuck on a cycle?”

“Probably,” said Twilight.  “I think it has reopened to the same world Majesty went to last.  She must have been there shortly before her death.”

“What world is that?” asked Wind Whistler.

Twilight turned from Wind Whistler and lifted her muzzle into the air.  “A world that can profit you nothing.  It is a pocket.”

Wind Whistler frowned.  Buttons and Ribbon whispered to each other.

“What’s a pocket?” asked Megan.

“A world Majesty must have created from scratch,” said Twilight.  “It is quite small.  She took material from this world to make it, clearly, as it has some vague resemblance to Ponyland.  Left alone, it might even develop on a path similar to that of our—”

“Are there people there?” asked Megan.

“Oh, yes.  I do not think Majesty could have ever been satisfied with an unpopulated world.  She loved life, Megan.”

“What sort of people?” asked Wind Whistler.  “Ponies?”

Twilight’s grin became tight and secretive again.  “Almost.  At any rate, it is a world, I think, that is best left alone.”

“If it has resources we can use,” said Wind Whistler, “we should consider occupying it.  What can you say about its military capabilities?”

Twilight laughed.

Megan stepped to Wind Whistler’s side, knelt, and put her hands on the pony’s shoulders.  “Wind Whistler, you can’t just invade someplace without a good reason.”

“Can’t I?” said Wind Whistler.  She pulled away from Megan and walked toward the mirror.  She touched it with one hoof, making it ripple.  “Our goal, Megan, is empire.  Do you think our empire will stretch no farther than the borders of this valley?  A poor empire, that!”  She spun around and faced the others.  “No, it shall stretch all the way from the Sparkling Sea to whatever is in the far reaches of the east, a vast empire of love and tolerance.  It shall be a land without witches, without monsters, without forests of pony-eating trees, where pegasus ponies keep even the weather on a tight schedule to ensure that all things, every day, proceed as arranged.  It shall be a perfect world, a logical and orderly world that runs like clockwork.”  A broad grin appeared on her face, a grin wilder than any Megan had ever before seen Wind Whistler wear.

The unicorns frowned.  With furrowed brows, the princess ponies lowered their heads and whispered amongst themselves.

“This morning,” said Megan, “you told me you were doubting all that—”

“I was,” said Wind Whistler, “but that was yet another step in the process of my cogitations.  I reached the conclusion that there was no logical connection between moral imperatives and the observable world.  Ergo, moral imperatives do not exist.  That did indeed cause me to question my purpose at first, but now I find that it confirms me in my purpose:  if there is nothing I must do, there remains only what I want to do.  And what I want is to build my empire.  Good is not survival, Megan!  No!  I was wrong, dreadfully wrong, when I reached that conclusion.  Good is fulfilling personal desires, whatever they may be.  No other good can be imagined or described.  When we speak of good and evil, we are really speaking only of what pleases us personally, or of what displeases us.  All arguments on the subject are really nothing but post hoc rationalizations.  Therefore, whatever pleases me is what is good for me.  And what pleases me is building a world of order and peace.  I will build it because I choose to, and it is right because I want it.  What I must do to fulfill my wants is acquire the power to build my world, so I want to know:  will this place on the other side of this mirror give me that power, or at least a part of it?”

“I take back what I said earlier, Wind Whistler,” said Twilight drily.  “You’ve changed a great deal.”

“Once I was blind,” said Wind Whistler as she stepped away from the mirror, “but now I see.”

“When were you blind?” asked Twilight.  She pressed toward Wind Whistler until their muzzles were almost touching.  “When you rode in Fizzy’s mind, perhaps, and dug for jewels in the caves?  Then tell me, for you must know—how would the former slaves of the Jewel Wizard like to toil in this future clockwork kingdom of yours?  Does such a world as you imagine appeal to them?  Ah, but they have already answered that question, haven’t they?”

“You are a powerful unicorn,” said Wind Whistler.  “Far more powerful than Galaxy.  Perhaps, if you had been princess of the unicorns instead of she, the twinkle-eyes—”

Twilight shook her head.  “There is more to leadership than power, Wind Whistler.  You lived with Majesty as long as I did, but you alone, out of all of us, never learned from her.  You were too proud of your intellect, and now look where pride has gotten you.”

Wind Whistler’s eyes narrowed.  She pawed the floor with a hoof.

Twilight sucked in her breath as she looked past Wind Whistler’s shoulder.  “What, already?  Well, then, that answers that.”  She went to the desk, snatched up a pen in her pastern, and hurled it at the mirror.  It bounced off the glass and clattered to the floor.

“There,” said Twilight.  “The portal is, apparently, open for three days at a time.  Assuming my guess is correct, the mirror will remain inert for another two and a half years.”

“Enough time to prepare,” said Wind Whistler.  “You will be debriefed on your reconnaissance, of course.”

“I will be nothing of the kind,” said Twilight.  The purple mist that had been creeping along the floor now swept toward her and swirled about her legs.  “My time on this world is nearly ended.”

Megan started.  “What?”  She marched toward Twilight.  “What do you mean by that?”

Twilight gave Megan a fond look, but then turned to Ember and said, “Kiss me, darling.”

Ember craned her neck and touched Twilight’s lips, but drew back with a cry as the mist enveloped Twilight’s head.

“Stop!” Wind Whistler shouted.  “Explain yourself, Twilight!”

Twilight’s grin shone through the mist.  “You wish,” she said.

And then she was gone in the wink of an eye.








Megan continued working with the body brush while Twilight Sparkle talked.

“I’m not sure how to describe it, really,” Twilight said.  “It was almost like a world halfway between yours and ours.  I met humans there who looked and acted just like ponies I knew, and they even had the same names.  It was like Equestria, but not.  I changed into a human myself, and Spike changed into a dog—”

Megan paused.  “Spike?  Who’s Spike?”

With a nervous grin, Twilight looked at Megan.  “He’s my assistant, a baby dragon.  I hatched him from his egg when I was little.  I read a lot of stories about you when I was small, so I hope you don’t mind that I named my dragon after your mount—”

Megan’s eyes narrowed.  “My what?”

“Your mount.  The stories say you rode into battle on the back of a dragon named Spike—”

Megan sighed, rubbed her eyes, and chuckled.  “I did know a dragon named Spike, but he was a baby, too.  I definitely couldn’t ride him.  I usually rode on the ponies, especially on—”

Megan’s face fell.  She cleared her throat and continued brushing.

Twilight didn’t appear to notice.  She said, “When the Rainbow Bridge opened and we first started learning about your world, I began to think maybe my time at Canterlot High was a test, something to get me used to being in a world like yours, something to help me understand you.”

Megan finished brushing in silence.  Twilight turned her head to watch her.

“You don’t really seem surprised,” said Twilight.

Megan threw the body brush back on the table and picked up the finishing brush, which she stroked across Twilight’s left side.  “I’ve seen weirder things than that, Princess.  Hell, there were always portals opening to other worlds while I was in Ponyland.  There was the Rainbow Bridge, of course, and there was the door to the Land of Legends.  There was the Realm of Darkness.  Once, some of the ponies got sucked into someplace called Ice Cream Land, which was really weird.  Ponyland is like the Swiss cheese of universes:  it has holes everywhere.”

Twilight, eyes still on the ground, shuffled her hooves for a moment.  “So . . . is it high school that has you bothered?”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not.  I just said I know what it’s like.  If you need to talk about anything like, you know, b-boyfriends—”

“What’s with you and boyfriends all of a sudden?”

“Nothing!  Nothing at all!”

Megan had pulled open Twilight’s left wing so she could brush her flank, but now she leaned over the wing to look at Twilight’s face and could see bright crimson showing through the fur.

“Who is he?” Megan asked.

The red in Twilight’s face deepened, and she dipped her head almost to the ground.

Megan shrugged and continued brushing.  The skin under her hands twitched again.

“It’s like this,” Twilight said in a quiet, meek voice.  “There’s a new pony in the Royal Guard who’s really nice.  And while I was human and going to Canterlot High, I, well, I met a boy just like him—I mean, it was him, I think, except a human version in the human world—and he asked me to dance—”

Megan let go of the wing, stepped back, and shook her head.  “Damn, what is it with ponies and human guys, anyway?”

Twilight raised her head, turned, and scowled at her.  “Huh?”

“Heart Throb chased after men, Surprise and Danny were always making goo-goo eyes at each other, and now there’s you.”

“What?  Megan, when I danced with Flash, I was human, too.”

“Sure, whatever.  Hold still.”  Megan grabbed Twilight’s chin and brushed her cheeks.  “Flash, huh?  Sounds like a player.  If you really want my advice, stay away from him.”

“I don’t want your advice.  And a player of what?”

“Never mind.”

“I was trying to sympathize with you—”

“No you weren’t.  You were trying to ask my advice about boys, and you know it.  Well, you got my advice:  forget them.  Happy?”

“You don’t even know Flash.”

“I don’t need to.”

Twilight backed out of Megan’s grip.  “You’re supposed to be the Warrior Judge—a judge, which means you have to be fair-minded!  You can’t just say something like that about somepo—sorry, somebody you don’t even know!  It was you who taught the ponies all about friendship, wasn’t it?  How can you just say—?”

Megan bent down and put her hands on her knees so she could meet Twilight’s eyes.  “I already told you I’m not your Magog.”

Twilight paused and swallowed.  “You sometimes sound like me when I was younger.”

“Wonderful.  I have the makings of a pretentious, self-infatuated, boy-crazy pony princess.  Get back over here and let me finish.”

Twilight stomped a hoof.  “I am not pretentious!”

“Sure you’re not, Princess.  You just drag the friends who are supposedly so important to you all over the damn multiverse even if they’d rather be home working the farm or designing dresses.  And then when you pretend to ‘sympathize’ with me, you just wanna talk about your stupid boyfriend—”

“He is not my boyfriend.  If you’d let me explain—”

“I would, except I don’t care.  Everything in the whole damn world is all about Twilight Sparkle, isn’t it?  Are these really your friends, Your Highness, or are they your tools?  Your accessories?  The little trophies you cart around to show what a great friend you are?”

Twilight’s ears lay flat against her head, and her mouth tightened.  Megan knew the look of a horse about to do something violent, but that didn’t stop her:  “So now you want this Flash guy to be your little trophy husband, too, is that it?  A prince to hang on you when you have your meet-and-greets?”

Megan straightened and stood still with her chin raised, expecting to be champed, kicked, or perhaps blasted with magic.  But Twilight only closed her eyes and put a hoof to her breast.  She took a deep breath and then released it slowly while pushing her hoof out into the air.  After a moment, Twilight opened her eyes and said in a mellow voice, “There.  Do I pass your test, Magog?”

“I wasn’t testing you, Twilight.  I was insulting you.”  Megan continued brushing Twilight’s face.








The Moochick lived in a simple cottage in the midst of the damp and foggy Mushromp, a swamp full of giant mushrooms.  The air in the Mushromp was muggy and thick with the sour scent of decay.  Molly didn’t much like it here, but it was a place she and the others could go to talk in private, a place where Megan was unlikely to find her.

She fidgeted now on a worn-out and overstuffed sofa in the Moochick’s small cottage.  Outside, the sun was still above the horizon, but the shutters over the windows were closed, so the room was dark, lit by only a few flickering, dripping candles.  Moldy books stood around the room in precarious stacks and piles.  Filling the cottage was the smell of musty paper, old cheese, and the all-pervasive sour scent of mushrooms.  Habit, a quiet rabbit who worked as the Moochick’s assistant, handed Molly a cup of jasmine tea, but she wasn’t sure if her stomach, in turmoil due to the odor, could take it.  She smiled at Habit anyway and said thank you.

Heart Throb sat beside her on the sofa.  On the loveseat across the room sat Tux n’ Tails, one of the big brother ponies.  In place of the usual kerchief most of the big brothers wore around their necks, Tux n’ Tails wore an immaculate silk bowtie.  Beside him nestled Satin n’ Lace, a mare of his herd, clad in a filmy white dress.  Before these two, Twilight lay on the floor with Ember snuggled against her side.  Spike the baby dragon and his friend Baby Lucky sat in the middle of the floor and entertained themselves by rolling a ball back and forth.  Surprise, her rump in the air and her tail wagging like that of a puppy eager to play, watched them keenly.

Tapping his walking stick against the floorboards, the Moochick himself, a tiny, rotund elf with a broad gray beard that hung almost to the floor, paced back and forth among his books.  “Oh dear oh dear oh dear,” he muttered.  “Oh my my my.  Oh dear.  What shall we do?  Wait, what were we talking about?  Oh, yes, I remember—”

“Thanks for getting me, Heart Throb,” Molly said.  “Megan doesn’t want Danny and me to come to Ponyland right now, but—”

“You’re welcome, darling,” Heart Throb answered with a sigh.  “I know it would make Megan unhappy, and I do feel it’s not quite right to carry you off without her permission, but we need a human besides her to help with things right now.”  She called to Surprise, “You should have come with me, dear.  You could have brought Danny back—”

Surprise fell onto her haunches and, with a set frown, shook her head firmly back and forth.  “I don’t wanna see him.”

“Darling, you two need to make up.”

For a moment, Surprise continued to look resolute, but at last she ducked her head, quivered, and whispered, “I can’t right now, Heart Throb.  I just can’t.”

Heart Throb clucked.  “Hmmph, I wish I had a boy to fight and make up with.  Ah, well.  It’s your choice, Surprise.  When you want, I’ll help you plan the perfect make-up date.”

Molly coughed loudly and shifted uncomfortably in her seat.  “Megan says we’re too young to go on dates—”

Tux n’ Tails cleared his throat, raised his head, and spoke in a deep, dignified voice as he adjusted his bowtie with his hooves.  “Heart Throb, I want you to know that I understand your plight and sympathize with your inclinations.  If you wish—”

“Wish,” whispered Twilight.  With her teeth, she began rubbing Ember’s shoulders.  Ember squeezed her eyes shut and giggled.

Tux n’ Tails cleared his throat again.  “If you wish, Heart Throb, I will tell everyone that you have joined my herd.  That should satisfy Wind Whistler.  But I will not touch you—unless you wish it, of course.”

Twilight lifted her head and rubbed her lips over her teeth to remove the hair from them.  “Wish,” she said again, and then she resumed grooming Ember.

“Thank you, Tux,” said Heart Throb.  “That means a great deal to me.”

Tux turned his head and nudged his muzzle against Satin n’ Lace’s cheek.  She smiled fondly at him and said, “You should know that there are other ponies who share your dream, Heart Throb.”

“I would gladly leave aside the rest of my herd, marry Satin, and have only her forever,” said Tux, “but I’m afraid that would not be fair to the other mares.  Indeed, I fear my secret desire is already unfair:  it’s hard to be true to all when you love one so dearly.”

Molly, tired of sitting, turned upside down on the sofa and kicked her sneakered feet in the air.  “I’ll tell you what’s unfair,” she said.  “Majesty didn’t make enough big brothers.  That’s what’s unfair.”

Tux smiled wanly.

Twilight raised her head and again rubbed the hair out of her teeth.  “Majesty is gone, so now the little ponies must go their own way—or perish.  Whatever Wind Whistler thinks, we are not mere animals.  We cannot be.  It is not only speech that differentiates us from brutes, but our minds.  Perhaps, even more than that, it is our ability to love, for a brute cannot love another for her own sake.  Only one who can love another can find a friend—or find a lover, who is a superlative friend.  It is impossible to be friends with more than a few, for the feelings of friendship are too intense to distribute widely, and it is impossible to have more than one lover, for the feelings of romantic love are too intense to distribute at all.  No matter what Majesty may have intended, and no matter what Wind Whistler wants, we are meant to live in societies and in families—but not in herds.”

“What are you suggesting, Twilight?” Tux asked.

Twilight smiled.  “Obviously, I am suggesting that we rebel against our creator, who is dead.”

“We should marry as humans do,” said Heart Throb.  “That’s what’s right for us.  I feel that it’s right for us.  I’ve always felt it.”

“You can’t help but feel it,” Twilight answered.  “That’s who Majesty made you to be.”

“Why?” Heart Throb cried.  “Why would she make me like this and then—?”

Twilight shook her head.  “I could never fully understand her mind, even though I was her closest friend”—she smiled at Spike, who still played with Lucky—“except perhaps for Spike, of course.”

Spike looked up from his game; he missed the ball when Lucky pushed it toward him, and it rolled across the room and disappeared behind a stack of books. “I don’t remember her,” Spike complained in his raspy voice.  “I don’t remember much of anything before I worked for Tirek.”

Lucky walked to Spike and licked his cheek.  “I hope you’ll remember someday.  Me and you had such fun together.”

“We’ll have new fun,” Spike promised as he rubbed Lucky’s ears, “but I hope you’re right.  I’d like to remember Majesty, and I’d especially like to remember my parents, if I can.”

Twilight sighed.  “Even if you did remember, I doubt we would be any wiser.  Majesty kept her own council.  And she and I . . . well, we were incapable of understanding each other.  Such was our nature.”  She rose to her feet, walked to the window, and threw open the shutters.  A hard shaft of sunlight shone into the room.  “How I long for nightfall.  Tonight, the moon will be full . . . yes, that is as it should be.  All things come together.  That, at least, holds true—”

Satin laughed with a sound like tinkling silver bells.  “You are being cryptic again, Twilight.”

“I cannot help it,” Twilight replied, “any more than Heart Throb can help being lovesick.  Surely you know that none of us is whole.”

Molly tumbled off the couch, jumped to her feet, and clapped her hands to her mouth.  “Do you mean—?”

Twilight chuckled.  “I recognize that reaction, for intuition and insight are of my realm.  Have you finally figured it out, young Molly?”

“You’re all part of her!” Molly cried.

Twilight closed her eyes and dipped her head to the floor.  “From what could Majesty make us, except herself?  Heart Throb is her love, Surprise her playfulness, Applejack her appetite, and Wind Whistler her intellect.  Lucky and Ember are both what you might call an ‘inner child.’  The other ponies are all other aspects of her.  In every female there is something in the psyche that is masculine, and from that Majesty made the big brothers—but they are few in number, for they came from a small part of her.  She did what she could to make up for this, but it was not enough.”

Molly lowered her hands and frowned.  “And what part of her are you?”

Twilight cocked her head and offered Molly a wide smile.  “You haven’t figured that out?  Oh, well.  I am her unconscious.  Thus she could never fully understand me, nor I her, and thus I was very nearly her equal.”

Now Twilight dipped her head again, but this time, she apparently did so in sorrow.  “Wind Whistler is not whole, either.  As a part of Majesty, even with her vast intelligence, she could think nothing that Majesty herself had not already thought.  Majesty disciplined each of us differently, according to our nature:  she did not discipline me at all, for it would have been futile, but Applejack she treated harshly, for appetites are unruly, and Wind Whistler she corrected with sweet reason and gentle suasion, for the intellect responds to logical arguments.  Wind Whistler needed this check, since, brilliant though she is, she is fallible, and she has no intuition:  she does not feel that sense of suspicion that you feel when you have erred.”

Molly joined Twilight at the window and put a hand on her withers.  “So now that Majesty’s gone—”

“Wind Whistler was fine at first, of course,” said Twilight.  “But at some point, perhaps quite recently, she committed an error of thought.  One error breeds others, so, like a snowball rolling down a hill, hers has grown and grown until it has become monstrous, discoloring and warping her entire worldview.  It has driven her mad.”

Molly leaned down and kissed Twilight’s cheek.  She laid her head against Twilight’s neck and said, “That’s it, then!  We just have to figure out her error, and then we can tell her what’s wrong with it!”

Twilight chuckled softly.  “Do you expect me, the unconscious, to employ logic, Molly?  Do you expect Heart Throb, the passion?  Surprise, perhaps?”  Twilight slid from Molly’s grasp and turned away.  “No.  We sense that she is wrong, but we cannot reason with her.  We cannot equal her mind.”

Molly swayed.  She felt numb.  “Maybe Megan—”

“Megan is a child,” Twilight answered, “as are you.  Even the Moochick, wise though he is, cannot sustain an argument.  We cannot use her tools against her, so we must choose different tools:  when reason is futile, it is time for war.”

Twilight turned her back on Molly, stepped to the center of the room, and looked around at the others.  “Here we have gathered the members of our rebellion.  We are those who oppose Wind Whistler’s schemes and look forward to a better world that does not match the outlines of her dreary utopia.  We are those who recognize that we are ponies, not cogs in a machine.”  She shook herself, letting her wild mane flutter free.  “Our numbers are small, but we have advantages here.  With Lucky among us, chance is on our side and we are unlikely to fail.  With me here, hopes are sure to come to pass.”

Her shoulders sagged.  “Ah, but my time is short.  Sometimes, I forget.”

Molly walked to Twilight and considered placing a hand on her again, but some curious, nervous sensation stayed her.  “What do you mean, Twilight?  Are you sick?”

“If only it were so simple.”  Twilight ran again to the window, turned her side toward it, and let the light roll across her body.  “Look at me, Molly, and tell me what you see.”

Molly gasped.  “I can see through you—”

The Moochick stopped his pacing and muttering.  He thumped his walking stick three times on the floor and cried, “That’s what I wanted to remember.  Oh my, yes.  Sick unicorns.  I have something . . . oh, where is it?  Habit!  Habit!”

Habit, an expression of longsuffering affixed to his rabbity face, appeared at the Moochick’s side with a thick tome in his paws.

The Moochick stroked his beard.  “Oh, yes yes yes.  That’s the one I wanted.  Yes, indeed.  Thank you, Habit.  Hm.”  He took the book from the rabbit and waddled to his desk.  Knocking a paperweight, several scrolls, and a stand full of quills to the floor, he opened the book and flipped through it.  “Let’s see, ahem, oh my my.  Pony Legends and History.  Yes, here it is—”

He recited from the book,

Long ago in the land of Argyte,
Four horseshoes were made of mystical starlight.
They were placed on the hooves of this special unicorn,
And each shoe gave her a magical power:

The first showed the future,
The second had the power of blazing light,
The third made another’s thoughts sound clear and loud,
And the fourth let its wearer float like a cloud.

Deep in Dream Valley the wind left her at dawn,
And there she did stay, for her horseshoes were gone.

“That was the unicorn from which both Majesty and Mimic were descended,” said Twilight.  “As the four missing horseshoes moved farther apart, their magical connection became weaker, and thus Mimic sickened and nearly died before Megan, Wind Whistler, Paradise, North Star, and Lofty—”

“And me,” said Spike.

“And Spike,” said Twilight with a laugh, “found the horseshoes and brought them to Mimic.  When Mimic weakened, she faded and became transparent, even as you see I am becoming transparent, but the horseshoes returned her to her full strength.”

“Do you need the horseshoes, then?” Molly asked.  “If you do, maybe we can find Mimic—”

Twilight shook her head.  “This is something darker, I’m afraid, and no art will cure it.  The other ponies will remember the night years ago when I stepped out from Dream Castle and commanded the moon—”

“We celebrate that night every year,” said Satin, “for the stars are brightest then.”

“Yes,” said Twilight with a nod.  “It is the night that, in your world, Molly, you call Hallowe’en.  On that night, ponies make wishes on the bright stars.”

Tux n’ Tails cleared his throat and said, “Twilight, I realize mystery is in your nature, but you truly must get to the point.  Tell us what’s wrong with you so we can find the cure.”

“There is no cure,” said Twilight.

“Be hopeless if you like,” said Tux with an edge in his voice, “but the rest of us will not be.  Tell us what’s wrong.”

Twilight sighed and said, “Very well.  The stars are so bright on Hallowe’en night because on that night, years ago, I stepped outside to wish upon a star, but saw a sky black as pitch.  Nothing shone except a full moon.  Offended by the flat sky, I pointed my horn at Mister Moon and commanded him to make the stars shine.  He agreed—at a price.”

“What price?” Molly asked.  Her heart pounded against her ribs.

“My soul,” said Twilight simply.

Molly sucked in her breath.

Twilight tossed her head, laughed, and pranced around the room.  “A people lives on the face of Mister Moon, a beautiful race of moon creatures, lovely to the eye and peaceable in all their ways.  But they crawl on Mister Moon’s face, so he loves them not.  For my audacious wish, I am doomed to turn to evil and spite:  I shall become not merely transparent, but disembodied, and then I shall possess the moon creatures and turn them to smoky wraiths, monsters of nightmare.  All the moon shall become the realm of nightmare.”

Molly shook her head.  She felt numb again.  “You can’t.  You can’t do that.  You wouldn’t do that—”

“I have no choice.  Know too that, like Majesty and Mimic, I have the power of prophecy, and I have seen my future:  the time will come when, brooding in the darkness, I shall look out over Ponyland and find a powerful pony who, nursing jealousy and resentment, is open to me.  I shall possess her and seek to destroy all the land, but fail:  I shall be sealed in the moon for a millennium, after which I shall be driven out.  Though weakened, I shall seek to possess another, whom I shall find . . . and then I shall be destroyed forever.”

She turned her eyes to Ember, who stared at her with her mouth open in horror.  “That, my darling,” said Twilight, “is when I shall join you in death.”

“You can’t!” Molly cried.  “You can’t do all that!  You wouldn’t!”

“My fate is sealed,” Twilight replied.  “My destiny is set.  And if ponies believe in anything, they believe above all else in fate and destiny.  But know this:  it is only because I shall soon give myself wholeheartedly to evil that your sister will one day be able to fight to save all Ponyland.  I do not understand how this can be so, but it is so.”

“Will she?” Molly whispered.  “Will she save all Ponyland?”

Twilight appeared to consider for a moment, but then she shook her head.  “The strands of fate tangle and warp around her; even Majesty could not have unraveled them.  No one, I think, could discern what is to be Megan’s doom, but of this I am sure:  she will fight.”

Molly put her face in her hands and felt moisture; she was crying.  She wiped a wrist across her eyes and said, “You don’t have to be a prophet to know that.”

“If our time is short,” said Tux, “let us make our plan.  What is it to be?”

Twilight, as if she had performed an act requiring great exertion, settled to the floor with a long, low groan.  She returned to grooming Ember, who now, instead of responding with signs of pleasure, lowered her muzzle to the floor and furrowed her brow.

Twilight paused long enough to say, “We must first of all produce a record.  There is much we cannnot accomplish in our lifetimes, so let us leave guidance for the ponies who come after.  Perhaps Lucky and Ember’s children, or their children’s children, will recognize and follow the goodness of our vision.”

“Marriage,” said Heart Throb.  “That’s where we’ll start.”

“Let’s write this down,” said Tux.  He glanced at Molly and the Moochick.  “Would someone with hands do us the honor—?”

“Oh, my my my,” said the Moochick as he stroked his full beard.  He made a great show of pulling crumpled rolls of parchment out of his desk while Habit brought him quills and ink.  “New laws for the ponies?  Such a strange day.  Such a strange number of days, and with unicorns coming and going every morning, I can hardly work.  Hm . . .”  Soon, he was scribbling away as the others talked.  Now in his element as a scholar, the Moochick appeared uncharacteristically focused.

“Should we describe what a wedding is like?” Molly asked.  “Or just tell the future ponies they ought to get married?”

Heart Throb, a peaceful smile now on her muzzle, shook her head.  “We shall have a wedding.  That’s the only way.”

Seated on the couch again, Molly shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Surprise, who lay on her back and wrestled playfully with Spike.  Apparently paying no attention to the conversation, Surprise giggled and snorted.  “Who’s going to get married?” Molly asked.

Heart Throb laughed as if the answer were obvious.  She pointed across the room at Tux and Satin.

Satin started.  “Us?”  Turning her head away from Tux, she put her hooves to her face and blushed profusely through her lavender fur.  “Why, I just don’t know.  It’s such a big—”

Tux, his solemn expression still affixed, slid without hesitation from the loveseat, crouched before Satin, and took her hooves in his.  “Will you marry me, Satin?”

“Tux!”  She giggled, and her face grew redder.

“Oh, a blushing bride,” crooned Heart Throb.  “Satin, darling, your look is most becoming.  Say yes, please.”

“Don’t pressure me!” Satin cried.  “Oh, Tux, but what about the others—?”

Tux opened his mouth as if to reply, but then he looked down to the floor with a deep frown.

Nobody spoke for a few minutes, and the only sound came from Surprise and the babies playing.  The Moochick paused in his writing and looked up, but he offered none of his usual mutterings.  Molly coughed quietly once, but immediately regretted it:  the noise was intrusive.

With each passing second, Satin’s blush faded and her happy smile shrank.  She looked down at Tux with a pained expression as he continued to stare at the floor with a sign of trouble on his brow.

At last, Heart Throb said in a quiet but firm voice, “Do what you know is right, Tux n’ Tails.  You feel it, deep down.  I know you do.”

Heaving a great groan, as if he had just accomplished some fierce inner battle, Tux said, “I repudiate my other mares.”

Satin’s eyes widened in wonder, and her mouth fell open, but she did not speak.

“Satin n’ Lace,” Tux said, “I want you and you alone.  You are the only one I have ever wanted.  I love you.  I have loved you since the moment I first laid eyes—”

“Don’t,” said Satin, shaking her head.  “Oh, don’t, or you’ll make it all seem silly.  Yes, already.  Yes, I’ll marry you, you foolish boy.”

“Marriage is silly,” said Twilight.  “That is why it is so good.”

Molly had a few cheap rings on her fingers.  She pulled one off and stuck it in Lucky’s lips.  “There,” she said.  “You be the ring-bearer, okay, Lucky?”

“Ohay,” he said around the ring, “buh wha’s a wing-beahwuh?”

“I think we should have a minister,” said Molly.  “Um, Mister Moochick—?”

“He’s writing,” said Heart Throb.  “You’ll have to do it, Molly.”

“Me?  But—”

Heart Throb clucked.  “Who else?  Go on, you know what to say.”

“Not really.”  Molly turned to Tux and Satin, who had both risen to their hooves and now watched her expectantly.  Molly offered them a nervous laugh.  “Oh, is this really a revolution?  It feels more like play-acting.”

“What’s the difference?” Twilight asked.  “Go on, Molly, or this wedding will take all evening.”

Molly cleared her throat, fidgeted, and began to speak.  She could hear the scratching of the Moochick’s pen as he wrote down her words, and that only made her more nervous.  “Okay, let’s see, um, do you Satin n’ Lace, take this . . . erm, something something husband?”

Satin’s grin turned to one of amusement.  “Yes,” she said.

“Darling,” said Heart Throb, “you’re supposed to say ‘I do.’”

“What’s the difference?” Satin asked.

Tux nudged her.

“I do, then,” she said.

Molly cleared her throat again.  “And do you, Tux n’ Tails, take Satin n’ Lace to be your wife?”

“I do,” he answered, his voice still full of gravity.

“Okay.”  Molly clapped her hands together.  “Then I now pronounce you man—no, that doesn’t work.  Hold on.”  For a moment, she tapped a finger against her chin and a sneaker against the floor.  “How about, I now pronounce you mare and colt?  How’s that?”

“He’s a stallion,” said Satin, “not a colt.”

“Oh, but then it doesn’t sound right,” said Molly.

“It’s perfect,” said Tux.  “What comes next?”

Molly clasped her hands, took a deep breath, and smiled as she said, “You may now kiss the bride.”

“I like that part.”  Tux wrapped a foreleg over Satin’s withers.  She gasped, but he cut her off when he pressed his lips against hers.

Twilight nodded with a look of satisfied approval, but nonetheless placed a hoof over Ember’s eyes.

After almost a minute, Tux let Satin catch her breath. 








“If it isn’t school that’s bothering you,” said Twilight Sparkle quietly, “what is it?  Ever since I first met you, I could feel anger coming off you like heat off a fire, and you try to make everypo—I mean everybody—”

Megan grunted.  “Just say ‘everypony.’  You sound weird when you try to talk human.”

“Fine.  You try to make everypony else angry, too.  I’ve tried to give you a smile, like Pinkie always does to cheer ponies up.  But it hasn’t worked.”

Megan made sure Twilight’s eyes were clean and then walked back to the table to get Molly’s hairbrush.  She could still feel her anger burning inside, just under the surface, but she believed she now had it under control.  With her back to Twilight, she took a deep breath and said, “Nothing can cheer me up.  I’m sorry for taking it out on you.  I know it’s not your fault.”  To her own ears, her words sounded mechanical and unconvincing.

“Whose fault is it?” Twilight asked.

“Mine.  I can’t tell you about it.  Your friends have already cut me deep, but I’m not going to let you finish the job by cutting all the way.”

Twilight said quietly, “Some things have to be cut so they can heal.”

Then the anger boiled up, and Megan exploded.  Teeth clenched, she swept bottles and brushes from the table to the ground.  She spun around and shouted, “You wanna peel my life back like an onion?  You wanna flay off my skin?  Is that it?  Is that why you came here?  To pull me to pieces and look inside?”

“No.”  Twilight shook her head.  “I came here to be your friend.”

Megan picked up the table, swung, and threw it across the yard.  It landed on its side and rolled until it came to a stop against the fence, which creaked and swayed from the impact.  “I cannot be friends with ponies!  I will prepare you for your stupid little horse show, but I am not your friend, and I will never be your friend.  Do you understand that?”

“No.”

“And you never will, but that’s the way it is.”  Through tears, Megan searched the ground until she found the hairbrush.  She grabbed it and roughly combed Twilight’s hair, hooking an arm around Twilight’s neck so she couldn’t pull away without dragging Megan with her.

“Ouch!” cried Twilight.  “Ow!”

“You do not want to know what I did in Ponyland,” Megan said.  “You do not want to know what I did here, in this barn, right where you were standing last night.  You just keep your stupid fantasies about the mighty warrior who laid down your laws and built your empire.  You do not want the real Megan Williams.  Do you understand that?”

“No.  Ouch!”

Megan shoved the brush in deep so the points of the bristles scratched Twilight’s skin, and she yanked hard enough to pull out several hairs.  With teeth clenched, she put her mouth against Twilight’s ear and said, “Whenever I’ve met creatures as powerful and magical as you are, I’ve usually had to kill them.  Do you understand that?”

Twilight winced, but set her jaw and answered, “I do.  I do understand that.  I must really scare you, then.”

Megan let go of her, tossed the brush through the open barn door, and walked away.  She peeled her hat from her head and let it fall to the ground.  Though she knew she was messing up the braids Rarity put in, she ran her fingers through her hair and gripped the back of her own head.

Her eyes fell upon the Winchester rifle she had fired with Rainbow Dash.  Neglected, it leaned against the side of the barn.  Though a voice somewhere in the back of her head told her she was being foolish, she snatched it and cocked it.  Holding it out to Twilight, she shouted, “Do you know what this is?”

Twilight shook her head.

“It’s a weapon.  You are a tyrant, Princess.  You are a monster.  Do you know what I do to tyrants and monsters?”

Twilight nodded.

With the rifle to her shoulder, Megan staggered toward the pony until the tip of the barrel was only a few inches from her face.  Twilight swallowed with an audible gulp, and sweat trickled down one cheek, but she stood her ground.

“You are not learning what I did,” Megan hissed.

“You’re shaking,” Twilight answered.  “You’ll need to hold it steady.”  She leaned her head forward until the gun’s barrel rested against her forehead, right under her horn.  “There.  Is that better?”

Megan imagined an “X” crossing through Twilight’s eyes and ears.  The rifle pointed right in the center.

With a cry, Megan hurled the gun aside and fell to the ground weeping.

She bent her head down.  Her vision blurred, and she could see droplets, glistening like jewels in the sunlight, falling to the grass.  “I was happy.  Just once.  Just once in my whole damn life, I was happy.  I hadn’t been back to Ponyland since I’d killed Tirek.  I was afraid to go back, but the ponies asked me to come back, said they wanted to throw me a party.  I was scared, but I loved them, and I wanted to see them again.  So I went.”

She wiped her face and looked up.  “I was twelve years old.  When I returned to Ponyland, I met the baby ponies for the first time.  I offered to babysit them.  I played with them in their nursery until they were tired out.  I tucked them into their cribs and baby buggies, sang them a lullaby, put out the lamps, and pulled the blinds.  They all snored so softly and murmured in their sleep.  I looked around the room and thought, ‘This is heaven.  This is what I want.  This is what I want more than anything in the world.’”  Her tears poured more thickly down her face.  “That moment didn’t last, and it never came back.  It never will come back.”

Twilight leaned toward her and smiled.  “You know, I foalsit my friends’ little sisters sometimes, and a princess foalsat me when I was little.”

Megan wiped her face.  “Why?”

“Because you did it, and because the stories say you were the best at it.  Foalsitting is supposed to be good training for a princess.”

In spite of herself, Megan laughed.  “When I was little, there were two things I loved more than anything—babies and horses.  I had friends at school, but, living out here, I couldn’t see them just anytime, so I mostly played with my brother and sister.  I always made them play house with me.  Danny hated it.  He had to be the dad.”  She smiled faintly and crossed her arms as if imagining cradling something.  “And Molly was always my baby.  She still is in some ways.”

Megan glanced toward the dark interior of the barn.  “I used to daydream that, when I grew up, I was going to have a horse ranch, and I was going to meet some nice, wonderful guy and get married, and then I was going to spend the rest of my life playing with babies and horses.  That was my dream.”

She rose to her feet, walked to the wall of the barn, and sat down with her back against it.  “At that age, I pictured the man I married looking a lot like Dad.”  She looked down at her hands and turned them back and forth:  they were fine-boned and delicate, but lined with calluses and blackened with grit.  “Dad taught me everything I know.  He told me I had to be smart, had to be strong, had to know how to ride, how to drive, how to use tools, how to fight, how to shoot.  He put me in gymnastics and taught me stunt-riding tricks.  ‘Big girls don’t cry,’ he always said.  He said that all the time.  When I fell and hurt myself, he told me to get back up.  ‘You’re gonna do big things,’ he said.  ‘Terribly big, and you have to be strong.’”

Megan stared into the sky.  The tears ran freely down her cheeks, and now she didn’t bother to wipe them.  For a moment, she choked, but she swallowed, found her voice, and added, “But then the day came when he came home with . . . with her.”  She closed her eyes, shook her head, and slapped the ground.  When she opened her eyes again, she was surprised to find Twilight standing close.

“Her?” Twilight asked.

“I wanted to hate her so much,” Megan whispered, “but I couldn’t.  And that only made me hate her more.”

Megan leaned forward and tucked her head between her knees.  “Have you ever known anyone so beautiful, so graceful, so . . . majestic . . . that you couldn’t help but love her, no matter what she did?”

After a moment, her voice barely audible, Twilight whispered, “Yes.”

“She must have been seven feet tall, like a statue out of a museum.  The fine, perfect lines in her face, her smooth walk, those bright blue eyes, her dark hair, those delicate fingers, that flowing white dress she wore—my dad wasn’t a big man, and she towered over him.  He stood there with his mop of red hair and his long, lean jaw and his flannel shirt and that stubble he could never completely shave off, just gazing up at her like a dog gazing at the master who feeds it.  She looked beautiful, and he looked ridiculous—she made him look ridiculous, and she took him from us!”

Twilight looked indecisive for a moment, but then lowered herself down beside her.  “I’m sorry.”

Megan shook her head, sighed deeply, laughed again, and shrugged.  “I gave up my dream a long time ago, Twilight.  It was stupid.  I was just a kid anyway.  My dad, that son of a bitch, was right about one thing:  I have to be tough.  Big girls don’t cry.  If you’re not tough, the world will chew you up and spit you out.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then you don’t know.  To survive, you have to be strong, and you have to rely on yourself.”

“Whenever I’ve been in trouble, Megan, I’ve found my strength in my friends.  I don’t have to be tough all by myself when others are there to share my problems.”

“You sound like Clarisse.”

“Who?”

“Just someone I know.”

“A friend?”

“An acquaintance.  You might meet her, but I warn you, she’ll talk your ear off about God.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I suppose, neither do I.”  Megan rose to her feet.  “Let’s finish your mane.  I’ll be gentler this time.”  

She picked up the brush again and walked toward Twilight, but Twilight rose, took a step back, and shook her head.  “No, I don’t think so.”

“Look, I’m sorry about—”

“No.”  Twilight trembled.  She closed her eyes for a moment as if gathering herself, and when she opened them again, she said, “Tell me what happened to you.”

Megan clenched her teeth and pointed with the brush.  “I told you—”

“You’re not Magog the Mighty,” Twilight said.  “You never were.  You’re Megan Williams.  There is no Magog.”  She looked up into Megan’s face with her brow knitted.  “But you want somepony to know.  It’s eating you up.”  She sat back on her haunches and crossed a hoof over her breast.  “I Pinkie promise you, what you tell me will stay with me.”

“You’re a princess.  Are you trying to be a confessor, too?”

“A what?”

“Never mind.”  Megan let go of the brush, dropped to her knees, and put her hands on Twilight’s cheeks.  “If I tell you, you will not be able to keep it to yourself.”

“You can’t ruin my dreams of you, Megan.  I don’t have any anymore.  I never had many to begin with.”

Megan lowered her hands to her lap and looked in Twilight’s eyes.  “You do not know how much I have wanted—”

“I do.”

Megan paused and swallowed, considering.  She knew what this meant, she knew what she faced, but she knew also that she had already decided.  Hesitation now was pointless.

“Okay,” she said.  “I’ll tell you.”








Molly and the others continued talking until the sunlight shining through the open window had turned a dusky red.  The meeting had lost its gravity and had instead become a celebration of the first pony wedding.  They had drunk a great deal of tea, but as evening came on, Habit brought up wine from the Moochick’s cellar.

Molly knew Megan would kill her if she caught her drinking, but reminded herself that this was both a rebellion and a party.

“A toast to the bride and groom!” Molly whooped.  With cup in hand, she sashayed back and forth with Heart Throb, whose mood was equally giddy.

“Oh, no no no no no no!” the Moochick shouted.  “The books!  Mind the books!  Oh dear oh dear—”

Molly caromed off a large stack of heavy volumes, which rocked back and forth, threatening to topple.  Habit frantically scampered to the stack and nudged it until it settled.  Then he ran to Molly and, with a deep frown and many elaborate movements of his front paws, silently told her off.

“Sorry!” Molly cried.  She hiccoughed.

The effect of the wine was particularly marked on Surprise, who rolled back and forth on the floor in a fit of giggles.  “This is better than the sarsaparilla was!” she squealed.

“Oh my, oh dear, we should have left that in the cellar, Habit,” the Moochick muttered.  “It’s not appropriate for children—or for ponies, I see.”

Habit shrugged.

Tux and Satin were once again cozy on the loveseat.  They had enjoyed a cup of wine between them, but they were clearly too intoxicated with each other to be much interested in intoxicants of any other sort.  “We haven’t finished,” Tux announced.  “We have written of the importance of love and friendship, and we have set down a few rules, but what else?  Surely we have more to say.”

Molly settled down.  She leapt back onto the couch and forced herself to sit still, though she still kicked rhythmically at the air.  Heart Throb, struggling to suppress her own giggles, pinned Surprise to stop her from rolling.

“Shouldn’t there be certain things you should do or be to be a good friend?” Molly asked.  “Maybe we should write about how you ought to treat your friends.”

“You should be true to them,” Tux said as he rubbed his muzzle against Satin’s cheek.

“Loyal,” Molly said.  “A friend should be loyal, then.”

“Well, yes, that’s good,” said Tux, “but I was thinking of another sort of true—”

“Honesty,” said Twilight, who now had both Ember and Lucky nestled beside her, with Spike on her back, to shield them as much as possible from the celebratory shenanigans.

“Honesty and loyalty,” said Molly.  “We should write them both down.”

“Fun!” Surprise shouted from beneath Heart Throb.  “Friends are no fun if they’re not fun!  Heart Throb, get off me!”

Molly flopped back on the couch.  “Er, I dunno.  That doesn’t sound as important—”

“That’s super important!” screamed Surprise as she cycled her hind legs in the air.  “You gotta be able to laugh with your friends or they’re not your friends!  Like this!”  She craned her neck around and blew a raspberry against Heart Throb’s barrel.

Heart Throb erupted into squeals.  “Surprise!  Stop!  Stop it!”

Surprise pushed Heart Throb over and rolled atop her.  “Were you surprised?”

“I was surprised, darling!  Now let me go!”

Molly rolled her eyes.  “Fine.  Laughter.  I guess we’ll write that down, too.  That’s three.  What else?”

“I think it’s important to be nice,” said Satin as she pressed her cheek to Tux’s neck.

“Nice?” said Molly.

“Yes.  Nice.”

“What kind of nice?”

“Nice nice.”

“Well, you two are certainly being nice to each other,” said Heart Throb as she kicked and struggled her way out from under Surprise.

Molly slapped a hand to her face.

Twilight chuckled.  “Gentleness, perhaps?  Kindness?”

“Oh, yes.  Kindness,” said Satin.  “That’s what I meant.”  Then she gasped, “Tux—!”

Tux had begun nibbling at the base of her ear.

“Seriously,” said Molly, “you two need to get a room.”

Though she still looked amused, Twilight sat back on her haunches so she could plant her front hooves over the eyes of both Ember and Lucky.  Spike, with a cry, tumbled from her back and sprawled against the floor.

“I think,” said Twilight, “that it’s very important to grant to your friends the things they want.  Like wishes.”

“Not everyone can grant wishes, darling,” said Heart Throb.

“You can still try,” answered Twilight.

“You mean you should be generous,” said Molly.

Twilight nodded.  “Exactly.”

Molly jumped up from the couch again and stretched her arms over her head.  “So that’s five things we think friends should do.  We got that, and we got marriage, and we made a bunch of rules about how to treat other ponies right.  What else?  It’s kind of a mish-mash.”

“It’s a start,” said Twilight.  “We can’t do more right now than start.”

Something pounded hard on the door, so hard that Molly could hear it splinter around its hinges.  “Open up!” called a gruff voice.

Habit, still scowling, marched toward the door.

“Wait,” said Twilight, “does anyone know we’re—?”

Even before Habit reached it, the door slammed open with a loud crack, and in marched three of the armored, warthog-like troggles, who snuffled with their long, wet noses.  Bullet-shaped helmets sat low on their heads, and in their thick, hairy hands, they held razor-sharp spears.  As they burst into the room, they bowled over Habit.  One of them, with a loud grunt, shoved over the stack of books that Molly had almost upset earlier.

Habit rose to his hind feet and, clearly more upset about the books than about being knocked down, shook a paw at the troggle, who merely kicked him aside.

The Moochick jumped from his chair and pointed a finger.  “Oh, now see here!  No no no, this won’t do at all!  Not at all—!”

“Manners, gentlemen!” called a calm, sweet voice from outside.  “We are here to make arrests, not make a ruckus.”

Into the cottage walked Wind Whistler.  She stepped between the troggles and swept her eyes around the room.  “Just as I had supposed—two of my pegasus ponies, planning sedition and dissention with a known spy.”

Twilight offered Wind Whistler a warm, but plainly ironic, grin.  “Since you’ve been playing soldier, we thought we’d play rebel.  Care to join us?”

“Your antics fail to amuse me,” Wind Whistler answered.

Twilight rose to her hooves and stepped in front of Ember and Lucky.  “I do not recall hearing that pegasus ponies are not allowed to associate with unicorns.”

“They are allowed to associate with any unicorns they please—except you.”  Wind Whistler shook her head.  “Why is it always unicorns who meddle in the affairs of the pegasi?  Well, no matter.  Heart Throb, Surprise, come with me.  You will not escape your punishment this time.”

Heart Throb placed a foreleg across Surprise’s withers.

“They’re not going anywhere!” Molly shouted.

Wind Whistler cocked an eyebrow.  “Molly, shouldn’t you be at home?  Does your sister know you’re here?  Were it up to me, you’d be sent to bed without supper, but it’s not up to me.  Simply mind your business and I shall mind mine.”

“Wind Whistler,” said Twilight calmly, “I am beginning to get angry.  Your foolishness has gone on long enough.”  Her horn glowed, and the mist of the swamp seeped in through the open door.

“What are you going to do?” Wind Whistler asked.  “Wink out?  Guards, restrain her, please.”

One of the troggles, with a grunt, pointed his spear at Twilight.  Droplets of glowing gold slid down the spear’s blade and concentrated into a bright star at the tip.  Then a beam of light shot from the spear and, after encircling Twilight, transformed into a shining, gilded cage.  The troggle grunted again in satisfaction.

“Twilight, just wink!” called Molly.

Twilight chuckled.  “I can’t wink through solid objects, Molly.  You know that.  That is, I couldn’t . . . when I was solid.”  She closed her eyes and, stepping forward, slipped through the bars of the cage as if they weren’t there.

Wind Whistler’s mouth fell open.  “Impossible.  Two objects with extension cannot occupy the same—”

“I’m afraid I have lost my ‘extension,’ as you call it,” Twilight replied.  “My time on this world is over.”  The mist from the door shot across the room like a river released from a dam.  It surrounded Twilight, turned dark black, and spun like a tornado.  Lightning crackled in the midst of it.  Papers and books lifted from the floor and flew around the room.  Heart Throb shrieked.  Molly dropped to the floor and covered her head.

From the midst of the whirlwind, Twilight’s voice called, “My time has come!  Run, my friends!  Protect Ember for me!”

A heavy book struck one of the troggles in the head, knocking him against the wall.

The Moochick, with Habit safely tucked under one arm, leapt onto his chair and fired beams of blue light from his hands.  The beams struck the two remaining troggles, who, grasping their throats, fell to the floor.

“Run!” the Moochick shouted.  He snatched up the parchment on which he’d written all the rules Molly and the ponies had invented, and then he disappeared in a puff of red smoke.

Wind Whistler backed out of the door, spreading her wings as she went.

Dodging books, papers, and various instruments and knickknacks hurtling around the cottage like missiles, Molly and the others crawled for the door.  Satin n’ Lace shielded Ember with her body while Tux n’ Tails shielded Lucky.  Molly snatched up Spike, ducked low, and ran for the door as if she were running a football.

“Nothing will hit us!” Lucky shouted.  “I’m too lucky for that!”

Indeed, Molly and Spike made the door without being struck, and their companions soon followed.  The windows burst open and black smoke poured out.  Another plume of smoke erupted from the chimney.  High above the cottage, the smoke coagulated together into a great mass, which for a brief moment took on the form of a coal-black pony with pale blue eyes, broad wings, and a long, sharp horn, before it swirled again into an amorphous stream that shot through the air toward the rising moon.

“Mama!” Ember wailed.  She pitched to the ground and sobbed.  Heart Throb and Surprise wept as well.

Molly stared into the sky.  “We need to get Megan,” she said.

“Do you think we can save Twilight?” Heart Throb asked.

Molly shook her head.  “I don’t know about that.  But we gotta tell Megan about Wind Whistler.  If she going to use the troggles to attack other ponies—”

“Go to Paradise Estate with Heart Throb,” said Tux.  “Surprise, you should go, too.  We’ll watch the children.  If you’re quick, perhaps you can get there before Wind Whistler does.”

Molly nodded.  She climbed onto Heart Throb’s back.  Heart Throb spread her wings and took flight.








When the night came on, Megan did her favorite thing:  she told the baby ponies it was their bedtime, and though a few made a show of complaining, she scolded then gently until they relented.  They gathered and walked single-file with her to their nursery.  Then she stood by the door and watched them go in to make sure all were there.

“Where are Ember and Lucky?” she asked as she counted them.

Paradise poked her head out of the nursery and smiled.  “Twilight said she was taking those two someplace.  I know it’s late, but I’m sure they’ll be all right, Megan.”

Megan scrunched up her mouth and tapped a fist against her hip in indecision.  She didn’t like the strange way Twilight had been acting, but she didn’t know what she could do about it, and she certainly wasn’t about to lecture Twilight about how she treated Ember.

She went into the nursery and pulled each baby’s blanket up under her throatlatch to tuck her in.  She made sure Baby Heart Throb had her favorite pillow and that Baby Cuddles was snug in her favorite baby buggy.

Usually, Paradise read the babies a bedtime story, but when Megan was in Dream Valley, she did it herself.  Tonight’s story was “Jack the Giant-Killer,” though Megan wondered if that were too exciting for bedtime.  Indeed, as Megan read, Baby Quackers, one of the first-tooth ponies, jumped up in her crib and attacked her duck mobile with her hooves, so Megan had to scold her again.  At last, she settled down under her blanket and blinked her wide eyes, her new tooth poking out from her upper lip.

After finishing the story, Megan sang a lullaby.  Sometimes she sang songs her mother had once sung to her, but she usually sang songs she made up, as she did tonight:

Hush now, quiet now,
It’s time to lay your sleepy head,
Hush now, quiet now,
It’s time to go to bed.

Drifting off to sleep,
Leave the exciting day behind you,
Drifting off to sleep,
Let the joy of dreamland find you.

Hush now, quiet now,
Lay your sleepy head.
Hush now, quiet now,
It’s time to go to bed.

As she sang, she turned off the lamps, blew out the candles, and pulled the blinds.  By the time she had finished and the room was dark, all the baby ponies were snoring gently.

Megan looked around the room and felt peace flood her heart.  This was much the same as that moment, which felt so long ago now, when she had first done this, shortly before she confronted Catrina the cat-witch.  This, here and now, was everything she wanted.

But the moment disappeared.  The nursery door opened, and Wind Whistler entered.  Her mane was wild and tangled, and she breathed heavily, as if she had just flown a long way.

Baby Cuddles sat up in her buggy and rubbed her eyes with her hooves.  “Megan—?”

“Shh.  Go back to sleep, Baby Cuddles.”  Megan kissed the baby on the forehead and then tiptoed out, closing the door behind her as quietly as she could.  The sky overhead was a rich purple, already dotted with stars, and the western horizon glowed rose.  An evening breeze wafted across the meadow, bringing with it the scent of hay and flowers.

“What is it, Wind Whistler?” Megan asked.

Though her appearance was wild, Wind Whistler spoke in the calm voice with which Megan was so familiar.  “You have school tomorrow, Megan.  It is not good for you to neglect your education on our account.  Climb onto my back, and I shall take you home.”

“I was planning to spend the night—”

“And skip school?  You have done that too much already.”

Megan looked toward the fiery sky where the sun had set.  “I suppose you’re right.”

She threw a leg over Wind Whistler’s back and tucked her thighs under the pony’s wings.  Once Megan was settled, Wind Whistler leapt into the air and took her home for the last time.

In a tight corkscrew, they flew up until they were high enough to cross over the Rainbow Bridge.  Megan sensed subtle changes in the air—a greater coldness, a less pleasant smell—as they moved from Ponyland to Earth.  As the cold night wind whipped her hair, she was struck with a sudden fondness, so she ran a hand over Wind Whistler’s withers.  Wind Whistler did not protest.

They rode in silence.  There was no sound aside from the hiss of air through Wind Whistler’s wings.  The stars shone clear, cold, and bright.  Once they had crossed the Rainbow, Megan saw below an endless field of dark clouds, black and forbidding but marked by occasional glimmers of gray where they caught the light of the stars.

As Wind Whistler lowered herself through the clouds toward the Williams ranch, Megan said quietly, “I think I’ve ruined everything.”

Wind Whistler did not answer.

Under the clouds, most of the land was pitch black, but a semicircle of dim light shone around the ranch house:  a sickly yellow porch light was on at the back door, and a moth fluttered hopelessly around it.

After circling a few times, Wind Whistler landed near the barn.  She stumbled in the dark, but did not fall.

Megan slid from her back and patted her haunch.  “Thanks, Wind Whistler.  Tomorrow, after school, come get me—”

“No.”

Megan paused.  Her eyes began to adjust to the light, and she could make out a few features of Wind Whistler’s face, but she could not read the pony’s expression.

“I am afraid, Megan, that your time in Ponyland is over.  You will not return.”

“What do you mean?”  Megan’s hand crept up to her collar and felt for the locket.

Wind Whistler shook her head.  “You and I have always been close, have we not?”

“Yes—”

“But we no longer see eye-to-eye.  You have been a great help in the past, Megan, but you and your siblings are swiftly becoming a hindrance to our empire.  No more pegasi will come across the Rainbow Bridge for you.”

Megan’s heart pounded in her chest in a staccato thump that kept time with the chirping crickets.  “Wind Whistler, you can’t be serious.”

“I can be nothing else, Megan.”

“But why?”

Wind Whistler snorted and looked away.  “Before, even as I planned, even as I acted, I hesitated.  I hesitated because my mores inhibited me.  Now I no longer believe in mores, so I will do what is necessary.  Tomorrow, I put my plan into action.”

The thumping in Megan’s chest grew louder.  “What plan?”

“The desertion of the twinkle-eyed ponies may, in the end, prove to be to our benefit, but the earth ponies and unicorns still represent a potential for dissention.  That potential must be eliminated.  Megan, if we are to have an empire, we must have an empress.  We cannot continue with three leaders:  we need one.”

Megan nodded.  “You might be right.”

“A philosopher-queen,” Wind Whistler said.  “Someone who rules according to reason.  I thought it might be you, but you, like the other ponies, are too much attached to emotion and sentiment.  And you’ve made it clear that you do not wish to be queen anyway.”

“That’s right.”

“We are in a state of emergency,” said Wind Whistler as she gazed up into the blank sky.  “The logical thing to do in such a circumstance is, of course, to declare martial law.  We will have military rule in Dream Valley until such time as a proper philosopher-queen can be found.”

Megan clenched her fists and swallowed a lump.  “So you mean to rule the ponies yourself.”

“For as long as necessary.”

“How long is that?”

“I just said.”

Megan’s voice rose in pitch.  “Do you really think the other pegasus ponies—?”

“They don’t have to.”  Wind Whistler lowered her head.  Megan could make out her eyes, which reflected the yellow light from the porch.  Her pupils shone like heated coals.  “The troggles will put me in power, Megan.  They agreed, as one of the conditions of their move to Dream Valley, to back me and stage a coup if I gave the word.  They once kept Grogar in power over Tambelon.  They will now keep me in power over Paradise Estate.”

The pounding in Megan’s chest stopped, as did her hard breathing.  For a full minute, there was no sound except that of the crickets.

“You’ve been playing me this whole time,” Megan whispered.

“I recognized that we were in a crisis,” answered Wind Whistler.  “And I had great dreams for the future of Ponyland.  My conception of the nature of reality has changed drastically in recent days, but my dreams and desires have changed not one whit.  Now I merely hesitate less when I seek to fulfill them.”  She snorted again.  “The sudden reappearance of Twilight was an unexpected disruption to my plan, but the troggles dealt with that disruption swiftly.  I’ve little doubt that they can both establish and maintain martial law at Paradise Estate.”

“What’s happened to you?” Megan cried.  “This is not the Wind Whistler I know!”

“I am the same Wind Whistler I have always been,” she answered quietly.  “I follow logic relentlessly and without remorse, and I never veer from logic’s dictates even when they are repugnant to others—or to myself.”

“This can’t be logical, Wind Whistler!  Or if it is, I don’t care!  It’s not right!”

“Right is a word without meaning.  It is merely an expression of your personal tastes.”

“Don’t my tastes matter to you, then?”

“When they are in keeping with mine, yes.”

Megan breathed hard.  She put a hand toward the door of the barn in an attempt to steady herself, but she stumbled, for the barn door was open.  She wasn’t used to thinking about things like this, but she thought she caught a problem, a mistake, in something Wind Whistler had said.  “But if right and wrong are just personal tastes . . . then why follow logic if you don’t like what it says?  What if it goes against your tastes?  Why do you have to be logical?”

Wind Whistler opened her mouth as if to answer, but then paused and lowered her head with brow furrowed.  After a minute, she chuckled.  “I see I still use too many concepts from my old way of thinking.  This will indeed take some getting used to.”

“Wind Whistler, please.”  Megan placed her hands over her heart.  “You know what’s right and what’s wrong.  I know you do.  You know it deep down in here.”

Now Wind Whistler sounded cross.  “I know nothing ‘deep down in here,’ Megan.”  She tapped a hoof against her head.  “I know up here.”

“But you just said logic might not be to your taste.  How could it have brought you to the way you think if it and the way you think can conflict?”

Wind Whistler blinked and tossed her head as if trying to escape an annoying fly.  “Stop it—”

“Maybe . . . maybe the rules of how we should live are built in somehow?  Maybe you can’t see them with your eyes, but what if they’re really there anyway, something you can’t see—?”

“Stop it!”  Wind Whistler stamped a hoof.  “Do not attempt to argue with me, Megan!  You do not have the training, the vocabulary, or the experience!”  She snorted.  “I’ve seen your world.  I’ve seen how your people behave, and I’ve seen the way they rationalize their ideas.  What will you use as a basis of morality if not empirical fact?  God, perhaps?  Do you expect ponies to sit in little benches every Sunday with their eyes closed and their front hooves pressed together, talking to an imaginary friend, just so they’ll do what you happen to think is right?”

“I don’t know,” Megan said.  “I haven’t thought about it—”

“Precisely.  But I have.  I have thought about it.  I stand for reason and logic, and therefore I oppose all superstitions, even yours.”  She raised her head high, and the porch light cast stark shadows under her jaw and around her eyes, making her appear craggy and old.  “If I am to build my empire of love and tolerance, I cannot tolerate someone who will not share my vision, even if that someone is you.”  She pointed a hoof.  “One thing remains:  give me the Rainbow of Light.”

Megan reached to her breast and clutched the locket tight.  “No.”

“You will never return to Ponyland.  We need the Rainbow, and you do not.  Give it to me.”

“I won’t give it to you!  I’ll never give it to you!”

Anger welled up.  The old familiar anger.  Megan staggered backwards into the darkness of the barn, and Wind Whistler, eyes blazing and teeth clenched, followed.  Upon thrusting out a hand, Megan found herself gripping something that had been leaning against the wall inside the door—something long, smooth, and cold.

Wind Whistler snarled and leapt.








“Please hurry, Heart Throb!”

“I’m flying as fast as I can!” Heart Throb panted.  “Oh, I wish I were as fast as Whizzer—”

Molly, Heart Throb, and Surprise had arrived too late at Paradise Estate.  Paradise, looking bemused by their urgency and expressing shock that Molly was in Ponyland, had told them that Wind Whistler had taken Megan home for the night.  Now Molly and Heart Throb were up and over the Rainbow Bridge, flying blind through a cloudbank.  Water streamed across Molly’s face and soaked through her pink overalls.  She wrapped her arms around herself as her teeth chattered.

“Don’t let go of me, darling!” cried Heart Throb.  “If you fall off, I’ll never forgive myself!”

“Just hurry!” Molly shouted.  “I know how to ride—whoa!”  She scrabbled at Heart Throb’s mane as she began to slide sideways.  “Okay, okay, I’ll hold on.  Just hurry!”

Heart Throb circled around the ranch and landed hard in front of the barn, staggering forward and falling to her belly.  She lay in the dirt and gasped for breath as Molly leapt from her back.

“Sis!” Molly called.  “Sis!”

Nothing replied except the steady chirping of the crickets.  Noticing the open door of the barn, she walked steadily toward it.  The light from the porch allowed her to see a few feet inside, beyond which the interior turned impenetrably black.  But the blackness of the ground had an odd shape, as if not all of it were due to the shadow cast by the open door.  Molly, heart pounding loud enough to drown out even the crickets, stepped in, bent, and touched the earthen floor.

“What is it?” Heart Throb called.

The floor was warm and wet.  Water?  A horse’s urine?  No, it felt too sticky for that—

“Have you found something?” yelled Heart Throb.

Shaking, with tears running down her face, Molly straightened and backed out of the barn.  In the anemic light from the house, the palm of her hand glistened red.








Megan buried Wind Whistler in the same grave where she’d buried Blackie.

Dragging the body had not been easy.  Her arms felt like jelly, but she forced herself to work anyway.  Frantic, her mind swimming and her breath coming in rattling gasps, she turned over the heavy, wet earth in desperation, trying to dig a hole big enough.

Blood had splattered her shirt, so she had pulled it off and tied the straps of her overalls tight above her hips.  Trickling with sweat, she dug while stripped to the waist.  As she swung the shovel, the locket bounced hard against her skin, leaving a bruise.  She couldn’t seem to make the dirt move:  she had dug so much already, but the hole was still so small—

Yet a small hole was all it took, one hole, right in the forehead, at the center of an imaginary “X” . . .

Her body shook, and she cried aloud like a wounded animal.

As she worked in the darkness, she could see Wind Whistler’s face hovering before her like a ghost.  The memory ran through her mind over and over again, stark and exact in every detail:  Megan’s hands had fallen on the handle of a pickaxe, so she held it high above her head, and Wind Whistler said, “This is what you do, isn’t it, Megan?  This is what you always do.”

Then Megan swung—

She screamed again.  To drive the image away, she muttered and mumbled, but still the memory wouldn’t go.

The pickaxe came down.  Megan wanted to call it back, but she couldn’t stop the swing.  She had used too much force.  It was too late.  She had already started.

And she always finished what she started.

The tip of the axe struck Wind Whistler’s left eye, and blood poured out.  Wind Whistler looked astonished rather than pained, and then her mouth turned up, and she laughed.  She laughed a laugh Megan had never heard before, the laugh of one gone mad.

Through her laughter, Wind Whistler said one word:  “Again.”  Megan wasn’t sure what she meant.

Now Megan was both too furious and too frightened to stop.  She swung from the side, aiming for that spot, that fatal spot at the center of the imaginary “X”—

The memory wouldn’t go.  It was over, but it would not end; she held a shovel, not a pickaxe, but still that moment played and played in her mind and would not pass.  In the space of a minute, she lived Wind Whistler’s death a thousand times.

Her mumblings turned to words, strange words, a childish rhyme of the sort she sang when she put the baby ponies to sleep.  She uttered the words in a tuneless singsong between ragged breaths—

My little pony, my little pony,
I comb and brush her hair.
My little pony, my little pony,
Tie a ribbon to show how much I care.

My little pony, my little pony,
I take her wherever I go.
My little pony, my little pony,
Oh . . . I love her so.

At the last word, Megan collapsed to her knees and sobbed.








On the way back to the barn, Megan kicked up the dirt to hide the trail of blood.  She used the spigot to wash the blood and dirt from her arms.  Then she hooked up the hose and sprayed the barn floor.  She rinsed her shirt as best she could, wrung it out, and struggled back into it.  The night air cut sharply through the wet fabric.

In a daze, Megan staggered toward the house, but, with a start, she returned to her senses when she saw Molly sitting alone on the back porch and kicking her feet.

“Molly?” Megan said.  Her voice sounded hoarse.  “It’s past your bedtime.”

“Yours, too.”

Megan didn’t answer that.  She swallowed once and said nothing.

“How is Ponyland?” Molly asked.

Megan slid her tongue around her teeth as she considered how to answer.  “Fine,” she said.  “I think everything there is going to be fine from now on.”

Molly merely nodded.  “That’s good, then.”  She stood up, and the porch light, behind and above her head, cast her face in shadow.  “We should go to bed, Megan.”

It would be a few years before Megan would get her own room.  At this time, she still shared a bed with Molly.  Carefully avoiding the creaking stairs, they crept up to their room together.  Megan had left her nightgown in Ponyland, so she climbed into bed without it.

The night was cool, but the bedclothes still felt stifling.  Megan’s hammering heart refused to slow, and Molly’s breathing beside her sounded loud in the still room.  Megan remembered how, when she was younger, Molly had wanted to be cuddled at night.  Molly was too big for that now, of course, but sometimes Megan missed it.

“Sis?” Molly whispered.

“Yes, Molly?”

“Do you really think everything will be all right?”

Megan didn’t answer for several minutes.  Though she had rinsed as thoroughly as she could, she could still smell blood.  The stink rose off her hands and off her bare chest and filled the room.  She wondered if Molly could smell it.  She wondered if Molly knew what it was.

“I don’t know,” Megan said.

“But you tried, right?  You tried to do what you thought you had to, to make everything all right?”

Megan stared up at the dark ceiling, and tears welled up until they filled the hollows of her eyes and spilled onto her cheeks.  She choked as she whispered, “Yes.  I tried very hard to make everything all right.”

“Then that’s enough,” said Molly.  “That’s all I want to know.”

Molly rolled over, and her breathing slowed until it turned into the soft, even sound of sleep.








In the morning, with memories of last night still running through her head, Megan arose, put on her work clothes, walked downstairs, and stepped outside.  The air was fresh and cool, and a droplet of dew hung from the tip of every blade of grass.

With her heart churning with too many emotions, emotions she would be unable to distinguish or reflect upon for years to come, Megan looked up and, for the first time, saw an unbroken sky of blue above the ranch.  There were no clouds, and there was no rainbow.

She touched the locket at her breast and opened her mouth, and her breath came out as a faint white mist.








Megan told most of her story while staring at Twilight Sparkle’s purple-painted hooves and at the patch of ground on which they stood.  When she had finished, with her head still down, she turned her hands palm-upward and, with wrists together, raised them until they were before Twilight’s face.

“What is this?” Twilight asked.

“I want you to bind me,” Megan answered.  “I want you to take me back to Equestria to stand trial.”

She knelt with her hands raised for almost a minute before Twilight’s hoof touched her wrists; the hoof was hard, smooth, and slightly moist from the grass.  It pressed down, forcing Megan to lower her arms.

Swiftly, Megan snatched her hands away and seized Twilight by the throat, digging the tips of her fingers into the pony’s jugular grooves.  “Don’t,” she hissed, her nose pressed against Twilight’s.  “Don’t tell me it was five thousand years ago and doesn’t matter to you!  It wasn’t!  It’s been—”

“I won’t,” Twilight answered.  “I won’t tell you that.  I’m going to punish you.”  Twilight’s breathing grew shallow and rapid, and Megan imagined she could hear the pony’s heart pounding.  Slowly, Megan lowered her hands and returned her gaze to the ground.

Twilight said, “As a princess, I can do certain things, things I couldn’t do before.  I have authority, though I’ve never used it.  I’ve never made a decree.  Even when I made laws in Ponyville, I asked the mayor’s permission first.  This is going to be my first real act as a princess.  Are you ready?”

Eyes on the ground, Megan nodded.

“For starters, as part of your punishment, you’re now my subject.  That means you have to do whatever I tell you.  Got it?”

Again, Megan nodded.

“Okay, then.  Now I’m going to give you an order.  You have to do it.”

Megan felt that same hoof, this time on her forehead.  It trembled.  Twilight’s breathing grew still more rapid, and Twilight swallowed loudly before saying, “Here goes.  In the name of Princess Celestia, Princess Luna, Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, and in my own name, Twilight Sparkle, by my authority as a princess of Equestria, for all your crimes against ponykind, whatever they may have been . . .”

Megan’s hands shook.

Twilight took a deep breath and finished, “I pardon you.  I absolve you.  I forgive you.  And as your princess, for your punishment, I order you to forgive yourself.”

Megan raised her head and looked in Twilight’s eyes, but her vision blurred with tears.

Twilight reared, opened her wings, and tenderly wrapped Megan in an embrace.








Molly giggled with excitement as she skipped along beside Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy.  On the way back to the barn, they met up with Rarity and Applejack, and the five of them chattered about their plans while they made their way.  Rainbow boasted that she would be the best dressage horse ever, Rarity discussed the future of fashionable horse tack, and Applejack spoke in admiration of the ranch.

Their talk cut off suddenly when they rounded the barn and found Megan weeping in Twilight’s wings.  Frowns on their faces, the ponies looked at one other for a moment, as if communicating wordlessly.  Then, silently, they walked to Megan, surrounded her, and joined in the embrace.

Molly saw Danny and Pinkie walking from the opposite direction.  They appeared to be too absorbed in each other to notice what was going on, but, when they neared the barn, Pinkie at last turned from Danny and saw the group hug.

She looked ready to dive in, but she must have caught sight of Megan sobbing in the center, or perhaps she simply noticed the somber mood.  Instead of jumping, she walked carefully and quietly to the group and found a place.

Giving Megan and the ponies a wide berth, Danny joined Molly by the side of the barn.  “What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know for sure,” Molly replied.  “But I have my hopes.”








Megan did not wonder where the other ponies had come from, nor why they clustered around her.  She merely accepted their presence and their warmth as she continued to cry on Twilight’s shoulder.

There, nestled between the six ambassadors of Equestria, the legendary warrior emptied herself.  After five long years of torment, the blade of ice in her heart finally melted, and the wound it had made at last began to heal.