//------------------------------// // Episode 20: On the Road Again // Story: Bulletproof Heart // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// 57th of Warm Season, 1005 BA Rarity had exactly 72 bullets for Silver Lining and 255 bullets for Ruby Heart. She knew this because she’d counted them three times since Starlight and Cranky had made her wait in the former’s office. She stared at the bullets, all neatly standing in ordered rows on the desk like perfect little soldiers. They were the same as the last time she’d checked them, and the time before that. Her gaze went to the clock mounted on the wall. She sighed for the hundredth time upon realizing only five minutes had passed since she’d last looked at it. “How long do they intend to keep me in here?” she grumbled, stalking circles around the desk. Her tail flicked in agitation, one hand rubbing her necklace and the other Silver Lining’s handle. “They could have at least brought me my stuff from the inn so I could clean my guns. If the poor darlings rust I know who I’ll blame.” She paused underneath the clock, resisted giving it another look, resumed her pacing. “Or some fabric. Let me make something.” By Luna’s stars, but she missed the simple pleasure of sewing. And not the simple kind for stitching up holes in her clothes, either. Her ears perked to booted hoofsteps. She paused, her casual rubbing of Silver Lining’s handle becoming a firm grip. The desk stood between her and the door. It would make for good cover. The door opened, and she let out a sigh of relief. Cranky stepped in, adorned in his traditional scowl. “It’s about time,” she growled. “I’ve been stuck in here for three hours.” Cranky said nothing at first. He stared at her, and there was something noticeably hard about his expression. Which was like comparing a concrete wall with a wooden one, when she really thought about it; it was hard to gauge Cranky’s varieties of grimace. She placed her hands on her hips and waited, knowing he had something he wanted to say. Without looking back, he closed the door behind him. A beaten, bent extract stick appeared from within his coat, then a silver lighter. His hard, icy blue eyes never broke contact as he placed the stick between his lips, lit it, and puffed out a few little blue clouds. He put the lighter away, then copied her pose with hands on hips. The stick rocked up and down as he finally spoke. “You were going to shoot me.” No thought was required for Rarity to know what he was referring to. Nor did she feel any inclination to apologize for her actions. She flicked her mane and huffed. “Nopony stands between me and my family, Cranky. And no donkey, either.” His ears perked as they continued to stare one another down. He chewed on his stick absent-mindedly, the tip bobbing slowly to the motions of his jaw. At last, he heaved a long sigh. “You’ve changed, Miss Belle. Become harder.” “A life on the run will do that to a mare.” Had she won their stare down? Perhaps it was a draw. She supposed it didn’t matter. “They’ve got my sister, Cranky. And Coco. That… mare must know where they are.” “Maybe. Maybe she does.” He pulled out his extract stick and blew a large plume of smoke towards the ceiling. “That don’t excuse you pulling a gun on me. I’m on your side, in case you forgot.” “Oh, I remember.” Her hands pressed against the desk as she leaned forward to peer at him. “I also remember your solemn promise that Coco would be safe.” His eyes widened just a bit, and then he sagged. “Yeah. I did promise that, didn’t I?” “You certainly did.” Rarity threw herself into Starlight’s seat and began shoving Silver Lining’s bullets into the appropriate pouch. “And now I’ve got to travel to the Sisters know what horrible place to get her back and hope against hope that they haven’t done to her the very thing I prevented. The entire reason I’m out here, Cranky.” He swung his arm, the side of his fist banging against the wall so hard it made the bookshelf’s contents shake. “Do you think I’m happy about it, woman? I know I bear that responsibility!” “Then where were you?” she demanded, not deigning to look at him. She tied Silver Lining’s ammunition pouch to her belt and began gathering Ruby Heart’s bullets. “Why do I find you out here in the middle of nowhere instead of watching over my friend?” The corner of his lip turned up as he glared. “You’re not the only pony who left something behind. I had some personal business of my own to attend to.” She gave a derisive sniff and tied off Ruby Heart’s ammunition bag. “You’ll forgive me if I don’t think your personal issues are more important than my family’s and friends’ lives.” With a snort, he crossed his arms. “You’re the one who sent Coco to your folks’ place, not me. Thought they’d be safe there, remember?” She was halfway standing again, but his words sucked the energy right out of her. She gave a light yelp at its loss, for without it a frigid chill snatched her heart. Collapsing back into the seat, she clutched at her necklace and hunched down, shaking all over. Her words came out far weaker than they had been. “I know. Damn it all, Cranky, I know. Coco and my little sister are suffering now, suffering because I refused to let them have me. I… I can’t…” Deep breaths. She shuddered and tried to pull herself together. Her thoughts kept going back to Coco and Sweetie and what tortures they might be enduring even now. The fire of her anger had kept such nightmares at bay. She grasped for that anger, tried to nurture it into a protective barrier between herself and the hideous possibilities, but it slipped away from her mind like loose sand. She looked up to find Cranky staring at her, his scowl as present as ever. “Oh, Cranky, I’m sorry. I’m just so scared and angry and I don’t know what to do with myself. They have my sweet baby sister! What was the point of everything I’ve endured? What was the point?” He seemed to soften. It was a scarce difference, but she knew him well enough to detect it; the subtle lowering of the shoulders, the way the furrows of his brow faded just a fraction. It was his eyes more than anything else, how the daggers they hid sheathed themselves and gave him an alert, but gentler quality. He stepped closer, sat in the chair opposite her. “I’m no good at this,” he admitted after a few thoughtful puffs of smoke. “But… way I see it, you’ve been preparing.” Slouching back in her seat, she stared up at the ceiling. She felt so… weighty. “Preparing for what?” “This.” He tapped a finger on the desk, perhaps to get her attention. She didn’t look. “Maybe you’ve been going through it all so you can save them.” “Being responsible for losing them just so that I can save them?” Rarity barked a bitter laugh. “Fate’s idea of a joke, perhaps. Maybe I should be blaming Discord.” “Maybe you should be blaming the Bad Apples,” he countered, though there was no force in his voice. “Or Braeburn.” Braeburn. The very name made her sick to her stomach, and she promptly pressed her legs tightly together. “I suppose that is most convenient, isn’t it?” Cranky crushed his spent stick on the arm of his seat, tossed it into a nearby bucket. He leaned forward. “We’ll get them back, Miss Belle. I’ll help in whatever way I can.” She eyed him. “And what about your personal business?” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. Cringing, she sat up and lightly slapped herself on the cheek. “I can be such a foal, sometimes.” “Personal business was dealt with before I came back through this town.” His answer came with an immense amount of patience. “As soon as Starlight gets back with the information we need, you and I will ride.” Ride? She tilted her head at him. “You got another lizard?” “Nope.” He shook his head. “Hitched a ride here on a caravan.” “Oh.” And she still hadn’t told him about the fate of his last mount. “Um… Cranky? About Piecazzo…” He raised his hand to silence her. “Piecazzo did what he was supposed to. Ain’t no shame in that, and I don’t hold it against you.” Rarity blinked at him, all anxiousness gone. “You mean you knew?” He raised a lone bushy eyebrow. “You left his body outside Spurhoof for anypony to find. Yeah, I knew.” “Oh,” she repeated weakly. Where was the anger? The malice? She’d been preparing herself for his fury ever since that terrible night. Maybe he didn’t realize?” I… I had to put him down.” Cranky only nodded. “I figured. It was good of you. That lizard thought the world of you, and you did right by him.” “Did right? I killed him, Cranky!” “Yeah.” And now the old donkey’s gaze really did soften, his ears folding down as he met her gaze. “That must have been hard. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He was sorry for her. She didn’t know whether to slap him for being a fool or cry for his kindness. She settled for slouching back into her seat and closed her eyes against the crazy world. How was she supposed to accept an apology she didn’t deserve? “Not as sorry as I am, let me assure you.” They sat in companionable silence, neither willing to break the uncomfortable truce between them. Rarity spent the time trying not to think of Piecazzo. Or Sweetie and Coco. Or Flintlock and his parents. So many things to avoid. She tried to focus on something brighter, something happier. Her thoughts drifted before finally landing on something recent: Ophelia. Now there was a sweet creature. If only she didn’t already have a sand lizard, she might… Her ears perked. “Say, Cranky?” He grunted to show he was listening. “Would you be interested in a new Dust Devil?” Cranky and Cerulean stared one another down. They looked for all the world like two warriors sizing one another up. The sand lizard had his frills raised as if preparing for a fight. Cranky looked about ready to throw a punch. Rarity watched the whole scene in quiet fascination, idly scratching at the soft spot beneath Ophelia’s frills. Starlight appeared at her side, watching the donkey and Dust Devil with hands to her hips. She leaned towards Rarity and whispered, “What are they doing?” Rarity didn’t stop watching. Neither Cranky nor Cerulean seemed to be aware of anything going on around them. “I have no idea.” The sheriff nodded slowly. A few seconds passed. “Isn’t that your Dust Devil?” “I’m giving him to Cranky,” she replied. “Assuming they don’t kill one another in the next few minutes.” “Uh-huh.” Another long pause. Cranky and Cerulean were like statues. “Cayenne finally left town.” At last, Rarity found something more interesting than the machismo currently on display. She turned to Starlight and made no attempt to disguise the hope in her voice. “Did you find out where my sister and friend are?” “Yep. You’re not gonna like it.” Starlight didn’t stop watching. Apparently she found the staring match as interesting as Rarity did. Rarity growled at the mare’s tactless dodge. “Unless you tell me they’re in Ponyville, I think I’ll be fine.” Starlight looked at her. Didn’t say a word. Just looked. It took several seconds for the meaning of the silence to filter through to Rarity’s brain. She groaned and pressed a hand over her eyes. “Tell me you’re not serious.” “Like a plague.” Starlight sighed and shook her head. “That Cayenne mare is going to round up her posse in the pass and head back that way. I suggest you wait until she comes through town again and follow her. They’ll lead you straight to the town, provided you’re careful.” “Did I hear that right? We going to Ponyville?” The two mares turned to find Cranky standing nearby, his hands on Cerulean’s reins. The two appeared as normal as could be, if ‘normal’ consisted of one cantankerous scowl and one disdainful look of indifference. Which for those two it did. “Wait.” Rarity pointed from one to the other. “You two were just glaring death at one another.” Cranky shrugged. “Yeah. So?” Starlight’s eyebrows disappeared under her mane. “And now you’re going to ride him? Just like that?” Another nonchalant shrug. “Yep.” Rarity shared a bewildered look with the sheriff. “But I thought… I don’t know, that there’d be some climactic showing of dominance or something.” Cranky reached up to pat Cerulean’s snout. The Dust Devil accepted it without so much as a blink. “We came to terms.” Another long stare between the mares. Starlight raised her hands as if to surrender. “Males are beyond comprehension.” Rarity could offer no argument. She flinched when Ophelia rested her head ever-so lightly on her shoulder. She reached up without looking to rub the lizard’s muzzle, then smiled. “I suppose I’ll just accept it as a mystery of the gender. I’m just glad to get a lizard that is actually friendly.” Her smile faded. “Do you think the Talon family will part with her easily?” “They already have,” Starlight answered. “Green Talon’s wife had no love for the creature. I think she was jealous of it, honestly. She told me you could take it, with her blessing.” “You hear that, Ophelia?” Rarity looked up and ran her fingers along the lizard’s scales playfully. “You’re coming with me, you sweet thing, you.” The lizard trilled pleasantly and gave her that goofy, toothy grin. “Glad to know you’re happy with the arrangement. Now.” Rarity turned back to the sheriff, all business once more. “Ponyville. You’re absolutely certain?” Starlight nodded, expression grave. “Got it straight from the horse’s mouth.” The only appropriate response to this was a long, tired groan. “Wonderful. I’ve gone from fleeing the twittermites to invading their nest.” Cranky harrumphed and rubbed his chin. “Well, we could always set up an ambush.” At their questioning glances he elaborated. “They say the Gang has slave caravans going in and out of there sometimes. What the slaves are used for, who knows?” “Slaves?” Rarity swayed on her hooves, the back of her hand to her forehead as the world began to spin. “My little sister, a slave…” “It’s just a rumor,” Starlight hurried to say. “Right, Cranky?” His scowl deepened, but he nodded. “Right. Just rumor.” “It better be. If I find out those ruffians are trying to force Coco and Sweetie into bondage, I swear I’ll shoot every pony in that stupid town!” Rarity huffed and turned to grab… oh. “Ophelia needs a saddle.” “Talk to the stablemaster, Sir Single,” Starlight suggested. “They’ll fix you up. Can probably make a new saddle fitted to the two of you before Cayenne and her posse come back through town.” Rarity thought about her bit bag back at the hotel and felt her heart sink a little more. “I don’t think I can afford to have that done right now. This journey has taken everything I have.” “What?” Cranky’s eyes went wide. “But you were practically rolling in bits, weren’t you?” Her thoughts drifted to the caravan she’d paid for back in Moosiville in order to get her parents to Rockstead. “Not anymore.” “Bitter Ergot will pay for it,” Starlight said sympathetically. “It’s the least the town can do for you after you stopped Mr. Fluffed’s little scheme. And since I’m technically the highest ranking government official in town right now, I get to make that call.” “I couldn’t possibly—” At Starlight’s raised eyebrow, Rarity sighed and bowed her head. “You’re going to do it no matter what I say, aren’t you?” Cranky chuckled in his gravelly way. “Still don’t know how to say ‘yes’, I see.” “I know plenty of ways to say ‘yes’,” she countered with a wan smile. “They simply don’t apply here.” At that, he pressed his hand to her shoulder, turned to Starlight, and spoke in the tone of a father making a decision for his child. “She says ‘yes’, Sheriff.” Rarity got into her proper role by pouting and crossing her arms with an exaggerated huff. “Good.” Starlight grinned at the two of them before turning away. “It was either that or I throw her in jail to make sure she didn’t try to leave before the sentence was carried out.” “You’re both insufferable,” Rarity called after her, though there could be no putting away her smile. Ophelia bumped her cheek with a trill, and she obediently began rubbing the creature’s head. “I really have the best of friends, don’t you think?” Cranky grunted and followed after Starlight, guiding Cerulean along by the reins. “Remember that the next time you decide to pull a gun on one of them.” Her heart sank at the bite in his words. She’d really have to make up for that at some point. True to Starlight’s word, Cayenne passed through town a couple days later with no less than two dozen ponies riding behind her. In Starlight’s opinion, Rarity’s friendship with Cranky had been the only thing saving her life from that mob. Cranky was inclined to agree. Rarity didn’t bother to inform them that she’d already faced worse odds. At dusk a few hours after, Cranky and she left Bitter Ergot without fanfare. The locals, many of whom had come to Rarity in the intermittent days offering thanks and gifts for her actions, had not been informed of their departure. As such, it had been a quiet affair with only Starlight seeing them off. This was exactly how Rarity liked it; the fewer ponies who knew what she was doing, the fewer there were that could inform others. There were far too many benefits to this to ignore. Now they were eight hours into their journey. They knew in a general sense which direction to go. Ponyville had been taken by the bandits when Rarity was a little filly, but it had still been a township of Hoofington. Any map old enough would point them right to it, and Cranky happened to have one. But he couldn’t get there on his own. Not because the journey was hard – it was not – or the dangers were many – they were not. They’d stopped atop a tall hill, where they intended to make camp. Rarity had her navigation book, sextant, and other tools out and was currently marking the location of the moon before it could leave the horizon. Cranky, who was supposed to be setting up their tents, watched silently. Rarity placed a large dot on her own map to show their current location, then made a line from it to Bitter Ergot. They’d made great distance tonight. Far better than she’d been managing while riding Cerulean herself. The annoying blue beast appeared much more willing to accept Cranky as its rider. She idly wondered why. Noting Cranky’s gaze, she smiled and levitated her map to let him take it in hand, then started putting away her tools. “A good show for a night, wouldn’t you agree?” He stared at the map for a moment, brow a mess of furrows. He looked as though he were trying to make sense of an intricate puzzle. “You learned how to do this while out on your own?” She paused, sextant in hand. She studied it, turning it about to examine its every angle. Her thoughts turned to A.K. Yearling and those very few nights they had together. “A friend taught me.” He hummed, then carefully rolled her map. A considerate gesture, as he tended to fold his own. He must have noticed how she handled it when she’d first pulled it out. “Have to admit, I’m impressed. You’ve really got a handle for things out here. I never learned to do it.” Putting away the sextant, she gave him a curious look. “Navigating, you mean? I thought you were a rambling donkey at one time.” “I was.” He handed her map back to her, then resumed making his tent. “But it was more… idle wandering. I had no destinations, so I didn’t bother with things like that. Mostly took caravans or followed well-worn roads.” The concept was alien to her. How could one travel without a destination in mind? It made no sense. But then, perhaps Cranky had had a reason for it. Perhaps it wasn’t about where he was going but what he was walking away from. That led her to wonder just what his personal business in the Sunpeaks had been. Still, she wouldn’t pry. Cranky was a private donkey, this she knew from experience, and she had no doubt he’d not take kindly to probing questions. But as she finished setting up her tent – before he finished his, she noted with pride – she decided that there were some things she might get out of him. Maybe. Waiting until he’d hammered down the last corner of his tent, she asked, “If you don’t mind my asking, what made you decide to stop in Spurhoof?” He returned his hammer to its place in his pack. “Don’t know.” A beat. “You don’t know?” “Nope.” Pulling out two cans of sweet corn, he elaborated, “One day I looked at the horizon and decided I didn’t feel like travelling anymore. And I happened to be in Spurhoof at the time.” He tossed her a can. She caught it easily with one hand. “I expected something more personal.” “It was,” he replied, settling down on the ground with his legs crossed. “Maybe not in the way you’d think, but it was.” Translation: he was keeping something from her, and had no intention of sharing. Rarity supposed she could accept that. She didn’t need to know Cranky’s history or reasons for staying in Spurhoof. In truth, only one thing was important right now. She settled to the ground in front of her tent and smiled. “I’m really glad you came with me, Cranky.” A knife came out, cutting a neat hole in his can. He cut a second hole, then used the blade to pry the thin metal back, opening up roughly half the lid. One more stab allowed him to rip half the lid off with ease. The way to his meal open, he pointed the knife at her can. Without a word, she took the blade in her magic and repeated the steps. Only when she finished did she note how he was peering at her. “What?” “Nothing,” he said, plucking his knife out of the air when she levitated it back to him. “I just thought I was gonna have to do that for you.” “Ah.” She offered him a spoon from her own pack, which he accepted. “I normally use a can opener.” “So why didn’t you now?” She shrugged, dug her spoon into the corn. “You offered an alternative.” She took a bite and grimaced. The corn tasted fine, but she much preferred it warm. A shame they’d agreed that a fire would be too risky right now. They ate quietly for a time, Rarity watching the sand lizards. Cerulean had curled up near Cranky’s tent. The proximity wasn’t lost on her. For all his grumpy, disdainful manner, the blue lizard had a protective streak. Ophelia lay within arm’s reach of Rarity, watching her back with half-closed eyes. The pale creature trilled sleepily, and Rarity reached over to rub its head. Ophelia seemed quite pleased by this. It made Rarity smile. She was growing quite fond of her new lizard. “How much of the whole Bulletproof Heart thing is true?” Cranky’s words knocked her out of her reverie. Her ears folded back and her stomach twisted at the new topic. Still, she knew it was better to get it out of the way than avoid it. “More than I’d like,” she grumbled, turning back to him. “But the rumors do exaggerate. What do you want to know?” He started with the most obvious of queries. “First off, I just wanna know if what that Cayenne mare said is true. Are you really the Bulletproof Heart, and did you shoot her and her… ‘stud’.” His expression turned sour – well, sourer – at the use of the word. “Her ‘stud’ was Braeburn.” At his slightly widening eyes, she nodded. “She was one of the ponies you had to chase away from the Squash farm that night. She and the rest of their posse tried to chase me the night I left. I killed all of them… except her. I thought I could get away with letting her live.” He hummed, took a bite of corn, stared at the horizon. “So you shot her then, and now she wants to shoot you. Typical.” With a sigh, Rarity shook her head. “No, actually. She was knocked out by Piecazzo. It was later, down near the Dragon’s Teeth, that we met again. She’d followed me all the way down there. And…” She paused, gazing down at her can as visions of burning corpses littered her mind. The acrid smell came back, disturbing and searing. “And?” Sucking down a long breath, she set the can aside. “We had a duel. She lost, and I let her go.” He eyed the discarded can, then her. “The Dragon’s Teeth. Is that where the caravan comes into play?” He knew about the caravan? Oh, right. Newspapers. Another sigh left her. “I found the caravan after the fact. Somepony else destroyed it. That is where we had the duel though.” She considered what she’d heard and read, tapping her chin. “Come to think of it, she also accused me of destroying the caravan. She might still think I did.” Appearing relieved, Cranky nodded. “What about Hoofington?” “Hoofington?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “What about it?” Pointing at her with his spoon, he replied, “Right before Starlight locked me up, there were rumors going around that the Bulletproof Heart all but annihilated a fifty-pony gang of bounty hunters while leaving the city. They say the survivors came crawling back into town with their tails between their legs, and many of them abandoned the lifestyle then and there.” As much as the rumors grew tall at times, Rarity found she could believe that one. Closing her eyes, she recalled the fury of that part of her journey. All that anger boiling out of her in the form of lead, indiscriminate and eager for blood. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, and she promptly wrapped her arms about herself in a tight squeeze. Her mind tried to go back to the cause, that blurry night in a Hoofington saloon. It made her thighs tingle, and she promptly tossed it aside. Instead, she thought about young Orchard. Where was she now? Back home, hopefully, with her family. Rarity dearly hoped not to see her again. The guilt of murdering her fiancée, even in debatable self-defense, was like a phantom kick to the gut. “Miss Belle?” She met his gaze, realized how she must look, and promptly straightened her posture. Rubbing her necklace for comfort, she spoke in a voice much harder than she intended. “That one’s true.” Rarity had seen Cranky surprised before, but never so startled as he was now. His face went slack and his shoulder slumped. He almost dropped his can of corn as his arms slowly lowered to his knees. He gazed at her as if she were not Rarity but some unknown creature from beyond the furthest edges of Equestria. The scowl refused to leave her face. As much as she wanted to paint her actions in a positive light, she knew it was not possible. And that awful, perverted pony kept coming back to the forefront of her mind, as if demanding her attention. That pony… The thought of her alone ignited the familiar, disturbing fire of rage in Rarity’s heart. If she ever met that… that hussy again she couldn’t be sure what she’d do. At last, she addressed Cranky’s gaping stare. “I was angry, Cranky. Furious. Something happened in Hoofington, something I cannot forgive, and those hunters made for an escape valve. I regret that I let it out in such a violent manner, but it is what happened and I can’t take it back. So yes, I murdered those ponies. I’m ashamed to say that I even enjoyed doing it. I was so angry I let it get to my head and…” She turned her face away from him, indignity mixing in with her frustration in an emotional concoction that left her confused about what to do with herself. She kept rubbing her necklace beneath her shirt, but her right hand had a death grip on Silver Lining. “Something’s happening to me,” she muttered. “Sometimes I think the Bulletproof Heart is an entirely different pony, a monster trying to take over Rarity’s body and make her into something new and frightening. For three horrible, sleepless days and nights, I lost who I was and became that monster. “I hate this life, Cranky Doodle.” She met his gaze once more, a gaze that was soft and concerned. A gaze that didn’t fit on his face, but it was there nonetheless. “I hate it more than you can know. It’s turning me into something I never wanted to be. Killing is easier. I don’t hesitate to draw my guns anymore. I resort less and less to communication to solve my problems. I…” Releasing Silver Lining, she pressed her palm to her face and sucked down a ragged breath. “I want to go back to the time when I would cry because I had to hurt somepony in self-defense.” He tried to get a word in, voice hesitant. “Miss Belle, that’s—” “I know!” She jumped to her hooves and began pacing, her sudden motion startling Ophelia. “I know it’s too late to go back. That doesn’t make me like it. I don’t have to like it! I’m not some bullet-happy fiend. I’m not a gunslinger or a hero or a legend, I’m just me. But it seems that no matter where I go, there are ponies who want to kill me. Ponies who want to do bad things that I have to solve. Ponies who are bound and determined to guarantee that somehow, in some way, I can’t be Rarity Belle of Moosiville or Spurhoof anymore. No, all anypony ever wants me to be is the Bulletproof Heart, and I hate it.” She let out a scream at the reddening sky. “Do you hear me, Celestia? I want to go home! I want to go back to running my shop! And more than anything else, I never want to be referred to as the Bulletproof Heart again. I hate the Bulletproof Heart!” Silence, interrupted only by a faint northern wind. The sun peeked over the edge of the horizon, as if afraid of what it might find. Slowly, the energy Rarity had built up drained out, until she stood slumped with arms limp and head hanging. She did not cry. Her body seemed to weigh a million pounds. Her hooves were like lead, her arms no lighter. If she leaned slightly, she suspected she’d just let herself hit the ground. After some indeterminable amount of time, Cranky appeared at her side. Slowly, he wrapped an arm about her shoulder and guided her back to the tents. Settling her back down on the ground, he tried to get her to take her half-empty can of corn. She did, but only stared at it. Everything felt numb. He said nothing. Perhaps he didn’t know what to say. Maybe he thought nothing he could say would help. Either way, he kept his peace and stayed with her. After a time, she finished her corn, set the can aside, and crawled into her tent without a word. She lay on her bedroll, curled up in a ball, and finally felt enough of a stir in her heart to start weeping. It was a quiet cry that carried her to sleep. Cranky said nothing about her little episode when they woke up and broke camp later that day. For this, Rarity was grateful. Rarity was really coming to appreciate her new saddle. Never before had she realized just how uncomfortable she’d been riding in saddles not designed for her. With the one fitted to her and Ophelia, she ended her days with more energy and feeling less like she’d been beating herself up between the legs. Who knew that getting a properly fitted saddle could be so important? It was the start of the second week of their journey. As with all journeys, Cranky and Rarity fell into a routine. They always rode side-by-side. Cranky decided when they broke camp to continue travelling, Rarity dictated when the time came to stop for rest. They never argued on such matters. Barely even discussed it. Rarity guided them with her navigation skills, he always handled the food. After the fourth day with no sign of Cayenne and her posse, they agreed it was probably safe enough to start making campfires. Fires were a fascinating subject at times like this, or so Rarity thought. This deep into the Bowl of Equestria, there were few trees and shrubs to make use of. The alternative was the EverFlame Log. A peculiar item, it was a large piece of heavy wood that easily fit in one of Cerulean’s saddlebags. All Rarity had to do was set it down on the ground and add a little magic to it. It didn’t even require a spell, really, for as soon as it noticed there was magic touching it the whole log would ignite with a blaze bright and hot enough to match any typical campfire. The log, which was made from the unique Celestial Oaks located in the Valley of the Sun, was enchanted to be exceptionally resistant to the flames, such that a single log could be used every night for eight weeks before becoming useless cinders. It was one of the very few products created exclusively by the Church of Mother Night, and a veritable gift of the Sisters to travelers everywhere, although this one had been a gift from the ponies of Bitter Ergot. Of course, it came with its own share of risks. This was why Rarity was pulling the log from Cerulean’s saddlebag manually, hefting the weighty thing in both arms and carrying it a safe distance away. After all, if she tried to levitate it with magic she’d end up setting Cerulean’s packs on fire. When they said the log reacted to any magic, they really meant any magic. Cranky was busy setting up his tent, knowing better than to offer to help move the log. Once the flame was started, filling the air with the scent of burning oak, and his tent was complete, he set about putting on a pot. They were eating better now, with stews comprising a variety of vegetables and roots. Cranky had long proven himself to be an adept field cook, and Rarity saw no reason to interfere with his work. “So, Miss Navigator,” he said as she sat down opposite him to watch him cook. “How much farther do you think we’ve got before we have to start eating cold food again?” His meaning was clear, and she closed her eyes to envision the map she’d just updated some twenty minutes ago. “At our current pace? Maybe a day. Then we’ll be too close to Ponyville to risk the fire anymore.” He grunted as he poured some black beans into the brown mixture. “I don’t suppose you have a plan in mind for when we get there?” Pressing her cheek in her palm and her elbow on her knee, she replied, “It’s too early for that. I don’t think we can plan anything until we get a good look at the town.” “If it still is a town,” he grumbled, adding some salt and pepper to the black iron pot. Rarity didn’t want to admit it, but the fact they were getting close to Ponyville had her on edge. She rubbed at her necklace and wondered what they would find. Were there patrols? Might they walk in to find the place filled with thousands of cutthroats? For all she knew, a quiet entrance may be impossible. She didn’t even know how big Ponyville had been before the infamous battle that saw it taken over by the Bad Apples and their cousins in lawlessness, the Razzle Dazzles. But she had to get in somehow. Sweetie and Coco were there. They simply had to be. She refused to accept the possibility that all her efforts to keep her family safe in the last year had been for nothing. Cranky eyed her through the smoke and steam. “What’s on your mind?” “Ponyville, of course.” Sitting up straight, she studied him. He seemed almost casual, legs crossed as he leaned over the stew with stirring spoon in hand. “Have you ever been there?” “No,” he admitted easily. “In all my wanderings, I never went. I’d stopped travelling before the battle, and who’d go there now except gangs and ponies with a death wish?” She nodded, having expected as much. “Too bad. Do you know anything about the town at all? Perhaps Moonlight said something.” He scoffed, the wind from the act sending smoke and steam dancing in the night air. “All her friends died there, in spirit if not in reality. She didn’t talk to me about Ponyville beyond that she didn’t want to talk about Ponyville.” Rarity couldn’t blame her. They say the battle was nothing less than a slaughter. She leaned back, setting her palms on the dirt as she stared up at the starry sky. “I wish I understood why Hoofington leaves it alone. You’d think the city government would want to crush such disorder swiftly, rather than let it fester and grow. Couldn’t the army have marched on the town after the battle?” He tapped the edge of the pot with his spoon, the noise echoing in the hills all around them. It made the hairs on the back of Rarity’s neck stand on end, but she resisted the urge to complain. He knew the risks as well as she did. If he was willing to make such excessive noise, he must really think them safe. “You really don’t know a thing about what happened out here, do you?” Without losing her heavily leaning pose, she lifted her head to raise an eyebrow at him. “And what might you know?” “Not as much as I’d like.” Cranky took a sip of the stew, nodded, put the spoon back in the pot. “But I at least know what it meant. It was the death of the Rainbow Gang. And with them, the end of so many other things. Order collapsed. The city states stopped patrolling the rurals. Too dangerous. Too costly.” Rarity frowned and sat up once more. “So they just… gave up? But surely they had the horsepower needed to bring down the gangs that had taken over Ponyville.” “Maybe, but it would have cost a lot of lives. And when Hoofington wastes two thirds of its standing armed forces clearing out a single small town in the middle of nowhere, what’s to stop Mooisville from sending theirs down to take over? Or Manehattan?” The air left Rarity’s lungs, but she got it back quickly. “They would never!” “Wouldn’t they?” Cranky shook his head, expression solemn. “Equestria was once unified, or so the Church claims. The leaders of the city states would love to be able to say they brought the different parts of Equestria back together, even if it was by force. The balance of power is a fragile thing.” “They still wouldn’t resort to such barbarity!” It was a ludicrous thought. Reasonable, responsible ponies didn’t do such things! He stared at her. It wasn’t a hard look. The fire reflected in his eyes, serving to heighten the effect of what she could only think of as a pitying expression. “Miss Belle. You’ve been out here. You haven’t told me a lot of what you’ve encountered, but I imagine you’ve seen your fair share of wickedness. Do you really believe the violence, greed, and lust for power stops at the edge of a city? Civilization doesn’t mean the end of corruption.” They held one another’s gaze for a few seconds more, but it was Rarity who looked away. After all, he was right. Had she not grown up in a part of Mooisville where theft and gangs were common? There was no reason to believe that kind of thing didn’t exist in the upper echelons of pony society. But for a city to attack another at an opportune moment… it was madness. Had a fear of something like that kept the Ten of Eight from liberating Ponyville? “It goes deeper than that, though,” Cranky said, interrupting her unpleasant thoughts. Leaning forward and raising her hands to the fire, she asked, “What do you mean?” He stirred the stew. It seemed less by necessity and more like a means of self-distraction. There was a hesitancy in his manner, and his lips were slightly parted as if barely containing what he wished to say. He met her eyes, looked back down at the stew. Stirred it some more. At last, he forced the words out. “The death of the Rainbow Gang was also the death of the noble drifter. There are stories of famous ponies that wandered the hills and deserts, dispensing justice out the barrels of their guns and keeping the bandits in check. Firefly. The Mighty Celadon. Calamity. Fine Crime.” He paused to sip the stew again, perhaps to give his words time to sink in. “Have you ever noticed that you only ever hear the old stories? There are no new ones. Only the legends of the past.” An interesting topic. Rarity had to admit, she’d never thought about it before. Now that he mentioned it, every 'good' drifter she’d ever heard stories about had been active decades ago. They’d all existed before… “Before the battle.” Her ears folded back as the implications struck her. “You think the Battle of Ponyville brought an end to the honorable gunslinger.” “I don’t think, I know.” He turned from her, making a show of digging into his backpack for something. “When the Rainbow Gang died… when Moonlight lost all her friends… all of Equestria felt the effects. If great heroes like them could fall to evil, how could anypony hope to stand against it? Nopony dared to resist the rise of the Bad Apple Gang. Nopony believed they could make a difference. Ponies stopped trying to do the right thing, and those that remained gradually died out as the outlaws took over.” At last, he produced their bowls. He spooned stew into hers, then filled his own. He said nothing the entire time. Rarity chose not to interrupt the silence, certain that he would speak more in time. She ate as was expected, but barely tasted the broth on her tongue. All her interest centered upon Cranky and his stories. She’d never heard him speak so earnestly about anything, and she didn’t want to waste a moment of it. He’d barely touched his soup when he began speaking again, his voice low and anxious. “This is an age of lawlessness, Miss Belle. The city-states keep their armies held back and leave the towns and villages to fend for themselves. Bandits and outlaws run rampant. Nopony is willing to even try and stop them. You saw how Sheriff Glimmer had to tiptoe around that Cayenne to keep from offending her. She was scared, and for good reason. I think everypony in Equestria is scared, even if they might not seem like it.” This, at least, prompted some clarification. Rarity set her near-empty bowl aside and leaned forward. He didn’t meet her gaze. “Are you scared?” Gaze focused on the bowl in his hands, he nodded. “I am. I was. For years.” She tried to give him her most comforting smile. He probably didn’t see it, so she forced that same soothing element into her voice. “I have trouble believing that you, Cranky Doodle, could be afraid of anything. You were always such a strong, inspiring figure.” “If only you knew.” He sighed and finally looked up. It was a fleeting meeting of gazes, the blushing, dodgy glance of a young colt afraid to look his mother in the eye. Never had he appeared so vulnerable, and the sight poked tiny needles into Rarity’s heart. “When Braeburn and his posse came into Spurhoof that day, I was concerned. When I saw the attention he was giving you… I was terrified. I knew what creatures like him are capable of. I knew, and I…” He closed his eyes tight, the bowl shaking in his hands. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I put you in that position, Miss Belle.” Rarity’s breath left her once more. To think, he’d never given any indication at all that he’d felt that way! Or had she simply not noticed? She rubbed Silver Lining’s handle, feeling at the familiar little nub with her thumb. His gift to her, to protect her when she went out into the wide world that he so feared. How must he have felt when he’d given it to her, knowing that she was entering a world he couldn’t protect her from? Her heart was becoming a pincushion. “Cranky.” He wouldn’t look at her. “Cranky, I never blamed you for the situation I’m in.” “You should,” he replied in a weary, pained voice. “You really should.” But then, he looked at her. Not a tentative or uncertain look, but a direct one, full of hope. “But if we can do this… maybe things will change.” “Change?” Her arguments died with that word. She cocked her head sideways and frowned, attempting to make sense of the word without any context. “What will change?” “Everything.” He smiled, and by the Sisters, it was genuine! “I don’t think you know what you’ve started out here, Miss Belle.” “I agree.” She shrugged and gestured invitingly. “Why don’t you explain it to me?” “Happily.” Yet he wavered, smile diminishing a fraction as his expression became wary. “You might not like it.” Her own smile, teasing knowledge she’d yet to share, failed to put him at ease. “I’m a big girl, Deputy. If I can handle hordes of bounty hunters, I think I can handle one mad donkey’s ramblings.” “Cute.” He rubbed his hands together, then pulled out an extract stick. Lighting it took up a lot more time than it should. Was he trying to postpone something? At last, he puffed some smoke into the air and seemed to relax. “It’s the Bulletproof Heart.” She flinched, her smile disappearing entirely. Still, it would be best to let him continue. Get it out of his system and all that. “Go on.” The words came out a lot harder than she’d intended. Another puff of smoke. He gazed at the sky as if his audience were there instead of sitting in front of him. “From what I’ve read and heard, the one topic on everypony’s lips is the Bulletproof Heart. From Rockstead to Manehattan. If she’s not common knowledge in Seaddle yet, she will be soon enough.” With a heavy sigh, she lay on her side and propped herself up on an elbow. Staring into the fire, she grumbled, “I have no interest in that.” “Too bad. Nopony out there cares what you’re interested in.” He turned his head away from her scowl. “The stories are spreading like wildfire. A lone mare, a gunslinger who fights against the Bad Apple Gang, who doesn’t take shit from anypony.” She bristled. “Who rescued a caravan from griffon slavers. Who takes out armies of bounty hunters with ruthless efficiency.” Her hands clenched into fists. “Who protects good, hardworking traders. Soon enough, stories will spread about how she stopped a corrupt bank official from taking over a small town.” “That’s enough.” “No.” He calmly met the figurative fire of her gaze from over the literal flames of their camp. “It’s just the beginning. If this keeps up, ponies will start to think the rule of the gangs is over. Ponies will start believing again.” “Believing in what?” She sat up so that she could properly glare at him. “In me? I’m not some hero, Cranky!” He raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to the citizens of Bitter Ergot.” She flung her hands high. “That was a fluke! What was I supposed to do, leave you there to be hanged? Ignore all the signs pointing me to a conspiracy? I couldn’t leave it be!” “And what are you going to do next time?” He crossed his arms, manner calm and expectant. “When you pass by another pony all alone and in need of help? When you find the next town is being raided by bandits regularly? When a caravan is lost and has no way to get home?” “I’ll do what I have to do and help them, of course.” Her own words washed over her and she groaned. “That’s not helping, is it?” “Nope.” He pointed at her. It was a curious thing, seeing him act like the lecturer when not five minutes ago he seemed to be the one afraid of getting lectured. “You help ponies, Miss Belle. It’s what you do. You can’t help it. And that’s why you’re becoming a legend. Most ponies who’d try to do what you have would be dead by now, but not you. I can’t tell you how impressed I am at your tenacity.” Her throat was dry, and her tongue decided it really liked the top of her mouth. She tried swallowing a couple times, but couldn’t loosen it. A gulp of water from her canteen helped enough to let her speak, although her voice was ragged and weak. “How do I stop it? I can’t change who I am.” “You either die or become the kind of pony you’ve been fighting against all the time.” His answer was quick and sharp. That… Neither of those options were acceptable. Never would she descend to the level of those who hunted her. And yet the alternatives… She pulled out Ruby Heart. Its pink metal shone in the firelight. “I don’t want to be the Bulletproof Heart.” He nodded solemnly. “So you’ve said. But what about what being the Bulletproof Heart means to so many ponies out there?” “You don’t understand!” She shook the weapon, holding it high so he could get a good look at it. “I’ve done terrible things, Cranky. I once felt agony from just the idea of having to defend myself. I should be an emotional wreck right now over Flintlock’s death, but I feel as though I’m already over it! I don’t want to be numb to these things. I should be cherishing the lives of everypony I meet, and yet I drew this very gun on you, a close friend, in an instant. If that’s not a sign of me falling into the pits of corruption, I don’t know what is.” “You were upset—” “That’s not an excuse!” She made to fling the Ruby Heart away, but her arm stopped mid swing. A long, ragged breath. Another. Slowly, she forced herself to return the weapon to its holster under her vest. “And yet I keep going. Why do I keep going?” She slumped, elbows on her knees and head hanging limp. That spiteful weight came back to her, making her feel as if it would take a team of sand lizards to haul her around. “I’m scared, Cranky,” she whispered over the crackle of flame. “Scared that a few months from now there will be no sign of Rarity Belle left. There will only be the Bulletproof Heart, an unequine creature that resorts to violence to solve all her problems, and who can kill without ever feeling guilt over the act. Is that really something ponies should be believing in?” She could hear him fidgeting. Grumbling. Trying to find something to say. He’d never find anything that would make this right. Her thoughts drifted to Sweetie Belle and Coco. What would they think when they saw her for the first time in so long? Would they think of her as a monster? “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Her ears perked, but she didn’t look up. “I can’t imagine why.” “If you were at risk of becoming everything you fear, would you fear it in the first place?” That had to be the worst argument she’d ever heard. She raised her head to stare at him. “Of course. Why else would I fear it?” He met her gaze with the deadpan look of someone explaining that water was wet to a three-year-old. “Except you are always afraid of it, right? Which means you’re always thinking about. If you’re always thinking about it, you’re always on defense against it.” The words seeped into her brain for a little while before they started to make sense. Pursing her lips, Rarity rubbed at her necklace and wondered if she’d been looking at things the wrong way. “But I still am growing numb to the pain of killing. Flintlock—” Cranky shook his head solemnly. “You’re never gonna lose your sense of morality, Miss Belle. You’re far too good for that. Killing does come easier with practice, but that doesn’t mean you’re becoming a bad pony.” If only she could believe that. She sighed and returned her attention to the fire. “Then what does it mean, Cranky?” “It means you’re learning to cope with the pain.” He reached over, waving his hand over the fire such that his fingers passed through some of the flames. “Just like you adapted to the Spurhoof heat when you first arrived. Just like how you adapted to constantly riding a sand lizard in an unfitted saddle. With practice, you learn how to deal with it. It doesn’t make the problem any less serious, it just means you can face it more effectively.” What comforting words. What appropriate words. They made such nice, logical sense. Rarity didn’t want to acknowledge that though. Her problem wasn’t logical. It was emotional, and her heart told her that what was happening was wrong. Fundamentally so. Cranky was trying to encourage her to be something that she absolutely did not want to be. Perhaps she could make a difference in Equestria, but if the sacrifice was her very soul… With a final sigh, she stood and turned away. “I’m going to bed.” She expected him to keep talking. He didn’t. She wasn’t sure how to feel about that. The fact that Rarity didn’t wake with a start was a testament to the regularity of her nightmares. She’d gone through so many over the last year. Nightmares of Piecazzo missing half his face, of griffons painted in buffalo war colors and dancing about her while a fire burned at her hooves, of swimming in a dark tunnel away from Flintlock’s bloated corpse while he asked her what had happened to him. This one was new: a dream of shooting Cranky. It had been a slow thing, a vision filled with intent and purpose. From the moment the dream had started, Rarity had known what she would do. He’d not tried to stop her, and a warped, black and twisted mockery of the Ruby Heart had arisen in a gradual, methodical motion to press against his chin. And then…? She stared at the ceiling of her tent, feeling no less weary than she had when she’d gone to sleep hours ago. It had to have been hours ago, the sunlight was visible through the edges of her tent flap. Should she tell Cranky about her dream? Perhaps apologize for killing him in it. The better course could be to leave well enough alone, lest he start trying to convince her that it was all in her head. ‘Just a nightmare’, he might say. ‘Only little fillies get worked up over them.’ Rarity felt like a little filly now. Her heart was like a metal weight pressed against the back of her ribcage, pinning her firmly to the ground. In her quiet misery, she contemplated that moment back in Bitter Ergot when she’d aimed Ruby Heart at him. Would she have pulled the trigger if things went just a little differently? She shivered and didn’t fight the weight of her body. Easier to lie there and soak in the heat and her depression. There came a faint trilling, then the rustle of fabric. Bright light poured into the tent, directly over Rarity’s face. She groaned and rested her arm over her eyes. The trilling came again, louder this time. Braving the cruelty of Celestia, she peered beneath her arm at the flap to find a large white head staring at her with icy blue eyes. Ophelia caught her looking. Out came the goofy, toothy grin. Sighing, Rarity reached out to rub the tip of the lizard’s nose. “How is it you always seem to know when I’ve woken up?” A trill, seemingly self-satisfied, was the only response. Rarity considered rolling over and ignoring the lizard. Before she could properly finish the thought, Ophelia opened her mouth slightly and placed the very edge of it over Rarity’s fingers. It wasn’t enough for the teeth to reach, but it was more than enough to get some reptilian saliva on her. “Ophelia!” Rarity was on her knees in an instant, staring at her drool-laden fingers and feeling her stomach twist at the sight. “That is disgusting! Shoo, out, you naughty thing!” The pale Dust Devil cocked her head, frills opening and closing quickly. She appeared more perplexed than chastised. Gripping her hand by the wrist, Rarity’s mind ran through no less than fifty horrible concepts. What if it ruined her skin? What if it did something terrible to her nails? Oh, Luna, it was sticky and slimy and might not wash off without soap, and she had no soap! What kind of horrible life did she live that she didn’t have a bar of soap within easy reach at any given moment? She needed… water. Water! “Out!” She pushed against Ophelia’s head with her clean hand, keeping the other held up and behind her as if it possessed a contagion. The big lizard could have easily resisted her, but instead Ophelia allowed herself to be shoved backwards and out of the tent. Rarity followed, moving with extreme care to ensure her contaminated hand didn’t touch the tent flap as she exited. Ophelia kept low to the ground, staring up at Rarity with wide, curious eyes. They weren’t anywhere near repentant enough for her liking. She growled at her steed and put her nasty hand on full display. “Don’t you look so innocent, you… you filthy thing. Look at this! Nasty! Naughty!” She started to stomp around to the saddlebags, where one of the large water jugs hung. “I can’t believe you, Ophelia! A proper lady never…” She slowed to a stop. Turned to the campfire. There, on her knees, was a mare. She had her arms folded at stomach height, palms straight against the bottoms of her elbows. The pink pony had her eyes closed, her face as calm as the morning dawn. She wore bright yellow pantaloons sized to fit loosely around her legs, and a dirty white undershirt. A similarly yellow officer’s jacket of the Hoofington Army lay neatly folded at her side. And atop her mass of curly pink hair was a green Pigmy Leaper, the diminutive sand lizard staring at Rarity with wide, emotionless purple eyes. It was several seconds before Rarity fully registered the fact that there was a random pony sitting in the middle of her camp. Her first instinct was to glance around for any sign of Cranky. She saw none, but Cerulean was sitting near his tent and staring at the newcomer intently. If he was here, so was Cranky. The old donkey was probably still asleep in his tent. Her next step was to assess whether this mare was a threat. Now that she started to pay attention, she saw no weapons on her. A closer look at the folded officer’s coat, however, revealed a belt carrying not one but three weapons. Unconventional weapons, at that: a large hatchet that appeared buffalo-made, an orange stick maybe a foot-and-a-half in length, and a pistol with two of what easily qualified as the biggest barrels Rarity had ever laid eyes on, not including the Cardinal’s secondary (which she had never learned the purpose of). So yes, the mare was probably dangerous… but she was unarmed. So was she trying to signal that she intended to cause no harm? Something bumped Rarity’s shoulder. It was Ophelia, looking at her as if expecting some kind of response. Rarity blinked… then remembered her hand. Her hand which was covered in saliva. And which was gripping Silver Lining. With a cry of horror, she hurried to the water jug and poured a small amount onto her hand, scrubbing off the gunk for all she was worth. “Eww, eww, eww!” The moment her skin was cleansed, she pulled out Silver Lining and began washing its handle thoroughly. “What in Celestia’s name would possess you to do something like that?” “Oh, that’s probably Gummy’s fault.” Rarity froze. With deliberate slowness, she turned her head towards the newcomer. A pair of big blue eyes met hers, twinkling with amusement and pleasure above a gleaming white grin. “What?” The young mare nodded, her mess of curls bouncing along with her motion. The lizard atop her head swayed, but otherwise didn’t stop staring at Rarity. “Gummy has no teeth, that’s why he’s called Gummy. He really likes to bite on things, it’s his way of showing affection. See?” She raised her hand, and the head-mounted leaper promptly clamped its jaws – sure enough, toothless – on her hand. It chewed for a second or two before letting go. The mare held her hand, miraculously devoid of slobber, towards Rarity as if in demonstration and wriggled her fingers. “I bet Ophelia saw that and thought she’d try it on you. Isn’t that sweet?” “Sweet?” Rarity shuddered and returned Silver Lining to its harness. “It’s revolting, and a certain Dust Devil—” she shot Ophelia a one-eyed glare “—had best not do it again if she doesn’t want my next saddle to be made from lizard scales as a warning to my future mounts.” It dawned upon her that she’d been sidetracked from what was actually important in the moment. She appraised the young mare kneeling by the extinguished EverFlame log, then took careful stock of the area beyond the camp. There were no other ponies that she could detect, but that meant nothing. For all she knew, a dozen bounty hunters were waiting just behind a nearby hill. Refocusing her attention on the grinning mare, she asked a curt “Who are you?” The mare let out a gasp so loud and long it made Rarity wonder at her lung capacity, then leapt to her hooves. “You’re right, I totally forgot to say ‘hello’ properly! That’s really rude of me and I’m really sorry, I don’t mean to be a Rude McRudypants. Here, let me try again, and this time I’ll do it right.” She did a pirouette that brought her to her jacket, which she snatched up and put on in one deft, smooth motion. Buttoning it up, she gave a salute that didn’t work at all with her toothy smile. “Good morning and hello! My name’s Pinkie Pie.” She dropped to a crouch, grabbed her two melee weapons, and bounced almost three feet in the air, her dirty black boots kicking playfully as the weapons left her hands to soar high in the sky. She landed and caught the stick – baton? – in her left hand. “This is Pound Cake.” She caught the hatchet in her right hand. “And this is Pumpkin Cake!” She set them both on her belt, which Rarity had completely missed seeing her put on. Her tail flicked to the ground and then up, sending the pistol sailing into the hand waiting above her head. “And this is my Party Cannon!” She pulled the trigger – triggers, there were two – and the gun fired off a stream of colorful confetti that rained around the camp like a flamboyant storm. Rarity could only stare, all defensive planning floating merrily out her ears as the explosive (and strangely squeaky) sound of the massive pistol echoed in her head. A lone green streamer landed limply on her horn and dangled before her eyes. Gummy tilted his head back and snatched a similar blue one from the air. Pinkie grinned, seeming to expect a reaction, but Rarity found herself woefully lacking in witty repertoire. Cranky burst out of his tent, revolver at the ready. “What the hay is going on out… here?” He gaped at the rain of sparkling confetti, which seemed to have been going on for a lot longer than would seem natural. He looked to Rarity, then to the stranger. Pinkie kept on grinning. Gummy chewed on his streamer with a face that spoke of an empty mind. At last, Cranky turned back to Rarity. “Uh, the question stands.” “I have… no idea,” she admitted. “Oh, no!” Pinkie’s ‘party cannon’ disappeared in her mane as she took in Cranky’s bewildered appearance. “I did the hello too early, didn’t I? I should have waited for you to get up too. I’m sorry.” Her smile came back in an instant as she raised her hand high in the air, one leg kicking back. “This calls for a do-over!” “No!” Rarity waved her hands wildly. “Once is enough! Cranky, this is… Pinkie Pie, apparently. As for what she’s doing here, I have no idea.” She plucked the streamer from her horn and eyed it warily. “Throwing us a party, perhaps?” Pinkie giggled, ending the playful sound with a snort. “This isn’t a party, silly! Oh, would you like a party? I can totally whip one up for you in a jiffy back at base camp. We don’t really have all the things we need for a proper party, but I can bake you up some pancakes, which aren’t really cakes but they’re close enough to count so I call them Rough Cakes because they’re cakes for when you’re roughing it, see?” She bounced forward, mane and tail flopping with her energetic motions, and caught Rarity’s hand, which she shook so fast their arms blurred in the air. “You must be Rarity Belle! My sister Marble’s told me all about you in her letters and wow it is really nice to meet somepony who made friends with my little twin sister that makes you one of the awesomest ponies in Equestria except for my sister Maud but really nopony’s as awesome as Maud am I right?” Despite the rapidfire mess of syllables, Rarity was somehow able to make out all of what Pinkie was saying. Her hand was still wobbling on its own long after Pinkie let go, and she had to grab it with her other one to stop the motion. Only then did she ask the question that was already at the tip of her tongue. “You are Maud’s and Marble’s sister? The one that joined the Hoofington Army?” Pinkie was busy shaking Cranky’s hand with that same blurry speed, the old donkey appearing as if he couldn’t decide whether to open fire or retreat back into his tent. Rarity would have found his wide-eyed, frightened face amusing were she not still recovering from the interaction herself. “That’s me!” Pinkie at last had mercy on Cranky’s hand. In one long bound, she leapt and landed far enough away to face both of them and gave another smart salute. “Major Pinkamena Diane Pie, Commander of the Hoofington Sixth Artillery Brigade and Equestria’s premier party pony! And you’re the Bulletproof Heart, drifter and survivor of typically fatal heart conditions like bullets to the heart! And you’re…” She paused, staring at Cranky with a nonplussed look, then grinned. “You’re a cranky doodle donkey!” Cranky and Rarity exchanged slack-jawed stares as Pinkie threw back her head and laughed. The giggles died abruptly and she leaned towards Cranky. “But seriously… what’s your name, friend?” Clicking his jaw closed, Cranky regained his trademark scowl and peered at her. “Why are you here?” “Why are you here?” Pinkie repeated the line as if tasting the words, her eyes going cross. “That’s a really weird name you’ve got there, Whyare Youhere. I think I’ll just call you Cranky, if that’s okay.” Cranky’s manner became deadpan. He turned to Rarity. “I’m out. You have fun with this one, kid.” He then slouched his way to Cerulean, who was still watching Pinkie with a look that warned of imminent violence if she came within talon distance. Rarity watched him go, raising her hand as if she might stop him. Come back here, you coward! “Wow, he really is cranky.” Pinkie had somehow ended up at Rarity side, leaning over as if to impart a secret despite her exaggeratedly loud whisper. “Don’t worry, it’s not you. He’s just annoyed because he’s got the weirdest name in Equestria.” There could be no stopping it. Despite all her efforts to the contrary, the smile wormed its way onto Rarity’s lips. “Miss Pie, you are a very different pony from what I imagined.” “D’aww, thanks!” Pinkie wrapped an arm around Rarity, much to her chagrin. “You and me are gonna be the bestest of best friends, I can already tell!” “That sounds lovely, Darling.” Carefully extracting herself from the forceful physical affection, Rarity took a step back and turned to address the mare properly. “But why are you way out here, and how did you know who I was?” “Oh, I love this game!” Pinkie clapped her hands and bounced in place. “Okay, okay, first question. So I woke up this morning and I had a tingly twitch in my left leg, which is my Pinkie Sense telling me that somepony was heading my way, but at the same time I had an itchy elbow and twirly tail, which told me that somepony was a friend of the family. I almost thought it was a friend of a friend, but that would be if it was my right elbow, and this was my left, so I knew it had to be a friend of the family, so I got dressed and ran out of camp as fast as I could to find this friend because I didn’t want them to get lost in the vicinity of Ponyville because this is a dangerous area and I would never forgive myself if a friend of the family got hurt because I wasn’t there to help!” She paused to suck in a deep, deep breath. Rarity opened her mouth to speak— “Second question! My little sister Marble wrote to me in a letter I got last season telling me all about this awesome gunslinger mare named Rarity Belle who was the Bulletproof Heart and was on the run from the Bad Apple Gang and was looking for her family in Mooisville and she’s a pretty white unicorn with super lovely purple hair who fights with two extra special guns that she described and they match your guns to a T, see?” She had Silver Lining and Ruby Heart in her hands. Rarity gasped, grabbed at her holsters… and felt both guns. She looked down to see Silver Lining where it was meant to be, then checked under vest to see Ruby Heart there. When she looked up, Pinkie no longer had the weapons. “How—?” “So then of course I saw you and you matched the description perfectly and you had the guns so I thought to myself, ‘Myself, that can only be Maud’s and Marble’s good friend, Rarity, and any good friend of theirs is a friend of yours!’ So here I am because you’re my good friend and I don’t want you to get caught by the Bad Apple Gang while wandering around on their turf. Y’know, that’s a really good way to get hurt.” Rarity waited until the waves of sound had passed beyond her, and then a little more just in case. Pinkie merely grinned at her, as if waiting for something. At last… moderately sure the pony wouldn’t start talking the moment she opened her mouth, she said, “I appreciate the sentiment, but that doesn’t explain why a Major in the Hoofington Army is out here in the middle of nowhere.” Pinkie blinked a few times, her eyes making a strange ‘plink’ sound every time. Her ears perked and her eyes brightened with understanding. “Oh, right. That’s because the Sixth is stationed near Ponyville to watch the town for bad activities.” “Now she’s just making things up,” Cranky groused from near Cerulean, who was happily eating out of a feed bag the donkey held up for him. “Ain’t no way the Hoofington’s Army’s stopping the Bad Apple Gang from doing anything.” For the first time since appearing, Pinkie’s smile was traded for a frown. Not just any frown, but one of clear anger. She ran her finger along the blunt top of her hatchet. “Yeah, he’s right. Orders are to ‘observe and never interfere’. It’s like a cruel joke, and that’s a horrible thing. Jokes should never be cruel.” This was news to Rarity. She’d never heard of any artillery brigades keeping an eye on Ponyville. “Then why have you out here at all?” With a heavy sigh, Pinkie turned away. Her shoulders slumped as she said, “The boys at headquarters don’t like me much. They seem to have a thing against parties. I think they’re sick or something, because really, who doesn’t like parties? I tried to make them happy, but nothing I did worked!” She crossed her arms and kicked at the dirt. “It’s a big bunch of lizard doodoo.” Gummy bit on her ear, prompting her to giggle and add, “Oh, Gummy, you’re always trying to cheer me up.” Whether they liked her or not, Rarity doubted the military leaders in Hoofington would send an entire artillery brigade to the area just to spite one pony. There had to be more going on here than Pinkie was saying. Did the mare simply not know? As Pinkie picked up her Pygmy Leaper from her mane and happily let the strange creature nibble on her nose, Rarity had to admit she looked innocent. Childish, in fact. That hatchet didn’t look remotely like a toy. “Miss Belle.” Cranky, having put the feed bag down, waved for her to approach. When she got close enough, he whispered, “I don’t know if we can trust that mare. A battery stationed here with standing orders to do nothing? For all we know, they’re facilitating the Gang’s work.” Pursing her lips, Rarity considered what little she knew about Pinkie. She thought of Maud and Marble, and how they’d lost their eldest sister and parents to bandits. And why had Pinkie come out here in the first place, leaving her siblings to handle the farm all on their own? The memory added to the edge in her tone. “No, Cranky. Pinkie wouldn’t do that.” His scowl deepened. “How do you know?” “Because I know the Pie Family. For Pinkie, the battle against the outlaws is personal.” She turned to look at the pony… who wasn’t there. All she saw was Gummy sunning himself on a flat rock. Only now did she notice that what he lacked in teeth he more than made for in claws, the talons long and curved. Cranky, who was now feeding Ophelia, glanced over his shoulder. His question was dripping with suspicion. “Where’d she go?” “Here I am!” Cranky might have leapt ten feet, sending a big batch of lizard feed right into a startled Ophelia’s wide-eyed face. He landed on his rump, staring up at the furiously laughing Pinkie. Clutching his chest, he snarled, “Don’t do that!” “Then don’t ask the question, silly,” she replied between giggles. She whipped around to face Rarity. “So, what’s a pretty mare like you doing in a nasty place like this?” Despite Cranky’s head shaking, Rarity stood tall and looked Pinkie in the eye. “We’re going to Ponyville.” The giggles came to a sharp stop. Pinkie’s eyes went wide and she clenched her baton so hard her knuckles became white. “You don’t wanna do that. Ponyville’s a bad place. Like, super-duper bad.” “I’m well aware.” Rarity crossed her arms and steeled her resolve. “The Gang has my friend and little sister. I’m not leaving until I have them back, or at least know where I can find them.” “B-but, you can’t just walk into Ponyville.” Pinkie shook her head so forcefully her mane whipped across her face. “There are rules! Not just anypony can go there.” Cranky, having recovered from his shock and gotten back to the task of feeding Ophelia, snorted. “Some soldier you are. Aren’t you supposed to be the senior officer around here?” “Hey!” Pinkie stomped, sending dust flying high. “I’m a great soldier! Just ask Gummy.” All eyes turned to the tiny Leaper. It was lying on its back, and stared up at them with those same empty, mindless eyes. It gave a very slow blink. Pinkie turned back to Cranky with a grin. “See?” Ignoring Cranky’s eye roll, she refocused her attention on Rarity. “Most of the ponies in the Sixth are… special? Y’know, ponies the big wigs in Hoofington didn’t want rising through the ranks for one reason or another. Why do you think they call them big wigs, anyway? Most of them don’t even wear wigs.” Wonderful. Just when she learned there might be a proper military force nearby that could provide assistance, Rarity finds that its comprised of nothing but army rejects. She was beginning to think that Pinkie wouldn’t be able to help her after all. “While I am sorry to hear about your situation, Miss Pie—” “Oh, just call me Pinkie. All my friends do.” “—Pinkie, I’m afraid I can’t turn back. I am going to rescue my sister and my friend, and I don’t care if I have to storm into Ponyville guns blazing.” As an afterthought, she added, “But if you know of a way to do that without such wanton bloodshed, I’d be willing to hear it.” A moment of quiet came over the camp as Pinkie twisted a curl of mane around her finger and stared hard at Rarity. “You’re really, really sure you wanna do that?” At Rarity’s nod, she looked to Cranky. He said nothing, although his face seemed more scowl-y than usual. She rubbed her chin as she peered at him. Abruptly, she reached out a hand and snapped her fingers. “Gummy!” In an instant, the once tepid Leaper darted across the ground and leapt, membranous wings opened wide. He landed on Pinkie’s arm and scrambled up onto her head, somehow managing to avoid slicing into her with his disturbingly long claws. As he settled in such that only his head poked out among the curls, Pinkie whipped around to face Rarity. She still smiled, but the expression was subdued. “Alright, first let’s get to camp. They’ve got a good view of the town from there, and then we can plan our way in.” “Now wait a minute—” Rarity spoke over Cranky’s objection, keeping her voice firm. “That sounds fine, does it not, Cranky?” The old donkey’s eye twitched. He met Pinkie’s smile with a face that would be right at home under the word ‘loathing’ in the Equestrian dictionary. “I’m not your friend, kid.” Pinkie looked as if she’d been slapped in the face. Her ears folded back and her shoulders slumped. “But why? Is it because you missed my introduction? I can do it again.” He gave a disdainful sniff and looked to Rarity. “This won’t end well.” “Especially with an attitude like that,” she fired back. Just because he didn’t like Pinkie, that was no reason to be so mean to her. True, Pinkie was a little too… Exactly what Pinkie had too much of eluded Rarity for the moment, but she could understand why the mare might rub somedonkey like Cranky the wrong way. Yet he could have at least pretended to get along! “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Grumbling to himself, he set about putting Ophelia’s and Cerulean’s feed bags away. Seeing that Pinkie was still slouched and pouting, Rarity patted her on the arm. “It’s alright. Cranky just needs time to get used to you, that’s all.” He harrumphed, not looking their way. “I guess.” Pinkie attempted to straighten up, flashing Rarity a half-decent smile. “I can’t blame him. If I had a name like Whyare Youhere, I’d be a grumpypants too.” Her smile broadened. “Really, that poor colt. What were his parents thinking?” Rarity couldn’t resist sharing a giggle with the mare. Their subdued laughter intensified at his glare. Rarity had a feeling she’d be reminding him of his ‘real name’ a lot in the near future.