//------------------------------// // 2.7 - Alterations to the Method // Story: Ponies, Portals, and Physics: A Practical Study on Unscheduled Interplanetary Excursion // by superpurple //------------------------------// Cold, dark, stone floor and walls. Heavy metal bars. Chains wrapped around my wrists and ankles. A prison cell. Outside the cell, a pony guard in golden plate armor, standing at attention. I leapt forward and bashed on the bars and shouted to the guard. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t my fault. I could explain. Just let me out. There was no response from the guard. No acknowledgment that I was even there. Wordlessly, he turned and left, taking the light away with him. The light was fading. I was being left alone in the cold dark. How could he just leave me like that? I fell to the ground and panicked. The darkness closed in around me. Encroaching. Entrapping. Isolating. Suffocating. I wanted nothing more than for the emptiness to go away. My wish was granted. I immediately regretted it. The scurrying eyes in the dark were back. Watching. Like I was an animal in a zoo. Something brushed against my tail and I jumped. I stumbled and fell. I curled into a tight ball on the ground. Trying to shut it all out. Then there was a crack like thunder and the world shattered. I peeked up to see the darkness falling away in shards, leaving behind an entirely different scene. I was home, in my bedroom, amongst a veritable nest of familiar cables and computers. Moonlight poured in through a window past gently falling snow. Somewhere else in the house a wood stove burned pleasantly. The door opening drew my attention. Into the room walked a pony-like entity, large and majestic. Dark as the night outside and cool as the falling snow. It had a presence that was powerful and alien. One that I’d felt somewhere before, creeping in the dark. One that sent uneasy shivers down my spine and made me instinctively retreat away. “Do not fear us,” she spoke, her voice commanding and powerful. “We only wish to help.” I stumbled back further, not replying and not looking away either. The entity did not advance, but instead took in our surroundings. “A most curious dreamscape,” she said to herself. “Dreamscape?” I echoed, the word striking some significance in my mind. “I’m dreaming?” “Indeed. You are safe. Nothing can hurt you here,” she said, her words washing over me like a soothing blanket. “What is it that has perturbed your dreams so. What has you so distressed?” I shook my head. “No. I can’t… I-I don’t know.” “Try to remember,” she encouraged. “I know you can.” I shut my eyes and I tried to remember, to give meaning to the disconnected bits of floating imagery in my mind. “I don’t… I was at the bar… we were… dinner… I got hurt… that guy… we fought…” I looked up at her and pleaded, “I was just trying to stop him. He was trying to hurt her. I didn’t do anything.” “It is alright, I believe you. There is no need to worry. You have been through a great ordeal.” She pointed to the bed in the corner. “You should rest, little one.” “Right. Yeah. That sounds good,” I agreed and went over to the bed. “…but wait. If I’m dreaming already how can I—” Her horn glowed a bright blue. Her voice was deep and echoing. “Sleep.” I came to lying uncomfortably on my stomach, in a brightly lit room, with an annoying itching coming from my side. I groggily cracked my eyes open and took in my surroundings. I was in a clean white room, alone, lying in yet another unfamiliar bed. Pretty clearly a hospital room, and I idly mused about how waking up in unfamiliar locations was becoming a trend that I hoped wouldn’t continue. Remembering the events leading up to waking at this particular location, I rolled and inspected my left side. My jacket was missing, and in its place was a wide roll of gauze wrapped all around my torso and left wing, binding it tightly in place. The bandages around the foremost wing joint were stained dark red, as were most of the feathers on my chest. The bandages were tight and itchy, but I resisted the urge to scratch the everloving fuck out of the freshly treated wound and turned my attention elsewhere. Hanging by the bedside was a pouch of clear fluid with a tube leading to an IV in my arm. Whatever was in there must’ve been some good shit, because there was a pleasant haziness that covered all my senses and the wing only ached distantly instead of the searing pain from earlier. Probably had something to do with the wack-ass fever dream too. My jacket wasn’t the only thing missing. The rest of my clothes and bags were nowhere to be seen. Evidently part of the treatment process for wing injuries was stripping the patient totally naked. Well, not entirely naked: I’d been provided a hospital gown that covered most of my upper body while leaving all the parts that needed covering bare to the air. Damn nudist ponies. Normally that would’ve bothered me, but between the exhaustion and whatever pain meds they’d doped me up on, I really couldn’t be fucked to care. Having seen all there was to see while laying down, I pushed myself up to get a better vantage to look around the room. When I did, my head swam and the edges of my vision went dark. I fell back down onto the small bed with a solid thud that made the bed frame rattle. “Oooffffffffucksickles,” I wheezed and lay on the bed while the world rocked around me. The clatter of the bed frame must have been pretty loud because not too long after I fell, a mare wearing blue scrubs—just the shirt, no pants—entered the room. “Oh! You’re finally awake.” “Ayup,” I said from my flopped position. She trotted over to the bedside. “That’s good. You’ve been out for a few hours. Do you know why you’re here?” she asked while she inspected the IV. “Mmmm, got in a fight with some fuckwit. Yeah? Pretty sure I won, too.” “I don’t know about that, but you did cut your wing pretty badly. It should heal, but you need to keep it immobile. Don’t move it. And you lost quite a bit of blood. Don’t try to get up or move too quickly either.” “Hah, figured that one out myself already,” I said, grinning deliriously. She gave me a concerned frown. “Just stay put, okay?” she said and left. There was some conversation out in the hall. A bit later, Cinnamon walked into the room. She had bags under her eyes and a smile that was equal parts exhaustion and relief. She looked about as tired as I felt. “Hey, Birdy,” she said softly as she made her way over to the bedside. “Heyyy, you.” I crossed my arms in front of me and rested my chin on them. She sat down next to the bed. “Heh, you feeling alright there?” “Ayuh. Just a little tired and woozy is all.” “I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” she yawned and rested her head on the edge of the bed. “I‘m feeling pretty tired myself.” I checked my watch, which was thankfully still there. It was past midnight. I’d been out for four or five hours. I frowned. “So, uh, what happened back there? Last I remember was passing out on the floor. How’d we get from there to here?” “Well,” Cinnamon started, “The guard came basically right after you passed out, and the first thing they did was medevac you out of there before you could ruin Rosie’s floor any further. Took three pegasi together to airlift your fuzzy ass over here. That’s how you got to here. As for me, I had to walk. And carry all your stuff.” She reached over and poked the pair of large black bags that I’d missed sitting on the floor next to the bed. “Did you really need to bring your books to dinner?” I shrugged and grinned sheepishly. “I like to keep my things close. And I’m used to carrying them around campus all the time, so it wasn’t a big deal. I didn’t plan on needing someone else to carry them. Glad you did, though.” “You’re welcome. So yeah, they brought you here, I walked, and then I got to talk with the guards while you napped.” “Oof, the guard. Are we in trouble? Do they know anything about…” I gestured vaguely at myself. “Y’know?” She shook her head. “No, and I’m fairly sure you aren’t in any trouble. There was no shortage of ponies at the scene to say that Bull was the one that swung first and escalated things. The guard brought him in after he tried to flee the scene and a trio of girls tackled him just outside the pub.” “Oh, that’s good,” I said. I cocked my head and asked. “‘Bull?’” “Bullion,” Cinnamon clarified. “Bullion Blowout. My ex. The stallion you wrested into the floor.” “Ah, so that’s who that guy was.” Cinnamon stared at me in disbelief for a few seconds before bursting out into laughter. “What?” I asked. Cinnamon pressed her hooves to her mouth to stifle the laughter. “Sorry, it’s just… you didn’t even know who he was?” “Not really.” “And you still jumped in and risked your feathers fighting him off.” “I mean… yeah. He was a drunken douchebag trying to hurt people—you specifically—and I happened to be in a position to stop it,” I said simply. She smiled and gently bapped the end of my beak with a hoof. “Well I appreciate it.” “Sooo… your ex? Split on less than stellar terms, I take it?” I said, which elicited a frown from Cinnamon. “...Unless you don’t wanna talk about any of that. That’s cool too.” “No no, it’s fine. And you did get stabbed by him because of it.” She sat back with a sigh. “I don’t even know what to say about it, really. We got together when we were both younger and stupider. And had a common interest in doing things that often ended with us getting in trouble together. I… grew out of those things, and moved on. Bullion didn’t. And that would’ve been fine with me, except apparently he didn’t move on from me either. So that was him crawling back.” I let out a low whistle. “That was crawling? Man, I don’t want to see running.” She rubbed her foreleg. “Yeah… I’d forgotten how—forgive the pun—bull-headed he could be when he doesn’t get what he wants. Sorry you had to get mixed up in that.” “It was nothing you did,” I said dismissively. “I got myself involved.” Cinnamon frowned and shook her head. “Yes, but you only needed to because of me. If I hadn’t bucked Bullion… If I had just walked away instead of instigating him, or left without talking to him at all… then none of this would’ve happened and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.” “It’s alright,” I assured her. “It’s not even that big a deal that I did get hurt. It’s not like getting the wing messed up has made it any less useful,” I said with a snort. Cinnamon bit her lower lip and looked away. “I know, I know, it’s nothing serious, I shouldn’t be getting worked up… It’s just—” her voice hitched. I propped myself up further and leaned over. “Hey, yo, what’s wrong?” When she looked up, I saw the glistening in the corners of her eyes. “It’s just… when you went down at the pub… there was so much blood. The guard who flew you off even said he’d never seen that much before. And then you weren’t waking, for hours... I thought… I was afraid I might’ve gotten you…” she sniffled. It dawned on me how stressful the last few hours must’ve been for Cinnamon. For me it’d been quick—I’d passed out and skipped all the aftermath, but she had to deal with the uncertainty and waiting the hard way. Acting on impulse, I put an arm around Cinnamon’s quivering shoulders and pulled her up onto the bed next to me, holding her close. She immediately buried her face in my neck feathers. “Sshhhh… It’s okay. It’s all good. I’m still in one piece,” I soothed while gently stroking her back. “Nothing to worry about anymore. I’m not going to keel over and die before you can get your money’s worth out of me. Your investment is safe. Well, as safe as it can be considering the dipshit it depends on.” Cinnamon choked out a laugh and pulled her head back to look up at me, her big blue eyes still watery. She sniffled and wiped her nose with a fetlock. “Yeah... and there’s also that whole thing with you maybe being an alien. Like, if you died and the guard finds out you really are then there’d be an investigation, and that would come back to me, and there’d be a ton of questions and stuff and that all sounds like such a pain in the flank. Really, it’s better for everypony if you stay intact.” She lay down next to me and leaned against my uninjured wing. “Especially the fuzzy parts of you.” “Mmmm,” I agreed. For a long while, we both just lay there together in content silence. I was still mildly weirded out at how cuddly Cinnamon was. I hadn’t gotten a good read on ponies in general, and what qualified as standard cuddliness, so I didn’t know what to make of her actions. But right now, between the recent events and the drugs, I didn’t really feel like putting a stop to it. I was content to relax there on the bed, and if Cinnamon wanted to do the same next to me while she unwound from the evening’s events, that was fine with me. Eventually though, the peace and quiet were interrupted by someone knocking loudly on the door and then immediately pushing it open. The slate-gray pony didn’t look like a nurse or doctor—she wasn’t wearing anything to indicate she was either. Just a single dark blue saddlebag. And sunglasses. She was wearing sunglasses. Indoors. At night. The mare stepped further into the room and looked around. That was when I noticed her wings. They weren’t feathery like the ones on myself or the pegasi I’d seen around but instead were membranous like a bat’s. Cinnamon scooted to the side a bit so she wasn’t leaning on me, but was still close. “Can we help you?” she asked, the annoyance plain in her voice. “Yeah just a sec,” the other mare said and found the light switch on the wall. She stuck out one of her bat wings and hit the dimmer, bringing the glaring white light down to a more reasonable level before removing her sunglasses. Then she looked at me and her eyes—slitted like a lizard’s—went wide. “Woah. That’s a lot of blood. You try wrestling a manticore or something?” “Or something,” I said. “Wrestled a drunk guy at a bar. Self-defense.” “Lame.” The mare tucked the glasses into her dark-red mane. “Should’ve just said yes to the manticore. Would’ve made for a way more interesting report.” “Who are you?” Cinnamon asked. “And what report?” “I just need to ask a few questions. Official stuff,” the mare said. Cinnamon frowned. “I already spoke with the guard. They said they’d gotten all the information they needed.” “All they needed,” the other mare repeated. “They asked the usual stuff. Who hit who. Did anypony die? Who gets fined? Who goes to jail? The usual boring guard stuff.” She put her hoof on her chest. “I’m not with the guard. I’m here because one of the guys in this thing was a pony and one guy”—she pointed the hoof at me—“thats you—wasn’t. You’re not an Equestrian citizen, right?” “Err, no. I’m not,” I said. “Right. So now it’s kinda an international thing. A small thing.” She held her forehooves an inch apart. “Super small thing. But a thing nonetheless.” That didn’t sound great. I frowned and looked to Cinnamon. She shrugged back. The other mare caught my concerned look and said, “You’re not in any trouble. I just need you to answer some questions so things go smoothly. There’s some auxiliary documentation the crown needs for incidents involving folk from out of town. Official records and whatnot. Just some small things that need to get handled in cases like this or else it gets messy.” “I guess that makes sense,” I conceded. “Glad you think so, because I don’t see the point of it myself.” The mare sat down in front of the bed and pulled a pencil and packet of papers from her bags. She lifted the clipboard hanging from the foot of my bed and read the top of it. “So… Garrett,” she said around the pencil in her teeth. “Where are you from? Griffonstone, I imagine?” “Uh, yeah…” I said uneasily. She wrote something on the page. “Been in town long?” “Canterlot or…?” I asked. “Just Canterlot, yeah,” she clarified. I shook my head. “Just got here last night.” She whistled and wrote. “First night in town and already hospitalized for a bar fight. Nice. This your first time in Equestria?” “Ayuh.” “Have you ever been charged, convicted, or sentenced of a crime in any Equestrian court?” “Does now count?” She chewed on the end of the pencil while she thought. “Are you being charged now?” I gave a tired sigh. “I don’t know. I don’t think so?” “No, he’s not,” Cinnamon said curtly. “Then we’ll go with no.” The mare marked the page. “Okay, next question. In the last seven years, have you been convicted in any court of Equestria of a crime, sentenced to imprisonment for a term exceeding one year—” She stopped, frowned, and flipped to the next page in the packet, then the next. She made a disgusted face. “Wow, that’s a lot of stuff. Okay, y’know what? It’s late. You’ve been through… a thing. You’re tired and I’m already bored. Tell you what, my feathered friend. Let’s not do this now. Come by the office tomorrow, after you’ve rested up, and all this can get handled then.” She fished a large silver coin out of her bag and passed it to me. “Take this, go to the palace, and show it to the guys in gold at the front door. They will point you where to go.” I took the coin and looked at it. It was large and heavy, with a crescent moon on one side and a stylized sun on the other. “Oookay,” I said, still not quite sure what to make of this whole encounter. “Great! Now, rest up and get better.” The mare packed up her bag and made her way to the door. She stopped just before leaving. “Oh, and welcome to Equestria, Mr. Garrett,” she said and trotted off. I stared blankly at the door as it closed. “That was… something.” “Yes, it was,” Cinnamon agreed, settling back against my side. “Do royal representatives around here normally act like that?” “I don’t know, I’d assume not,” she looked at the coin in my hand. “But that’s the royal seal, and it looks pretty official.” “This could be bad.” “Maybe, yeah.” Cinnamon let out a long yawn. “But she was right. That’s something to deal with tomorrow.” She nuzzled my good wing once and hopped down to the floor. “I gotta get home and make sure Auntie isn’t worrying. See you in the morning,” she said with another yawn. That incited a yawn from me too. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. G’night, Cinnamon. Walk safe.” “Night, Birdy,” she said, clicking the light off fully as she left. I rested my head back down on the pillow and pulled my good wing so it draped over my head. Between the drugs and the accumulated exhaustion, sleep came quickly before I had time to worry too much. The night came and went, thankfully without any more nightmares. Or any dreams at all for that matter. Maybe it was the drugs. Or maybe my mind was just too exhausted to bother tormenting me for once. I didn’t really care what the reason was, I was just thankful to get a few hours of relatively-restful sleep for the first time in days. Cinnamon returned in the morning while I was getting set to leave the hospital. I was in the process of wrangling my coat overtop of the new wing sling the hospital had provided to replace the crude gauze wrappings. The sling did a fantastic job of keeping my left wing in place, but only because it was uncomfortably tight. Probably made to fit a pegasus, not a griffon. Cinnamon watched me struggling with a look of incredulity. “You’re not really planning to go out to the palace looking like that, are you?” “Like what?” I asked. “Those are completely covered in bloodstains.” “The worst of it’s on the jacket, which is already red. You can barely see it.” “You can clearly see it,” she deadpanned. “And there’s a giant cut in it.” “Well this is all I have to wear. So unless you have a better idea, I’m wearing it.” “I might, actually. Bear with me for a sec. This idea might be a bit out there. You might need to take a seat. You ready? Wear nothing. It’s not like you haven’t got more than enough fur to keep you covered.” “Pass. I’m not going out naked. Out of the question.” Cinnamon let out an exasperated sigh and face-hoofed. “Whatever. But you still can’t go out looking like you just murdered somepony and then bathed in their blood. We wouldn’t get half a block before a guard stops you and drags you back to the castle.” “Isn’t that where we’re headed anyways?” “Yes, but I’d like to go in through the front door, not some side entrance that goes directly to the dungeons.” “Hmmm. You may have a point there.” I would like to avoid getting locked up again if I could help it. I sighed and reluctantly stripped off my jacket. Then I gave my bedsheet not-a-skirt a look over. It’d survived with only minimal staining. Just some spattered droplets on the outer layer. So I took the folded-over layer and brought it up over my shoulder, tied the corners in the front and turned it into a toga once more, with the worst of the staining on the inside. “There, can’t even see it,” I said. “Amazing,” Cinnamon deadpanned. “You ready?” “Almost,” I said as I finished stuffing my rolled-up jacket back into my bags and carefully laid them across my back. I looked around the hospital room once more to see if I was missing anything. “Aight. Looks good. Let's go.” Cinnamon and I departed the hospital and made our way to the palace. It wasn’t hard to find—its towers were visible from everywhere in the city and there was a major road that ran uninterrupted from the castle’s front gate to the city center. So it was a simple twenty-minute walk in a straight line that gave me and my traitorous mind plenty of time to consider the situation. Specifically how we were currently walking right into the central hub of police activity in the city with the express purpose of talking to some authoritative individual there about things. Basically exactly what we agreed the other day was not a good idea. Okay, sure, we weren’t going in with the intent of telling the guards, or talking specifically about my… problem... but it was topically and spatially close enough that once we passed the front gate of the castle and approached the palace entrance—complete with a pair of serious-looking plate-armored guards—I hesitated and hung back. “This doesn’t seem like a seriously bad idea to you?” I asked Cinnamon while we were still out of earshot of the guards. She stopped and looked back. “What’s a bad idea?” I gestured vaguely around. “This. Going in and talking to someone specifically about my griffonness. If they know more than absolutely nothing about anything—which is pretty damn likely given that it’s their job—then I am totally screwed.” “You’ll be fine. Just say you’re from Griffonstone and put on your best ‘grumpy-and-annoyed-at-needing-to-be-here’ face. Pretty sure that’s what any other griffon would do in this situation.” “That’s a terrible idea.” “Which of us is the expert on this stuff?” she asked. “Uhh, neither of us?” I said dryly. She rolled her eyes. “Okay, fair, but do you have a better idea?” “We could… not. Just turn back and do literally anything other than walk willingly into something that can only end badly.” She shook her head. “Whatever department that mare is from thought this was important enough to have somepony to track you down at the hospital only a couple hours after the incident. Do you really think ghosting them will work?” “It might. You never know.” “I do, actually, and it won’t.” She pointed to the castle. “If somepony in there wants to find you, they will. They’ve got magic and they aren’t afraid to use it. Trust me, it’s better to just do this now. We’ll be in and out in no time. Easy peasy. Just follow along and act grumpy.” I scowled heavily at her. Cinnamon grinned and clapped her forehooves together. “Perfect! Just keep doing that,” she said and cantered cheerily up to the pair of guards. “Wait don’t—” I started but she was already up at them. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I muttered under my breath and hastily went after her. I was gonna gut that horse if she kept doing that. The pair of stallions regarded Cinnamon coolly as she approached. “Excuse me, sirs,” she said with a cheery wave. “Hi, yeah. So. There was an incident last night, bit of a scuffle my friend here and I were involved in. Birdy here got hurt. Not a big deal, but a pony came by the hospital and said something about needing to answer some questions because Birdy isn’t from around here. She didn’t tell us any more than that. Just gave him some official-looking coin thing and said it’d be explanation enough.” The two guards were now looking quizzically at me. I stood there and shuffled side to side awkwardly. Eventually one of them said, “May we see this ‘coin thing’?” “Oh, right. Yeah,” I said, dropping my bags onto the ground and looking for where I’d stashed it. I was already missing having pockets. “Got it in here. Just one sec. It’s in here somewhere. Ah, there we go!” I held the coin out to the pair of them. The closer of the two took it in his magic and inspected it, his expression unchanging. While he passed it off to the other guard, he asked us, “The pony who gave you this, did you get her name?” “Uh, no, I don’t think so?” I said, then shot Cinnamon a glance for confirmation. “Nope,” she confirmed. “Just some bat pony, not in any uniform. Asked some questions, and then said to come here to answer some more.” The second guard spoke up. “Bat pony mare? Gray coat, dark red mane? General negligence for professional conduct?” “Uh, yeah,” I said. “That sounds about right.” “Especially the last part,” Cinnamon said with a nod. The guards exchanged glances briefly. “Come with me,” the one now holding the coin thing said and entered inside. Cinnamon and I followed him in and were escorted wordlessly through the grand halls of the palace. After about a minute of silently leading us, the guard stopped at a door that looked exactly like any of the twenty others we’d passed. He pushed it open, revealing a small waiting room. On the other end of the room was another identical door. There were some low-lying benches along the sides of the space. The guard went to the far door and knocked once. After a moment, it opened a crack and the helmeted head of another guard poked through. The two exchanged a few hushed words I couldn’t make out, our escort handed something through the gap, and then the door closed. He turned back to us and gestured to the benches. “Wait here. It may be several minutes,” he said and then left the way we’d entered, closing the door behind him with an all-too-ominous clack. Cinnamon gave me a shrug and took a seat on one of the benches. I dropped down next to her. After about a minute of sitting and waiting in silence, I asked her, “So, you ever been here before?” Cinnamon shook her head. “Nope. I’ve never even been to the palace.” “Oh. So you’ve no idea if this is how this stuff normally goes?” “Not really, no.” “Alrighty then,” I said, slightly bobbing my head. After another few minutes of waiting, I took off my bags and set them on the floor so I could properly flop back against the wall. “Did the pony last night say anything about when she wanted us to come by?” I asked. “Not that I recall.” ”Probably would’ve helped if she had.” “Probably,” Cinnamon agreed. Several minutes after that, I was up and pacing back and forth in the small chamber, thinking of all the ways this was a horrible idea and all the things I might be doing wrong. Cinnamon was laying on the bench, hooves folded beneath her, eyes closed. “Relax, Birdy,” she said cooly. “Don’t get yourself all worked up.” “I’m not getting worked up.” “Yes, you are. I can actually hear you twitching.” “It’s not twitching. It’s itching. My feathers itch. These bandages suck,” I said. “And my talons hurt.” “I’m sure pacing is helping with that,” she said sarcastically. She patted the bench. “Sit down and relax.” With a huff, I sat down on the bench and spent a minute or so trying to straighten out the matted feathers with my talons. When that failed, I fished my notebook and pen out of my bags, opening it up to the first blank page. Feathers, itchy when they get dirty and/or out of place. Talons, get sore from walking on stone floors, which ponies are far too fond of… Eventually—after close to twenty-five minutes of “waiting here”—the far door swung open abruptly. I hastily scrambled to get up off the floor where I’d been sprawled out and into a semi-professional position before the guard stepped into the chamber. “I apologize for the wait,” he said. “You may enter now. The Princess is ready for you.” That nearly knocked me back onto the floor. “The p—buh—wait, what?” I sputtered. “Princess… Celestia?” Cinnamon asked, clearly just as surpised as me about this revelation, but marginally more eloquent in expressing it. The guard simply nodded at her in response. “Why are we—I thought—we shouldn’t—not here—” I stammered out rapidly. Then I snapped my beak shut and took a couple seconds to get my brains in order and said, “I think we’re in the wrong place.” The stallion raised an eyebrow and let the door swing mostly shut. “Where do you believe you should be?” I threw my arms out to my side in a wide shrug. “I-I’ve no idea. Not here? We were supposed to meet with someone else about—” “The bat pony mare?” the guard interrupted. “Yes! Not…” I lowered my voice. “...a princess. This is a misunderstanding.” The guard nodded along for a moment. Then he pushed the door open and stepped back. “This is where you are supposed to be. Do not keep Her Highness waiting,” he said, holding the door open. I gave Cinnamon a look of utter dread and hissed, “The princess?! I am not okay with this.” She shrugged, entirely too calmly. “Too late now.” “Is it really? We haven’t gone in yet. It’s kinda only too late once we—” I stopped because Cinnamon was already halfway into the next room. “Oh mother fucking hell.” I shot the door we’d entered through one last hopeful look and then grabbed my bags off the floor and threw them onto my back. “Goddamnit Cinnamon,” I hissed and followed her through the next door. The doorway was a side entrance into a lavishly decorated throne room. One complete with floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows, indoor waterworks, and a thick red carpet that ran all the way from the much grander entrance just to our right, all the way to the pair of thrones on a raised dais to our far left. The smaller of the thrones was empty. The larger was occupied by who I could only assume was Princess Celestia Even from across the large room, I could say with certainty she was a pony unlike any other I’d seen so far in this world. To start, she was big. It was hard to tell exactly how big from this distance, but there was no question that she was the first creature I’d seen in this world who wasn’t smaller than myself. Probably closer to a horse than a pony. Next, the pure-white pony had both wings and a horn, a combo I’d not seen on anyone else. And her mane—if it could even be called a mane—looked less like hair and more like billowing waves of colors that flowed and shifted like an aurora. And beyond those superficial features, she had a presence to her that I was struggling to find proper descriptors for. She was majestic, for sure. Radiant, maybe even literally. Awesome, in its truest sense. And intimidating, in spite of her complete serenity. As I shuffled down the carpet alongside Cinnamon I grew increasingly apprehensive the closer we got to the thrones. Walking along, the distance between myself and Cinnamon shrunk, and I honestly didn’t know if it was her doing or my own. My wings were itching up a storm. And it was taking all my self-control not to gawk at Princess Celestia like a dumbstruck moron. In a strange instance of cosmic irony, I—the apex predator turned other apex predator—felt very much like a deer caught in a truck’s headlights in the presence of this royal horse creature. Cinnamon kicking my arm dragged me from my thoughts, and I looked down to find her with her forelegs stretched out in front of her and her head bowed low. Oh, duh. Royalty means bowing. I quickly followed suit, prostrating myself before the princess. “Rise, my little pony, and distinguished guest,” Princess Celestia said, nodding to Cinnamon and myself in turn. “How can I be of service?” Despite having a coat like a whiteout blizzard, and a mane like the northern lights, Princess Celestia’s voice and smile radiated a palpable warmth. One that washed over me like an inviting summer’s breeze and seemed to melt away whatever worries and unease I had. I couldn’t help but smile back as I rose up and replied. “Buhhhhhhh,” was what I said in response to her question, with my beak hanging open and its corners turned up in a dumb grin. The willingness to speak was there, but my ability to use words was apparently still lagging behind. In my peripherals, I saw Cinnamon’s face drop down and into her upturned forehoof. Princess Celestia chuckled softly. “What is your name?” she prompted me. The simple question gave my aimlessly swirling brainspace a nucleus to coalesce around enough for me to form words. “Uhh, Garrett, Your Highness,” I managed to get out. “And where are you from, Garrett?” At the Princesses second question, my brainspace collapsed back into place, knocking me out of whatever fuzzy haze I’d been in, and I remembered exactly where I was and why I was here. “Ain’t that the million-dollar question?” I said with a nervous laugh. Celestia raised an eyebrow but otherwise said nothing. “Err, I mean… I’m not from around here. Canterlot. Or Equestria. Obviously. Because I’m a griffon. Obviously. I’m uhh… I’m from Griffonstone, y’know, yeah. That’s my home. Just in Canterlot for a bit because I messed up wing in a thing, no big deal really so honestly you don’t even need to—” “Garrett.” Cinnamon interrupted me with a sharp poke of her hoof to my side. “What?” I whispered back. “I really think you should just tell her what’s up,” she said quietly. “Really don’t think this is an issue to concern the head of state with.” “If anypony can help, it's her.” “And if anyone can hurt, it's also her.” “Really? What’s the worst that can happen?” “The worst?” I hissed back. “She’s the executive of a nation and I am an illegal alien in all possible senses of all possible combinations and permutations of the words! There is no upper limit on ‘the worst that can happen.’” I looked back to Princess Celestia to see how she was reacting to us having our little hushed conversation not twenty feet away from her. She was just watching us intently. With her ears turned forward and trained on us. I felt the bottom of my stomach fall out. “...I think she heard me. Shit shit shit. This is bad. This is not good. We need to—” Cinnamon's hoof pressed up on my jaw and silenced me. “Sorry. You’ll thank me later,” she said and strode forward. “Wait what are you—!” I started before catching myself. Shit shit shit shit FUCK. Cinnamon strode forward until she was about halfway between me and the throne, just at the base of the dais, and then stopped, giving a quick bow of her head. Then she spoke, clearly and calmly, to the princes, “Princess Celestia, Garrett here needs your help but he doesn’t have it in him to ask you himself.” She paused. “He needs your help getting home to his world.” Shit fuck shit fuck fuck shit. Cinnamon looked back briefly and I silently pleaded for her to stop, but she didn't. She continued, “It’s true, he’s not from Equestria, but Griffonstone. But not the Griffonstone you or I know, and he’s not a griffon. He’s not from anywhere on this world of ours. He came here by accident a few days ago—we’re not quite sure how, we think by magic—and was turned into a griffon somehow in the process.” She paused to take a few deep breaths. I was still holding my own. “On top of that, he was foalnapped by some as—by somepony when he arrived, and was at risk of much much worse until he got away. He might even still be in danger. We might both be. We tried to figure out how to get him back but couldn’t do it. Neither of us knows how to handle a situation like this. And now for whatever reason, we’re here. Asking you for your help.” Cinnamon bowed once more and stepped back alongside me. I shot her a glare that threatened murder and more. She simply shrugged and turned back to the princess. Princess Celestia said nothing for a few long moments, clearly in thought about the mess that Cinnamon had just dumped out into her court, but her face was a mask of neutrality that betrayed nothing of what she thought of it. After a painfully long time, the princess turned to me. “Is what she says about you true?” she asked impassively. I wanted to deny it, laugh it off as a crazy joke from Cinnamon and bolt from the room. “Mmmmm-hmmm,” is what I managed to squeak out instead. “Hmm,” Princess Celestia nodded to herself. Then to Cinnamon, she asked, “And what is your involvement in this matter, miss…?” “Cinnamon Spice, Your Highness,” she said, bowing slightly once more. “And I… I was a housemaid at the place Garrett was found. The same place he was captured and held. I helped him get out of that situation and he’s been staying with me in Canterlot the past couple days.” “And you believe him?” the princess asked. “That he is truly from another world?” Cinnamon looked back over to me where I stood practically shitting myself, then back to Princess Celestia. She shrugged. “Kinda, yeah. I don’t think he’s lying. If he is, he’s put a lot of effort into sticking with just about the worst story ever, and has nothing I can see to gain from doing so. I don’t think he’s nuts, either. Sure, a little twitchy at times, but who wouldn’t be in his situation, whatever it is?” Princess Celestia gave Cinnamon a small nod. “Thank you, Miss, for your insight on the matter and for bringing this situation to my attention.” “Of course, Your Highness.” Cinnamon bowed again and sat down by my side. I went back to waiting silently for the princess to smite me down or lock me up or whatever it was she was going to do to me. After what felt like an eternity, Princess Celestia spoke. “Garrett.” “Y-yesss?” I squeaked out, I’m not even sure audibly. “I believe…” she continued, and the small smile returned to her face. “…That I’d like to hear the rest of your story. It sounds like quite the tale, and… we may be able to help you.” I let out the breath that I absolutely knew I was holding. “Y-you… you believe me?” I asked incredulously. Princess Celestia gestured with a wing to Cinnamon. “Your companion seems to. And I see no reason not to trust my little ponies, especially on matters where they have more insight than myself.” I stared dumbfoundedly at Cinnamon, who gave me a grin that practically screamed: “told you so, Birdy.” “I—buh—” I sputtered. “Thank you. Thank you very much. Your highness.” I bowed as low as I could. Princess Celestia chuckled, “Please, that is quite enough bowing from the two of you today. Now, if I am to help you, I would very much like to know the details of your ordeal.” “Right right, of course,” I noted how that was the second time now the princess had asked that, so it was probably best if I got to that instead of stammering like a dipshit. “Ummm where to… Oh! Actually, I’ve notes for this already! Lemme grab that so I don’t forget anything.” I took my bags off and practically dumped their contents out onto the throne room floor in search of my notebook. I found it and quickly flipped back through the pages. “There we are. Okay. So. Uh, it all whe—started… at approximately 7:10 pm last Friday when I was riding my bicycle home from class…” And so I recounted most of the events of the last three days to the princess. I was sure to cover all of the big points. Occasionally, Princess Celestia would ask for clarification or more detail, which I provided where I could. Where there were gaps in my memory and notes, Cinnamon spoke up to fill in blanks or add her own perspective, but otherwise she let me do the talking. Which I managed to do surprisingly well thanks to having a list of talking points pre-prepared. Together, Cinnamon and I told of the accident I had at the university, of the confusion that followed, waking up locked in Graywall’s basement, the talks with him, how Cinnamon helped me escape, then our search for information in Canterlot and how we ended up here. When Princess Celestia asked for more details about the events involving Graywall, and I provided them, she seemed to grow troubled. After Cinnamon filled in some of the less savory details of her former employer, one of the guard officers stepped forward and asked to debrief her in further detail on those matters while I spoke with the princess. Princess Celestia thought it was a good idea, and Cinnamon agreed. I felt a brief bit of unease at being left alone with the princess, but Cinnamon quietly reassured me that Celestia was a very nice lady and I’d be fine if I just kept doing what I was doing. After Cinnamon left with the guard, Princess Celestia called for her aide—a white-coated unicorn mare with a dark mane and glasses who I’d entirely missed standing just back beside the throne—and instructed her to end court for the day. That was when it really struck me that this was all really happening. Up until that point, it’d just been talking back and forth. But her order to end court meant this thing with me was taking place of other—presumably not unimportant—royal duties she had. One of the rulers of the nation was taking me at least somewhat seriously. That realization brought me back to reality from the kind of detachment I’d been in since walking into this room. This was really happening. At Princess Celestia’s instruction, the aide, all the other guards, everyone, filed out of the throne room, leaving just the princess and me. When the last pony had exited, Princess Celestia gracefully stood and stretched before stepping down from her throne towards me. When she was down on the same level, I was surprised to find she wasn’t even a head taller than me. Not nearly the gigantic, larger-than-life figure I’d initially taken her for. In fact, if I factored in how tall and skinny she was, I might’ve actually out-massed— I mentally slapped myself for sitting here estimating the princess’s body weight while she was offering to help me. Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice or care that I’d been mentally sizing her up. “Would you mind terribly if we walked while we spoke?” she asked me. “Uhh, no. Of course not.” Not that I would’ve said so if I did. “Thank you.” She smiled down at me. She started walking towards the main exit and she sighed. “Not even noon and this day is growing long. And now it will only grow longer with this turn of events.” “Sorry,” I said automatically. She chuckled softly and shook her head. “There is nothing for you to apologize for. In fact, it is quite likely that I should be apologizing to you.” “I—what?” The princess led the way out of the throne room and into a presently-deserted hallway lined with massive stained-glass windows. “I believe that I may know the cause of your predicament. At least partially. And if I am correct in my assessment of the situation, then I am somewhat to blame for you being here in Equestria.” I stopped in my tracks. My brow furrowed and I shook my head. “I don’t understand. How? What?” The princess stopped as well. Her eyes traced over the windows as she spoke. “I believe that this is not the first time we—Equestria—have dealt with your world and its people. Although it would be the first time I am aware of where the dealings happened in this world.” I dropped to my haunches to process that. Not the first time? Humans had contact before with magical horse aliens? What the fuck? You’d think that would be the kind of shit you’d hear about. “When was this? How did—” I remembered the more important question I should be asking. “So, you can get me back home?” She held up a hoof to stop me. “I know you have many questions. Some I might have the answer to, others I do not. However, I do not want to say too much before I am able to confirm my theory, which will require that I contact a student of mine who is more experienced with these subjects. It would be best if we wait until we can meet with her before we get into the thick of things. I will see if I can arrange such a meeting for this evening, or tomorrow if she cannot make it up to Canterlot on such short notice. “In the meantime,” she continued, “There are some other matters we can tend to. Not the least of which would be getting you checked out by a doctor.” “I was just at a hospital last night.” I pointed to my wing sling. “Little scuffle at a bar—totally not my fault—that messed up the wing. So I’ve already been checked out by a doc.” “While the hospital staff undoubtedly did a fine job treating your injuries, it is unlikely that they did much past that. They would not have thought there to be a need to look deeper, would they?” “Err, no,” I admitted. “We very specifically hid the fact that I was anything but a regular griffon.” “I thought so. It would be wise to see if you have sustained any unnoticed injury or side effects in your coming here. And truth-be-told, even if you were just a regular griffon it would be prudent to have another expert take a look at you, one who is knowledgeable in how a griffon’s medical needs differ from a ponies. There is a very skilled doctor here at the palace, one experienced with magical accidents and other special cases. I can arrange for you to meet with him this afternoon, if that is alright with you.” “Uh yeah, for sure. That’s probably a good idea.” If the magical horse princess was offering to have an expert make sure I’d gotten proper medical treatment from the hospital and that the portal gods hadn’t given me space cancer or someshit, I wasn’t about to object. “Splendid. I will also have a room prepared for you here at the palace. You are not required to stay here if you do not wish, but I suggest that you do—it will help speed the process along to have you nearby while we get this sorted out. For your sake, I hope we are able to have this matter resolved swiftly. But until then, I wish to do whatever I can to minimize further inconvenience on your part. Whatever you need, I shall do my best to provide.” “That’s very generous of you, Your Highness. Thank you,” I said, bowing my head a bit. “And I’m sure Cinnamon’s aunt will appreciate me not needing to use her couch anymore.” “It’s the least I can do after all you’ve been through,” Princess Celestia said with a warm smile. She stood back up and we resumed walking down the hall. “Now, while my own personal knowledge of your world is quite limited on account of being only from second-hoof reports, I am aware that life in your world differs greatly from that in Equestria.” “Yes, but not nearly as different as you’d think, actually, all things considered.” I furrowed my brow. “It’s kinda eerie at times how similar it is. Most of the big stuff is pretty much the same. It’s just the little details1 that are totally alien.” ---------- 1The jury was still out on if “all the people are horses” was a big change or simply a small altered detail considering how little difference it alone seemed to actually make. ---------- She chuckled softly. “A small blessing, I suppose. Fortunately, we are not unused to hosting guests of different species here at the palace, griffons included. If there are any special accommodations you require, we will do what we can to provide them.” I pondered that for a bit. Yeah, I had a whole laundry list of things about Equestria that’d been bothering me, but most of those were either something the princess couldn’t change or too small to bother her with. “Hmm, I’ve been getting by in Equestria more-or-less okay, barring the annoying little things stemming from being a griffon in a country built for ponies. So I guess if you just did whatever you’d normally do for a griffon guest, I imagine that’d cover the bulk of my needs. I mean, I’ve no idea what that would actually entail, but as far as I know, I’ve got a griffon’s physical needs, so at least some of the griffon accommodations should be useful to me.” She nodded. “That can be arranged. There are a hooffull of griffon guests who visit the palace semi-regularly, so the staff is used to accommodating them for the most part. Unfortunately, however, the kitchen staff usually only order ingredients for griffon cuisine when we know we are expecting guests, so we may be a tad limited in that department until the staff can get the proper supplies.” She paused to think. “Actually, I suppose now would be the time to ask if that is even something you would desire.” “We’re talking about meat, right? That’s the special ingredients you’re referring to.” “Indeed.” She said plainly. “Our griffon guests typically request high-protein meals when they visit. Is that something you would even be interested in?” “Yeah, I’m a fan of meaty meals myself. So if you’ve got it, I wouldn’t be opposed. But I don’t need it, and pony food hasn’t killed me yet, so don’t worry too much about it if you don’t have it. Well, unless it just hasn’t killed me yet and griffons do need meat, then I guess you should worry.” I frowned and shook my head. “Y’know what? You guys know more than me on the griffon stuff, so I trust you on all that. I defer to you all on that matter.” The princess laughed and shook her head. “Alright then. Your trust is appreciated. Now, beyond the physical needs of your griffon form, is there anything we can do to make the stay more comfortable for you as a…” she trailed off. “I apologize, I don’t believe I remember the name of your species.” “Oh. That’s my bad. I don’t think I said. I’m a human. That’s the name of my species.” “Human,” she repeated. “Ah, yes. I do believe that sounds familiar. As I was saying, is there anything we can do to make your human self more comfortable during your time here?” I took a second to ponder that. “Hmm. Nothing that comes to mind. Like I said, most of the issues so far have been from the griff stuff. Things being slightly too small. These giant wings getting in the way all the time, especially with me needing to keep them held in place with—” with my jacket, or the slightly-stained and falling-apart bedsheet toga I was wearing in its place. Come to think of it, a not-insignificant portion of my annoyances came from my whole clothing dilemma. “Actually no. I take it back. There’s one thing you may be able to do. Might even be a griffon thing for all I know. Whatever. I don’t suppose you or anyone has got any griffon-shaped clothes laying around I could borrow?” Princess Celestia looked thoughtfully off into space. “…I believe that can be arranged. Griffons do occasionally wear clothes, just as ponies do, and we may be able to get you some. Do you have any preferences?” I shook my head. “Whatever you’ve got. I don’t need anything fancy or complicated. I’m fine with simple and functional. Just something to cover everything up better than this.” I gestured to the bedsheet as we walked. “Oh, and some shoes. Shoes would be nice. Shoes and gloves? Do griffons even use footwear? Is that even a thing? Or do they just go around barefoot all the time? Doesn’t seem very practical”—I held up a dusty hand and frowned—“or sanitary. Maybe if they were to—” I stopped myself mid-tangent. “Sorry,” I said sheepishly. Princess Celestia chuckled. “It’s quite alright. I’ll see what we can do. It shouldn’t be too much trouble to find something suitable.” “Thanks.” “You’re quite welcome. Anything else?” I’m sure there was plenty more that I could or should have mentioned, but with how much was happening I couldn’t pin anything else down at the moment. And going back through my “notes” right now to find more would probably be inappropriate, so I just said, “Not that I can think of.” “If you think of anything else you need, be sure to tell my staff.” Princess Celestia’s horn glowed and she magically opened the pair of doors we’d just arrived at. On the other side was the grand entryway of the palace—the one Cinnamon and I had first come in through while being escorted by the guard earlier. A few ponies and guards were milling about their business. Cinnamon was there, seated on a bench and holding a one-sided conversation with one of the nearby guards. No one seemed to notice the princess and me just yet. “Now,” Princess Celestia said. “I do believe your friend is done speaking with my guards. Why don’t you two catch up, talk, do whatever you need to do, and then we can go about getting you checked out and situated here. And here, take this.” Her horn glowed again and a familiar silver coin appeared in the air in front of me. “Keep it on you while you are here. It will let any guards know you are a special guest of the crown.” I took the coin and slipped it onto a side pouch of my bags. Then I bowed again. “Thanks again, Your Highness.” “You are quite welcome. Now, I have a great many things to arrange. We shall speak again as soon as I can arrange that meeting. Until then, Garrett.” I gave a short wave. “See ya later then.” Princess Celestia replied with a small nod, then left back down the hallway we’d come, closing the doors softly behind her. I took a few moments to let all that’d just transpired over the last hour or so to settle in my mind. Then I made my way across the hall to Cinnamon. “Hey, Cinnamon.” Cinnamon turned away from the guard she harassing and smiled at me. “Birdy, you’re alive!” I raised an eyebrow. “Was there some reason I might not be?” “No, not really,” she admitted. “But when I finished up my stuff, they brought me here instead of back to the throne room, so I didn’t know what was up with you.” “Oh yeah. After you left the princess took me aside for a private walk and talk.” “Ooh, a one on one with a princess? Sounds exciting. They just had me answer a bunch of boring questions and fill out paperwork. Bunch of boring guard stuff.” Cinnamon leaned in close and lowered her voice. “Though the captain did also have me sign an NDA and agree not to tell anypony about any of the you stuff. Apparently they want to keep that under wraps. Which I suppose is as good a way as any to show that they think your story is legit. That’s pretty great.” “Yeah, I guess it is,” I agreed. “So how’d your one-on-one with Celestia go?” Cinnamon asked. “Or are you even allowed to say.” “No one told me not to say anything, so I figure I’m free to share.” I thought back to what Princess Celestia and I had discussed. “Not that there’s really much to share. Celestia pretty much just said that she thinks she knows what’s up with me, but couldn’t say more until she could confirm it. She made it clear she wants to help, even went and gave me a room here while they sort it all out.” I reached into the side pouch of my bags and pulled out the silver coin thing. “Apparently this thing means I’m a ‘special guest of the crown’ or whatever. Not really sure what that means, but it sounds fancy as fuck.” “Fancy indeed.” “Yeah, so now you can tell your aunt thanks but I won’t be needing her couch anymore. I get to stay at a palace. Never got to do that before. And all it took was getting zapped to another planet and turned into an alien. Totally worth, right?” “Sounds pretty great,” said with a smile. “So, I guess that’s it, then? The princess has got you all handled?” “Sure seems that way, yeah. She’s arranging a meeting with someone who knows more about stuff either today or tomorrow. Even having some special doctor check me out right after this.” Her eyes widened. “Wow. That fast, huh? They really are taking this thing seriously.” “Yeah, real turn of events, wouldn’t you say?” I shook my head. “I can still barely believe the head of state is personally helping out here. Bit of a step up from a pair of clueless dumbasses running around getting thrown out of schools, wouldn’t you say?” “I’m just happy we could get you here,” Cinnamon said with a warm smile. “Same. And of course I never would’ve gotten this far if it weren’t for you. You’ve been unimaginably helpful. Without you… well, I’d probably still be wandering around back at Riverstone without a clue what to do. If I even got out of that basement at all.” Cinnamon snorted. “Yeah. Without my help, you’d probably be lost in the woods, or eaten by a hydra.” “Probably,” I agreed with a nod. Then I did a double-take. “Wait. Hydra? Those exist here?” Cinnamon just grinned wickedly. “Okay, that’s going to give me even more nightmares,” I said uneasily. “Moooving right along to less terrifying thoughts. Where were we? Oh right. Thanking you for everything. I know I don’t have much, but I will find a way to pay you back for everything.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “I said it before and I’ll say it again: don’t worry about it. I wanted to help.” “Yeah but now I might actually be able to do something. Maybe I can talk to someone important around here to see about compensating you for expenses. I don’t know. I’ll figure something out. I’d hate for it to seem like I just dropped in on you, used you, and then peaced out.” “Aww, that’s sweet,” Cinnamon cooed before hopping up to wrap her forelegs as far as she could around my neck. I let out a reflexive “squark” and jolted at the hug before relaxing a bit. But only just a bit. I still wasn’t totally used to how huggy Cinnamon was, so I kinda just stood there while she nuzzled my neck feathers in the middle of the palace foyer. “And it’s not been all work for me,” Cinnamon said. “It’s been a really interesting couple of days. I’d say it’s been worth it for me on entertainment value alone.” “Glad my suffering is at least interesting to watch,” I said flatly. I carefully patted her once, then twice, on the back while scanning the room to see if anyone was starring. A few were. Thank goodness my face was covered in feathers because I was sure I was blushing up a storm beneath them. Cinnamon giggled and pulled back from the embrace. “Sooo, I guess this is goodbye?” “I guess so,” I said and straightened my chest feathers. “And you got all your stuff? Didn’t leave anything at auntie’s place?” I gave my saddlebags a shake. “I don’t have much, and I’ve kept it all on me.” “Alright then…” she said, gaze falling to the floor. Then after a moment, her face lit up. “Oh! Before I go, can I see that notebook of yours? And a pen.” I blinked. “Uh, sure,” I dug the items out of my bags and presented them to her. She took the notebook in her forehooves and grabbed the pen delicately between her teeth. She took a minute and scribbled down a couple lines of text on the page and passed the items back. I pushed my glasses up my beak and read what she’d written: a bunch of words and numbers that meant nothing to me. “What is this?” “Auntie’s address. It’s where I’ll be staying, at least for a while. Y’know, in case you’re still in town and want to drop by so you can…”—she turned around and flicked her tail across my beak—“…pay me back.” Her hips and tail swung side-to-side as she strode away. “Bye-bye, Birdy. Good luck!” she called back over her shoulder. “Bye, Cinnamon,” I said, still slightly stunned, and watched her go. Not too long after that, one of the nearby armored guards—a pegasus stallion—approached me and spoke. “Mr. Garrett?” I wondered if it was worth informing these guys that ‘Garrett’ wasn’t my full name, but decided against it. They’d probably already started putting me into the system as that, and it’s not like I was going to be confused with anyone else. “Yeah, that’s me. Wassup?” “I am to escort you to your next appointment,” he said, possibly a little too cheerily for my tastes. “Are you ready to go?” That almost made me laugh. It’s not like I had anything else I needed to attend to. “Yeah. Ready whenever.” “Perfect. Let’s get to it then. Right this way, if you please.” With a grin and a wave, he marched off, leading me to whatever came next.