//------------------------------// // 18 – Contre-Jour (v2) // Story: Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.1 // by Alsey //------------------------------// Sweetchard's View I gallop around the barn and to the shower shed, teeth clenched around the handle of the large watering can, the foul taste of plastic barely registering – I've no idea if it'll help but I have to try something!! My hooves keep fumbling with the controls of the pump's generator, why is the darn thing so compl— finally, it's on! The low hum fills the cramped shed now, so come on!! Drawing water from the well shouldn't take this long! At last the frothing liquid gushes form the overhead hose – I hold the watering can up and let it fill to the brim and get soaked in the process, but I couldn't care less, it's done! Rushing out, I go straight for my garden and almost topple over as I try to water the plants without spilling it all in one go. My eyes sting and my jaw aches, but it's done! It can't be too late! Come on veggies, you can survive this, I know it! “Please, I beg you, please, get better..!”, I whisper to my plants, stroking each one gently, encouraging them with my hooves and my voice. “Please don't die..! I tried my best..!” But the leaves are still yellowed. The stalks keep on sagging. And I'm still helpless to do anything about it... I stomp in grief and frustration, mud splashing on my legs – that darn cutie mark is worthless!! You are worthless, Sweetchard!! I gave everything for your sake, and that's how you repay me!? You took it all and left me with nothing!? All is crashing down, and I just don't know how I could stop it! My strength's useless for dealing with this problem, it's completely out of my control! It feels like the ground's slipping away right from under my hooves..! I slump down in the mud; I don't even have the will to keep standing anymore... As if adding a little water would change anything..! It rained less than five days ago, the earth doesn't even look that dry anyway, what was I thinking!? And, more importantly... What am I going to do, now..? My ears turn on their own when the barn's door opens. “Sweetchard..?”, I hear Fenchone calling hushedly from behind me. “What the heck are you doing? And why's the pump still running?” ... What could I tell her, really..? That all our work's ruined, and that I can't do anything about it..? I know I should try to look strong and confident, but I... I'm just tired. Why must there always be something happening to ruin my life..? The mare trots away, and soon the humming of the machine stops. Instead of going back towards the barn, her hoofbeats then get closer and closer: “Hey, what's wrong? Are you hurt?”, she asks me, her worry still tinted with a good deal of irritation. Sighing, I force myself back on my hooves, and wordlessly gesture at my poor plants, and at the other gardens. Fenchone gasps, and I watch her darting frantically from one patch of sick plants to the next, growing more distressed at each one, and fully breaking down when she takes a look at the fields... “This can't be happening!”, she wails, staggering back towards me. “Our resources are already so strained, we can't let it all die!” Unfortunately I've no answer for her. We both stay like dazed for a moment, still struggling to cope with the situation, until she breathes deeply, and regains this firm, self-assured air that characterizes her – the look of a mare who can take charge and reassure others. She's certainly tougher than I am... “Chard, please, isn't there anything you can do?”, she asks me, the slight shake of her voice the only glimpse of the true extent of her concern, behind the carefully controlled façade. “There has to be a solution, something we can do to prevent all our crops from wasting away like that. What does your instinct tell you?” 'Instinct'... How can I tell her that I don't have the first idea of how to care for plants, beyond watering them once in a while? That Sweetchard and his cutie mark are nothing more than a bunch of lies and false promises? That I don't have any solution..? But... But I should still keep on trying to find one! Every time Life has kicked me in the shins, I at least tried to get back up, never gave up without a fight! And this time, it's not just for me – it's for everypony! Battling through the blanket of gloom weighting me down, I bring all my focus on what's before my eyes. Even if watering the plants helps in the end, I won't be able to see it right now anyway. What I can do, in the meantime, is try to find the why; the more information I have, the more easily I can prune away the possibilities, until I'm left with the most likely cause. It'll be easier to come up with an appropriate, effective solution then. The first thing I notice, after a good look around, walking slowly from garden to garden, is that for some reason my own plants are ones of the most affected by whatever this is. Meanwhile, the gardens that have been in use the longest are resisting better, so... Is it a question of how long the soil has been exploited? Or how old the plants are? Though there's a big difference in how the different kinds of plants are reacting, too: tomatoes, especially the biggest, oldest ones, are faring a lot better than lettuces for example... Same with carrots, and beetroots. Is it some sort of disease, then? It could affect different plants slightly differently I suppose, and the youngest plants could be too weak to resist... Once again hoofbeats call for my ears' attention, and when I glance behind me, I gulp seeing ponies starting to pour out of the barn, watching the gardens, and watching me as I'm racking my brain, whispering among themselves..! Fenchone's expecting me to solve the issue, and... Dang it, I need some sort of solution right now! Let's see, if the plants are sick, giving them more food and water should help them fight it off, right? That sounds logical enough! Cantering to the tool shed behind the house, I allow myself a little smile – I remembered well, we still have some of the universal fertilizer prills we got for the fields. There's also this bag of horticultural potting soil we've only used very sparingly 'til now, it could help; we didn't really need it before, so it's now or never! I manage to get the heavy bag across my back, and I'm about to try to grab the sack of prills with my mouth when Sèlengrain beats me to the punch, draping the sack behind his withers – I hadn't noticed him following me! “Need any more help?”, the older stallion asks resolutely, and I see there's also Marnepâle behind him, ready to lend a hoof. “Thanks, with these that should do it for now.” Or at least I pray that it will... We get back to the garden grounds with our loads, and all the other earth ponies are standing there ready for action, foals included... and all looking at me for direction. My stomach ties itself up into knots, as I come in front of all these pairs of eyes – the foals worried, most of the adults grim, my Crispy uncertain, and Fenchone staring intently at me. Even the pegasi and unicorns in the back are paying attention. They're all counting on me. Because of a darn cutie mark that just doesn't work. “What should we do, Mister Sweetchard..?”, Melon Leaf asks, the filly's face showing plainly the nervousness I must do my best to hide. “Alright, so, we'll use these,” I say, pointing at the bag and the sack, trying to sound like I've any idea of what I'm doing, “that'll give our crops a little boost for fighting it off! Let's stick with the veggie gardens for now, more soil and prills for the plants that need it most, and, uh, after that we'll see if we can do something else for the fields, okay?” Before I can ask for it, Fleur de Bruyère arrives with the refilled watering can, and we all get to work spreading our makeshift medication at the base of the plants' stalks. More soil and fertilizer, good well water, it's certainly worth a try and it can't hurt, at the very least... As I'm tending to some salads, Crispy pulls me aside discreetly: “Sweety, what's happening..?”, she whispers. “Are you sure this is going to help..?” “I...” ... Should I tell her the truth..? Crispy's my mare, and she's my friend... Of everypony, she's the one who I'm sure will always be on my side, whatever happens. And honesty is an important part of friendship, as the show says, so... “I don't know, Crispy...” She blinks, and for one fleeting, terrible instant, I fear that she's going to berate me, or laugh and tell everypony... but she just frowns, and nods, as if in understanding. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding; her support's something I really need right now. For her, I'll keep on fighting as long as I can stand, and as long as we stick together, I'm sure everything will be fi— “Mmh, Chard, excuse me..?” Uh? I turn to Fleur de Bruyère, the usually meek mare looking somewhat perplexed. “Yes, Fleur?” “Did you pull out my latest tomato plant? Did it die?” What..? “No, I... I just watered my own patch before you all came out, what are you talking about?” Following after her, to one of our oldest patches, she shows me a very conspicuous gap between the more mature tomato plants and the row of yellowing, drooping basil. It's clear that the ground's been dug up here, the hole where the plant was isn't completely filled. “You're sure it was here yesterday..?”, I ask, already guessing the answer. “Pretty sure.”, she nods. “I had to cut a flowerless shoot last morning.” Following my growing suspicion, I go back to my own side of the gardens, and look more attentively for anything that would've been moved, or gone missing... ... And there! I too am missing a tomato plant, the last of the row, and at least two lettuces I think. It went completely over my head, with everything else! Going around the grounds as my friends finish their own work, I quickly confirm the presence of other holes where plants should be... So they are at it again..! Where could they have moved our plants, this time? “Hey, don't use it all up!”, somepony's calling. “You forgot the ones behind the shed!” Turning, I see that it's Misty Down, the teal pegasus filly, talking to Sèlengrain as he's pouring the last of the soil atop some young carrots. She's hovering well above us, and pointing with a hoof towards the tool shed. I know for a fact that we never tried to grow anything back there. Trotting in the direction she indicated, I'm barely surprised to find all of our dozen missing plants there, the different species organized in roughly concentric circles on a little mound of earth. What really catches my attention, though, is that despite the fact that each of these plants are quite young or from the types that resist badly to whatever's happening, they only show the barest hints of the disease. Some leaf tips are just starting to turn yellow, at worst, and they all stand straight without any sag. So they knew what was going to happen..! “What's this..?”, Fenchone asks as she joins me, followed by other curious ponies. “Who is in charge of this patch?”, she asks behind her. “None of us is in charge of that one.”, I answer sharply. “It's the sleepgardener!” Fenchone gives me a warning glance at that word, but I really don't see why! It was all fine and dandy to maintain a hooves-off policy towards the sleepgardener as long as it worked well, but now's clearly not the time for that anymore! “What's a 'sleep-gardener' supposed to be, exactly..?”, Feldspark, the young four-eyed unicorn stallion, asks with his brow furrowed. I can see Fenchone's not happy to have to give an explanation to the lanky unicorn, from that irritated flick of her tail: “Just a little nickname we use to talk about one of us, who goes out at night for some more gardening.” Feldspark doesn't look exactly satisfied, but doesn't press for more either. That's when Keensight, the pegasus bigwig, chooses to alight beside us: “I'm not blind Fenchone,” she states with her usual arrogance, “I can see that these plants aren't as affected as the others, yet I also heard that they were missing from the regular gardens! Which one of you is that sleep-gardener, then? Because they clearly saw this coming, to relocate the plants!” It's the same conclusion I came to – the sleepgardener either knew what would happen, but did basically nothing to stop it, or they could even be somehow responsible for the disaster. In both cases, they're at fault! The pegasus mare's question seems to put Fenchone on the spot though, her tail flicking again and her ears starting to pull back. Why doesn't she say that we don't know who it is? “Alright, it's my grand-father.”, she finally answers, startling me; did she really know that from the start!? “You know how much he likes to joke around, even if it's often in poor taste.”, she adds. But Keensight snorts disdainfully “I don't believe you.”, she retorts. “You looked just as surprised as any of us to find this isolated patch, and I can't imagine that your own grand-father wouldn't inform you that some sort of scourge would befall us! You, the 'farmer',” she calls, bearing down on me, “maybe you'll be a little more honest than our great leader: who is that sleep-gardener?” I can't miss how, without even turning to face me, Fenchone's ears are fully focused on me. I don't know what's motivating her for protecting someone who could very well be the direct cause of our problems – especially if we don't know who that is – but, well, I don't want to go against her either... The hostile pegasus takes my hesitation as an answer in and of itself, however: “Oh... Let me guess, none of you know, right? Someone's fiddling with one of our biggest food sources and you don't even know who it is!?” Uneasy murmurs start to break out among the non-earth ponies around us. I thought the sleepgardener was common knowledge, but that's clearly not the case! “It's not 'fiddling'!”, Sèlengrain intervenes. “Everything they did until now has only improved our production and the plants' health!” “How long has this been going on, then?”, Keensight questions without missing a beat. “You've obviously known about this for quite some time to be able to say that!” “It started well before you got here, Keen.”, Fenchone answers, her annoyance starting to show in her voice. “Until now that's how we functioned and it always gave good results, you can't argue with that.” “'Until now' indeed... Your mysterious 'friend' doesn't seem to be of much help! What good does it make, to transplant such a flimsy portion of our crops!?” “I don't know, okay!?”, the earth mare snaps. “I don't know what's going on in their head, or why they let this happen!” “So you admit that they may have something to do with all this?” “Yes, maybe!”, Fenchone blurts out with a frustrated stomp. “And isn't that convenient, really..!”, Keensight scoffs, the hint of a smile pulling at her lips. “An unknown party, responsible for this disaster – but not any of the earth ponies that tend to these gardens all day long, no!”, she goes on dramatically, talking more to the assembled ponies than to Fenchone now: “What easier way to flee the consequences of one's mistakes than by accusing someone else, especially someone who can't defend themselves! We all believed in you Fenchone, when you promised us a safe haven, board and lodging included – but how can this promise still stand now, when you can't even manage our food sources like you're supposed to!?” The accusation, as unfair as I feel it is, still seems to cut Fenchone to the quick – but the mare only allows herself a brief moment of weakness, her ears folding back completely and her tail falling limply between her hindlegs, before regaining control of herself: “I won't let myself be caught in this kind of pointless argument again, Keen.”, she says with forced calm, looking at the anxious ponies around her. “Now isn't the time for petty squabbles or personal feuds. We have to address this problem together, as a community. Everybody can make mistakes, but that won't stop us from doing our best to—” “And what is the 'best' that you ponies have to offer anyway?”, Keensight interrupts rudely. “Admit it, you're just wingless and hornless, there's nothing special or magical about you!” “That has nothing to—” “What more proof should we need,” the outrageous green mare goes on, turning to her pegasi and the unicorns, “considering that it was never their nebulous 'talents' that gave us these bountiful crops, but a mysterious benefactor they never talked about before, now a convenient scapegoat? Even their 'farmer',” she almost spits, pointing a large feather right in my face, “who should be better than anyone at this if we're to believe his cutie mark, is actually little more than a fraud who has no idea of what he's doing!” That– that bloody nag!! She's lucky she pulled her feather back in time, or I'd have bitten it off and her whole wing with it!! My body tenses, forehooves scrapping at the ground and nostrils flaring, and I'd have charged her right here and now if my eyes hadn't caught Crispy's at the last second. 'No', she keeps mouthing at me, worry or even fear etched all over her face. In the meantime Keensight hasn't stopped spouting her odious slander to whoever's listening: “I can't help but wonder now, Fenchone, if you weren't already well aware of that fact, and if your flying ban isn't just a shallow attempt at stopping us pegasi from fully exploring our special abilities! I'm sure you powerless ponies wouldn't look too good, if that happened! Our unicorns friends are lucky enough that you can't prevent them from practicing their magic altogether!” Fortunately, the other earth ponies have ceased to pay attention to that madmare while she keeps on riling up her pegasi, and they stand strong alongside Fenchone: “Don't listen to her,” she tells us through gritted teeth, “she's just stirring up more trouble, as if we needed that..! If she doesn't want to work with us on this, we'll do without!” She's answered by many nods and words of support, and then she turns to me: “Chard, I believe in you. Do you have more ideas?” The still boiling-hot blood pulsing through my veins doesn't help coming up with sensible ideas, but as Crispy rushes to my side, her body pressing against mine and her snout gracing my neck with gentle nuzzles, the anger tapers off, and I can get my brain back to work. I'm still not sure Fenchone's faith in me is warranted, but I'll do my best, for her, for Crispy, and for everypony: “I... I think we should keep trying to salvage what we can. Whatever their intentions, the sleepgardener at least showed us that we can do something – we'll move the plants to other patches, where we haven't tried to grow anything yet. We give them lots of water, a little fertilizer if we still have some... Oh, maybe we should also start harvesting all the vegetables we can right now, even if they're not ripe yet. Even if the plant dies we'll still have its fruits, and maybe that'd help the plant to focus on surviving.” “That's some great ideas, Sweetchard.”, Fenchone nods, allowing herself a little smile. “Well ponies, let's get on with it then!” I let out a sigh of relief at the approving chorus from my fellow earth ponies, and as one we go back towards the garden grounds. My last idea, though, I didn't share: try to find that darn sleepgardener. Whoever that is, I'll force them to explain themselves, and undo all that damage if it's their fault! It has to be one of us, so I don't want to tip my hoof too early by babbling about it... Though what if the 'sleep' part's really accurate..? Would the pony not even know what they're doing? If they were lucid enough to always wash their hooves after the fact, then I'd guess they'd also be lucid enough to notice themselves going out at night for some gardening! We all gather in front of the barn, with Keensight still gabbling in the background and Fenchone trying to be heard over her. I guess the first thing now should be to select which plant we want to move firs— Uh!? My eyes go wide as I spot Violette with her horn shining magic, directing it to one of our sickly tomato plants, Amber and Tinkerbolt watching her! I quickly trot up to the purple mare: “Hey, what do you think you're doing?” “Oh Sweetchard, what was all this ruckus over there?”, she asks innocently. “Keen is still trying to pick a quarrel with Fenchone, even now, isn't she?” After being confronted to Keensight's bile, Violette's friendliness is disarming enough to make me fumble for my own words: “It's, uh, yes, and what are you doing?” “Well, my talent is somewhat plant-related, so we were thinking that perhaps it could serve as a basis for devising some sort of spell that could help with our problem.”, the mare explains with a smile. “What do you think?” What I think..? What I think is that it's not a bad idea, but that it's also too little, too late! Did it really have to come to this for you unicorns to get a sudden interest in agriculture!? You were pretty happy to leave us most of the work and keep practicing your magic by yourselves until now! What will it be then, concocting a neat little cantrip on the spot, and saving us all from the incompetence of those silly earth ponies, huh!? “I think it certainly can't hurt!”, Crispy chimes in as she suddenly appears at my side. “We'll work on our side, and you keep searching on yours!” My mare starts pushing me gently away from the unicorns, and after being briefly tempted to fight it, I let her. Crispy's right, it can't hurt... As she leads me to the edge of the garden grounds, I also realize how lucky I am that she intervened when she did – I would've felt awful to explode right in Violette's face for no good reason..! “Please calm down, Sweety...”, she sighs as we keep walking towards the fields. “We must try to keep a cool head; Keensight wants us to prove her right, but we won't, all right..?” I just nod, as the weight of my anger keeps on lifting, and the doubts and worries and concerns slowly reclaim their hold on my mind. The anger does surge a little again, when I see the Vallières couple coming out of their house, probably wondering what all the fuss is about, and my thoughts immediately turn to how the humans will try to give their own unsolicited opinion on the situation... Gosh... This thing's really doing a number on me, isn't it..? Crispy nuzzles at my jaw, helping to keep the bad thoughts away for now. “Alright...”, I finally answers. “But all this thing, it's... We still have to find out what's happening.” “And we will.”, she agrees. “I don't think this is natural, Sweety. Someone must be responsible, and we will find out who – or what – they are. And we won't let them tear us all apart either.” Nodding again, I breathe deeply, letting her sweet scent fill my nose. It calms me, and helps keep my head clear. Even if the sleepgardener isn't to blame, they will still be able to tell us what's going on, and maybe help us. We will find out who did this. And they will pay. Laurence's View I go back into the forest, leaving the decaying fields behind me. Still no trace of what could've done this, after more than a day of searching... Ivan and Jeannette said they'd never seen something like this, and even Clem stands flummoxed, leading an investigation on her side. The general mood on the farm has taken another plunge this morning, when Chard's salvaging operation proved ineffective. From what Fenchone mumbled about, switching plants to other spots seemed to work at first, but something must've happened during the night, because they're starting to wither away even more quickly now. It feels good to be away from all these ponies and the dark, foreboding cloud they all keep over their heads. Everyone's anxious, prone to lashing out, and it's not helped by the divide between earth, pegasus, and unicorn ponies growing deeper than ever, each starting to accuse the others of negligence or even outright sabotage... *sigh* That's why I hate people... They always act irrationally and violently when they don't get their way. ... I'm not necessarily better in that regard, though... Anyway, the calm, soothing isolation of the woods is just what I need for the moment. Just walking a bit, enjoying the natural world, its scents, its sounds, its sights, away from all this pony stuff. I wonder how many species of local birds I'll be able to see today? It's been mostly wrens, great tits, blackbirds, robins, and the occasional magpie or two. I suspect it's a woodpecker I've heard from afar earlier this week, but no luck seeing it yet. ... And I'm stalling, aren't I? Looking around, I spot a small thicket of bushes that seems dense enough to hide me from view from most sides, and I slowly make my way to it. This should be perfect for that kind of highly private and vile activity. Sitting in the reassuring cramped space, I wait a couple minutes, ears on the alert for any unwelcome intrusion. When none occurs, I begin to let the wings slide out from under my hoodie – an almost painful full-body shiver leading me to roughly push them out all the way the next instant. Damn monstrous things..! All right, first step: done. Training with Amber confirmed what Dusky had mentioned time and again – whatever kind of supernatural process allows pegasi to fly despite their mass and poor aerodynamic design, it must find its source in the wings, and the feathers specifically. It got me thinking when the foal kept droning about how a 'good preening' is essential for good flying, and when we tested it Amber detected magic associated with wing beats. It'd come to reason that preened wings, with feathers arranged optimally, would allow for better flight control and maybe even more efficient magic output, compared to jumbled feathers. If I go with the hypothesis that feathers act as some sort of anti-gravity field generators, it sounds logical to expect that their placement relative to each other, intra- and inter-wing, would have important consequences on flight ability and, maybe, on other wing-related abilities. Well, anti-gravity is probably not an accurate description, and that doesn't take into account the strange flexibility and dexterity of feathers, of course. ... Still stalling, huh..? Come on Laurence, you can do it! No, you have to do it! You didn't coach Amber on responsibility to keep skirting on your own! Try to see it that way: you have to know your enemy, and your greatest enemy right now is fucking Rafale and her disgusting body – you need to know how it operates, and learn how to control it! Because I will never let you take another life without my consent, you sick, cowardly mare..! Taking advantage of the raging fire still brewing in my lungs, I all but lunge at the left wing, my mutilated hands grasping for the long primary feathers – but to poor results. Even if the wings are quite flexible, they are still anchored a not insignificant distance behind my shoulder blades, almost around midback, so it's very impractical to seize them like this. I'm afraid that this problem can only be resolved either with some sort of specialized tool I don't have, or the way Dusky did it... With his mouth. God this is so many shades of yuck..! Forcing the wing to spread its feathers as much as possible, I can plainly see that most of them are arranged somewhat haphazardly. It looks really untidy, the usual elegance of a bird's wing thoroughly lost, and when I try to flex one feather, it becomes clear that their dexterity is negatively affected by this utter lack of order – no way to preen one wing with the other, not if one isn't properly done beforehand. Well... Guess there's not two ways to go about this, then... Gingerly moving my head closer, I jolt back when my lips finally brush against a feather! I felt the touch of my lips as they connected! This... I– I'm not sure I can do this..! Maybe if I just shake the wings a lot it'd do the work? I mean, is it really that important anyway!? ... Oh stop crying and be pragmatic, for fuck's sake!! I thrust my face into the wing, yelping at the sensation, but refusing to move away! Several long minutes elapse, as I let myself grow used to the alien contact, and the fact that these feathers are really connected to the rest of my body and nervous system, for better or for worse. I pull my head back a little, enough to see what I'm doing, and selecting one at random, I begin to try and push it in a position that looks, well, more natural. My first push is a bit too rough though, nudging the feather even more out of place than anything. The next attempts, even if gentler, fail to garner better results... With a sigh, I open my mouth and nip the feather, only then being able to get it to move how I wish. It feels like unusually stiff hair, slightly dusty – but that's maybe on me for not taking care of them – and holds what I'd almost be tempted to call an electrical charge, the same way living tissue doesn't feel completely inert to the touch. While I'm at it, and as I'm already well beyond my disgust threshold anyway, I continue by combing the barbules back into proper place. Well that's one feather done! Now for its, uh, many, many siblings... The task seems herculean at first, but after the fifth one I start to get a good rhythm, and find ways to work more efficiently, enough to zone out a little. It's not unlike a good stimming session or even just brushing my hair, in fact. If I weren't constantly reminded that these wings are an extension of my own body when they just shouldn't, this could even be relaxing... It's only now, as I'm nearing completion for the left wing, that I start to realize that, as gruesome as the image may be, an unpreened wing feels very much like a hand with fingers bending at odd angles and jumbled together. I understand better why Dusky presented the thing as an essential part of pegasus daily life... Moving on to the right wing, my progress is a bit impaired by my blind spot, but the process stays mostly the same, and before I know it, I have both wings properly preened, and folded somewhat comfortably against my sides. I only passed on pulling out the broken feathers, for now – I'll leave that painful perspective for another time. It's strange... For some reason, despite having spent quite a bit of time with my head shoved against them and rearranging feathers, it's as if it became easier to forget that the wings are sitting here. Maybe in the same way that you kind of forget you're wearing clothes, when they fit properly? My left ear twitches, catching the sound of little hooves in the vicinity. I guess this signals the end of my sweet alone time... I try to be discreet as I draw myself out of my bushes, keeping low to the ground, and soon enough I spot Dusky, trotting along one of my usual patrol routes, and away from my position. I'm somewhat relieved that he clearly didn't see me – it can get a bit freakish at times, how easily that foal always manages to track me down, and for that preening test I really wanted to be left alone. Following after him, I don't try to be silent. As expected the colt quickly hears my steps, doing a jumping twirl to face me: “I was looking for you!”, he exclaims with his usual exuberance, fluttering in my direction. “And I thought we talked about not venturing so deep into the woods unaccompanied, no..?”, I admonish gently. “I'm not unaccompanied, I'm with you!”, he protests. I'm about to contest this dubious twist of logic when he starts pronking happily, pointing at my sides: “Ooooh you preened!!” Dammit! How did he notice so quickly!? Chancing a quick look, not only do I have to admit that it does make a visible difference in how the wings sit, but like an idiot I also completely forgot to get the damn things back under my hoodie! Of course Dusky giggles as I rush to correct my mistake, though he regains his seriousness when I put my stern face on. “I did, and it's all we will say about it.”, I state with finality. “Now can you tell me why you're here, Dusky..? It wasn't a mere suggestion when we said that the forest's off-limits outside of patrols.” “I know, but..!”, he whines, looking down at his hooves with his ears drawn back, shuffling awkwardly. “Everybody's so tense and mean to each other right now, I like it more here, with just you...” That's more or less what I expected to hear... It's pretty much the same reason I'm here, after all. “All right, you can patrol with me,” I tell him, “but I expect you to behave, okay?” “Yes!”, he salutes, grinning. We both start following my main route, which makes us walk around the whole farm while still staying away from most unpleasant corners of the forest, like Fenchone's dreaded aven. True to his word, Dusky stays calm and mostly silent, which I appreciate – it's easier to birdwatch when there's not someone constantly chatting with you. It's only a bit later in the morning, as we make a short stop for him to rest his hooves, that Dusky tries to make me talk: “So, how long do you think the tribes are gonna be fighting like this..?”, he asks with a frown. “I don't know...”, I reply honestly. “It feels like this latest hurdle was just the spark they needed to ignite the powder keg. No more playing pony, now...” “'Playing pony'..?”, he repeats, head tilted. “You know, this way they have of acting so happy all the time to have hooves now, and saying it's so great and they should be proud. Seriously, it's not that surprising that the whole thing's exploding – you can only deal with so much pointless social false-niceties, and it's tiring to fake your smile twenty-four seven.” “Maybe they just feel it's nice to be nice to somebody else? I once heard that a smile is always worth the effort!” I roll my eye at this silly rationale, but when I bring my gaze back on him, his whole demeanor has changed. His usual smile gone, his large eyes half-lidded, he looks lost in unpleasant thoughts, yet his ears didn't move, still in 'at rest' position... Did I say something that upset him? Their ears are supposed to fold back when they're upset! Damn you oversized pieces of cartilage, why are you lying to me now!? Ahem... I bend closer to his level: “Hey, you okay?” “Yes. Well, no, but nothing unusual.”, he answers with a shrug, his expression still... I don't know, it's not even sad at this point, it's— Oh. “... That's the 'weird' you, huh?” The colt chuckles, but it's without humor. “You're right, you know. Fake smiles are tiring after a while... I hope that's not too jarring for you.” It is, but not in the way you may think. “It's okay.”, I try to reassure him. “Thank you for your honesty, Dusky.” A small smile graces his snout, and I believe, or at least hope, that it is genuine this time. “... Why do you play foal like this in the first place, anyway?”, I can't help but ask. With the others I can somewhat understand, but why keeping it up with me, or the Council? “Well, I'm a foal, no?”, he replies matter-of-factly. “It's what's expected of me. How I think I'd behave, in an ideal world, maybe. It makes things easier, trust me. And, I must admit, I wanted to make a good first impression with you... Guess I busted that, too...” “Don't worry. Just keep the wing talk to a minimum, and we're good.”, I wink... And then realize that may not be especially apparent now, so I add a smile that I hope is comforting. “Alright.”, he chuckles. It's... It's still hard, seeing him like this, so devoid of his usual pep. Was it really all just an act? And if so, what could have happened to him, to make him so... So listless? “We, uh, don't have to, but do you want to talk about it?”, I venture. “I suppose if you have to keep up this mask with most ponies, they're not exactly good at listening...” “Oh they can listen, but they can also be a bit selective...”, he snorts disdainfully. “Especially when a foal starts babbling about existential anguish and chronic depression. Guess it causes a bit of a cognitive dissonance...” “Well... I for one will always be listening.”, I say softly. If all these ponies never deigned giving him enough positive attention, well... Well I'm certainly not the best person for the job, but I'll do what I can, if it can help... “Thanks...”, he answers, before affecting a sly smile, and putting a hoof against my chest: “I was sure that behind the gruff and snappy exterior there was a big heart hidden somewhere in there!” I can't help but smile too, putting on a fake stern face: “Don't push your luck..!” He giggles, before slipping out of the role again, and getting somewhat contemplative: “... I'm happy to be a pony, you know. That's the first thing that made any amount of sense in my life, if you can believe it... I'm actually looking forward to what I can do with my life now!” Well, as they say, as long as there is hope... Though: “I gather that wasn't the case before..?” Another humorless chuckle. “Not by a long shot... As long as I was on the railroad of school, things more or less kept to the tracks, but I never put much efforts in studying, 'cause I never really saw the point, you know, and I wasn't very good at it anyway. So after high school my foster parents pushed me into the first job that'd have me, even if I didn't like it. It's not their fault, though. They tried. It's just I didn't like being alive.” I... I don't know how to answer that..! “Living just felt pointless, like it wasn't really for me.”, he goes on with his alarmingly dreadful tirade. “When I had to do the things other people did, I just felt empty. It wasn't fulfilling. Just another chore in an endless list, so why bother... I don't even know how I reached twenty-five! I tried suicide, twice, but I was too scared I guess... Maybe it just wasn't so much wanting death, as not caring for being alive...” With his child-like body these words seem even more distressing than they already are, but I have to remember that we're actually the same age... I can understand how the others would be ill at ease with him, but that's no reason to turn a blind eye to his problems! “Even the scars faded...”, he mutters, looking at his forelegs, “But only the ones you can see, I guess. It feels right to be in my body, to be me, at long last. It's like Fate allowing me to start over, with the cards shuffled and dealt in my favor this time. So I do my best to seem like the other foals, because I'm one too, but... I'd like to feel like my previous life was some kind of bad dream, but you can't really forget the pain, it stays with you, like an everlasting shadow. Maybe they really broke me to the core, or it's just being human for so long that broke me somehow, or maybe it's something... innate to both pony-me and human-me, something I can't escape in the end... The others don't understand, they think I'm strange, they don't understand why I can't just be fine, just rolling along with it, but it's the same for you, right?” “... In some capacity, yes, I guess.”, I reply cautiously. In some way, we are both burdened by past lives that we sorely wish we could escape... Dusky moves a little closer and, on impulse, I bring him against my chest, holding him in my arms in what is, I'm forced to admit it, a hug. “Thank you for listening...”, the colt sighs, hugging me tight. “It felt good to have this kind of talk, and not be called 'Gloomy Dusky' afterward...” “Let me guess... Other foals?” “Among others, yeah...” “I see... Well, I hope they stay away from feral dogs in the future – it'd be a shame if something tragic happened right during my weekly siesta...” “Oh you wouldn't..!”, he gasps. “Mmh, it's tempting...”, I smirk, making him laugh, the sound resonating directly from his chest to mine. “You know... We could just leave this place, together!”, he suddenly exclaims. “These ponies don't like us, and they treat us like garbage – they really don't deserve you! Wouldn't it just work better, just the two of us, without all these lies and stuff?” I'm taken aback by the abruptness of this last declaration, and I don't know what to say! Dusky is looking at me now, almost pleadingly, and— “Ah shi—!” We both startle at that third, masculine voice coming from behind us, and the sound of someone stumbling over a piece of wood. Someone wearing shoes. Whirling around to face the intruder, Dusky clutched protectively against me, I see two men standing a dozen meters away, one of them having just avoided a fall after stepping on a dead branch on the ground. Their clothes are in dull, muted colors, and while they do not seem to carry weapons, each one holds a professional-looking digital camera, aimed right at us. It's like time stands still, as we all stare at each other for at least several seconds, frozen in place. The spell is only broken when the man who tripped bolts away, toward the stone wall, his colleague already moving to follow suit. Well no you don't!! Pushing Dusky over my shoulder to get him on my back, I use my legs like springs to launch myself after them! Touching ground, I only wait to be sure that the colt has found some purchase before dashing forward. Despite their head start, my speed and my knowledge of the forest allow me to quickly catch up and even overtake them well before we get to the wall! I won't let you get away, whoever you are!! Skidding on the soil as I come to a stop in front of the men, I spread my wings wide to stabilize myself as well as startle them, and it works – the first one almost trips over himself as he's suddenly cut off, his friend barely avoids colliding against him. Their escape route blocked, they both react on instinct, just like I hoped, and start running together in the exact opposite direction – right toward the farm. I'm hot on their heels, making sure they do not stray from the path I want them to take, using my wings to help me dash left and right each time they try to take a turn, and quickly enough we reach the forest's edge. Only now in the open do they seem to realize their mistake, and they swerve across the fields, away from the farm grounds, but it's too late – a yellow-and-blue blur swoops down from above at high speed and streaks past them, once again cutting them off. This time the stop is too abrupt and the two men barrel into each other, ending up sprawled on the ground. It was definitively the right move to have Alex keep watch over the farm – like I hoped he proved reactive and fast enough to help! And I'm suddenly reminded of the foal still clinging to my back when Dusky laughs right in my ears: “Yay! That was awesome! Can we do it again?” ... I won't indulge him with an answer. "Who are these guys?", Alex asks once he has caught his breath. "I don't know yet, but they're not supposed to be here.", I answer, my own chest still heaving, then turn my head toward my passenger: “Dusky, go find Fenchone, tell her to call Clémence immediately.” For some reason he seems to hesitate, pondering my order. “Dusky?” “Oh, of course!”, he finally blurts out, hopping from my back and flitting toward the farm. Now I can properly focus on these two guys still moaning on the ground... I'd say they're in their late thirties, one blond and the other with dark brown hair, both sporting some manner of patchy beard. They don't look especially muscular, and seeing them pant like they're going to spit their lungs out, I guess they're not too used to intense physical exertion. I don't leave them time to think once they begin to come around: “You have no business being here!”, I state sternly. “I would advise you to stay still and not try anything until the police comes to collect you!” “Alright, call the police..!”, Blondie whizzes as he tries to get up, even if his knee is clearly hurting. “I'm curious to see what they'll think of you..!” “That wasn't an empty threat.”, I correct him. “You are the ones trespassing, and it would be better for you to avoid worsening your case.” “Bullshit..!”, Brownie retorts, pushing himself upright, then helping Blondie do the same. “We'll see.”, I answer simply, still staring them down as they take stock of their situation. I think Brownie's still tempted to run away, but to his credit he stays by his injured friend. Despite their rough attitude, I'm not sure they're really a threat – not directly at least. I'll have to ask Clem to confiscate these cameras, just in case... As long as they don't do anything stupid, this shouldn't— Wait, why do they suddenly look afraid? What are they looking at? Making sure to still have them in my field of view as I glance behind me, I get a cold chill when I see what's making them fret so much: a bunch of ponies, the green cockatoo among them, converging on our position. Dammit, they must've seen us from the farm! I hope Clem doesn't take too long... Soon Alex and I serve more as guard detail for the two guys than anything else, as we're surrounded by angry-looking ponies. I've got some bad déjà vu from Toulouse, and I'm actually afraid that their blasted herd mentality could push them into doing something they shouldn't..! I spot Chard and Crispy in the mob, and I exchange a glance with the mare that I hope is meaningful enough: 'do not make the same mistakes again'. I think she understands, if her slight nod is really for me, and I hope she'll be able to take care of Chard – the stallion's been really volatile since yesterday. Bilberry is here too, and I remember that the young mare was a big help in Toulouse! But right now, even if she isn't outright aggressive toward the two men, she looks really unsure of herself, surrounded by her riled up friends... I soon have another contender for biggest troublemaker, however: “What are these humans doing here!?”, the cockatoo snarls. “Did they come to finish their dirty work!?” This gets a reaction from the others, of course, the exact kind I really, really don't want..! “We don't know that!”, I bark, instantly getting the attention of the pegasus portion of the mob and several others. “They were trying to get away, and they don't have any weapons on them – this is probably a coincidence!” “Whoever did that to our crops, they didn't do it with weapons..!”, a pegasus stallion sneers, and I'm shocked that it's none other than Luisard! Damn, I thought that stallion had a good head on his shoulders, now he's on the cockatoo's side!? “I've no idea what you're all talking about!”, claims Blondie. “We're just journalists, we only took some photos!” “See? This has nothing to do with the crops! So all of you, back off!”, I order the ponies, but they don't listen, and the cockatoo herself comes toward me, ears drawn back and wings ruffled: “And we should just take their word for it, his and the one of the self-proclaimed 'human' who defend them, that's it!?”, the mare keeps on ranting, almost nose-to-nose with me now! “The very same 'human' who's supposed to 'protect' us, and yet let all this happen!?” “What the hell are you doing..!”, I hiss. Is this mare completely insane!? “You won't take it from me, you bitch..!”, she seethes, her voice barely audible yet absolutely dripping with venom! What's her fucking problem!? She must realize that'd never end well for her or for any pony! “STOP! All of you!!”, comes Fenchone's sharp voice, at last..! The mob parts to let Fenchone, Vi, Amber and another unicorn get closer. My relief is short-lived, though, as when Fenchone sees the two humans, her face grows far more somber than I expected, her ears pulling almost all the way back! Please don't tell me Fenchone has gone off the deep end too!? “What's the meaning of this?”, she asks through gritted teeth, but instead of asking me, she turns to Crispy: “What are two humans doing in the middle of my fields?” “They... They claim to be journalists.”, Crispy answers; at least she learned to stop misrepresenting facts! “Do they have something to do with what happened..?”, questions the older mare with a tone I really don't like. “Not according to them. But I don't know if it's true or not...” This doesn't seem to change much for Fenchone, who's still staring at the two guys with overt suspicion, but what's when Vi steps forward: “We all need to calm down, please! Whoever these two persons are, if they have committed a crime they will not get away with it, I promise. But without tangible proof, we need to consider them innocent until proven otherwise!” Most of her unicorns nod in assent, but that does nothing to deter the pegasi and earth ponies, who clearly don't care much for Vi's legal advice... On the contrary, the mob grows even more rowdy, as if they wanted those two guys to be guilty! “Please, we mean you no harm, I swear!”, Blondie starts pleading, then goes for his camera, left on the ground: “I'll show you, it's—” He doesn't have the chance to get it, as the other pegasus stallion, Golden-whatever, blindsides an overwhelmed Alex and smashes his forehooves upon the camera, probably breaking it! Before the violent stallion has the opportunity to do anything else I interpose myself between him and the human, just daring him to try any more stupid stunt like that! Fortunately he does get the message just from my glare and backs off, but I know it's only a question of time before others imitate him... And I see only one solution. “Okay you idiots,” I snap to the two guys, immediately getting their attention, “you both stay close to me, you hear?” This time they're perfectly willing to listen – they probably don't like their alternatives – and I actually feel them holding on to my hoodie. I guess that'll do. I then beckon Alex to get closer. “We can't stay here, we have to move them to the house..!”, I whisper. “You with me..?” The stallion doesn't answer right away, and following his eyes I see that he's looking at Sassie, his fellow American, who has clearly no love for our two humans. Would he let her influence him..? I need someone else as backup, just in case. And I know only one other pony who can follow orders: “Amber?” The young unicorn is standing on the periphery of the mob, but just from how her ears perk I know she heard me. However, she has barely started worming her way toward us when her mother stops her! Oh goddammit Vi, not you too! I can't quite catch what they're saying, but Vi sounds worried, and Amber's eagerness to help seems to vanish all of a sudden. The filly draws back, looking despondent, and instead it's Vi who comes to me: “Need some help?” Well, I'm not about to look that gift pony in the mouth! “Yes, we have to move before someone do something even morestupid...” Vi nods, probably understanding my plan, and she, Alex and I start to escort the humans up toward the farm – slowly, because of Blondie's limp. Fenchone and the cockatoo stare daggers at us, but beyond following us closely, they thankfully don't try anything. On our way we also have the very timid support of some unicorns, but also of Bilberry, who finally got out of her funk, and, to my surprise, from the teal pegasus filly, Misty-something. Both help keeping the most aggressive ponies at a safe distance, all the way to the house. Here we're greeted by Ivan Vallières, standing like an angry guardian on the threshold of his home: “Who are you and what are you doing on my land?”, he asks the two men with unprecedented coldness in his voice. It's enough to make them both gulp. “We, er, we were just taking some photos, sir!”, Blondie is quick to explain. “We didn't know that there was someone still living here!” I have a hard time believing it, and I doubt Ivan would be more gullible than I am, but I catch the old man looking behind our two intruders, at the throng of angry ponies, and I'm pretty sure that's what decides him in allowing access to the house: “You may come in. We will wait for the police together.” The two guys don't waste a single second before rushing inside, to the boos of ponies... who all quickly shut up when Ivan switches his focus on them, and his granddaughter in particular: “Annie, you better calm your horses and keep them out of my house, you hear? I'll have no lynch mob on my land either.” Fenchone nods, albeit reluctantly. “You two, you come with me.”, Ivan adds, to Vi and I. “You're on warden duty, I don't trust these 'photographers'.” I wouldn't have it any other way. The two men are forced to sit on the living room's tiles. Violette and I can enjoy the carpet, while Ivan and Jeannette take their place on their couch. “We already called, they should be here in a matter of minutes.”, Jeannette apprises us. “In the meantime I'd appreciate some answers.”, her husband adds. “And the truth, this time.” Maybe it's because they are now unmistakably confronted to humans, but Blondie looks a lot less sure of himself now: “I... My name is Nicolas Rouquet, I'm an independent journalist, and this is my friend, Marc. We, er, we were working on a subject on the avian fauna of the region, and we stumbled completely by accident on—” “Oh shut up, man..!”, Brownie, or Marc, grumbles. “They don't buy it, and I won't let you drag me down with you!” Despite the angry glare from his 'friend', Mark goes on: “From what he told me, two weeks ago Nico saw what he calls a 'Ropen' or something, and he tracked it down to around here.” “Don't tell them that..!”, the 'journalist' hisses, but Marc doesn't seem to mind much. “He found your place after checking around, and heard you were buying food in bulk. Then one day, he calls me, showing me this picture...” Pulling out his phone, he shows it to me specifically, and my eye goes wide. It's me. It's a photo of me, or at least how I look with this body. Not a very good one, though, as it was taken at night, under the rain, and from a distance. I probably wouldn't be much more than a dark blob if he hadn't used a flash, and— Oh now I remember..! That was the night of the big storm! It's when I got out by the front door, to check why it was open! So then... “So it's your footprints that I found!” The journalist doesn't answer, but he doesn't need to. I haven't finished with him, though: “I demand for any picture of me in your possession to be erased. I never gave my consent for them.” “What!?”, he finally reacts. “I can't do that!” “Then the police will do it for you.”, Vi notes offhandedly. “By the way, do anyone else know where this photo was taken?” “No...”, he answers, reluctantly. “I wasn't going to reveal the location just like that!” “Let me guess... All the easier to maintain some sort of 'exclusivity'..?”, Ivan asks, but the journalist doesn't answer. I turn to the most verbose of the two: “And you really have nothing to do with all our crops suddenly dying?” “Yes, I swear!”, Marc confirms right away. “We didn't even know about it before this morning, and we don't have any reason to try to poison you or something!” “It... It could be the others, though...”, his friend mutters. “'Others'? What 'others'?” “Last weekend I... I was doing some spotting, and I saw a couple men lurking around in the forest. I don't know what they were doing, or even if they saw any of you, they could've just been looking for mushrooms or whatever, but... Well, there's that.” One mystery solved, and another one still pending, then... “And you wouldn't have a picture of these men, by any chance?” “Yes, I made a copy. And, er...” The man sighs, and his cagey demeanor erodes a bit: “I really don't want anything to happen to you! Whatever you are, you're a fantastic discovery, and if I can help, well... I'll do that, I guess.” “That's good to hear, Nicolas.”, Vi smiles. I can only hope that he's honest, and that Clem could do something with that photo. These two proved to be harmless in the end, if I don't count the reactions they induced in the ponies, but they demonstrated something quite evidently: we're not as isolated, or safe, as we were led to believe... Amber's View I re-read the same paragraph for what must be the third time... And a third time, I lose focus before even reaching the end..! Gosh I just can't focus on anything tonight! The events of this morning inevitably start to crop up again in my mind... Laurence asked for my help to protect these two humans, and I wanted to help! What the others were doing wasn't right, but all of them against me, I didn't know what to do... Until she gave me a chance to do the right thing, and I jumped on it! Only for Mom to tell me 'no'... She was too afraid that it'd all go downhill, and she didn't want me in the thick of things if that happened. I can understand her point of view, but... But why did I have to cave in so easily? I knew what was the right thing to do, and yet when she told me 'no', I... I... I close the book, and get up from my pillow. I can't go on like this. Rummaging through my backpack, I levitate my pocket handheld mirror. I've used it so many times these past few years to check if my makeup didn't need fixing on the job, when the quality of said makeup was tantamount to passing for a girl, but now it takes on a different symbolic role. Shuffling towards the most secluded corner of our side of the barn, I sit facing the wall, and take the little mirror between my hooves. Unlatching the lid, I'm greeted both by my own face, and by that of Amber Spire... I know that she probably can't see me the way I'm watching her, but maybe, if some part of her consciousness still lives somewhere inside me, she will hear what I have to say. ... Things came to a head today, Amber... I'm afraid that just waiting for my brain to slowly sort itself out won't cut it anymore. Today I couldn't do the right thing. Not because it was hard to do, or I didn't have the opportunity to do so. Only because Mom told me not to, and it felt too big a hassle to argue. I'll admit that maybe, in the past, I may've acted like that. When it was easier to hide than to confront what my parents would have to say... Gosh how often I could, and sometimes still, have nightmares where I'm forced to explain I'm trans..! But that was in the past. I learned how to fend for myself, how to fight for myself and what I wanted. I'd have let myself die in a gutter, otherwise... I learned how to make tough choices, and to own up to my decisions, whatever they were. It's from this that I discovered how to respect myself. How to love myself. How I became my own person. Why did you have to rob me of that, Amber? Is it who you are? A weak-willed, happy-go-lucky filly? So as long as she didn't say “no” outright, that there was some kind of plausible deniability even if you knew she didn't like it, seeing Luisard and Laurence was A-okay, but now that you're caught you just shrug and comply? How did you ever make it into the Royal Guard, seriously..? Or am I just taking the easy way out, putting all the blame on you..? Is it just a convenient excuse to say 'I can't do anything about it', in these conditions? I'd like to think that's not the case, and as I know for a fact that you can influence me, I suppose it's a valid hypothesis. Sometimes I just can't understand you, after all. How can you be a perfectionist, and yet skirt doing the right thing so easily? And if you're so afraid to have to make difficult decisions, why do I feel this need for taking on new responsibilities, for proving my worth in the eyes of others? I always avoided asking for more responsibilities than those I felt deeply about, and only my own eyes ever mattered to me, so I'm pretty sure this comes from you. Not everything is as clear-cut, though... What is me, and what is you? What is me as expressed through your prism? All these little internal contradictions confirm that our differences are real, even if I can't always put my hoof on them. Are our respective mindsets so incompatible? Is it why I'm feeling so out of sorts lately? At first I thought you only gave me your optimism, but, after almost four weeks since I gained your cutie mark, will even more aspects of you keep coming to the surface? Are you, slowly but surely, taking over..? I just can't let you turn me into you, Amber. Sure, you've kinda already done that with my body, but it'll stop here. Like I said, I've learned how to fight for myself. I won't let myself fade away so easily. Who knows, you could learn a thing or two in the process, too, and you could stop being such an airhead. The first lesson is simple: always, always, do what you feel is right; and if the rest of the world isn't happy about it, fight them every step of the way. Be yourself, be your choices. And it begins right now..! Closing the mirror shut, I walk back towards our main area, sending it back into my backpack as I go. Mom is still trying to work with Tinkerbolt on their plant spell idea, even if it hasn't produced any useful result yet. I'd rather not bother them while they're busy, but I can't let my resolve be so easily trumped! “Mom?”, I ask as I arrive in front of them. “Hm?” She looks up from their incomprehensible notes. “Yes honey, can I do something for you?” Tinker doesn't say anything, but her glare screams “leave us alone, you arcane ignoramus”. Well excuse me that she's my mom! Go back to playing with your 'spells' on your own for a bit, and try to not put everything on fire like last time! Wish I could show you my laser beam, you'd see just how much I... Darn, Mom's frowning now, can't let Tinker distract me any longer! I force myself to say exactly what I want to say, not some toned down, safer version: “Mom, I wanted to tell you that I'll go with Laurence for her last patrol today.” Since we learned that humans may visit the forest, straying too far from the farm grounds is forbidden until the authorities can sort that out, but at the same time, Laurence and Alex have been patrolling even more intensively than before, just in case. After failing Laurence this morning, patrolling with her wouldn't be much more than a token gesture, I know, but it'd also give me some time to discuss things with her... I know she understands what I'm going through. Mom blinks, probably not expecting that. “Please excuse me Tinker, I need to speak with my daughter.” Without another word she heads for the more private corner, and I follow after her, leaving the pudgy magic-obsessed unicorn behind to fume all she wants. Once we're far enough, Mom turns to me and— “I'm sorry Amber, but this is out of the question.” Stopping myself from outright whining, I only let out a simple: “Why?” “Because we can't risk worsening even more our already shaky relationship with Keensight's pegasi.”, she answers like its obvious. “They disliked you before, and I don't want to give them any further justification for going after you. That means no more hanging out with Luisard I'm afraid, and no more training sessions with Laurence either; the forest isn't safe enough as it is anyway. I'm sorry honey, but with how explosive things are right now, the last place I want you to be is right in the middle of all these tensions. You understand?” Of course I understand... It makes sense, too, so... I'm not gonna argue with her just for that. Wait. It's happening again..! It's just like this morning, when she stopped me! Right now I feel like it's a bad idea to go against Mom. It's because what she said is logical, right? How would it feel, then, to still refuse to back down? What would I experience, standing in front of Mom, and refusing to comply..? ... Oh. I'm surprised to recognize the emotions dredged up by this little mental exercise. It's an old friend, even. Reject. Fear of reject. Is it fear that, if I don't do what she tells me to... Maybe even if I don't behave like she expects me to... She'd reject me? Yes... I understand, now. Against that fear, it's just easier to forget everything. To let myself regress. To just be Amber Spire. The daughter Violette expects. To stop being me, because being me is just too dangerous. But that won't happen. I'm Amber, but I'm also Ambre. It's Ambre's weakness, that fear of experiencing a second time the rejection of my mother... Is it what pushes so much of Amber to the surface, smothering everything else? Eh... And here I thought, that losing my family was something I'd made peace with. The choice is clear and simple, then. Do I take the risk? I want to do the right thing. And the right thing, in this case, it to not let the fear win... “No, Mom.” “No?”, she repeats, confused. “I...” Come on Amber, or Ambre, or whatever, you can do it! “I will go patrol with Laurence.” She frowns, and my ears start to swivel back. “I thought I'd made myself clear, Amber... I allowed some leeway at first, but the situation has changed.” Okay, here we go: “I understand the risks, Mom.”, I counter with as calm and collected a voice I can manage. “You know I do. Just as you know that I am capable and responsible, after what happened in Toulouse. And besides, Amber Spire was a Royal Guard, she knew how to defend herself, and I inherited some of that.” She blinks in surprise. “I... Yes, I know that you aren't helpless, Amber, but... It's just that since then you've been, well...” “Less mature?”, I provide. “Well yes, in a sense, but you also seem so much happier now! I'm trying my best to be a good, responsible mother, I only want the best for you!” “Then we must find our happy medium...”, I answer softly, recalling Laurence's words. “I love you, Mom, but it was wrong to let myself regress like this. I think I need to start acting like an adult again, and regain my responsibilities instead of basically transferring them to you. And likewise, I...” That next part is hard to get past my lips, as the fear of offending her, of making her push me away, is still so strong... “I suppose you shouldn't need to worry so much about me, you know..?” A dozen horrible scenarios start flitting in my head, how the many varied ways she could reject me, burn away what little heart I have left, but instead, she sighs, and smiles: “I'll be honest Amber, I'm happy to hear it.” ... What, really!? “Er, what do you mean..?” “I hope this won't be too difficult to hear, honey,” she warns me, chewing at her lower lip, “but you have to understand that, well, I'm not used to be a mother, and to have to juggle all that is happening right now in my life and my relationship with you at the same time... I tried to adapt, to provide what you seemed to expect from me, but it seems we weren't exactly on the same page, were we..?” Hearing that, it... It does sadden me a little, realizing that I was putting her in even more stress than she already had to deal with, and of course that fires up the fear of being abandoned, but... But I have to see it as it is: she's trusting me with her own feelings, like two adults can do! “I suppose we rushed things a little, yes...”, I finally answer, the flurry of emotions starting to slowly recede. She offers a hug, and I accept without reserve, holding my Mom tight. We clearly have to figure exactly what our happy medium is, but it's definitively a good step in the right direction! “Oh, and concerning that patrol...”, she tells me as we pull away from each other, “please, not tonight Amber... Tomorrow, during the day, if you want, but now it's already sunset, and I wouldn't be able to focus on my work if I know you're outside at this hour...” Well, I suppose I can concede the point this time... But only because I know I've won this battle, even if it was mainly waged against myself! “Okay Mom, but I still have to go to the little fillies' room, if that's okay.” “Of course it is, but I expect you to take all the necessary precautions!”, she winks slyly. I nod with a giggle, and I trot out of the barn, a spring in my step. Like Mom said, the sun's setting, bathing the farm in warm, orange light. My own shadow spreads long in front of me as I turn in direction of the latrines, and as I get under the cover of the trees I need to light my horn once or twice to see where I'm putting my hooves. The farm's silent at this hour. Almost everypony's already lounging in the barn after all, except for Laurence and Alex, who must be somewhere in the forest right now. I'm not sure patrolling like that's so effective, but it's still reassuring. All the same I don't especially fancy being outside all alone like that, so once I'm done with my business, I— I freeze, the sound of something alighting between me and the farm grounds. Could... Could it just be a pegasus..? I mean, sure I should've been able to hear them as they flew over, but I was focused on something else, that's all! Heck, I'm pretty sure it must be Luisard, he likes surprising me! So I turn. And my heart skips a beat when I face this shadowy silhouette haloed by the sun's fiery light, large semi-transparent wings being pulled back against the sides of a body I can barely make out. The creature steps forward, and I instinctively step back. It stops, to my great relief, and we stay like this, both motionless, for a moment that feels like an eternity. Would somepony hear me, if I screamed? Would they get here in time? Could I defend myself? I still haven't mastered my laser beam, but even an incomplete one can be impressive enough to intimidate! Breathing deeply, I start channeling magic into my horn, but I lose all my focus when the glow of my magic shines brightly in the creature's eyes, revealing them to be very much like a cat's! What is this thing!? Gathering all the courage I've left, I channel again, and this time I manage to hold it past the surprise. And a surprise it is, because beyond these uncomfortably reflective, slit eyes, it's the face of a pony I find..! As the sun starts to disappear below the horizon and my own eyes get used to the half-light, I can see she's a mare, somewhat older than I and yet of a more petite stature, of greenish coat and pale yellow mane. A mane that's a real disaster, it has to be said: long but unkempt, obscuring parts of her face in a not-so-harmonious manner. “Er... Hello..?”, I try. ... No answer... The strange mare keeps on looking at me, though her eyes move fast, and I can't quite meet her gaze. “You are the angry mare's friend, you are, right..?”, the mare finally whispers in a high-pitched but trembling voice. 'Angry mare'..? “Er, excuse me, but, what are you talking about?” “The angry mare, you know..!”, she repeats, stomping a hoof as if it was me who's slow. “You spent the storm together, and you talked, I remember she wasn't angry with you..!” Storm... Oh wait! “Are you talking about Laurence?” My only answer's a cocked head, so I try to be more precise: “The blue pegasus with a pink mane, and only one eye?” “That's the angry mare!”, the strange pony nods enthusiastically, making me notice her unusually large and tuft-pointed ears. “She's your friend and you are hers, right?” “Well, yes, we're friend, do... Do you want to talk to her..?” “Yes please!”, the mare grins widely. “I'm hunted and I hereby request to be placed under her protection for the foreseeable future, as she protects everybody!” “Hunted?”, I repeat. Is she hunted by humans? “What's hunting you?” “An even angrier pony, a big one..!”, she whispers again, as if afraid of being heard now. “He says I did something wrong, but I didn't..! I swear, they started to show the day before yesterday..!” ... Well, the second part I'm not exactly sure yet, but the first? Angry, big, and a 'he'? I don't see too many candidates: “The big one, he has a green mane and he's a farmer, right?” “Yes! Yes yes yes yes yes!”, she all but chants, seemingly delighted that I've managed to parse through her words. “He's hunting me..!” “But why would Chard... Oh wait, are you the sleep-gardener!?” She cocks her head again. “Sleep-gardener? Well I garden when you sleep, so I suppose this is accurate, yes.” Wow, so she really does exist! Maybe she'll be able to help us, then! “You bring me to the angry mare now, please? I know you know the way.”, the mare nods sagely. “Well yes, with pleasure!”, I laugh. I finally dare moving closer to her, but I must do it very slowly, otherwise each step in her direction, she steps back away from me. As I'm almost able to touch her, I finally take full notice of her wings, and what bizarre wings these are! Bony and leathery, pretty much like a bat's, or a dragon's... I've never seen a pony even remotely like her! She's constantly rubbing her wings along her barrel, as if she were cold or itchy. Now that I'm close enough, I progressively lift a forehoof, without any sudden movement, and present if for a hoofshake. The mare looks clueless for an instant, before lifting her own hoof, and gingerly getting it closer to my own. There's a couple false starts, as her hoof contacts but she pulls it away quickly as if she were burned, until she presses her frog firmly against mine, making her giggle for some reason. “I'm Amber, it's nice to meet you.”, I smile. Always finding ways to surprise me, the mare then starts shaking my hoof vigorously, looking as giddy as can be: “Hi Amber! My new name is Pippinstrelle!”