//------------------------------//
// Out of Turn 
// Story: Changing Ways 
// by Comma Typer 
//------------------------------//

“There, that’s it!” yelled Braeburn.
The hatted stallion kept yelling at crews of ponies putting on the finishing touches to their train by the station. A rub here, a squirt there—now, the job was finished. The train was sparkly squeaky clean under the reddening sunset sky raining its last hour of heat upon them before the night's arrival. Already, athletic stallions hooked themselves up to the front of the train, readying their muscles for the trip back with quick warm-ups—right now, they were jogging in place, raising dust into the air.
Braeburn gave them a rough yet tender smile. “Make sure you give ‘em a good time, y’all!” he shouted, walking past them.
“Will do!” was the reply of the leading stallion, singled out by a brown coat and a striped hat. “You can always count on us!”
Braeburn nodded, bowing his head a little. “An' I always will, but get movin’! We’re on a tight s’hedule!”
He looked at the various guards posted at the train station, saw them preparing for the day by checking their spears and putting on their daily dose of salve. There, a novice was catching up on when his shift started and ended on that scrap of paper. “And now, 'bout ten minutes ‘till pie—“
“Braeburn!”
His ears perked up. He mumbled under his breath. “Swift Riv—“
“Braeburn!”
He could hear Swift’s panting, saw some guards and engineers turn their heads that way.
“Braeburn!”
“I can hear ya’!” Braeburn shouted, turning round to see a dusty, sweaty, fatigued pegasus running down the main street and come up to the tracks. “What’s goin’ on? An emergency?”
“Not sure, but I found this note—“ grabbed the note from his mane “—and it’s addressed to a...a Wildflower of some sort!”
“Wildflower?” Braeburn asked. “As in ‘Wildflower Heartease’?” His agitated pout disappeared as he looked at him with mellow eyes. “You don’t have to worry 'bout her! She’s on our side...well, I hope she still is, ‘cause if they get to her, then she won’t be on o'r side....”
Swift breathed up and down, throwing up dust with uneasy hooves. “But, the note! Maybe it’s bad, maybe it’s bad she left it behind in the drawer—“
“Let me have a look at it,” Braeburn said, grabbing it from his hooves. He skimmed through the note, then hoofed it back to him, satisfied. “Not too bad, really. Jus' a semi-important exchange. Nothin’ to get yourself molehill'd about.”
“But, it’s about secrets and passwords and phrases—“
Braeburn shushed him with a hoof. “You don’t need to cause a ruckus ‘bout it. As long as nothin’ bad happens to 'er, you don’t need to worry about Wildflower. OK?”
Swift River nodded, slowing down his breathing and regaining his composure. “I’m awfully sorry if I annoyed you. It’s just...I don’t want to bear the blame if somethin’ bad goes on here because I'm staying in her room and found it in her drawer!”
Braeburn looked at him odd, let a few seconds tick by with that suspicious stare. “Now, you’re just doin’ that too much. You’re a full-grown pony! You gotta learn how to stay grounded when you gotta stay grounded!”
Swift nodded. He scratched his mane in embarrassment. “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just...very concerned, that’s all.”
“Well, good." He flicked his head away, though kept looking at Swift. "Don’t surprise me like that again, though.”
Swift nodded again. “Alright, sir. Guess I’ll go now.”
Away he went, back to the main road.
Appleloosa preparing for the sunset as many put out their lanterns and candles for the incoming night. A few turned on their lightbulbs, bringing in more light to the town although it was too much since the sun was still out.



Flam, a lanky unicorn dressed in pinstripes and bowties—yes, bowties, for he had two black bowties strapped close to his neck—trotted down main street in the night, pulling a hefty wagon segregated into various kinds of food and muddying his hooves with common dust and dirt. What all those different foods had in common was one fruit: apples. In one compartment were pure, raw, fresh apples picked straight from the trees and dropped straight to the wagon. In another was apple pies, fresh and steaming from the oven, crusty and plump for the taking. In yet another was apple cider cookies, smacking of that sweet and bitter cider kick, all stashed in boxes. In still another were slogs of apple crisp wrapped up in aluminum foil, waiting to be unveiled to a ravenous audience of gamblers. Also, of course, what would be a poker’s night without barrels upon barrels of pure apple cider?
It would be a poker’s night without barrels upon barrels of pure apple cider.
But, Flam did not want to see that happen. In fact, he desired to see the opposite happen, which is why he had another wagon attached to the first one containing all the apple food, this second wagon carrying barrels upon barrels of pure apple cider.
As could be expected from such a heavy toll on a unicorn’s constitution, Flam sweated a lot, strained and stretched his muscles to produce only a moderate output. The wagons creaked not under the weight but under the sheer slowness of his trot. However, in the span of seven minutes, he was able to travel all the way from the lodges in the apple fields to that fenced house with the large backyard.
As Flam neared the shining house, he could hear the rowdy crowd erupt in both laughter and roars—and, there it was again, the sound of money heaped on the table for another round of poker.
“So, what’s it gonna be this time?” he heard a stallion yell.
“How ‘bout five-card draw for the new guy?!” another one cried out—Flam scratched his chin, drooped his ear a bit at recognizing the sheriff inside.
“Oh, this is gonna be so much fun!” yelled a mare from above the crowd’s tumult.
Flam trotted to the door and knocked on the house.
The door immediately opened, revealing Braeburn with an empty mug and a frothy mouth. “Oh, hey! Ya’ made it jus’ in time! We’re havin’ a break, teachin’ Swift River ‘ere how to deal a good hoof! You better watch this!”
Flam stroked his bushy red mustache. “Why, I do like games of chance! Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”
“Because you just came here an hour ago, I guess,” Braeburn said matter-of-factly.
Flam was ushered into the poker house.
Here, he got a deeper look of the inside while endangering himself with vehemently talkative chatterers sitting on their sofas and at their tables, wondering out loud if Made Hoof would return from his eighth "retirement" from dicey sports. Aside from the pianos, the lanterns, and the big table, Flam could also see several benches and dining tables where those resting from the game before made small talk by maps of Equestria and of the area around Appleloosa. Spears, bows, and quivers hung from the walls, ready to be grabbed and used at a moment’s notice. Posted to the wall was a list of ponies’ names labeled “Captured”, and it was a very long list, requiring three columns to fill them all—some of them had depictions of their cutie marks drawn beside them, some had none of it.
At the big table, smothered by a crowd of ponies, sat the players themselves. The table itself was not that crowded; more than half of the ponies inside were milling about on the couches and everywhere else in the living quarters, talking as they sipped and drank apple cider. As for the players: There was Swift River himself, ruffling his yellow feathers in nervous excitement and eyeing the stack of cards from the distance. That stack of cards was held by Perfume Hearts, a long-haired Earth pony mare notorious for her overwhelming scent which was bordering on the unbearable if one would not discount the few ponies putting hankerchiefs and towels to their noses to kill the smell before it reached their noses. On her right was Banknote, the glasses-wearing cashier, counting his bits from his diversity of wallets hiding underneath his hat, putting on green gel on himself to decorate his body in green patterns; at times, he would laugh to himself at the amount of money he has carrying with him, and at other times, he would recite his accounting ledgers from memory—of course, in a whisper, so as to not bother the other players. On Banknote’s right was Press Release, keeping her fedora to herself while she looked around, observing the ponies there; she glanced at Swift once in a while, making sure she would not miss anything out of the ordinary.
“Just place it on the side,” Braeburn said to Flam, gesturing towards the wagon of food and cider. “I’ll take care of it. You go get a spot there.”
Flam nodded and trotted to the table, moving past Braeburn who then pushed the wagon to the walls.
“Let’s deal already!” Banknote yelled, scrounging the bits up into his wallets and placing them under his hat. “I’m feeling lucky today!”
Perfume Hearts giggled. “Like you’ll ever be, Mister Misery.”
“You take that back!” Banknote hollered, pointing at her and flourishing his shiny teeth. “This is the easiest one they got, and I started from this, so I’m going to take first place, gettin’ all your money before it gets too hot!”
“We’re drawing, then?” Swift spoke up.
Perfume Hearts nodded, bringing up the stack of cards with her hoof. “Alright." A pause; she took a step back, garnering the attention of the other two players and their table-side audience. "Everypony, let’s give Swift here a bit of mercy. Ante a bit!”
Everyone, including Swift and Perfume, brought a bit to the center of the table. Those four bits gleamed under the lanterns’ glare.
Perfume hoofed five cards, face down, to each player, keeping five cards for herself, and placed the rest of the stack on the side. The non-participants looked on, keeping silent.
“OK, Swift,” Perfume said, placing a firm hoof on his shoulder. “You got your five cards, right?”
Swift looked at his cards, holding them precious as he unfolded them in his unsteady hooves. “Uh, yeah. Not supposed to show them anything, right?”
“Obviously,” Perfume said with a disgusted groan. “The objective of five-card draw is to win lots of bits, not to lose them. You memorized the poker hooves, from one pairs to straight flushes?”
Swift nodded.
“Good. So, let’s start the betting round with you. How much do you wanna bet?”
Swift gulped. “I don’t know...I could add...three bits?”
Banknote groaned. “Really, big guy? Seven bits for the pot?”
“We don’t wanna bankrupt this poor pony,” Perfume shot at him. “Baby steps.”
Banknote leaned on his chair, rocking it in distress, and gave Swift River a menacing grimace.
Perfume turned back to Swift. “So, you’ll bet seven bits?”
“Yes.”
“OK. Seven bits.”
Swift took out three bits from his one and only wallet and piled them on the game's sparse pot.
Perfume leaned to peak at Swift’s cards, kept a straight face.
Press Release smiled. “I’ll call!”
Banknote smiled, too. “I’ll call!”
“I’ll call,” Perfume said. Looked at Swift. “You know what that means?”
Swift scratched his head. “You’re going to stay with the bet, right?”
“Good.” Perfume fixed up her bedraggled mane. “Now, the first betting round’s done. You know what’s next?”
“The part where you could switch your cards?”
“Yes.”
“So, do you want to deal some cards?”
Swift looked at his cards again. “I don’t think so.”
“I’ll get three!” Press Release called out.
She hoofed the three cards face down to Press who gave her three new cards from the top of the deck, putting them there.
Banknote raised his hoof high. “I’ll deal my whole hoof!”
Swift whistled. “Really?”
Banknote nodded, staring at him with envious eyes. “Yeah, really! You got to get somewhere, and you can’t get somewhere without taking a lot of risks! That's how they set it up!”
Perfume got his old set of cards and hoofed him another set.
“I’ll not deal,” Perfume herself said. “So, that’s over, and the second betting round can commence. You go first, Swift.”
Swift gulped. “I raise ten.” He took out three more bits from his wallet, placed them on the pot.
Press put her cards on the table face-down. “Fold.”
“I’ll raise twelve!” Banknote said, watching Swift with misgiving as he threw two bits to the pile.
Several gasps and murmurs from the crowd. Several rose from their chairs and couches, trying to see the heated contestants from afar.
Perfume smiled. “I’ll fold for this one. Do you know how to handle this?”
Swift nodded. “Somewhat. I don’t know about this one, though.”
“Come on, mister!” Banknote shouted, tapping the table loud. “You wanna stay in?”
Swift grinned. “I raise fourteen," and added two more bits to the pot.
“Then, I’ll raise fifteen!” and brought in one more bit.
“Twenty!”
Swift slammed five bits on to the table.
“Thirty!”
Banknote struck the pot with five more bits, causing it to crash a little.
“Thirty-five!”
Swift flung yet five more, almost falling off his chair with his clumsy move.
“Forty!”
Banknote took out still five more coins from his hat, putting on a smug face for the other pony standing.
Perfume smacked her hoof on the table, smashing them to silence. Looked at Swift. “What’s gotten into you?! This was supposed to be a simple game!”
Swift eyed her and smiled.
He stared at Banknote who was getting several bits from his wallets, calculating as could be seen with him looking up and whispering to himself.
Swift knocked on the table.
Banknote shook his head, stared at him. "What?"
“I’ll raise to fifty.”
Swift took out his wallet and almost emptied it out, coins falling and rolling around.
The hatted stallion raised his brow, seeing those coins with glitter in his eyes. “Well, well, well...call!”
Showed his hoof of cards.
A king, a queen, an ace, a seven, a five. All clubs. A king-high flush.
Swift smiled. Showed his cards.
A three, a four, a five, a six, a seven. All hearts. A seven-high straight flush.
Banknote yanked a spear dangling from its rope. “Alright, that’s it! That’s beginner’s luck right there, see!”
Gasps, howls; ponies standing up, grabbing their own weapons hanging from above; huddling to the walls and the halls, keeping safe in numbers and in distance.
Silverstar galloped to him.
Blocked off by the tip of a spear.
“Back away!” Banknote thundered.
Everyone did back away, forming a hushed circle around him.
Then, faced Swift with the spear. “When you got here, I wasn’t expecting some gambling hotshot to sap away my life savings! Well, tonight, I think I got more than just a gambling hotshot! He’s been bluffing the whole time!”
“I wasn’t bluff—“
“Not poker bluffing! Identity bluffing!”
Everyone gasped. A pony spoke, “Did you mean to say he’s a change—“
“I don’t care if I’m allergic to leaves,” Banknote shouted, holding them off with the spear, “I put salve on myself all day! But he doesn’t, and you excuse him because he has allergies—unless there are more changelings here than we thought!”
Braeburn stood up from his rocking chair. “That’s a mighty big accusation you have—“
“I’m going to end this, and I’m going to show you—“ dabbed the salve from his cheeks on to the tip “—once and for all how you’re—“
“No!”
Press jumped over the table, lunged at him.
The spear hit him.
He fell down to the floor, gasping for air.
Then, a glow fell upon him.
After the glow, a changeling instead of Banknote.
Everyone gasped, looking at that monster sprawled on the floor.