The rising sun cast its beams on the sign of the Ponyville train station, down the timber supports, and over the planks of the platform. Hardly any ponies came out this early, so for now the air was free for the dawn chorus of a thousand chirping songbirds. Daisies waved among the grassy fields beyond.
Rainbow Dash and Spike stared beyond the platform, barely taking all this in. Regular as clockwork, Twilight passed them one way, and then passed them another way. They listened to her pacing hooves clopping on the wood.
“Relax, Twilight,” said Spike, holding back the groan. “It’ll go off without a hitch. You just wait.”
“Why are you getting so worked up about it now, anyway?” Rainbow stopped staring and followed her progress back and forth. “We’ve got hours before the train even reaches this nation thing.”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said Twilight in a strained voice; her mane stuck up in certain places and her eyes were bloodshot. “But they never wait that long. The Hair-Splitter’s ambassador always comes to the diplomat’s hometown personally to check the candidate for themselves. They’ll be here the instant that train arrives. And I know I haven’t memorized all those etiquette books. I’m going to make a huge mistake, and I don’t know what it is yet! How could I have been so thoughtless?”
Rainbow raised an eyebrow at Spike, who shrugged back with a pleading look. Rattling noises came from Twilight’s bulging saddlebags, but neither of them had brought so much as a purse.
“I shouldn’t have accepted this… I should have told Celestia…”
“You’ll do fine, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash. “Sometimes, the best thing you can do is grit your teeth and tackle things head-on.”
“Yeah! And besides,” said Spike, “lots of normal ponies manage OK for a little while. Someone like you should have no problem.”
Twilight stopped pacing to give them a nod. She’d barely started smoothing down her mane, however, when alarm shocked through her face.
“What do you know about Hair-Splitter customs?” she said to Rainbow Dash.
“Take a wild guess.”
“But you must have read those books, at least?”
“Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash with strained patience, “I’m here for support. That’s all I got. Those books you tossed me had writing you could barely see. And I didn’t get it even when I could see it.”
“Spike,” Twilight said at once. “Maybe you can help. Did you read all those books I gave you?”
Spike stood to attention. “Er… yes?”
She narrowed her eyes. “How many of those books did you read?”
“Including the contents pages… nine.”
“Nine? Nine? That’s nowhere near enough.” Then her eyes narrowed to slits. “What do you mean, ‘including the contents pages’?”
“Well, I had a bit of trouble. Some of those books are huge. Just getting through the subsections took the best part of a day.”
“How many without the contents pages, then?”
Spike cringed when he answered: “One. And that was because I read the index too.”
“It’s a shame the others couldn’t come out,” said Rainbow, ignoring the smack of hoof against face. “I wouldn’t mind a bit of cheering before we go.”
None of them answered. There were plenty of reasons why the others couldn’t come, of course. Pinkie Pie and Rarity needed a lie-in after a busy week. Applejack only woke up at cock’s crow to do her morning chores. The unsociable hours were chosen because of the Hair-Splitters’ scheduling demands, not the ponies’. Lastly, Spike had promised to send daily letters, detailing every blow and every twist and turn, so they could keep in touch.
There were plenty of reasons. Therefore, the unspoken one could easily creep among them and blend in as though it wasn’t there.
“At least Fluttershy’s coming with us,” said Twilight. She lowered her hoof from the red mark on her forehead. “Where is she, anyway? That train will be here any second.”
Rainbow shrugged. “Probably taking care of some animal stuff. Who knows?”
A brave smile ventured onto Twilight’s muzzle. “Of course. I’m glad she changed her mind. And I really am grateful, Rainbow Dash. I could do with some support.”
“I’m sure the others wish you good luck too,” said Spike. “I’ll tell them so much in our letters, it’ll feel like we’re all in the same place anyway.”
“Yeah, Twi. We got your back.”
Relief swept over Twilight’s face… before the shrill whistle blew it away again. All three of them turned to stare up the track.
To begin with, only a pink dot was visible. Its buffer was a haze even under this cool morning air. However, the longer they watched, the more details poured into their consciousness. The staring eye of its front, the steaming funnel on top, the sliding dance of its wheels: soon, the shaking tracks were chugging under the weight of all that metal and pink. Slits behind it became flattened windows, which became full carriages. Beating like a gigantic heart, the chug-chug chug-chug chug-chug drowned out the birdsong.
Wordlessly, Spike and Twilight sidestepped closer to each other.
A final whistle shrieked at them, and the train screeched and groaned its way to a slower pace. Steam hissed from its sides. Carriage after carriage blurred past.
Rainbow Dash took off and hovered a foot above the platform. Her face solidified.
The last carriage stopped before them, every single one of its blinds drawn down. When the doors opened, a dozen ponies got stuck in the frame. Limbs struggled. Voices shouted. Finally, they popped out and stampeded past them. Their clattering hooves died away.
Twilight and Rainbow glanced at each other. Twilight tried to ignore her own beads of sweat. Rainbow swallowed as quietly as she dared.
“Here it comes,” they murmured.
Thuds came from inside the darkened carriage. Two orbs glowed red in the shadows. There were no pupils or irises.
The first thing it stuck out was its head. That at least was mostly the head of a pony, if a little grey. Holes suggested a mane half-decayed.
Six smaller red orbs opened around the two large ones. All eight eyes blinked. Spike chewed his claws.
Eight hooves thudded across the planks. Tucked beneath the head almost modestly, two hoof-like pedipalps twitched. A hairy mass emerged after it; looming over the dead head was a sun-eclipsing abdomen, large enough for six cramped ponies to squeeze inside.
The Hair-Splitter stopped before them. Eight red orbs stared.
Twilight’s horn flickered. The urge sparked along its length. She checked the other two, but they were rapidly turning pale and would soon have no colour left whatsoever.
Coughing nervously, she kneeled on one leg and lowered her head to bow. Low enough to touch the floor. Just like the book said.
When she glanced up, the Hair-Splitter was still staring. It didn’t seem to have moved.
“Erm,” she said, wincing as she did so, “good morning. Welcome to Ponyville. I am Princess Twilight Sparkle.” After a lot more staring, she remembered the next step and added, “Daughter of Night Light and Twilight Velvet, former protégé of Princess Celestia, and current political ambassador on behalf of Equestria.”
Although the orbs didn’t seem to flicker, nevertheless she wondered if the other two were being watched.
“Guys,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth, “you’re supposed to bow.”
“Hm? Wha?” Spike broke out of his wide-eyed trance. At once, he threw himself down beside her, nose kissing the ground, claws in front of his face: exactly the wrong posture.
On the other side, Rainbow Dash tilted herself in midair. Without landing, though, the gesture made no difference. The Hair-Splitter raised its head to watch her beating wings. All eight eyes narrowed.
“Uh…” Twilight shook herself down. She wiped the next wave of sweat off her forehead and reached forwards, foreleg extended. “A pleasure to meet you, Ambassador…? A pleasure to meet you.”
The instant she took a step, the head locked onto her. Four of its front limbs rose up. It hissed.
Twilight almost tripped over Spike in her haste to back off. No pony had fangs like those. Each one flicked forwards like a viper’s venomous teeth, as curved and thick as steak knives. Black ooze dripped from each point.
“Oh no,” groaned Spike. Shushing noises rasped along the creature’s throat.
“It’s OK,” she whispered back. “I just startled it. They don’t like creatures getting too close. Oh, but I should’ve seen this coming.”
“What do you mean?” he said behind cupped claws.
“I knew I memorized that rule. Why didn’t I see this coming? I thought I could handle the basics, I saw the picture, but actually seeing one…”
“Psst! I hope you’ve got a backup plan, Twi,” hissed Rainbow above her.
The Hair-Splitter kept shushing them, never lowering its legs or retracting its fangs. Then, at some unspoken signal, it drew back as though nothing had happened. One held breath later, both ponies and Spike heard a singsong voice echo across the platform.
“Ah-ah-ah aah-aaah. Ah-ah-ah aaaah-aaaaaah.”
Fluttershy flapped past the ticket booth, mane tied back with a white ribbon, rose petals blooming on her chest, and the hem of her green dress sweeping the ground. Following her, five beavers squeaked and hummed along to her notes. Watching the procession, Rainbow Dash uttered a heartfelt “phew”.
“Er,” said Twilight.
“What’s she got there?” Spike craned his neck over her to see.
On the platform, Fluttershy stopped singing and the beavers huddled about her. Cupped in her hooves, the funnel-web spider gleamed along its dark blue armour.
“Now you all know the agreement,” said Fluttershy. “You leave Applejack’s farm alone, and in return…?”
One of the beavers chattered and squealed. The elderly grey one at the back let his head fall down and started snoring.
“That’s right,” said Fluttershy. “You’ll be able to live safely in the Everfree Estuary that way. No nasty monsters would dare bother you. Those waters are fine places, too. I asked my animal friends to come visit so you won’t feel left out.”
Her audience cheering and slamming their tails, she turned to the funnel-web. “As for you, I hope you realize this is your chance to prove yourself, don’t you? If you can’t be a good house guest, you can at least be a good security guard. Perhaps now you’ll put your ways to good use.”
Feebly, two pedipalps twitched in the spidery equivalent of a shrug.
“Oh, really? I’ll be checking when I come back. Now, I know you’re new to this whole business, so I won’t judge you too harshly if you make an innocent mistake, and my friends know where the antivenom is kept. But if I hear you’ve bitten this lovely family, or any of my friends, or any monster who didn’t deserve it, and if you do anything you know you shouldn’t do… well, you know what the consequences will be.”
She pressed her nose up against its quivering eyes.
“Don’t you?”
The funnel-web slumped on its eight legs. Eventually, a foreleg tapped her on the frog. As if by magic, Fluttershy was all smiles again.
“Good boy. Now you’ll play nice, won’t you?”
She lowered the spider to the planks. It didn’t even wait before hopping off. Both beaver children surged forwards.
“No!” she snapped. They backed off at once. “He doesn’t like being touched. I know he’s small and not your idea of an animal friend, but let him have his space. I’m sure his better nature will come out if treated gently and with understanding.”
The beaver parents nodded and waved down at the little spider. It waved a pedipalp back.
“Amazing,” said Twilight.
Rainbow Dash whistled. “You’re full of surprises. Hey, how come you’re wearing your dress now?”
“I thought we were supposed to,” said Fluttershy as she drew level with them. “Rarity put so much effort into it. I didn’t want to let it go to waste. Why, did you get one?”
“Sure. Twilight’s got it. With any luck, I won’t even have a chance to get it warm.”
“Er. Guys?” said Spike.
He jabbed his thumb at the Hair-Splitter. Eight gleaming eyes stared on. It turned its head towards Fluttershy, lips flexing while fangs shuffled underneath. They drew back from its low, thoughtful hiss.
Then Twilight stepped between it and Fluttershy. Once more, she tried the bow. No response.
Out of the corner of her mouth, she said, “I think the dress was a bad idea.”
“I hope not.” Fluttershy inspected her sheer greenness, from puffy sleeves to trailing hem. “Too floral, you think?”
“Possible. According to my books, Hair-Splitters take a keen interest in vibrant greenery. You’re wearing the colours of its natural habitat.”
Fluttershy stared at the Hair-Splitter. It stared back. When Rainbow looked from one to the other, she then shook her head and stared at a spot just behind Fluttershy’s ear. A few hairs moved. She grinned.
“Excuse me,” said Fluttershy; her gaze wandered upwards as though listening to a voice they couldn’t hear. “I think I know how to deal with this. One moment. I will be right back.”
“Where’s she going?” Twilight straightened up, and at once the Hair-Splitter jerked its whole body forwards. She yelped and skipped back, a few feet out of reach.
They froze, one in mid-escape, one in mid-grab. Both pedipalps hung like the limp-wristed arms of a zombie. The holes in its mane swept across its grey neck.
“What did I do!?” she said. Her voice was starting to crack.
“Nothing.” Spike ducked behind her and peered over her haunches. “Maybe it’s just cranky? I get like that in the mornings too.”
“It did it when you moved,” said Rainbow. “You must’ve spooked it.”
“Ah! I can’t tell a thing.” Twilight levitated her saddlebags off. “The books must have something. It could’ve been a slight tremor in my voice.”
The three of them huddled together, Rainbow hovering behind Twilight’s and Spike’s heads. Along the platform, the beavers squealed, apart from Grandpa Sawbones, who was still snoring.
Behind them, a crowd of ponies thundered past the booth. Cameras and hooves rose up. The funnel-web took one look at them and reared up, fangs dripping.
“Hey,” said Spike. “Aren’t they the ponies from the party?”
“What are they doing here?” said Twilight. “They shouldn’t just blunder in like this.”
“Look!” shouted one of the stallions. “I knew we’d find her here! Princess Twilight Sparkle, with her famous baby dragon! And that must be Rainbow Dash of the Wonderbolts.”
Rainbow Dash preened her mane, but at Twilight’s look quickly lowered her hoof again.
“I’m sorry,” said Twilight. “But I must ask you all to leave. This is a delicate diplomatic operation.”
“Well, really, Aficionado,” snapped the mare with the chapeau. “Where else would she be on a diplomatic operation scheduled so tightly? And ugh! What is that!?”
All eight of the red orbs narrowed.
“Now that’s horrific! I gotta get a picture!” One of the tourist ponies brought his camera to his eye. “Wait until I show everyone back home! An actual spider-pony!”
Too late, Twilight reared up, forelimbs outstretched. “No, wait! Don’t take any pictures! They don't like –”
The first flash cut across all eight blinking eyes. Screeching, the Hair-Splitter shot forwards. Both fangs slid out with an ominous shhhhhhck! The flashes stopped at once. The crowd yelped. Rainbow and Spike stood their ground and cringed. Twilight could feel the hot breath burning over her face –
A sack thudded onto the planks between them.
Orange grains poured out of the slit on top while the sack bent under the sheer weight. Printed on its front, the giant spider symbol creased under the shifting pile.
Fluttershy landed gently beside the sack, and she wiped the grains off her tight emerald sleeves. The Hair-Splitter didn’t move.
She bowed low. Twilight, Spike, and Rainbow blinked and bowed too, following her example, or at least Rainbow did when she got a backwards glare.
As soon as they relaxed again, Fluttershy prodded the sack and stared at the two biggest orbs. Her face was carefully blank. Yet the Hair-Splitter merely cocked its head at her.
Sighing, she scooped up a hoofful of the grains. They touched her lips. She muttered “munch-munch” under her breath, and with her other hoof rubbed her stomach.
It didn’t move. Whispers slipped out among the watching crowd, but Twilight’s over-the-shoulder “shush!” cut them off.
Finally, the hoof-like, gigantic pedipalps reached over the lip. It brought the sticky coating of grains to its eyes for inspection. The pony nostrils twitched.
Fluttershy nodded encouragingly as the Hair-Splitter opened its mouth and wiped the grains off with smacking lips. A black tongue flicked over them, slurping up any leftovers.
A spark of delight flashed in the redness. More scoops smashed into the grains. As though afraid they would evaporate, the Hair-Splitter shovelled as many grains as it could into its maw. However, both of its large eyes locked onto hers.
She took four steps forwards. It stopped eating. Spike’s claws gripped her on the shoulder, but she patted them until they let go. In the shadow of her ear, the hairs twitched again.
Fluttershy raised both wings over her back, curving them forwards immediately. She frowned at the whispering behind her.
Soon, they were a blur. Her legs tensed and tapped the planks occasionally. Puzzled murmurs met her ears, but she ignored them. This had nothing to do with them. This was just between her and the spider.
Her breath became ragged. One wing stiffened with a sudden cramp, but she winced and forced it onwards. Sweat patches bloomed almost everywhere on her dress. Not once did she let her stare wander.
The Hair-Splitter blinked.
Panting, she collapsed onto the ground. She didn’t even resist when Twilight’s telekinetic spell heaved her back up.
“What did you just do?” said Twilight.
“I… just… said…” Fluttershy shook with an almighty gasp. “I just told her… we have tasty treats… and please don’t eat my face.”
“Oh. Really?” Twilight cast about for something to add. “Um. Good.”
Grains scattered under the Hair-Splitter. At once, its pedipalps jabbed and swiped at the air, vibrating into a wing-shaped blur even as the whole eased through a clear routine.
“It’s talking back.”
“She’s talking back,” corrected Fluttershy.
“Yes, but do you know how extraordinary this is? Nothing in any of my books mentioned a pony communicating by pedipalp before. I must take some notes! Spike, did you pack my notebook?”
“Shh. She’s almost done.”
Not a second later, the Hair-Splitter snapped back to attention. Fluttershy blushed under the stare.
Spike held out notebook and ballpoint. “What did it – What did she say?”
Fluttershy glanced at Rainbow Dash still hovering overhead. She glanced at the funnel-web cowering behind the beaver family, and then at the crowd of ponies peeking cautiously around the corner. Then she smiled at Spike.
“She said ‘Treat is nice, I’m not going to eat your face yet, maybe we can be friends, also your posture needs work.’”
Spike laughed and slapped his knee. “Hahaha! That is so awesome! Can you teach me to do that?”
Fluttershy pushed a few stray locks out of her face. “It’s a lot harder than it looks. Especially in this dress.”
More hairs shivered behind her ear. She bowed low again.
Heaving its massive bulk around, the Hair-Splitter snatched up the sack, trailing grains as it went. It snorted and clambered, all eight feet thudding on the planks, towards the dark carriage. One tourist pony raised a camera, but a growl from the beavers made it drop out of sight again. The carriage rocked slightly. Eight red glows flickered out. Once more, the darkness was absolute.
As one, Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Spike, and Fluttershy breathed the relief out of their lungs.
“Well, this is going to be one interesting trip,” said Rainbow Dash. “How did you know to do all that?”
“I didn’t know,” said Fluttershy. “I thought I’d try it and see.”
“There must be more to it than that.” Twilight scribbled on her notebook. “I can’t believe how you managed to invent a whole new form of communication. Ponies through the ages have struggled just to come up with the etiquette system we do have.”
“Pony etiquette that works?” said Fluttershy.
“Well, yes. Naturally.”
“Maybe that was the problem all along.” Fluttershy patted Spike on the head, and he waved her off. “It’s like with Spike and the other dragons. We don’t just give them pony food. They like gems too, even though we can’t eat them.”
“So,” said Spike, stroking his chin, “you got spider food for a spider-pony?”
“I figured if ponies have had to work so hard talking to them, then it’s because they’ve been thinking in pony too long. Please don’t make too much of it. This was only a guess. It could easily have failed.”
Twilight smoothed down her stray locks. Without a second’s hesitation, she rammed into the startled Fluttershy and squeezed her round the neck.
“The important thing is that you gave it some thought! I’m so glad you’re coming along!” she said. They broke off, Fluttershy rubbing her neck slightly. “Thanks for the help. I can see this going a lot more smoothly now. With my etiquette knowledge and your understanding, I think we have a real chance! Come on, Spike. Let's get on the train. Maybe we'll get some more clues about its habits from its preferred indoor environs.”
Unseen by the others, Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy exchanged winks.
Fluttershy was the last to clamber onto the carriage, and before she shut the door behind her, she waved at the beaver family, at the funnel-web spider, and even – if reluctantly – at the few faces of the crowd peeking past the booth. The door slammed as it slid into place.
“All right!” said Rainbow Dash. “Here we go!”
“Did they have to make it so dark?” muttered Spike. One of the blinds swung up. Something hissed. He hastily leaped up and closed it again.
Behind her ear, Squeaky Clean tapped a code onto her skin. She closed her eyes, the better to focus. A lot of emphatic jabbing was coming through.
“Oh yes,” she whispered. “Yes indeed. This is definitely better than raptor rodeo day.”
“Er,” said Twilight, “who are you talking to?”
Even through the darkness, Fluttershy's blush shone brightly. “N-No one,” she said. “Just… thinking out loud. That's all.”
And somewhere in the shadows, Rainbow Dash and the Hair-Splitter burst out laughing.