//------------------------------// // 5. Back to... where!? // Story: End of the Crusade // by rareSnowDash //------------------------------// It was past twelve in the afternoon. The merciless sunshine beating down on every pony who trotted by visibly denied that, only hours ago, Equestria had been showered with a heavy downpour. The sun-scorched ground, however, which happened to still have drying puddles of rainwater here and there, declared otherwise. Nevertheless, painted stacks of buildings, some rough and some decent, were scattered at the sides of different roads. Dodge City had long been the place of all things mismatched and trying to fit in. Such was the chain of thought of an earth pony, a pegasus and a unicorn who were all seeking to find refuge and safety from the slovenly hooves of their pursuers. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle all happened to enter the Dodge City at around the same time. The former two had been on their own during their journey of hours but the fervor to flee from their chasers was too overpowering for them to even think of a break. Sweetie Belle, on the other hoof, had been driven in a carriage by a snooty pegasus stallion who spent half of the journey bragging about all his petty accomplishments (such as helping his friend open a peanut butter jar). Even though her landlady had promised a free ride, Sweetie Belle was bound to give him two bits so that he would just shut up. Tongue lolling out, fatigued wrinkles scraping under her eyes, Apple Bloom scrambled into the city. Every muscle in her body stung with constant galloping for the past seven hours and dry mud caked strands of her red mane together in a rather disagreeable fashion. The moment she entered, and despite her body’s throbbing longing for some rest, she snapped her head around to catch unlucky sight of any possible goons that could inform Peel of her whereabouts – if she wanted to mingle, she knew she would have to expect ponies as crude as herself. Fortunately, for her, all the ponies looked contented enough to be non-criminals. Journeying to the Dodge City with weak wings and devouring fear of being spotted had rendered Scootaloo restless and drained. The merciless rain earlier had greatly propelled up her course by the time she arrived at the Macintosh Hills but she had managed to find temporary shelter in some hollow cave nearby but she didn’t have time to rest with the EIA hunting her; she crawled through the caves where she could be safe from the thunderous showers till it was dry again. When she arrived in the city, the first thing she did was to look out for any police officers. Observing at different ponies’ cutie marks, she figured she was safe… for a while. It might not have been an endeavor that used up most of Sweetie Belle’s physical strength but Celestia would be a changeling if it were to be claimed it didn’t take every ounce of Sweetie’s mental strength to keep herself from going insane on the journey to Dodge City. Her chauffeur had been the single most irritating fathead of a pony she loathed herself for coming across in such a long time… and the abysmal rain hadn’t been particularly nice either; the ruin that had befallen her coat and mane was awful and she decided it would take a while before she got the money to maintain her makeup again. As soon as she stepped out of the carriage– more like ‘jumped out’– and into the city, she hoped nopony would notice her; she looked simply hideous at the time; instead, she chose to find the cheapest room on rent immediately. *** “Excuse me, miss,” bellowed a burly stallion as he sidestepped Apple Bloom, being too busy glaring at any pony suspicious, who was going to crash straight into him. “Beg pardon,” muttered she, slightly alarmed, but without casting another glance at him. Some ponies were dangerous, some could be helpful and some were important– this one, she observed, was none of the three and she never cared to remember unimportant ponies. Forgetting the trivial encounter, she, with her back slightly crouched in defense, trotted on ahead. The Dodge City was not as rough as the Badlands and it was not as sophisticated as Canterlot; it didn’t have EFBI-level wanted criminals lurking about and neither did it have top-class security forces rummaging the place upside down. It was as safe as it was crude; in short, it was the perfect place for Apple Bloom to lie low for a while. Peel wouldn’t give up his massacring search for her; he was too crass to do anything close to forgiving or decent. And Apple Bloom knew that it would only be a matter of days before he got to her with those daft gangsters that he employed – unwillingly, Apple Bloom internally scoffed to herself as she trotted down a calmer street where she wouldn’t collide with anypony else. For all that Scootaloo knew, there used to be a sheriff in the area at a time; she even used to know his name. Where that pony was now, she failed to find out. At least, she consoled herself, that meant she had a slightly higher chance to staying undercover in the Dodge City. Slashcut told you to mingle. Her mind was pushing her to fall back on her former team member’s advice. First, she growled and fought against it but then she let it seep in. Slashcut might have been a traitor but sometimes even traitors can be right. Scootaloo’s eyes fell on an elderly mare, a purple earth pony, hobbling nearby and, reluctantly deciding to follow Slashcut’s advice, she unfurled her wings to fly to her. Slashcut wasn’t the only traitor, it turned out. Her wings snapped shut with a sharp sting of pain the moment Scootaloo opened them. Flying non-stop for hours on end did have its disadvantages and, with a defeated sigh, Scootaloo took a step forward– only to have her hind leg scream in silent agony as she did. Suppressing a yelp, she trudged forward to the old mare. “Miss?” she asked, tapping the mare’s shoulder as she turned. Her voice was rough and raspy from not having eaten for hours. “Uh… can I ask you something?” “Bask hooves in a tin?” croaked the old pony with a raised eyebrow as she perked one craggy ear up. “No, can I ask you something?” corrected Scootaloo, raising her voice a bit. “Oh,” nodded the mare with a slight smile, “What do you want, dearie?” “Uh… I heard there used to be a sheriff here… he still around?” “What? Sheriff? Oh, you mean Sheriff Silverstar, do you? Oh, he is still in office, that old chap… He is the Sheriff of Appleloosa, mind you, not this city– but he pops in now and again. We don’t really have much law enforcement in this place, heh, heh… Oh, uh, did you want something from the sheriff, honey?” Scootaloo blinked. Then she shook her head. “No… thanks, though…” The questioning look in the mare’s grey eyes thought otherwise and, stuttering something unintelligible (something like ‘sorry for wasting your time’), Scootaloo quickly trotted away into a street behind where the lack of ponies would keep her unnoticed. The main thing Sweetie Belle had come to the Dodge City was to find somewhere affordable to spend the rest of her fifty-nine remaining hours. Just because she was going to die didn’t mean she couldn’t use a bed to think of any way to divert it – and, if what Mrs Cloud Boothoof was to be trusted, she could book a week’s stay in the… Sweetie Belle squinted at the yellowed paper floating in her magic before her eyes. Mrs Boothoof had written the name of a certainly cheap inn but Sweetie Belle was having bit of a time deciphering her hoofwriting. She squinted a bit more. The… the… the Dodge and the Pony! Glad to have comprehended out the incomprehensible, Sweetie Belle folded the paper and trotted forward, looking for a potential informant who would be able to guide her in the right direction. A young, seemingly polite and blue-coated mare caught her eye as the former sold little bouquets of flowers at her shop and Sweetie Belle cantered ahead to talk to her. “Excuse me? I’d like some directions please,” smiled Sweetie Belle, standing in front of the counter, as she adjusted her mane enough to look presentable. The petite mare looked up, gave a little gasp of shock but then she smiled. “Directions? To where, ma’am?” whispered the mare, arranging some pink flowers in a white bouquet. “The Dodge and the Pony… Do you kindly happen to know where that is?” The mare raised a hoof at a quiet street close by. “Go through there, turn right from the carpenter’s place and there is the inn!” Sweetie Belle smiled, glancing at said street again. “Oh, I see! Thank you!” “It’s no problem,” nodded the smiling mare as she got back to her work. Sweetie Belle, on the other hoof, walked into the greeting hush of the street. *** Coincidence is a funny thing. It always happens when one least expects it. It is even weirder when the involved don’t realize it is actually happening. Coincidence brought Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle in the same street and, if they hadn’t been so watchful with each step, they might never have seen each other again. The moment they all met each other’s eyes, they froze. Words were another language and time stood still; it became intolerably silent and there was not a soul around. Each of them felt like they should just make a beeline out of the place and pretend it never happened; but each of them also felt like they needed to talk and catch up with… oh, the words were just too hard to choke out… With… With their best friends. The first to break the stillness was Apple Bloom. She didn’t speak; she moved. Her eyes, trying to think it was some mistake, shot down to Scootaloo’s and Sweetie Belle’s flanks. To their cutie marks. To see if they were really ‘them’. A heavy gulp sunk down her throat in realization. They were. In due instinct, the pegasus and the unicorn too darted their eyes to check the cutie marks of the mares before them; and, right at the same time, three of their faces blanched. Five years was a long time to spend away from one’s closest friends; seeing them after leading a rather shamefully brazen life is never the easiest of feelings. “S-S-Scootaloo?” croaked Sweetie Belle after what appeared to be an eternity of silence. Her very voice broke and ripped itself in the wind that suddenly seemed to be howling wildly. “A-Apple B-B-Bloom?” rasped Scootaloo in turn, her speck-sized pupils darting back and forth at the two mares. “Uh… S-S-Sweetie B-Belle?” muttered Apple Bloom with a tone that twisted and turned in a rollercoaster of emotions at the sight of her friends. They all stopped speaking. Silence prevailed for the next minute till Scootaloo broke it with an almost inaudible mumble: “It… it’s you…” Sweetie Belle blinked and some colour returned to her paled face. “Yeah… but you two…” she pointed a disbelieving hoof at the two mares ahead, “How can you be here?” “Could ask ya the same,” breathed Apple Bloom. There was no sign of harshness when she spoke; her voice sounded lost and it didn’t look like her mind was capable of thinking at the moment. The moment she spoke the words, however, Sweetie Belle’s white face turned a bright shade of red and she pretended to find her ruined hooficure rather fascinating. “Oh, who? Me? Oh, just looking around… you know… the Dodge City is, er, a nice place, I hear.” She tried to regain her cool composure and, immediately wishing to escape the situation, looked at Scootaloo. “And what are you doing, Scootaloo? And… oh my, why do you look so… insalubriously emaciated?” “Huh?” quirked the pegasus, snapping both her head and eyebrow up, “Insal–what now?” “Insalubriously emaciated,” repeated Sweetie Belle, pronouncing each syllable slower. Apple Bloom rolled her eyes. “What the hell does that even mean?” she grunted. Instantly, remembering she swore, she rephrased it and repeated, “I mean… what the hay does that even mean?” “Yeah,” joined Scootaloo, “I am not… insalivation emmy-sammy… ugh, whatever you said.” “Honestly, don’t you ever look at the dictionary?” scoffed Sweetie Belle. “Not in five years, I haven’t,” barked Apple Bloom. Not that any of the three ponies, having become part of a nostalgically memorable argument, noticed what was going on around them but frosty mist was beginning to surrounded them from all sides. They were in an empty street and, bit by bits, snaking arms of purple smoke emerged from the wall of mist-turned-into-fog. Little glowing lines of grey outlined individual strands of the smoke, shimmering as they surrounded the trio as they bickered like foals. “What, five years and you’re the queen of eggheads!?” Scootaloo was snorting. “Yeah, right, when pigs fly!” “How dare you!” seethed Sweetie Belle. “Being knowledgeable is cool in its own style just like everything else… humph, well, apart from your rather emaciated figure.” “Yeah, you’re just goin’ on about that fancy-schmancy word and I bet y’all don’t even know what it means either!” snickered Apple Bloom. “Oh, if I must!” Sweetie Belle suddenly gave herself airs, flashing a smirk at the other two. “A conversant pony like me remains satisfied with her knowledge but if two jerks” –glaring at the sniggering mares– “are really so dumb, she is bound to stoop lower and find an easier synonym to meet their lowly wants.” There was a pause. Apple Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Uh… I… got no idea what y’all just said.” Scootaloo groaned. “Argh, won’t you just tell what the darn word means?” Sweetie Belle’s cheeks fumed and she was about to deliver a most unladylike retort– when a roaring rumble erupted out from nowhere and everywhere. The wind shrieked and every single molecule unfortunate to be within a radius of the ice-cold fog was bathed and enveloped in rigid iciness. Howling wind slapped at the three mares’ faces, their manes flying and flapping around uncontrollably. Glacial force fenced around; the dust flew up and swirled around with a swish; dark smoke took over the sky and none of the three ponies were able to tell whether or not a solar eclipse had just happened. Trapped in a cuboid of smoke, fog and cold with only the smoky strands’ glimmering outlines as a light source and the unearthly wind thrashing at them, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle stepped backwards and closer together till their tails were brushing each other. From the haze, a billowing wave whisked past. “Who’s there?” growled Apple Bloom. There was a gentle trot and then a vague figure of a half-hooded pony appeared, standing in the middle of the fog, their wafting tail swishing gradually with the wind. The most outstanding feature, however, was embedded in the figure’s flank: scribbled lines, words that couldn’t quite be made out, that glittered and glowed with every moment. “We have come,” bellowed a deep voice, “to mark the reconsolidation of three! And we, with elated eyes, see before us… ponies joined by fate!” “What’re you, a wizard?” snapped Scootaloo. “Come on, show yourself! Whaddya think you can do, huh?” “Silence!” boomed the voice. The added effect of the rushing wind had the desired reaction on Scootaloo who immediately clamped her mouth shut. “Silence,” repeated the voice, stamping one hoof against the ground, “O boisterous pegasus!” “What in Equestria is up with damned funny words today?” grumbled Apple Bloom under her breath. However, Sweetie Belle, finally recoiling from her fearful shock, brandished her hoof forward and raised her head high to show that she was not frightened. “Boisterous?” called she to the figure. “Who are you to call any pony boisterous when you yourself give no thought for your awfully, ear-piercing volume!?” The pony’s eyes flashed a bright white in the darkness and, for a moment, Sweetie Belle regretted having tossed those words out of her untrustworthy mouth. It took one step forward, mane almost out of the fog, and exhaled. “Words shall now be chosen carefully,” it declared, “for we are aware that all of you are on a rather restricted time limit.” The three ponies snapped their heads around to the figure who had disappeared but still speaking. “We know each of you are running from the fear of being caught.” Their eyes minimized to the sizes of dots. “We know each of you are going to be killed.” Their fur bristled and their faces paled, suddenly feeling very cold. “And,” the figure was suddenly behind them, making them all turn around and yelp in undisguisable surprise, “we also are aware that you all are in dire need of help.” There was lasting silence between in the boundaries of the fog. Neither of the mares had the courage to look at their friends, having had their lives so blatantly exposed in mere seconds. The very stillness the ethereal figure was employing could have cast the impression it was there no longer; but it was. With silent, judging eyes, it analyzed the red-faced ponies in front of the guarding fog. “So…” croaked Scootaloo, sensing the presence had not yet gone, “you know about m-me?” “You speak accurate words,” responded the echoing voice. “Indeed we do!” “But… h-h-how?” murmured Sweetie Belle, burying her face in one hoof. “The unicorn need not be flustered,” came the deafening rumble, “for we only know what needs to be known and we only do what needs to be done.” The violet strands of smoke precipitously darted out of the icy fog and started swirling up to the sky that was beginning to clear up. “We come to offer advice for we know that you need words that will aid you,” thundered the figure’s roaring voice again. Before anypony could protest, let alone speak, the figure was beginning to disappear as the layers of fog upon fog draped around it. Only words could be made out. “Go to Ponyville,” reverberated the disappearing pony, “and go there together. Leave now; the clock is ticking; you must reach it as soon as possible if hope is to be had. Only there will you find the help you seek; only there will you find what you truly need.” And, as quietly as the icy, smoky fog had arrived, it dispersed and the ponies found themselves back in the same, empty street. The afternoon sun was still shining and, by the looks of nearby ponies, it looked as if none of them saw what otherworldly absurdity had just occurred. The three ponies looked around and then they looked at each other. They said nothing. ––––– When the mysterious figure had appeared, neither did Apple Bloom nor Sweetie Belle or Scootaloo knew why it had come. How did it know? Where did it come from? What did it want? Who was it? The same questions drilled around each of their minds. Whatever that pony was, it had uncovered what they had been hiding – and this particular realization was still raw and fresh for each of them. They hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to each other (how could they?) but, for some reason, they agreed to follow the figure’s advice. Nopony had any better suggestions, anyway. It had been hardly fifteen minutes since their bizarre encounter. Reaching the promised destination as soon as they could would be the most logical action, they decided, and they had taken a train out of the Dodge City – each mare had to pay for her own ticket, much to Sweetie Belle’s horror – and, upon inquiry, they were told it would take around half an hour to reach Ponyville. And here they were now. Sitting on an empty train as it rattled on. They felt abashed. Silent. Violent. “Uh, Sweetie Belle? Scootaloo?” shrilled Apple Bloom, breaking the demonic silence that lingered about like a ghost, “That mage thing back at the Junction… It said we all were, uh, being hunted, eh? I-Is that… true?” “Yeah,” choked Sweetie Belle. “Guess I qualify for that.” Apple Bloom turned her burning face away to the window, pretending to find the barren landscape rather interesting. Scootaloo was simply rigid; her face was emotionless– or so it seemed. “Y’all bein’ pursued?” was all Apple Bloom could ask her unicorn friend, face still turned. “I am,” came Sweetie Belle’s defeated exhale. “I happen to be in deep debt to this big goon… And now… well now, I just got to pay up…” Her voice broke. “…if I want to keep hide on my bones.” “So…” Apple Bloom turned slightly so she could see Sweetie Belle from the corner of her eye, “you’re sayin’ that goon’s gonna kill y’all if he don’t get his bits?” Sweetie Belle put a hoof to her temple, her head lowering as she sighed again. “I suppose I am… Life certainly hasn’t been lovely, to say the least…” Almost as soon as she spoke the words, Scootaloo’s detached face suddenly flashed with redness. “Huh, I can’t tell you how true that is,” rasped the pegasus. “Life’s been damn hard.” “You don’t have to,” replied Sweetie as calmly as her remorse could allow. “Your emaciated figure says enough.” “And ‘emaciated’ means what exactly!?” Sweetie Belle sighed at the frustrated pegasus and clicked her tongue. “Underweight,” she explained and shot Scootaloo a sharp glare. “Understand now?” But Scootaloo wasn’t looking at her; she was observing her skinny body with a cautious eye. Her jagged bones visibly poked at her weak layers of flesh; scrawny skin tightened around her scarred jaw; the skeletal outline was noticeable from beneath the feathers of her wings. Scootaloo’s eyes misted and she clapped her hooves together to see how strong they still were– all that came was an unnatural clack of bones. Wildly staring at her hooves that sounded as if there was no skin left on them, she tried to unfurl her wings. To her horror, her wings refused to open – because of her hours of flying hard; in addition, a painful sting hissed at her sides. Scootaloo blinked her tears back and looked back up, her face frozen. What had happened to her? This condition had never victimized her. Or had it always been there? It couldn’t have. She had fought a lot; she had killed dozens of ponies on her assassination missions. Never had she felt weak; she had always been strong. “Scootaloo?” Sweetie Belle’s hoof gingerly patted Scootaloo’s back in consolation. Apple Bloom was still staring out of the window; even if she decided to tell them what she had been through, words would never be enough. “I-I-I… I….” Scootaloo had nothing to say. She clapped her hooves together once more; the empty clack resounded in her throbbing ears. “How did I get so… ugly?” she finally blurted out. Apple Bloom’s ear perked up at the word but she didn’t turn. “Ugly? Why, that’s a bit strong,” sympathized Sweetie Belle. “You just need to eat a bit more. What do you usually eat, hmm?” “I don’t,” Scootaloo muttered. Sweetie Belle blinked. “I beg your pardon?” “I don’t, okay!?” repeated Scootaloo, snapping her head up. “I want to but I can’t! I don’t eat stuff! Whenever they called me, she always made us have stuff to drink! A-a-and I hate that stuff!” Tears spurted out her eyes, rolling down on her cheeks. “But I had to drink it or they’d kick me out! I f-f-f-forced it down and… and it was awful! So, yeah, I don’t eat!” “Well, it don’t matter,” came Apple Bloom’s voice. She had turned around and stared right at her friends, the sunlight outlining the left part of her face with a golden glow. “That’s yer choice: eat or not. You don’t wanna? That’s fine by me. I’d never judge y’all on how many conkers you can gobble down; only a pony dumb as hell would.” “But I’m still… deformed, aren’t I?” clogged Scootaloo, staring longingly at her bony hooves. “No!” yelled Sweetie Belle. Too loudly. “Of course not,” she breathed, composing herself. Her face was pale – paler than usual – and her hooves were trembling. “You just forgot to add healthy food in your diet; it can always be adjusted.” “I didn’t forget,” barked Scootaloo. “She always made me the goon brawler, the fighter, the butt-kicker! And when I didn’t like drinking that stuff, she told me all fighters need it!” “Need what?” growled Apple Bloom. She was a fighter and she was curious – dangerously – to know what that ‘she’ recommended that made her pegasus friend so unhealthy. “Salt,” told Scootaloo, scrunching up her face at the very name. The growl fell off Apple Bloom’s face as soon as it had appeared and her face reddened. “Oh… horse apples,” she mumbled, shaking her head at herself, and then looked up at Scootaloo again. “So… lemme get this straight. You don’t like salt?” “Well, its flavor is just… ew! And the dust and the, ugh, stench of those mugs!” Scootaloo turned green and shoved her hoof to her mouth as if she were going to vomit. “It is rather despicable,” nodded Sweetie Belle but a blush darkened her cheeks, “but, if I am to be honest, it is easy to… get, um, addicted.” “Wait.” Scootaloo’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “You… Sweetie Belle, you haven’t drunk salt and liked it, have you?” she asked though she had a feeling that the answer was going to be– “Yes,” whispered Sweetie Belle. She looked away, unable to bring herself to meet the eyes of her friends. There was a momentary silence but she spoke again, her voice low and distant, her eyes lingering away. “I don’t know how to say this b-but, well, these past five years have been terrible. First, I tried to be a bit ladylike, find a decent job, keep myself in good company… but fate decided otherwise. I didn’t find a job, anyway, and was unable to fend myself; so I decided to gamble.” She stopped. “A lot.” “Lemme guess,” Apple Bloom blurted, “that didn’t go too well, huh?” “Well, not immediately,” Sweetie Belle only tossed a hint of a half-hearted smile. “My first gamble I won… the second one was a bigger one. Two thousand bits as of total winnings. I won that one as well. I was young, foolish and really stupid back then; my biddings went higher and higher. I started betting with dangerous ponies.” A deep sigh. “A-and, as for my third gamble, I bet a thousand bits… I lost. And I didn’t just quit then– I thought I’d bet again, win again and make more money.” “But you didn’t,” spoke Scootaloo’s voice. Sweetie Belle turned, tears misting her eyes. “No,” she shook her head. “But I kept going. Kept losing… till I had no money to bet. So I gambled without bits.” Words were just pouring out of her mouth as if she thought sharing her troubles would ease her burden. “I told them I had bits, bet a huge sum, lost, got in debt… and it went on and on. Sometimes, for the pettier creditors, they would make me sing. In their clubs. Casinos. So that… so that was the way I paid their debt. And the big beefy goons… they demanded bits… All the bits.” “Y’all mind tellin’ me what’s the name of this goon you owe?” hissed Apple Bloom. “Apple Bloom, my life was hard. I chose a wrong path; many ponies do,” Sweetie Belle protested. “Your envisioned virtues of being clean… I am sorry but I was simply unable to put up with them. I got into a dirty business and it was hard to get out.” “But what’s the name of that pony?” repeated Apple Bloom firmly as if she had not even heard Sweetie Belle. “I don’t know what good it will do you…” started the unicorn, “but his name is Slayer Throatcut. A-and I just wish you won’t bring up how wrong I–” “No, I won’t,” interrupted the earth pony as she whisked her head away. Then she mumbled under her breath, “It ain’t you who’s wrong.” “Well, you had a tough time,” spoke Scootaloo from beside Sweetie. Her head was hanging low in shame. In pity? Guilt? Sweetie Belle just laughed nervously. “I’m sure my life was easier than whatever you had to endure, Scootaloo.” “Maybe,” whispered Scootaloo, her tone a low bark. The train rattled on the tracks. The carriage was silent. Apple Bloom turned to look out of the window and Sweetie Belle occupied herself with examining her still-ruined hooves. This time, Scootaloo broke the prickly silence – though not in the best manner. “I smuggle weapons,” she blurted out as if she had to confess on gunpoint. The other two turned to look at her but it was her turn to be unable to look back. “I-I used to, at least…” Nopony spoke. The building silence forced Scootaloo to go on. “I guess this is kinda my own confession… about what I’ve been up to…” A long second of silence again. “So I’m being hunted. By the EIA,” Scootaloo forced coughs as if she hoped their volume would hide her words. “The EIA?” gasped Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle together. Scootaloo partially turned to look at them and nodded. “What the hell did ya do to get the EIA upon y’all!?” cried Apple Bloom. “I smuggled weapons,” sighed Scootaloo, “like I said. You guys know about the war raging between ponies and dragons?” “In the Dragon Lands?” frowned Sweetie Belle. “Yeah, that one,” Scootaloo forced a nod. “The rebels there need weapons so I was one of those who smuggled weapons to them. Real high-tech. Real pricy too.” She cleared her throat. It suddenly felt too dry. “So I am– was part of a team of four pegasus ponies. There was our leader, Slashcut Hearts, and she was the one who, y’know, made the deals, talked to suppliers and stuff. Then there was Artic Sea… kinda bland and blunt but I guess he had a knack for weapon knowledge. Greenwing was recruited four months after I joined; her thing was being fast. Speed. I was just the brawler.” She grunted. “Ugh, this is so uncomfortable.” “Yeah, I get ya,” she heard Apple Bloom reassure. “You don’t have to tell if you don’t want to,” came Sweetie Belle’s imperceptible whisper. “But you did,” Scootaloo answered, jerking her head to Sweetie Belle. “You told us what was going on in your life. We listened. Why shouldn’t I wanna repay the favour?” “It wasn’t… really a ‘favour’,” sniffed Sweetie Belle. “I told you because I wanted to. None of you forced me now, did you, Scootaloo?” For a moment, Scootaloo stopped. She didn’t have to tell. Her life had been awkward, bloody, embarrassing. Why did she have to tell? She could just let it slip away. But what did it matter now? Whether she told or not, nothing was going to change. Scootaloo inhaled a deep breath and just shook her head. “No,” she replied, turning her head away again. “I want to tell. My life’s kinda… well, gory. It’s hard to keep it all in, y’know, and there’s no one to listen. I will tell you two ‘cause I know you’ll listen.” “Darn tootin’ we will,” Apple Bloom said as she gave a nod though Scootaloo couldn’t have seen it. But she heard the words. She allowed herself a bit of a smile. “Equestria has got these recent laws,” she started, “that ponies feeding that rebellion will be hanged. That’s why my team and I stayed away... we lived in the Badlands. Moving here and there but never went to Equestria. We smuggled weapons safely for about four years; no law; no police; and, above all, no EIA… It wasn’t the best thing but I was safe… Uh, remember I said I was the brawler of the group? Well, the brawler had to have a part-time job as well– assassination on contract. And I… well, I did many of those contracts. Made a lot of money, put it into buying weapons, smuggled them, got more money… and the cycle went on… The EIA got hot on my tail and, with that, my team’s too. I stopped the killing for a couple of months but I guess that wasn’t enough.” She stopped speaking. She had spoken enough. Too much, actually. Okay, she had given them an overview of what she had been doing but she still had to tell them why exactly the Equestrian Intelligence Agency was just after ‘her’. She had to. She just had to. “This morning, we’re in the Badlands, my team and me,” she choked. “We got a new supply of these weapons, toxic gas stuff, and we were just getting out of town when the EIA ambushed us.” Her eyes felt hot and she wanted to cry. Just a little longer. “The entire team tried to get out but I… uh, got behind.” ‘My wings are still weak,’ she thought of saying but she didn’t. “There is this Mark Disparager thing they had and they shot at my cutie mark with it.” Scootaloo shifted slightly, her left flank showing the bleached blotch covering up part of the cutie mark. “All this bleached stuff means they recorded it. As Slashcut told, they’ll search all their data for my cutie mark and, if they do… when they do, I’m toast.” She settled back in her seat again and rubbed her eyes with one hoof. She couldn’t cry; she wouldn’t. “And that’s why I came to the Dodge City. To hide. Not much law enforcement there.” A brisk conclusion to a brisk narrative. Perfect, she decided. “You did what you could,” said Sweetie Belle’s voice beside her. Scootaloo finally looked up; Sweetie Belle was looking at her but Apple Bloom was intent on staring out of the window like she hadn’t even heard anything at all. A hint of growl overtook Scootaloo’s face but she held it back. Her face fell. Of course, Apple Bloom wouldn’t listen. Nopony wanted to listen to the life of a loser. Nopony wanted to care. “You tried to fend yourself. I was just a gambler with bad connections,” Sweetie Belle went on, breaking Scootaloo out of her thoughts. “You don’t have the blood of dozens of ponies on your hooves, Sweetie Belle,” sighed Scootaloo with a shake of her head. “I can’t say I know how you feel but I have done worse than gambling as well,” admitted the unicorn. “Burglary,” she whispered and then shivered. Her light green eyes gazed into Scootaloo’s lavender ones and the pegasus could see a shimmery outline of tears forming. “I know burglary and murder are two separate things but they are both… hurting. I tried to pay back my debts by stealing. And… a-and that money belonged to honest ponies. To poor ponies. And I took it. I took it when it wasn’t mine, Scootaloo – and that was the worst. It did get the Baltimare Police on me but I then stopped. They stopped… and I resumed gambling.” Sweetie Belle shivered again and sighed. “I’m sorry for what happened to you, Scootaloo. Because I know what it feels like to hurt.” “Yeah…” was all Scootaloo could say. She wanted to pat Sweetie’s shoulder but she didn’t. They hadn’t met for five years; it would be a while before Scootaloo decided to be proper ‘friends’ with them again. Everything was silent again. The train still rattled on, the clangor of its metal wheels the only sound audible. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were just looking at their laps as they sat quietly. Apple Bloom still looked out of the window, her face turned. The landscape wasn’t quite so barren anymore. It was green, many beautiful shades of light green; a distant blur of dark green was visible in the distance, getting closer each second. Ponyville. It was coming closer. “I know you hate salt, Scoot,” spoke Apple Bloom’s solemn voice as she forced her eyes on the greenery ahead, “but, ta be honest, most o’ mah darned diet’s made up of it.” The wheels still clanked on. “I got me a salt saloon,” the earth pony finally breathed out her haunting burden, “and I made mah bits on that. Had a coupla employees too; enough customers daily… but that ain’t how it started. When ah… When ah left Ponyville, ah had many, many… er, odd jobs.” Far worse than just odd jobs, she revealed to herself mentally. “Ripping away my dignity… it was hard for me. I was just a dang filly and… and I was so scared. So cold. But ah had mingled myself in bad company. Rotten ponies. Rotten work. One of those jobs, it was kinda way more awful than the rest– or maybe it was just that I couldn’t keep doin’ that kinda thing. Well, one way or the other, I just had enough. So…” Deep breaths, Apple Bloom. Deep breaths. “So ah killed the pony ah did the job for.” She didn’t turn around to see the expressions Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle would have on their faces. She didn’t dare to blink; she didn’t dare to think. Yet she kept forcing words out of her mouth. “Ran around from police, out in the damn desert. When ah think ‘bout it, the only sensible thing I did then was save money… and ah had ‘bout hundred bits when I stopped runnin’. Somepony I knew – not a good one too – suggested that ah open mah own salt saloon. After a bit o’ thought, I put in all my bloody money in the place and opened it.” “Uh… did it go well?” Scootaloo piped up from behind. “Nah,” Apple Bloom just gave her head with the slightest of shakes. “Went all the way downhill… till ah met this darn Redcut Peel. Dude was an entertainer, had a family of goons and pretty well-known ‘bout the place. So ah hired him. The saloon started goin’ uphill, that’s true an’ all, but Peel was a rotten piece of poop. He was… argh, he was just an obnoxious, mentally-torturing, glib and sure-as-hell shitty menace! Damn, bloody thing!” She snarled at the very thought of him and slammed an angry hoof on the empty seat beside her. No. Don’t, don’t, don’t. Be calm. Apple Bloom heaved a deep breath and spoke again, her voice fallen to low levels. “But the only reason mah saloon started gettin’ known was because he was there. That cussed idiot decided that meant more than half o’ mah damn earnings’d be his bloody pay – and I had ta pay him. Not just ‘cause he was a bloody popular asset but also ‘cause he got a goony background. Ah didn’t wanna mess up… but he was a damn pain. And… well, not many hours back, he went an’ decided he wanna open his own salt saloon. The spoiled prat don’t want no competition around when he does that so he barged in my damn place with a dozen goons and demanded me ta close it. Ah said no.” She raised her head. Maybe there was still a bit of dignity in the words. “Outright and downright. Nopony ain’t gonna push me to do somethin’ ah don’t wanna do, I told him. So...” Apple Bloom coughed. They both had told their tales. She shouldn’t hide hers. Just spit it out. “Well, he tried ta kill me… and I doubt he gonna stop after I fled. He’s a bloody butthead, stubborn and spoiled. So, yeah, he’s huntin’ for me and he ain’t stoppin’ till ah am dead.” There was a bit of silence but then Apple Bloom mustered enough courage to turn around and look at Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. Her eyes felt… misty. Was she crying? Was she going to cry? Of course not. She had just told a miserable tale of her horribly brazen life. Nothing to cry about. She hadn’t cried for a long time – it was stupid to break the streak on just a bit of… a story. “So I think we’ve all had a pretty bad time,” Scootaloo cleared her throat. She made sure to look at both Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle when she spoke; there was no reason to feel guilty or ashamed. They were all in the same boat. “You said it,” sighed Apple Bloom. For once, she didn’t speak and turn back to look out of the window. There was a time to keep secrets and a time to spill them – this looked a lot like the latter. “Goodness,” said Sweetie Belle as she gave her head a glum shake. “What have we been up to?” she breathed out in a ghostly whisper as if she didn’t believe how badly she had been faring all the past years. “We messed up pretty bad, huh?” Apple Bloom almost succumbed to the urge of turning her boiling cheeks back to the window but she held her composure. “I just can’t believe,” rasped Scootaloo, “we all just happened to meet at the Dodge City. I mean, I know coincidence happens and stuff… but it was still weird.” “Ah know wha’cha mean,” nodded Apple Bloom. “And who’d guess we’re all messed up? Ah mean, if it were up ta me, I’d think y’all”– gesturing at Scootaloo with her muzzle – “were some Ponlympics extreme sports’ athlete by now… and I’d guess ya”– turning to Sweetie Belle –“had been and become some super fancy popstar.” “Yes, well, that’s kind of you to think so,” Sweetie Belle chuckled quietly. Half-heartedly. “But that isn’t the case.” She paused and let out a sigh of longing. “As much as I wish it were true.” “And that creepy mage pony was right,” shrugged Scootaloo, rubbing her temple with a hoof. “We all are being chased. We’re running from death, aren’t we?” “Quite,” agreed Sweetie Belle. “It’s true,” confirmed Apple Bloom with a distinct grunt. “But… w-will we make it?” “Make it?” frowned Sweetie Belle. “Yeah. That pony told us to go to… to Ponyville.” Scootaloo’s voice broke with a heavy gulp. Her eyes were shimmering with… fear? Horror? Whatever it was, it was not something that seemed to have a positive effect on the pegasus. “But, even if we do, will we still live?” “I guess we’ll find out when we’ll try,” replied the unicorn, the words almost automatically coming out of her mouth. Apple Bloom chewed her bottom lip nervously, thoughts of a previous childhood striking back to haunt her, and, for a brief moment, she turned to glance out of the window. The dark green blur was clearer and closer now – and the earth pony knew all too well what it was. “Guys!” she cried to Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. “Guys! The Everfree Forest!” The two ponies immediately hopped to the window in foal-like excitement to view the forest. It was green and dark, clearly flourishing in all the bounties of wilderness and nature – similar to what the mares remembered what it was five years back. Then, one by one, apprehension clouded their excitement and they fell back in their seats, looking at one another with wide eyes. “So it’s finally there,” whispered Scootaloo “You darn tootin’ it is there,” mumbled Apple Bloom, rubbing her forehead. “And Ponyville isn’t far,” stated Sweetie Belle. “Are we just going to go in?” Her eyes darted from mare to mare. “Like this?” “And the problem is?” asked Apple Bloom, a hint of obstinate pride flashing in her tone. “Sweetie’s right,” said Scootaloo, coming to Sweetie Belle’s defense. “We can’t just enter the town. I mean, we were pretty popular there. How can we just barge in and tell what we’ve been doing?” “Make something up,” pestered Apple Bloom. “It’s our home, ain’t it? Or we’ll just say… uh, that we ain’t in no mood to talk ‘bout it.” “Our sisters,” spoke Sweetie Belle, her voice halting every sound. Her tone was solemn. Grave. She was serious and both Apple Bloom and Scootaloo shifted uneasily in their seats. “Our sisters will… might still be there… and we will have to go back to them. It’s not like somepony will randomly come by and say, ‘Oh, hey, you are the CMCs! I know you and I love you! Come in my house to stay! I am your biggest, most ginormous, high-as-Mount-Everhoof fan! Do come, do come!’ So, yeah, it’s our home and that’s why we have to think what to do. We might have lived there but we sure don’t own the place.” “Now that y’all put it like that,” mused Apple Bloom, “I guess we ain’t puttin’ the best impression by just… going in.” “Sneak in?” suggested Scootaloo. “It’s Ponyville, remember? Everypony practically knew every other pony.” “But we can’t just face anypony, right? Especially not our sisters…” Apple Bloom’s grunt trailed off into an inaudible grumble. “We will have to face some pony soon enough,” sighed Sweetie Belle and all was silent in the carriage once more… till Scootaloo spoke up: “The forest…” “The forest?” asked Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle in unison. “There is a route to Ponyville through the Everfree Forest,” Scootaloo clarified. “It won’t exactly keep us invisible but it will keep ponies from swarming over us immediately. It’ll, like, buy us time… and, yup, we’ll still have to face ponies but I think we would be a bit more concealed, y’know.” Once the words dropped out, Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom’s minds fidgeted and geared up mutually. Apple Bloom snapped her head to look at the ever-nearing forest and Sweetie Belle, with a zap of her horn, used her magic to pull the chain. Scootaloo’s own mind hardly had to time to register what was going on as the train skidded to a harsh halt, knocking all three down their seats and on the floor. “What the hell?” growled Scootaloo, pushing herself up in a sitting position. Sweetie Belle was dusting herself but Apple Bloom had already got back on her hooves. “We’re stoppin’ here,” told the earth pony simply, running a hoof in her mane to rid it of glass shards that were still planted there stubbornly. “Sto–” Scootaloo started to question but Sweetie Belle chipped in first. “The route through the Everfree Forest. We are taking it,” she clarified, also standing up. “Yeah, I figure jumpin’ off the carriage’s gonna be the best bet,” nodded Apple Bloom towards Sweetie Belle. “So now we’re just going to… do what exactly?” Scootaloo cocked up one eyebrow as she got on her hooves as well. “Well,” started Apple Bloom with a discernible shrug, “I guess we just run out and in the forest. Ah ain’t riskin’ nothin’ to be dropped at the Ponyville train station and ah bet y’all don’t either, do ya?” *** The Everfree Forest hadn’t changed much in five years and so the three mares found as they trekked through it. If anything, the most prominent change was that it certainly had expanded– and it did seem to house a variety of newer, more exotic plants. The path to Ponyville that Scootaloo had thought of was still roughly visible through the forest floor but even so, in the Everfree Forest, a journey could never be without incident. When Sweetie Belle tried to tug at a bulgy, crimson rope in their path with her magic, it had turned out to be a manticore’s tail; the monster was definitely not pleased about a bunch of puny ponies disturbing his nap and the mares barely escaped becoming manticore supper. Halfway through their journey, a clearing which they nearly chose to rest in turned out to be a swarm of pony-devouring plants. They soared and swirled in the air, roaring and trying to strike the to-be prey while the ‘prey’ leapt about to make a run from it. Scootaloo, at that point, tried to fly away but, even after two hours of non-flying, her damaged wings wouldn’t give in to moving. After Apple Bloom bucked (and temporarily stunned) a few of the bigger plants, giving herself and her accomplices time to dash off, tempers suddenly flared when she commented about how Scootaloo could still not fly. The pegasus argued that she was not a crippled foal anymore at which her earth pony friend snidely asked how much her wing power was; when Scootaloo reluctantly admitted it was 6.1 at her very hardest try, Apple Bloom aired herself on being ‘kinda right anyway’. It took all Sweetie Belle’s charm and sweet nature to calm the bickering ponies–and even she was exhausted after she finally got them to be quiet. “Some ponies do never change,” she had groaned to herself. Running from carnivorous butterflies, snare-like bushes, zombie chickens and half a dozen other frightening encounters later, the three ponies finally found themselves approaching the end of the forest that edged towards Ponyville. Swaying blades of green grass lined the smoothened path, colorfully specked with carefully planted flowers, and, when they brushed at the drooping, leafy branches of the evergreen trees, the mares saw before them a cottage. They walked forward over the little bridge, covered in fuzzy grass, swept over the sparkling stream that flowed underneath with a tiny, twinkling sound; tiny birdhouses in so many different colours hung from the trees that surrounded the cottage; entrances to warm burrows of earthly creatures peeked out from various grassy lumps near the path; and the cottage ahead was the prettiest spectacle of all. Made out of a tree, it had a roof bounded in beautiful flowers and dainty foliage and there were little, wooden windows at the corners of the cottage; like a brown ribbon, a small fence ran around the presumed yard but that didn’t appear to deter the dozens of creatures that were running about. “It… it’s still the same,” whispered Apple Bloom as a squirrel scurried towards her and sniffed. “Like five years didn’t even pass,” agreed Sweetie Belle in a voice that didn’t believe what her eyes were seeing. A tiny hummingbird with dazzling turquoise and pink feathers buzzed around Scootaloo’s head and the pegasus fought the urge to just hit and toss it (and its annoying sound, she thought) away. Before she could do that, Sweetie Belle, catching that irked glint in her eyes, blew at the bird to direct in some other direction. “Well, it sure is still a zoo,” Scootaloo mumbled carelessly but quickly corrected herself: “Uh, a sanctuary, I mean… you know, it is keeping all these critters happy…” She sighed and, in reaction to her friends’ raised eyebrows, slumped her shoulders in defeat. “Uh, sorry. I just can’t think positive! I guess I’m just worried that we are doomed.” “Ah get it,” breathed Apple Bloom. “Looks like a lost cause, huh?” “You said it,” exhaled Scootaloo but any further words she was about to speak were cut off by a nudge on the shoulder by Sweetie Belle. “Come on, you two,” the unicorn tried to smile. “Stop being so pessimistic; for all that I know, that mage back at the Dodge City was right about… us. And let’s be honest, what other option do we have?” Apple Bloom sighed. “Hmm. Guess y’all are kinda right,” she shrugged. “Gotta make do with what we got.” Hardly did her words make Scootaloo nod when a small colt with a curly silver-blue-and-pink mane and a pale golden coat fluttered ahead from behind the house as he played chase with some giant monarch butterflies. Tossing himself around in the air and laughing at his own game, the colt flew about in loops till he got sight of the three unkempt, wide-eyed mares in front of him. For a minute, he stood stock-still midair– but then he fluttered his wings again. “Uh… hi,” he started. With the silence finally broken, the three ponies felt slightly embarrassed that a foal had to start the conversation instead of themselves but bygones were bygones and they had to carry on. “Hey, little guy,” coughed Scootaloo as she took a couple of steps forward. “You… uh, do ya live around here?” “Do you live here?” interjected Apple Bloom a bit more forcefully (and loudly) than she had intended. With a short, panicked cry, the colt stumbled out of the air and dropped on the grass with a gentle thud, unable to keep his balance. Before he could pick himself back up on his hooves, Sweetie Belle was already using her magic to lift him and strip away the inconvenient grass blades that had stuck themselves to his coat. “Oh gosh, ah am sorry,” cringed Apple Bloom. However, Sweetie Belle was already taking hold of the situation. “Goodness, I hope you’re not hurt,” she cooed as tenderly as she could without showing her irritation towards the earth pony. “There! All better now, hmm?” The colt watched with a slight smile as Sweetie Belle plucked a last piece of grass from his curls and tossed it away. “Oh, thank you, miss,” he just managed to speak when the cottage door opened and… And a pegasus came out. Her light pink mane was pinned up in a half-bun and there was a delicate butterfly pendant around her yellow coat. Even though it had been five long years since they had seen, she was still as fragile and as young as she had been five years ago. There were no visible signs of any aging wrinkles or even the slightest hint of a crumpled hoof. No, she was still the same. Fervently dashing to the little colt without noticing the three mares ahead, she patted his hair with a stroke of her wing. “Oh, Bubbly,” she cried in a soft, whispery voice, “are you alright? I heard a thud and you were talking to… to somepo–” As she spoke the word, she looked up at the mares in front of her, turquoise eyes suddenly contracting to the size of specks. Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle’s reaction was much the same – jaws dropped to the ground and eyes shrunk to a terribly tiny size. For a minute, nopony –except Bubbly the colt– twitched so much as an eye muscle, trying to make sense of the uncanny encounter. Then, finally, Sweetie Belle croaked: “Uh… Fluttershy?”