Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.1

by Alsey

24 – Equine Surprise

I clutch the pillow tighter against my chest. A paltry comfort, in the quiet darkness of the barn, but I don't want to risk waking Mom by snuggling any closer.

At least this weird dream is a clear improvement over being cursed by Discord again and again... I don't remember that well what goes on, though. I'm somewhere, a somewhere that's kind of familiar, I'm certain. And yet, from the details lingering in my mind's eye, it feels more like a motley of various places. Some are real, like my old bedroom, others imagined, like how I always pictured the cold chambers of the keep where Tamír spent her childhood. I suppose this shouldn't be so surprising, coming from a dream...

One thing I'm sure about: it has to do with this power I discovered yesterday. Flashes of blue and purple in my dream, bursts of aura sharing those very same colors when I flex my new magical muscle, it can't be a coincidence.

And as for the root cause... It must be the cave, I have no other explanation.

Something happened to me down there, something that affected my magic. What it could be, I can't say; my only hypotheses are based on fantasy concepts like ley lines or ancient places of power, things I'm not sure have any basis in reality... And from the episodes I watched, I don't recall seeing anything of the sort in that pony cartoon either.

I can't doubt that this is still very real, though. The more I flex this muscle, the easier it is to call upon its strength, to direct its wild energy as I see fit. I'm sure that with some more training this could become an incredible boost to my magic! Gosh, that would really change things for me, and for my mission..!

But what if this is only temporary? Or if it only works here, close to the cave?

I need to know more... I need to be sure!

Last night I was already telling myself that I should go back to the cave sooner or later, and now I'm even more convinced it's a necessity. I wasn't really planning on going so early in the morning, though...

But I must not be noticed, going now is better. So... Even if sleeping in is tempting, I suppose there's no time like the present!

Slowly, I raise my head, looking around. Everypony's still asleep, even Chard for once; this is the perfect opportunity. Getting to my hooves, I shuffle as quietly as I can towards the corner where we store our bags and other effects, and retrieve my crank-powered flashlight. It has seen better days, but it was my only reliable source of light when I was on the street, and it's just what I need now. I don't know what's waiting for me down there, and it's better to reserve my magic... So, flashlight held in my mouth, I make my way outside.

The weather is cloudy, the night dark and humid. We're about an hour from dawn, but it'd be a mistake to drop my guard and hurry just yet. I know Pippin must be lurking around, with eyes that pierce the shadows and big fluffy ears, and I can't take the risk of her ratting me out, or worse, following me.

I've rounded the barn, light on my hooves, and with still no sign of the bat-mare, I chance breaking into a trot as I enter the pitch-black woods. My trusty compass works overtime to guide me safely through the trees, until I feel the ground rising under my steps. Now that the farm is well behind me, I allow myself five minutes to stop and turn the flashlight's crank with my hooves, charging it to full. Even then it's not very powerful, just enough to light two or three meters in front of me at most, but it'll do. The terrain will get increasingly traitorous as I continue, and I'm not pushing my luck any further than I already have.

The rest of the journey is uneventful, aside from being startled a couple times by critters scurrying around. I arrive in view of the sinkhole, and make my way cautiously to the bottom via the landslip. The mouth of the tunnel is still here, creepy as ever, flanked by the rotten remains of the tree.

It's time for another short cranking session, just in case. No way I'm venturing back in there otherwise! This whole scenario already sounds far too much like the setup for a horror story...

Gosh, to think I could be relaxing in bed right now, instead of exploring strange caves..!

Oh come on, don't think about it that way, Amber! You're looking for answers, and you won't find them by just laying around! The mission the Princess gave you is a lot scarier than whatever could lie ahead, and she wouldn't have given it to you if she didn't believe you have what it takes to succeed!

This is... This is like a test, really! A test, to prove myself! And if all goes well... Maybe this stronger magic will be a permanent reward!

Yes, I'm sure of it.

My mind made up, I enter the tunnel.

Reaching the chasm chamber doesn't take as much time as it did yesterday, now that I know what to expect. In fact, apart from less water dripping all over, and the gray stone not being tinted by my aura, nothing of note has changed here.

Still cold, dark, and spooky, as caves are wont to be.

Maybe... Maybe I need to, I don't know, try to commune with the place?

Search my feelings?

Pray..?

Or I could check on my right. It's true that I, er, haven't explored this side of the chamber yet...

Turning the flashlight in that direction, I don't see much of anything, just more featureless floor, but if I—

... Wait I'm not imagining things, there's really something shiny over there!

Closing the distance, I discover it's much more than that: racks of putrefied wood, organized like bookcases, what may once have been a desk or table, rotten to pieces, and here, half-buried in all this decrepitude, a metallic object. The telltale smell of decay is very faint, though; this must have been here for a good long while...

I seize the object in my aura, splinters of old wood turning to dust at the disturbance, and my eyes widen as I pull it free. It's an elaborate chalice, probably made of silver, and with fine enameled ornaments..!

My crazy idea of having found the Holy Grail is squashed, however, when I take a closer look at the enamel figures adorning the chalice. Despite the effects of age and the slight stylization, I can tell they're unicorns, but not the lion-tailed, deer-hoofed medieval kind. No, they're ponies, and are even wearing clothes!

Did... Did this thing come from Equestria!?

Setting down the impossible chalice, I peruse the other remains for any additional sign of their otherworldly origins, but it's in vain. There was once books and scrolls on the shelves, though sadly they all shared the same fate as the wooden furniture. The only other artifacts are an empty, cracked glass inkwell, and multiple bits and pieces of metal too rusted to identify. I would've thought that the stable environment of a cave could have been a plus for preservation... Alas, this wasn't the case.

But if this is all really from Equestria... What is it doing here, of all places? If I'm to trust the Princess, some kind of way between worlds must exist, so... Is this tunnel actually working as a portal? Or if I'm still on Earth, did somepony bring this chalice with them, all the way from Equestria? Or did a human once visit Equestria, alternatively? That would've been ages ago, and for what reason? Perhaps this is all just a cruel trick from Discord...

There could be more clues, elsewhere in the cave.

Waving my flashlight around, I notice that the furniture closest to the chasm is toppled over. Not like the desk or the bookshelves lining the chamber's walls, which rotted standing up; these ones fell before they had a chance to decay...

And on the other side?

On the other side of the chasm... I still can't see much from here though. Maybe if I levitated the flashlight closer?

I drop it from my mouth into the hold of my aura, working my jaw for an instant to relieve the tension, then lift the device over my head and push it forward. It clears the first meter or so beyond the chasm's edge without problem, but just a little more and I'm forced to quickly pull it back to me before it slips from my magic! And this is clearly not my fault, it's like my magic was disrupted or something, losing the feel of contact with the flashlight and my horn getting all pins and needles!

Could it be some kind of magical barrier? It would support the Equestrian connection, at the very least, but if anything that makes me all the more curious to see what's on the other side!

I try again, keeping the flashlight firmly into the 'safe zone' this time, and like I hoped, I get a better view of what lays beyond the chasm. Well, mostly because 'a little' is always better than 'not at all'...

The face of the rocky cliff is full of jagged edges and smaller cracks, which would confirm that the formation of the chasm was quite violent; it truly gives the impression of the ground having been ripped apart. As for what's on the floor, mostly level with my side, from the couple meters' worth of visibility I have I can make out some hazy, undetermined pieces of furniture, probably in just as bad a shape as those I've already found. The light catches some reflective objects here and there, though I can't identify them at this distance. There's this tall thing in the middle, an—

I almost drop the flashlight as I recoil from the chasm, a strangled whinny escaping my throat!

What the heck was that thing!?

It– it was about pony size, and whitish, and– and looked like a motherfreakin' ghost!!

But ghosts aren't real, right!?

... Oh yeah, just like magic and unicorns, stupid..!

Calm down Amber, there's... There's no reason to be afraid! You are the one with the magic here, what's a ghost gonna do against that, right? And for all you know that wasn't a ghost at all, just a marble statue, or even a piece of fabric over a chair, something like that!

If it really is a ghost... Maybe it's friendly? If it is, well, 'was' a pony, then it can't be that bad, right? It could even have the answers I seek...

No two ways about it, I have to get to the bottom of what's happening here.

My trembling legs are hard to convince, but I eventually force myself back on the edge of the chasm, flashlight held high.

Some part of me hoped that it would've vanished, but no, the thing is still here. I can quickly confirm that it's both pony-sized and mostly pony-shaped too, almost all of its features obscured by a long cloak or cape. It stays completely still though, so it's probably just an insanely creepy sta—

The figure lifts a foreleg, before bringing its hoof down. A sharp and distinct 'clop' echoes through the cave.

... Buck.

BuckbuckbuckbuckBUCK!!

I– I really don't want to stay here but I know I must!

No, I—

It's okay, they're on the other side, they can't hurt me!

B– but what if it can!? I've no idea what this thing is, for all I know it could hex me from afar, or worse! I really don't need another curse, and I haven't gone through the most convoluted sex change imaginable just to die now!!

Yet they haven't done anything aggressive, only signaled their presence. Maybe they just want to communicate..?

I...

Well maybe, but...

I still need answers. I need to know more about this power. I need to learn how to control it better, I can't risk disappointing the Princess. I can't risk failing!

Not when the others are all counting on me...

Of course not. This is for them!

So... I should at least give it a chance. This... ghost or whatever it really is could know what's the deal with this cave. Maybe it could even know of a way to Equestria...

... And if it still tries something fishy, I'll fry it with a laser!

All right then, deep breaths Amber, deep breaths... How should we go about this?

It didn't talk or anything, so... “Hey..?”, I call, voice cracking pitifully. “If you can hear me just, er, just clop once for 'no', and twice for 'yes', okay? Do you understand?”

Please-don't-clop, please-don't-clop, please-don't-clop..!

The ghost doesn't care for my silent plea, and its hoof strikes the floor twice.

*sigh*

No turning back now, I suppose. At least resignation brings some measure of calm and detachment...

“Okay, great. So, er... Are you from Equestria?”

Two clops again!

Gosh it's true then, there's really a link between this cave and Equestria! Well, if the ghost is clopping the truth, that is...

“Is there a portal here?”

Only one clop this time. It'd have been too easy...

How did it get here then? It can't be an accident. “Did you come here to help us?”

And just a single clop, less sharp than the preceding ones, almost reluctant, as if the ghost wished it could've said 'yes'...

Then... What is it doing in this cave? Between how deteriorated everything is and the ancient-looking chalice, it's obvious that ponies haven't lived here for quite some time. Conversely, this implies that ponies knew of this world before Discord attacked; heck, for all I know, the legends of Pegasus and unicorns could be evidence of past interactions between ponies and humans? But again, in that case it must have been centuries ago, long enough for truth to become myth...

Maybe calling this being a 'ghost' is more appropriate than I thought.

“Are you stuck here..?”

The ghost clops twice, and I can almost feel the sadness and the longing radiating from it as it does so...

How long did it– did they have to wait, all alone in this dreary cavern, for somepony to finally find them..?

“Do you... Do you need help?”

Their 'yes' is far more eager this time! But... I'm not a medium or a shaman or whatever, I don't have the first idea what to do with ghosts and spirits..!

Not that I have much more experience with living, breathing ponies anyway... That's just my luck, really! I come here in the hope of finding a solution to my problems, and I'm saddled with even more responsibilities instead!

“I'm sorry, I... I'm not sure I can help...”, I'm forced to admit. “Maybe you could...”

The rest of my sentence doesn't reach past my lips, as I notice something. There's a peculiar glow, barely visible through the old cloth, where their head would be. On a hunch, I avert the beam of my flashlight slightly, and that glow becomes easier to recognize.

Blue, and purple.

“It's you!”, I blurt out. “You're the one who gave me that magic!”

Two decisive clops come in response. Of course, I should've thought of this sooner! Who but another Equestrian would've been able to share their strength with me so readily?

“I... I don't know why you did it, but thank you! I felt so lost, and helpless, and afraid, and... And you gave me hope, hope that I really have what it takes! This is just what I needed, and... Well, minus the strange dreams perhaps, but that's a very small price to pay!” I would continue to babble but fortunately I catch myself, remembering why I had to come here in the first place: “Though I must tell you, I have this mission, this thing I, well... This thing I'm kinda in over my head. I'm supposed to guide ponies back to Equestria, and—”

The ghost surprises me with a quick double clop. Did I talk too much? No, that probably would've been 'no', not 'yes', so do they approve, or...

“Do you... You want to come with us, right?”

Just as I thought, the ghost immediately stomps twice; gosh the hope and eagerness are palpable!

“Well I... I have to be honest with you, I don't know yet how we will get back to Equestria, or when; there's still so many problems to solve on that front... But I promise, you'll come with us, I won't leave you here! It's the least I can do, after you helped me!”

Though I'm back to my latest problem: how do you help a ghost of all things? In fiction lingering spirits usually require that you deal with the stuff they left unfinished, or discover the cause of their death, and so on...

“Do you know what I should do, for you I mean..?”

They lift their foreleg, but instead of clopping, they perform a slight back and forth motion, like... Like they need to cross the chasm!

“Is that it? You need to get from your side to mine, right?”

A double clop confirms it.

“Okay, that's a lot simpler than I feared! I suppose you would've already left if there were an exit on your side, of course... So, er... I'm not sure how to do that..? But I'll find a solution, I swear! Can you hang on for just a little while longer?”

They clop twice, certainly far more patient with me than I would be if our roles were reversed, but I feel like I can't stay much longer right now. I must've been out for more than half an hour, and I can't risk anypony noticing I'm gone.

“I have to go, but I'll keep thinking about it, and I'll come back, don't worry! And thank you again!”

The ghost makes no move to hold me, so I take my leave, hurrying through the tunnel and back to the bottom of the sinkhole. I'm relieved to see it's barely the beginning of twilight, if I don't waste time I shouldn't have any issue getting back to the barn before the early risers open their eyes!

As I climb up the landslip, flashlight bobbing alongside me, I can't help but think about what I could say if somepony caught me outside. I suppose the easiest excuse would be that I was just relieving my bladder, as long as they don't see me coming from deeper in the woods. If that were the case, maybe I could claim... Er, I don't know...

Would it be so terrible, if somepony else knew..? Maybe I should tell Mom and the others, this is an important discovery, and they could help me find a solution!

No.

They don't have to know, it doesn't concern them.

Well, maybe not directly, sure, but...

No, they're already not helping for the mission that concerns them, they won't help for this one either!

It's true..! Mom told us to just wait for Antoine to get here, that they could solve our problems then, but talking all day long with him isn't doing anything, while I have to keep telling ponies to be patient, that I will sort things out, that I will still guide them to Equestria! If I ever tell them about this...

They could say they should be in charge that for this too... They could try to grab that power for themselves..!

But it's my mission, my responsibility!

I'm the one who needs this power! The one who deserves it the most!

And I'll show them, in time...

... Thanks to my new ally!

Ugh...

Why does morning always have to come so early..?

Just like there's always a random ray of light that manages to fall right over my eyes...

I shift on my cot. A short night again, though it was a dreamless one, and that's all that matters. The waking world is already complicated enough on its own without adding the nightmares into the mix... Pippin could probably see how upset I was, during the hours we spent together in the garage. I'm grateful that, as usual, she didn't pry.

But of course, because I must hate myself, my gaze has to wander towards Crispy...

She's still asleep, next to Fleur and Sassie, and—

Aww...

Despite everything I can't help but smile, seeing the little pony snoozing along with the trio. It's Follavoine, our youngest, using Crispy's barrel like a big warm pillow. The filly must've gone out to relieve herself while I was sleeping, it wouldn't be the first time she ended up snuggling with the first pony she found on her way back.

It's criminally cute, but I can't fault Follavoine – this spot is particularly soft and comfy... She certainly seems to think so too, from the serene, contented smile on her little snout.

Better enjoying it while it lasts, 'cause I doubt Crispy will appreciate the unexpected company. She doesn't really like spending time with foals, so this is one of the very rare chances to see her in this kind of adorable scene. And it's funny, Follavoine's coat color could almost pass for a mix of Crispy's and mine.

...

Maybe, some years down the line, or at least after we'd be back in Equestria... We could've thought about extending the family..?

*snort*

Yeah. I definitely hate myself...

Even if it still mattered, what poor creature would two awful, broken ponies like us give life to, huh..?

Anyway...

Ponies around me are beginning to stir, Crispy among them. She quickly notices the filly against her, and as expected she looks quite a bit peeved by this invasion of privacy.

I chuckle, seeing how Follavoine responds to being shaken awake: by groaning and huggling the mare's barrel even more tightly. Crispy won't have help from her friends either, Sassie's still out and Fleur looks on with an amused smile. She has no choice but to admit defeat with a long-suffering sigh, giving in to the ghastly fate of acting as a foal's pillow for the next five minutes or so...

My estimate goes out the window, however, when Follavoine gasps dramatically and pulls away from Crispy. “You've been naughty!”, she giggles at the confused mare, small hoof pointed accusingly.

Fleur stops the excited filly before she has a chance to pronk away: “Now that wasn't very nice Voine, why did you—”

Her answer is to whisper something into Fleur's ear... who then stares with wide eyes at Crispy, the foal all but forgotten.

Uh..?

I'm not the only pony looking on curiously as Fleur goes to Crispy, and lays her head, ear-first, against my mare's chubby barrel.

This...

Naaaah, of course not, that's...

That'd be ridiculous! And just plain impossible!! She must've eaten something that didn't agree with her and her stomach's gurgling like crazy, that's so much more logical than any alternative!

Crispy naturally has the most 'what the hay' expression on her face as Fleur keeps on listening for what is definitely not happening in her guts. Yet the ponies snooping around seem to get the incredibly totally wrong idea about this situation, casting awkward glances from Crispy to me and back to Crispy, and the kicker is when Fleur finally pulls back and glares at me like it's my fault or something!

She can't actually be thinking what I think she's thinking!?

With all this nonsense, Crispy's confusion soon gives place to annoyance: “May I have some kind of explanation, if that's not too much to ask?”

“I thought you said that was a big no-no..!”, Fleur answers, sounding utterly baffled.

That doesn't help, surprisingly.“What..?”

“Oh come on, don't play coy..!”, her friend grumbles, before she notices the attention she's attracting on them – on us. Fleur continues in hushed whispers, but even then, I can still recognize how her lips move to form my name...

“Me and Sweetchard..?”, Crispy repeats out loud as she stands up, not caring at all for Fleur's game.

I crawl closer, almost despite myself – I need to be sure!

Fleur's next sentence is hard to make out, but Crispy's answer is clear enough: “If by 'it' you mean what I think you mean... First, gross, and second, dear God no!!”

Oh please don't tell me they're talking about that..!

I'm close enough to hear the whispers now: “But... I don't get it, were you pregnant before the change then..?”

No no no no no no, she said it!!

“We were both men before the change, remember? So that's...” And then Crispy's eyes go wide as she fully processes Fleur's words: “Wait you said PREGNANT!?”

Not so loud for buck's sake!! Now everypony's looking at us!!

The younger mare wilts under Crispy's burning glare: “I, uh... Well, it's just, Voine told me, and I thought I heard two heartbeats, and—”

“You're wrong!”, Crispy barks, teeth bared! “You're wrong, wrong, wrong, WRONG!!”

I pull myself to my hooves and stagger to my mare's side, seeing how tense and out of breath the outburst has left her. Heck, she's so upset that the emotions seeped right into her scent – I can smell plainly just how panicked she feels!

“Come on Fleur, she can't be pregnant!” I then turn to Crispy, trying to sound collected in spite of my mounting dread: “Calm down honeybunch, I'm sure she's wrong. We both know that's impossible, right?”

It takes a couple seconds before she acknowledges my presence, and when she does, she presses her shoulder against my chest, trembling like a leaf and with tears rising at the corners of her eyes: “You... Yes, you're right..! Of course you are..! Oh God I really don't need this kind of stress first thing in the morning..!”

You're telling me..!

I stay close to Crispy, waiting for her to calm down, struggling a little to keep standing as she uses me like a living crutch. The onlookers seem satisfied with the resolution of the latest pseudo-drama, and get back to their morning routine... Except for Sassie, awake at last and probably wondering what all that ruckus was about, and Fleur. The latter stares at me, dead serious, and motions at Crispy's barrel with a tilt of the head.

Oh how I'm tempted to just tell her to bug off after what she and Follavoine just pulled..!

And yet... A doubt.

A nagging, awful little doubt.

Follavoine is an eccentric little tyke and wouldn't be above this kind of tasteless joke, but Fleur is basically the definition of meek. She only voices her opinions when she knows she won't be contradicted, and stays away from any debate.

She...

No, she must be wrong, there's no other way!

...

Dang it, I need to make sure!!

Slowly, I bend my neck, bringing my head against Crispy's barrel, nuzzling my way down until I'm in position to have an ear close to her lower belly.

Her heart's still hammering of course, a low, regular beat – nothing unexpected at all.

But as Crispy is relaxing, and the throbbing gets slower, more subdued...

...

Oh buck.

No.

No no no nononono!!

“Chard..? Chard what are you doing?”

The rhythm of her heartbeat increases the longer I avoid answering.

“Chard!?”

... Buck. “Crispy, we... We may have a problem.”

I've been flipping through the Marvelous World of Animals for a couple hours now, so it was inevitable that I'd eventually reach the wild equines section.

Kiang, Mongolian khulan, onager, African wild ass, mountain zebra... And then more zebras performing various activities on the next two pages, grazing, bucking a predator, a mare with a nursing foal...

A swift page turn and I've switched to African elephants and bovids – something far less disturbing to look at. For once I'm thankful for the eyebrow-raising way these books go from one unrelated animal to the next...

Closing the book – on the life cycle of the Chinese liver fluke, of all things – I glance at Dusky, laying on the couch next to me. He's still fully absorbed in the inept cartoons on the telly, for some reason. Seriously, these things were of far better quality in my youth! Though at least now I understand why some adults are so fond of putting their children in front of a television or tablet...

Well, as long as it's not more of this MLP show, he can watch whatever he likes!

Sliding down to the floor, I take the soft red book under my arm and carry it back to its low shelf, right under the home phone's base station.

Too bad I didn't get Clem's number, I could've taken advantage of the landline to call her, ask her how she's doing... It was nice when I did just that with Séb – I hadn't done it for far too long, if you don't count texting.

Being assured that Sainfoin is doing well, even if he misses me, that Séb has finally found that new job at the call center, that there's still no issue with money or the apartment, that things are looking up on his side... Hearing all this felt immeasurably good. I didn't completely ruin their lives, after all...

I would've preferred if he hadn't asked me about my parents though. Despite telling him the truth, that it went better than expected, it still soured my mood. Yes the revelation itself worked out, but now it's like...

*sigh*

It shouldn't hurt that things aren't as they used to be. Considering the circumstances, hoping for the contrary would be unrealistic, and stupid, and... And clearly some not-so-little part of me, deep down, is both unrealistic and stupid...

One thing's certain, in any case – it won't change if we all keep avoiding each other.

“I'll be back in a minute, all right?”, I tell Dusky as I head out of the living room. His 'okay' is perfunctory, and he doesn't even look away from the screen... I'm tempted to point it out, for an instant, but he gets a pass this time – with him glued to the telly, all the easier to get to talk to my father one-on-one.

To my surprise I don't find Dad in the garage, but in the veranda, sitting at the small counter facing the picture window. Worse, he brought his painting supplies with him!

“I can't imagine Mom allowing you to do this here...”, I note dryly.

“What she doesn't know can't hurt us, huh?”, he answers with a shrug, not taking his eyes from the little plastic soldier whose face he's working on. “The light's better here, and your sister will call when they're on their way back.”

Tsss, is there something in the air today to make all the boys so unruly?

I sit on the wooden bench at the back of the room, on his right. He doesn't pay attention, still fully focused on his task. At least he has put a good layer of newspaper over the counter, and the sliding doors are opened a crack to lessen the distinctive smell of fresh paint.

He's still in his wargame figurines phase, it seems. I prefer his planes and starships, but I guess they don't provide the same ease of customization, the range of poses, and maybe also the challenge of dealing with finer details... Whatever the subject, his precision and patience are still admirable. I wish I didn't have so much trouble mustering up the same qualities now...

The temptation is strong to stay quiet, to just keep on watching him work, or staring at the perfectly manicured garden behind the glass... but that won't help me. Come on Laurence, you have to try!

“Mom's avoiding me.”, I state.

He keeps on painting. The only clue he even heard me was that brief delay between two strokes.

I hoped this would be enough to spark a conversation... Was I too blunt? Of all the members of my family, he should be the one who can better appreciate getting right to the point!

What am I going to do!? Should I rephrase and try again? Or do I have to rethink my whole strategy from the ground up?

My ears perk on their own at the little 'cling' of a brush against glass. Dad sets the finished figurine on the side, but doesn't pick up the next one right away.

“She needs time.”, he answers at last, still not looking at me. “Your sister is with her, she helps. They talk...”

Oh. “All right...”, I mumble.

That's... That's good, I guess? She should take all the time she needs, if in the end she doesn't feel the urge to avert her eyes anymore. I'll trust Mél's judgment here, she has my best interests at heart, and... Well, she knows how to get along with Mom. And let's be honest, even if I tried, I'm certainly in no position to give any lesson when it comes to dealing sensibly with this situation..!

Anyway...

Dad hasn't resumed his work yet, and he's frowning. Did I disturb him too much? Should I just... leave him alone? I mean if he isolated himself to paint it's probably because he didn't want to be around me, I was stupid to think he—

“Li'l Ace..?”

His tone is soft, hesitant. Not the one I'd imagine if he were asking me to leave.

“Yes, Chief?”

He turns to me, and meets my eye. “We... We haven't really talked yet, huh..? I mean, really talked.”

“I guess not.”, I reply, adding a slight smile to make it clear I'm not blaming him.

“Should we..? I mean, do you want to?”

He's reluctant, as expected. Always analytical, distant, avoiding discussing those dreaded 'feelings'... But still ready to make an effort for me.

I nod, smiling wider. “I'd like to. I think we need to.”

“Good, good. I wasn't sure, because, well... You look so angry, all the time...”, he explains, sounding almost sorry.

...

No I don't!

“Uh, yes, like that...”, he adds unhelpfully.

I try to check my facial expression, but these equine muscles are still so different from how they should be! All my hard-earned knowledge, and it's impossible to apply it with any degree of confidence! How can they expect me to monitor complex expressions in these conditions!? Raising my eyebrows doesn't even work the same way!

Whatever, the issue remains: trying to keep my face neutral is obviously not working as well as I thought. Have I been broadcasting my emotions to everybody without knowing it all this time!? Or for all I know it's just that this abhorrent mare has a nasty case of RBF, which sounds like a perfectly reasonable possibility...

Let's be honest then, as I evidently can't do better at the moment: “I am angry. But not at any of you, I swear, it's just... hard, to constantly have to deal with this body...”

“I imagine it must be... What you're going through, it's beyond anything I ever considered to be possible, beyond what should be possible, I don't know what to make of it! Honestly, my best frame of reference right now is that horrible scene in Pinocchio..!”, he complains.

“Eh... You're not far off the mark, as far as I'm concerned. But maybe it would help to see it like this: my software is still the same, but every single piece of hardware has been changed, so I have constant compatibility issues and infuriating bugs that prevent me from functioning as I should.”

He ponders a moment my more 'sciencey' analogy. “That does make quite a bit of sense...”, he nods. “It must be... Well...”

“Horrible? Yes, it is. For example, just then I was thinking about how to properly display my emotions, but I fail to correlate what I'm used to do with how this face functions. I tried for a frank, no-teeth-shown smile when I said that I'd like to.” I reproduce the expression for good measure. “Did it work as intended?”

“It's, uh... I would classify it as a slight smile, I guess? First off your eyes really aren't in it, but that's usual. As for the corners of your mouth, they don't retract enough to qualify as 'frank'.”

“See?”, I grumble. “And that's only one tiny thing, one tiny drop in this ocean of differences!”

“Is is really that different, though?”, he counters, now fully engaged. “Anatomically speaking, most of the facial differences seem to be a matter of proportions. If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that these zygomatic muscles are a little longer than the originals, just like the mouth itself is wider, so perhaps you just need to contract the muscles more to obtain similar effects?”

His hypothesis is sound. But I don't want to try. I don't want to get more comfortable with this..!

But Dad is trying to be here for me... He's trying to help me! And I should honor his efforts with some of my own!

Let's see... Before, they were just on the underside of my cheekbones, though now these muscles go from the base of the eyes to the sides of this damn blue snout. So if I contract them a little more...

Dad winces, looking away. “Well, that's maybe a little too much, but you're on the right tracks! I guess you don't really spend much time practicing in front of mirrors, huh..?”

This only deserves the most deadpan of looks.

“Dusky doesn't seem to face the same issues.”, he muses, stroking his chin. “From what you said he's not a native pony, so does he just have an easier time, being younger?”

I shrug. “He's in the norm, actually. Many of the people affected have taken to being ponies like ducks to water, and probably won't try to change back. Even those who resent the consequences do not have the same... 'difficulties' with their transformed bodies.”

Damn... Not talking about the reincarnation business may not have been the wisest choice, if I have to keep dancing around it beyond the basic 'Discord did it' story..!

“Speaking of Dusky... What's the deal exactly, between you and him?”

Uh? “'Deal'? What do you mean?”

He blinks in surprise, like I'm missing the obvious. “I mean, what is he doing here? Are you taking care of him?”

“No, no! He just likes to spend time with me, and he... Well, I knew he would've made a scene if I didn't let him come, and I, uh... I didn't want to hurt him, so... So there, he came with me, and that's it!”

Why is he smiling all of a sudden? Is my stammering that hilarious!?

“He really seems to like you.”, Dad notes, not sounding demeaning or anything, but... I'm not sure, pleased, or even enthusiastic..?

I'm not liking where this 'talk' is going. “Yeah well, don't ask me why...”

And still that smile..! “Even if technically you don't 'take care' of him, he can still see you care for him...”

“So what?”, I huff. “He's a friend, I'm just trying to be nice... He had a rough time fitting in, so did I, therefore we stuck together.”

“Just like that..?”

“Well not right away no, he started following me around like a lost puppy at first, I couldn't shake him off! I didn't want him to wander alone either, so I allowed him to tag along, and we talked, and I didn't like how he was treated, and... And would you please stop with that dopey smile!?”

“Sorry Li'l Ace,” he chuckles, hands raised placatingly, “it's just that I had resigned myself to the fact you'd never resolve your issues with children, and yet, here we are...”

WHAT!?

This is absolutely ludicrous! I despise children, from the very bottom of my heart! They're loud, obnoxious, without the most basic sense of restraint, cruel, unpredictable, and that's barely scratching the surface! Hell, I loathed children even when I was still considered one myself!

It's just Dusky being a good kid and not a nuisance, nothing else! Or perhaps him still being an adult where it counts, I guess that could work too.

Or... Is this a pony thing..?

A Rafale thing?

NOPE!! We will not entertain that idea a second longer!! My software is still the same, dammit!

And now Dad looks concerned..! I need to redirect this discussion toward less vexing matters, and fast! Best option: playing on his frustration with the new status quo.

“Dusky's the exception that proves the rule.”, I say to close the subject. “It's certainly the less mind-boggling development of the past month, when you consider the discovery of a new intelligent species from another world with its own civilization, and the existence of some physics-defying force they call magic. It's natural that you may still have a lot of unanswered questions, and I'd be happy to oblige.”

I can see from his cocked eyebrow that he's not impressed by my clunky ploy, but fortunately he accepts to take the bait: “It's true that making sense of all this is still a work in progress. Futuristic nanotechnology, or advanced genetic engineering, at least they function under the same basic rules as the rest of reality, but instead it's all 'magic this', 'magic that'... How are we supposed to make sense of this, when you only need to get one of these 'rump design' things you mentioned to suddenly transform into another species entirely?”

“They're called cutie marks.”

“Right there, this too! How can you take seriously something with a name like that?”

“Oh believe me you're not the only one who finds it cringeworthy, but it's still the dedicated term. I blame a culture of pastel ponies and their pretty princesses.”

“I hope it at least make more sense in the native language...”

Mmh, here's an intriguing thought, actually. I didn't notice anything I couldn't understand in my nightmares, but it could be my mind translating the concepts behind that mare's thoughts, rather than the original thoughts themselves. Or alternatively, Equestria could share its languages with Earth. Probably too much of a cosmic coincidence in this case, though not much more than both worlds having similar plants, animals, and cultures, I guess.

“This pony princess you met,” Dad eventually asks, fiddling with one of his brushes, “can we really trust her..?”

My first urge is to answer 'of course', but I quell it. I have no objective reason to trust Princess Luna, apart from this irrational gut feeling. A gut feeling that probably isn't really mine in the first place...

I go for the pragmatic angle: “We have a common enemy in Discord, that makes us allies of circumstances at the very least. And for what it's worth, the cartoon portrays the Princesses as fair and just. More than that, they're also my best chance to ever have this curse lifted... We didn't exactly bargain for it or anything, but once my mission is complete I certainly count on getting my reward!”

This doesn't have the intended effect – Dad looks even more skeptical. “That's good... on principle. But Laurence, you're not a soldier, this 'mission', it's... Why does it have to be you?”

I...

I have to, it's my duty, it's...

No, it was her duty, not mine! She failed, not me!

I'm not doing it because of some misguided sense of honor, but because it's the best, most pragmatic course of action to get what I want!

She'll stay dead and buried, and I'll get my real body back, my real life, and if for that I need to round up all the stupid ponies stranded on this planet and get them back home, so help me god I will do it!!

Breathing out, rage slowly ebbing away, I look at my father, at the unease in his eyes.

“I'll do whatever it takes.”, I utter with all the conviction I'm capable of. “I'll get rid of this body. But for that I need the magic of Equestria, of the Princesses, to undo Discord's curse. This mission will get me there. That's the pragmatic thing to do.”

But his unease only increases. “This eyepatch, these scars... They didn't come with the transformation, did they..?”

What..? Why is he changing the subject? “I told you, it's... It's these Brigade people. Who literally tried to kill me.”

“Could you have avoided it..?”, he asks, voice barely above a whisper yet piercing through me like hot steel, his eyes boring through mine, daring me to lie in his face.

...

“I did what I had to do to protect ponies.”

This could've been a signed confession, for all the good it does.

Dad sighs, massaging the bridge of his nose. “It's theater all over again, huh..?”

“It's nothing like theater!!”, I snarl! “You– you're trying to compare a stupid extracurricular class with something that is ruining my life!?”

“Be careful with these wings, Laurence...”, he says calmly, but still glaring at me with a sternness I've never came even close to imitate.

Glancing at my own sides, I see that in my anger these cursed blue featherdusters have shot from under my sweater, unfurling wide and spanning nearly all the width of the veranda, almost knocking out potted plants and other trinkets. Dad takes advantage of my efforts to contain the damn things, continuing with his stupid simile:

“You scuttled yourself, just because you couldn't stand the teacher. You do this all the time...”

“There's a difference between purposefully failing a class to get back at a jerk, and trying to get myself killed..!”, I grumble, noticing too late how damning my choice of words is. “And I liked theater, while there's only more existential dread in store for me with this curse...”

“Is there, really?”, he asks almost colloquially despite the intensity of his gaze. “Did you try to fly with these wings, at least?”

“No. These things are a constant insult to my very being, I'd rather forget they even exist...”

And there will be no further thought on the subject, dammit!!

“If that's how you feel...”, Dad shrugs. “But remember that you used this same kind of 'bombastic' language when you started boxing... And that you would want me to caution you against letting your emotions get the better of yourself.”

... Damn.

Worse is, I know he's not wrong here – I am letting my heart speak instead of my head, and I would want him to rein me in... which is an expression I will not use ever again.

“I'm sorry Chief, I... I know I sound extreme, and excessive, but... I can't yield to... to this! Please tell me you get it..!”

He gets up from his chair, and slowly comes to kneel in front of me:

“I get it, even if I can't know the true extent of what you feel... But you have to take care of yourself, too. You're still living in this body,” he says, pointing at my chest, “even if you don't care for it. I'm sorry we can't give all the help you need, but we love you, and I know you're strong enough to not let your worse instincts take the better of you, and hurt you even more... Can I trust you, to do the right thing, to act responsibly from now on?”

He's still speaking with controlled calm, but the way his brow is furrowed, how the corners of his eyes are crinkled...

“If you don't do it for yourself, do it for us. For your sister. For Dusky.”

*sigh*

Hit and miss as it may be, sometimes, he does know how to get to me...

I nod. “You can, I promise.”

He surprises me by pulling me into a tight hug, and I don't fight it. “I trust you... So don't make us worry any more than necessary, huh..?”, he whispers almost right into my ear.

“All right, Chief...”, I chuckle as he pulls back.

Instead of going back to his brushes, he picks up a pack of cigarettes I hadn't noticed earlier, hidden among his painting supplies. “Good, that... That was a good talk, Li'l Ace!”, he proclaims with such overt relief that I can't hold an amused snort.

He's never been comfortable with these much-feared 'talks', but he tried, for me, and he did good... Much like I'm, well, less than comfortable with my situation, but I should try, for him, for them...

And a second snort comes when my nostrils are assaulted by a noxious odor.

God I know it smells bad anyway, but this bad?

Stupid horse nose..!

“It's okay Amber, it still fits.”

“But it can fit better..!”, I grumble.

I only need to lift it a couple centimeters... Just enough to reposition it one last time, and it'll be perfect!

Fortunately Feldspark is still willing to join auras, and with our combined magic levitating the large rock doesn't take too much from my strained reserves. He lets me lead for the rotation, and once I'm satisfied we gently let the rock down.

Ah, it is better now! Probably not as much as it could be if I, like, chipped off the more troublesome corners, but it's acceptable. I don't think my partner would appreciate spending more time on this one anyway...

Not that we would be running late even if we did, quite the contrary! Since I've started helping Feldspark we've been making so much progress that the stonework for the first terraces is already finished! Though I wish I could go full-strength, it'd go even faster... I know I have to lie low when it comes to the ghost's power, but it forces me to mainly use my own magic, with only brief surges of purple and blue when absolutely necessary. Without Feldspark's assistance, and his raw energy to supplement my efforts...

Well, let's say I'd rather avoid that particular embarrassment.

Especially after one-upping Tinker. So Tinkerbolt the magical wonder can't manage to replicate Felds' spell yet, right? Well that's just too bad, just look at Amber the ignoramus, Amber the weakling, Amber the sleepyhead, she manages just fine, better than you! Hehe, if only I could show you the full extent of what I can do now, magic like you've never seen before, magic that's mine, that'd be hilarious!

And petty, assuredly. But it would still feel so good.

Looking up as I wipe the sweat gathering under my horn, I see that the others have already started to bring the first sacks of forest soil. It's hard work, and yet most are smiling, some even laughing as they toil. Our good progress clearly has its effect on morale, and by keeping one's hooves busy, being active and productive, it must be easier to put aside our circumstances for a little while.

Even better, this time I can participate without being badgered by anxious ponies because, for want of the real actors of the latest piece of gossip, Sassaflash and Fleur are the center of all interests. That must be why the two mares have resolved to work in tandem only, heavy sacks laid upon Fleur's back and Sassie hovering just above to balance them, rather than being each isolated among nosy friends.

I have to admit, though, I'm curious too. When did Crispy and Chard have the time for that? And furthermore, I thought that Crispy wasn't very comfortable with, er, well, with her new gender and anatomy! Even I haven't dared to fully explore this latter aspect yet, so...

But that's really none of my business!

What could be, if this proves to be true, is that they would probably become all the more insistent over the Equestrian question. With their, er, 'complicated' recent history with humanity, I can't imagine they would like the idea of raising a foal here. All the more pressure for me... But that could also turn Chard and Crispy into even stauncher supporters of my mission!

It doesn't do much for the latest item on my list of impossible tasks, though...

I get out of everypony's way, sitting down near the path and trying to pass my brooding for simple fatigue. So, there must be a way to help the ghost out of this dreary cave; it's just that it isn't the kind of 'way' that my compass can deal with on its own. I wish I could talk about it with Mom, but I know I can't. If I did, she would surely tell Fenchone, and the other 'leaders', and I can't trust them, not to do what needs to be done at least... Seeing how they're delaying us for no good reason when the mission is from Princess Luna herself, what contrived excuses would they come up with to hold me back from doing the right thing..?

So I just have to work on a way to allow the ghost to cross the chasm, and stay discreet with both their power and any future trip to the sinkhole... I already had a close call with Follavoine on the way back earlier, even if it worked to my advantage in the end: Pippin's full attention was on the filly as she guided her to the latrines. Of course I may not be so lucky next time, so I'll have to plan things out more carefully.

First off, what do I know? The ghost is stranded on their side of the chasm, so evidently they're not able to simply fly or phase through rock; on the contrary, their hooves were always in contact with the floor. They must be somewhat physical then, kind of like some sort of... zombie, perhaps..?

Ugh... Thinking of them from this angle, it—

No, this shouldn't color my expectations, I don't know how their magic work after all!

But that's the issue, there's so much I don't know, things I'm still missing! A mysterious being with strange powers, locked in a remote place, usually that means trouble of Lovecraftian proportions for the protagonists..!

Stop this nonsense at once, Amber! The Light is helping you, they're on your side!

Of course they are, but—

But I'm being really silly right now; this isn't the plot of some horror novel, this is reality! This stranded pony, sad and alone, extended a friendly hoof in my time of need! Helping them in return is the least I can do, and they too deserve to get back to Equestria!

I...

I suppose I am a bit silly at this point... They have proved their good intentions, and I shouldn't let myself be deceived by appearances, when their actions speak so much louder.

And besides... I've already made extensive use of the ghost's gift. This power... I need it.

I watch my fellow ponies, my friends, as they work. So focused on their task, oblivious to my inner conflicts... I'm doing it for them. For them, and for the Princess. Even if it may make me uncomfortable, or if I doubt, I must grit my teeth, and endure. Laurence would say the very same thing, I'm sure!

A brief sentiment of elation rises in my heart, and I can't refrain the smile from taking hold of my lips. Like last night, when I resolved to go back to the cave, it must certainly be the feeling of having made a good decision.

So... How to accomplish this task?

A bridge, maybe, to cross the chasm? Would that work? The ghost can still project some of their power beyond that magic-jamming barrier, I suppose that actually going through shouldn't harm them too much. Could I build something like that, by myself?

My right ear turns to hoofbeats close-by, pulling me out of my thoughts. For an instant I dread it's somepony like Fenchone, somehow able to read my mind and ready to confront me, but no it's just Melon, who is replacing me as water-carrier.

“Hey Amber, wanna take a drink?”, chirps the chubby filly.

The sight of that plastic bottle jouncing in her backpack-turned-saddlebag makes me realize just how thirsty I actually am. “I wouldn't say no, thanks!”

Even if it's not that hot today, exerting so much magic is really like a full-body workout, smelly perspiration included. Gosh, we're barely approaching midday, and I already yearn for a nice long shower! Doesn't help that my coat is also thoroughly encrusted with dirt, and that tying up my mane and tail didn't prevent them from suffering the same fate... But well, that's the price of hard work!

I levitate the bottle back into Melon's hooves after refreshing myself. “You look tired.”, she still notes, worry in her eyes. “I'm out of snacks right now though... I can go find something, if you want!”

“Nah it's okay, I'll wait for lunch.”, I reply with a smile, trying to forget how empty my stomach suddenly feels. “I'm only catching my breath for a minute, that's all.”

“Alright... But just call me if you change your mind!”

I watch her as she canters away. To think earlier this week this was my job too... Well, no more! I'm one of the most valuable workers right now! If I can keep this up, if I can gain everypony's trust, prove my true worth to them all, then it'll make everything easier! The only thing is that I need to manage my reserves better, and—

I'm startled by a pony alighting right next to me; the ghost's gift surges in my heart as I jump to my hooves, ready to fight back, and I'm almost ready to charge a blast when I realize it's only Luisard!

My magic sputters into angry sparks, and I stare daggers at the pegasus: “Don't scare me like that!!”

“Sorry Amber,” the crippled stallion winces, drawing back a step, “I thought you saw me coming this time...”

“Well I was distracted!”, I snap before I can catch myself. This inner fire is abating as quickly as it rose, and now I feel more than a little awkward, having reacted so strongly... “You surprised me, that's all, but, er... I shouldn't have shouted, so I'm sorry too, Luisard...”

“It's okay,” he smiles ruefully, “I had it coming. Still, I hope I can make up for my rudeness?”

And he comes closer, resting his neck over my withers.

It's... nice. Weird, but nice, and somewhat relaxing. I lean into his embrace, shoulder against his chest.

“How are you holding up?”, he asks after a moment.

“Me? Oh, I'm fine! Did you see how much work we got done in so short a time?”

“I sure did. So you should be able to ease off a little now, right?”

Why is he such worrywart all of a sudden? “Why would I? I told you, I'm fine.”

“Are you sure..?”

“Of course I am.”, I scowl, pulling back to face him. “I've never been better!”

“Yeah, magic-wise at least, I guess. You seem to pack a lot more power than the last time I saw you train...”

I don't like what he's trying to imply. “Well it was high time for me to reach my full potential! How is that a problem?”

“Oh it's not! It's not, and I'm happy for you!” Then he hesitates, wings shifting uneasily at his sides. “Well, you also look kinda under the weather, you know?”

“Is that a pegasus joke? Because it's not a good one.”

“No, but... You look stressed, that's all. I'm worried about you.”

“'Worried'?”, I repeat with a snort. “What is there to be worried about, Luisard? My talents finally being recognized? Me being truly useful, for a change? Is that what you mean?”

“Amber, you know it's not what I mean.”, the stallion counters, frowning. “I think it's awesome that you've found some way to better use your magic. But you're also under a lot of pressure, and I get the feeling you're trying so hard to make up for issues that aren't your fault, that it's starting to cause more harm than good...” His expression softens. “You don't have to do everything on your own. Laurence isn't here right now, but I'm on your side too, and you can depend on me. I want to help, to be here for you... if you let me. We've always made a pretty good team, don't you think?”

His proposal makes me pause. He sounds sincere; earnest, even.

I... I must admit he's not completely wrong, on one point at the very least: being constantly on the lookout is trying for my nerves. And yet I don't see how he could help on this front, because if I ask him to watch Fenchone and the others for me, inevitably he'll ask me why.

Would it be so bad, to tell him about the ghost..?

Of course it would be, I can't be sure he would keep it secret!

Though Luisard never betrayed my trust before, even if we don't always see eye-to-eye. Sure he's maybe a bit too anti-human at times, but who can blame him?

No, I can't take that risk!

Maybe if I could convince him to keep it to himself, making sure Fenchone doesn't hear about it? Luisard isn't the kind to blindly bend to authority, after all!

And what if he took all the credit for himself?

No... No, he wouldn't! From the moment I told him about my mission he has only ever been helpful and supportive!

I can take care of this by myself, I don't need him!

Even if I don't need him, it would still be nice to be able to talk ab—

And for what, just for him to keep being so condescending!?

But he's my friend!

No, you can't trust him! You're the only one you can trust with this secret, with this power! If he knows, he'll try to take it from you! It's only for you, for you and nopony el—

“Amber! Are you okay!?”

I lash out as I'm suddenly aware of someone grabbing me, shaking me, the build-up of ghostly aura seeping right into my magic!

Luisard staggers away with the tip of his forelock singed, yelping as he's forced to use his bad leg to stay upright, and– and oh gosh, I didn't mean to do that! I move to help, but the look of both hurt and anger he shoots me stops me dead in my tracks!

“What the hell's gotten into you!?”, he cries out, his features still deformed by the pain I've caused him!

And the worst thing is... I don't even know! I... I was debating with myself, I wasn't paying attention, I just... I just reacted, it wasn't on purpose! He touched me when I didn't want to, and didn't expect it, I was scared, and—

“What's happening here?”

We both turn towards Feldspark, who is staring at us, mostly with concern for me, and with suspicion for Luisard.

The pegasus clearly catches on that last point too, from the surly glare he throws back at him. “Get lost Felds, this doesn't concern you!”

Usually that'd be enough to chase the timid unicorn off, but to my surprise he actually stands his ground, even if it's with ears drawn all the way back and tail menacing to slip between his hindlegs: “W– well if she had to use her magic, well then, uh, maybe it does concern me!”, he stammers.

What..?

And now it looks like they're sizing each other up, and– and I so don't need this right now..!

I shouldn't have reacted like this... I'm so on edge, but that's not an excuse! Even if this dredges up painful memories, I've never been so violent, that's just not me! Maybe Luisard's right, and the pressure's really getting to my head, I... I need to sort this out!

I turn towards the farm, leaving the stallions to their staring contest, and—

“Wait up, Amber!”

Luisard darts over me and lands right in my path, blocking my escape! I have just enough sense to stop another wild magical surge as my heart skips a beat, dreadful echoes from times long past replaying in my mind..!

I can't refrain a shudder when Feldspark comes to stand between the pegasus and me: “Let her go Luisard, it's obvious she doesn't want to talk to you right now!”

Luisard's attempt at appearing non-threatening immediately gives way to seething annoyance. “And who do you think you are, her new coltfriend?”, he scoffs.

Even from behind I can see Felds blushing right through his gray coat. “Well, uh, you clearly aren't!!”

“Why, 'cause I don't have a fancy horn like you?”

Wait, they're not...

“It's not a horn you're lacking, it's manners!”

... seriously...

“Well it's funny, she never complained about that during all the time we spent together! So why don't you just go back to your rocks, huh?”

... fighting...

“And what if I don't?”

... over me!?

“Then you're biting off more than you can chew, four-eyes!”

The two stallions keep on bickering, and seem to have completely forgotten me as they start circling each other, one ruffling and puffing up his feathers, the other pointing his shimmering horn at his adversary, and please don't tell me they're going to—

Dang it, they do!! To heck with lying low, I—

No!!

Yes! Blue and purple flood the edge of my vision as I push through all remaining reticence and draw directly from the ghost's power, pulling these two idiots apart before they can hurt themselves, and holding them aloft!

“What do you think you're doing!?”, I yell, turning them around so they've no choice but to face me. “We're all friends here, we don't fight one another, not for something like this! Heck, I don't even like men anyway, so keep your darn hormones in check!”

I put them back on the ground once I'm sure they had time to cool down, and let go of the foreign magic, heart hammering in my chest and short of breath. I don't know if it's from my words or just being marehandled like that, but I still find great satisfaction seeing them with these wide, shocked eyes!

Feldspark is first to look away, ashamed, mumbling 'sorry' as he busies himself dusting the glasses he lost during the scuffle. However, after gawking as if he didn't understand me, Luisard now snorts like I'm the one being foolish! “And what about stallions?”, he asks cockily.

What..?

His smirk widens. “You don't like 'men', and I certainly won't blame you for that. But then, what about stallions..?”

... Is he for real? Did I shake him too much or something!?

“Luisard, please, this is embarrassing enough,” Feldspark mutters, glancing at me almost fearfully, “stop needling her..!”

“Oh I'm sure you must have noticed it too, Felds.”, the infuriating pegasus goes on. “Is it really all unconscious then, Amber, how you keep prancing around us, with these doe eyes, that tail raised high..?”

WHAT!?

I must have caused some sort of brain damage, or it's me who's not hearing right! “I am not doing any of these things! And if I keep my tail high it's 'cause otherwise it drags on the ground, I'm not... flashing you, or whatever you're imagining! I've never had any sort of attraction towards men or stallions, and that's clearly not about to change!”

“And I'm just saying you're deluding yourself, Miss 'Let's Confront Uncomfortable Truths'...”, he says with what must be mock seriousness.

That's– that's absolutely preposterous!! How could he ever come to such a ridiculous conclusion!? It's not because he smells nice or is somewhat cute that I'm hanging with him! I thought he was smart and confident, and... And...

...

No no no no no, not going down that road! I am not attracted to him! These are purely aesthetic considerations, just as Felds is charming in that nerdy sort of way, and appreciating them as ponies is perfectly normal and not... at all... And stop getting so hot for no reason, you stupid face!!

Luisard gets the wrong message, of course! “It's okay if you need time to process this,” he says as if he were trying to reassure me, coming closer, “that's pretty low priority after all. I'm sorry for the brutal honesty, and Felds and I sure got carried away, but you can't hide from your own instincts forever...”

He's standing right in front of me now. I should draw back, but my gaze is captured by his clear blue eyes, almost hidden behind these wild orange locks, some strands left grayish by my magic. My nose inhales his scent, reminding me of a bright sunny day with a touch of burnt hair, again because of me... His lips, so close to mine, this warmth in my breast, quite different from before, and—

No, that's not me!

I pull myself away from him; I refuse to play his game! But then he closes the distance once more, and—

“Hey! Leave her alone!”

We're both taken aback by the pale blue wing outstretched between us, Sassaflash using the opportunity to force us apart, and she bears down on the slightly shorter stallion:

“If she says she does not like stallions, she does not like stallions!”, she declares in heavily-accented French.

Luisard seems thoroughly baffled by, er, by my unexpected guardian, and I certainly can't fault him on that one. He cast me one last, disgruntled look, the kind that says 'think about it', before taking to the air and darting to the other side of the fields.

Sassaflash then shifts her focus to the remaining stallion. To his credit, Feldspark braves the mare's ire and actually shuffles up to me, looking as contrite as can be: “I– I'm really sorry..!”, he stammers before scurrying away.

I suppose that's always an improvement over Luisard's utter nonsense, but working with him is going to be so needlessly awkward now..! Does he really have a crush on me too? Gosh that's just my luck, I don't have time for this!

I turn to Sassie, who is still watching Felds like an angry eagle. “Well, er, thank you...”

“You're welcome.”, she replies in her own language. “I would've done something sooner, but I wasn't sure what you were arguing about! These idiots... It's not because we're mares that now we must like stallions!!”

... Okay.

She seems content to stay by me for the time being; looking around, I see that Fleur's busy unloading her sacks, so Sassie's probably waiting for her to be done. What I also see are ponies talking among themselves. No doubt about what just happened, from the glances they chance in my direction or in one of the stallions'.

*sigh*

At least this should give Sassie and Fleur some respite from this kind of unwanted attention... And it's not as if I weren't used to be fodder for the rumor mill anyway! Though, does Marnepâle have to stare at me like that..? I know tact isn't her forte, but this is getting a little unnerving.

What could she... Oh wait, did she see me using the ghost's power!?

She's an earth pony, I don't think she's that familiar with the subject, but... Could she still rat me out to Mom? Or to Fenchone?

I will have to be a lot more cautious from now on... Yes, I really should..!

As mistaken as he could be for everything else, Luisard still wasn't wrong to think I'm feeling awfully frazzled... Heck, my outburst is a glaring proof, and this whole morning has been a freaking emotional roller-coaster for no good reason! I've never been this unhinged, even back then...

I'm not saying that the specifics of Luisard's latest hypothesis have any grain of truth, but... Could he still be right, inasmuch as I'm still unaware of how much I've changed mentally..? I don't really know how Amber Spire, I mean, how past-me reacted to stressful situations; Discord's rampage hardly count. I know I've been pretty harebrained at times because of past-me's influence, and there's also the perfectionism, so...

Well, a little break from rock-juggling may be just what I need, to try to sort this out, and to avoid the others. If I let my emotions overtake me like this again...

Though the release did feel good...

I suppose it is somewhat cathartic, to be able to turn the tables so completely on would-be aggressors, especially considering my history.

And this power, this strength...

No...

My power, my strength..!

“This can't be happening... This can't be happening..!”

And on and on she goes, pacing around the barn.

Is she going to do that until the doc gets here? She already worked all morning with Violette and that human, and she barely ate anything at lunch! She's going to wear herself out at this rhythm... I know she's anxious, but the longer she delays the inevitable, the harder it'll be when she'll have no choice but to confront it!

...

*snort*

A fine set we make, pot and kettle...

“How much longer?”, I ask Fleur.

“Not much, I hope...”, she mutters. “They just said 'early afternoon'.”

Ugh, I hate that we must be at the complete mercy of that doctor's whim! It's all well and good that Fenchone insists on a professional opinion, but I wish we could've done without him!

I guess that, as long as he gives Crispy the help she needs, I shouldn't complain.

Not out loud, at least...

“This can't be happening..!”, Crispy drones on with that constant thousand meter stare. “No, it just can't..!”

I'm still not sure how I feel about all this... I mean, I'm used to dread being knocked up, not knocking up somepony else! I feel bad for her, but... It must be ours, right? That's the most likely explanation. Or rather, I don't have a clue how that could happen otherwise! The former Crispy must've been pregnant when she got cursed, and it somehow carried over along with our bodies, like our cutie marks or our mane styles. Nothing pointed to this in my memories of the curse, and it's clearly the same for Crispy, so maybe our past versions just didn't know about it yet? Or they didn't think about that while they were chased by an evil monster... Though even then the well-being of your own foal sounds like something a mite important!

A foal...

Our foal..!

Despite everything that happened between us, I have to admit the idea is... not 'enticing', perhaps, but certainly intriguing – heck, as a far-off perspective it didn't sound half-bad this morning. We never really planned for the future, not seriously, and this foal will now have to be taken into account... With some luck, this could be what we need to rebuild a more healthy relationship? I would like that... Crispy has her faults, mostly inherited from her human existence, but she's still, well, she's still Crispy. I've a hard time imagining myself with somepony else.

Yes, this could change everything, for the better..!

I can only pray that she'll come to the same conclusion, even if she's still in shock right now. I know we didn't plan for it, and that it's overwhelming, but this could still be a blessing! Once she's calmed down we'll have to talk about it seriously, just the two of us. Until now she's either been surrounded by Fleur and Sassie, or she's been drudging in the farmhouse while the two were helping in the fields.

Sassie I'm less certain, but I think Fleur doesn't really like me, though. She's polite enough, yet I wouldn't be surprised if she was the one who convinced Crispy to stay away from me since I've been up and about. In her defense, I can see she's still genuinely worried for her friend, and she didn't say anything against me being here this time. We can't help Crispy directly, and she rejects any attempt to talk it out, but at least she knows we're here for her, and—

Crispy suddenly freezes, alert. Maybe it's the intense emotions sharpening her senses, because it takes me a second longer to catch the distinctive rev of a car's engine as it goes up the hill to the farmstead.

I tense as the revving gets louder and the car closer. Even if I recognize the vehicle itself just by its sound, if I know this human, I... Some part of me can't help but grow restless, knowing one of them is close by, and never being completely, absolutely, sure that they—

The barn's doors are pushed open before the car has even stopped and I spring to my hooves, barely avoiding a painful topple – but it's only Sassie! That blasted mare must've flown right up to the doors, I didn't hear any hoofbeats!

“He's here!”, she says, and I don't need a translation to get the point...

The pegasus stays by the entrance, waiting for the human. Meanwhile Crispy's shuffling from hoof to hoof, and it's obvious how much she doesn't want to be here, how tempted she is to simply flee. I'm already standing, so I might as well... heck, as well what? Last time I tried to comfort her she shied away!

Was it just her nerves, or is she actually blaming me..?

Anyway, I hope she'll be able to control herself for the examination, because the car's parked, and the footsteps are getting closer. Sassie opens the doors wider for the gaunt man, who strolls in without acknowledging her.

I'm the first target of his usual gruffness: “Couldn't this wait for your appointment Monday?”

“No doctor, it's an emergency!”, Fleur says before I can open my mouth, putting herself between the human and me. “I promise you, this really can't wait!”

Tch, I don't even know why we keep calling him 'doctor' anyway... He's just a random vet who's forced to be here 'cause he's indebted to our handlers!

“I thought this was about a pregnancy?”, he grumbles, before looking at me again – though, as usual, never directly at my face: “At least you still have your fifth leg, right big boy?”

“Get your mind out of the gutter, this is serious..!”, I growl back, doing everything I can to keep my rage from exploding in his face and prove just how well I can still buck!

“Please doctor,” Fleur goes on, “we don't know what to do, and we really need your expertise here! We just want to be sure she's not pregnant.”

He huffs, rolling his eyes, but still comes towards us. “All right, all right, let's get to it then, I've got other things to do today...”

Sassie closes the doors while he goes to the low table to set his black bag and a small cooler, but Crispy hasn't moved. She's muttering to herself, too low for me to hear, and I can easily understand her apprehension – now we will be sure, no 'maybes' anymore...

“Is it a game of who's the balkiest patient or what?”, the human calls.

The three of us gather at Crispy's side, and despite her unease she doesn't resist as together we slowly herd her to the table. “So, how should we proceed, doctor?”

He stares at my mare with a critical eye, rummaging through his stuff. “Usually we'd use an ultrasound probe like this one...”, he says, pulling out a small tablet, connected by a cable to a black rod longer than his hand.

“How do you use that..?”, Crispy asks reluctantly, eyeing the rod with open mistrust.

“Why, manual examination through the rectum, of course.”

What!? “You're not sticking your hand into her!”

“W– what he just said!!”, Crispy sputters, the blood drained from her face. “And that's non-negotiable!”

Even Fleur and Sassie look more than a little queasy at the sight of the barbaric device now. We're not animals, darn it! And I'm sure that bastard did it on purpose!

“Won't have to tell me twice.”, he shrugs, packing the thing back into his bag. “Most of you are probably too small for a regular manual exam anyway.”

I knew it..! Maybe we'd be a tad less 'balky' if you weren't such a rotten jagweed!

“You will not object to a simple stethoscope, I hope?”, he asks innocently.

“Stethoscope is fine...”, Crispy mumbles. I'm pretty sure she shares my profound dislike for the man by now...

“Then lay down on your side, please.”

She does so with some trepidation, Sassie providing pillows and Fleur a reassuring hoof, while I stand watch for any more shady behavior. Crispy shivers as the cold metal chestpiece is placed against her belly, and we all wait anxiously for the human to give his verdict.

To think that I've always found her a little plump and thick in the middle, and yet, I never imagined it could be because my Crispy had a bun in the oven..! Maybe her erratic behavior, in Toulouse and then here last week, was actually the result of some sort of hormonal imbalance, and thus outside of her control, like extreme mood swings? This would make so much sense!

“Well, sounds like there's something all right.” the man eventually states, pulling away.

Crispy almost chokes on her own sobs, and this time she doesn't put any resistance as we hug her tightly. It's not easy to hold her as close as I would like with two other mares trying to do the same, but for now I'll satisfy myself with the simple fact she's not rejecting me, and that I can at least give her some measure of comfort through this ordeal...

While we're huddling around Crispy, the man goes back to his bag and cooler. “As much as I'd like to be done with this, we still have to do a couple tests to be sure.”

I glare at him. “Why didn't we start with this in the first place?”

He just shrugs. “These tests aren't cheap, and it's not even guaranteed they'll work as intended.”

“Since when are pregnancy tests that expensive? Couldn't you just stop by a drugstore?”

“Ah but you see, regular commercial tests target the human hormone – a shocker, I know. Equines have their own version of the molecule, so that's what we're going for... With the hope that you're not too alien. To that effect,” he declares, holding a small white and blue box in one hand and a plastic pack in the other, “I present to you PregnaMare and Wee-Foal Checker.”

“Who names these things, seriously..?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Says the one with 'cutie marks' on his rump... Anyway, when was the foal conceived?”

“There was no conception!”, Crispy cries out. “This must be a mistake, I've had this body for barely a month, and I would never do something like this!!”

'Never'..?

“I guess we will have to use both of them, then...”, the man sighs, dismissing my mare's lament. “Let's start with the first one, it needs about an hour to produce results, but it's also the most likely to be useful in our case.”

He approaches with the small box, cotton wads, and disinfectant. Crispy squirms, clinging to us as the human kneels in front of her, and I do my best to keep my cool and not try to pull her away with me, far from his grasping gloved hands!

“Will you calm down already? I just need to take some blood, it's no worse than if we tested your glycemia... I'll spare you a puncture at the lips, so we'll do that either at the ear or at the hoof.”

“We have to do it, Criss...”, Fleur whispers to her. “Come on, we have to make sure, then we can do something about it..!”

I still don't like leaving her in this man's 'care'... but Fleur has a point. “She's right, honeybunch... We're all here, it's gonna be alright..!”

Crispy nods with a sniff, and slowly she extends her shaking foreleg. All the muscles in my body grow taut as his fingers loom closer and closer to her, and... And he grips her hoof, far more gently than I ever expected. He works fast cleaning a spot to draw blood, even if she still winces when he pricks her.

He pulls back with a red-stained Q-tip, and inserts it in one of the little plastic test tubes from the box, stirring until the liquid inside turns red too. After a minute or two he takes the Q-tip out, caps the test tube with what must be the dart-like, finned test stick, and then replaces the tube in the box.

“At least half an hour until the next step.”, he says, looking at his watch after setting the box upright on the table. “In the meantime we can check up on you, big boy.”

“Wh– what!?”, I blurt out, ears folding back. “That's not what you're here for!”

“A most astute observation. Now, I know how fond you are of our appointments, so the deal is thus: check up today while I'm stuck here, and we'll only see each other next Friday.”

...

“Deal.”

I stagger away from the mares and to the corner of the barn; they don't need to see this. Heck, I wish I didn't need to either, but if this can get me a little reprieve for a full week, it's more than worth it!

The doc follows after me with a new pair of gloves and the dressing kit. “Not lying down?”

“No.” Three times I was lying down for this, three times I freaked out. Let's try it while standing, see if it helps...

He doesn't seem to mind, fortunately, and I focus all my attention on Crispy as he does what he has to do. Despair is still etched on her face, her large blue eyes puffy and reddened, her lips trembling as she mutters something to Fleur, shaking her hea—

“Ngh..!”

Old gauze being pulled away and tugging at the stitches, him so close, at the edge of my vision, and– and no, back to Crispy!

She's still sprawled on the pillows, Fleur is talking softly to her, Sassie too maybe, I can only see her back, can't be sure, they're not speaking loud enough, and—

And the cool air directly against hot sensitive skin, skin that doesn't go down far enough, that doesn't link to the ground, that... That..! No no no, Crispy! Crispy's the only thing that matters! Have to be strong for her, have to prove her she can depend on me, that I'm worth it! Grit my teeth and—

Urgh no– not—

Grit my teeth and pull through, darn it!! For her, for the foal, for me! Grit my teeth and pull through, grit my– ngh..! Grit my teeth, and PULL THROUGH!!

For her! For the foal! For—

“We're done, big boy.” I barely heard him, with how my own heartbeat pulses in my ears, but I can't miss him standing up, and... And giving me an almost gentle tap on the croup..? “You did great this time.”, he... did he actually compliment me!?

I'm still catching my breath, but I'm not sure what I could even say! He still has his permafrown, but it feels... A little less sullen, maybe?

“Things are coming along nicely, but even with how fast this body heals it's still best to be careful. So same orders: keep eating, drinking, resting, take a pill if the pain's too much, and call if there's a real emergency; got it?”

“I, uh, yes doctor!”

“Good.”

And he strolls back towards the table to stow the dressing kit in his bag, before leaving the barn with the dirty gauze in hand. The new bandage itches and is hard to ignore right now, but it's always like this at first – as long as I keep myself occupied, it should pass quickly.

I rejoin the mares, who stop their hushed conversation once I'm close. “Everything's okay?”, Fleur asks with what could be genuine concern, perhaps also a hint of surprise.

“According to the doc; though he sounded suspiciously nice, so maybe I should be worried..?”, I quip. “But yes, just the usual checkup, that's all.”

For some reason I don't think she believes me. Well, misplaced as it may be, her concern is still appreciated. Maybe I was wrong about her not liking me? Maybe, if I'm being honest, Crispy didn't need anypony to tell her to stay aw—

“Chard!”, Crispy croaks as I'm about to sit next to her. “Please tell me we didn't do anything, nothing that could even come close to this, right!? Ponies can't breed by hugging, for Christ's sake!”

Should I share my theory? It's obvious she doesn't want to hear anything like this right now, but... But the desperation in her eyes, and her tears, it's... Alright I'll wait, at least until we're a hundred percent sure! No need to rattle her more than necessary: “No honeybunch, we did nothing like that, don't worry...” I move to give her a soothing nuzzle, and I'm relieved that she lets me, even if she doesn't return it.

The doc comes back a short while later with a pot filled with water and a bucket, which he sets next to the table. “By the way, any more complications with the well water?”, he asks.

Fleur fields the question: “Not really, no. Just irritated eyes from time to time when we shower, but we keep clear water nearby to wash it out if that happens.”

He nods. “Good thinking.”

We still have to wait for the test to do whatever it's supposed to do, so he starts wandering around the barn, checking out the foals' drawings pinned to the walls, or reading something on his phone. For her part Crispy is slowly calming down, even though she still casts nervous looks from time to time at the white and blue box on the table. Fleur and Sassie try to distract her with small talk, but her contributions rarely extend beyond a short sentence or two.

Finally, the doc heads back to the table. We watch as he takes the test stick out of the tube, rinses it with water, and then inserts it in another tube with a yellow cap. Just like before he puts the tube back in the box, and leaves it upright.

Another, even longer wait, about a full hour this time. I almost doze off once or twice, despite the footsteps close by and the stench of stress and tired ponies in the air. I thought I had gotten a bit more sleep last night, but I guess that still wasn't enough... I wonder if Pippin knows what's happening? She must have heard the commotion this morning at the very least. That'll certainly give us ample discussion fodder for tonight...

Minutes elapse slowly until the doc decides to resume the procedure. He goes on quickly and efficiently with whatever others steps are needed, so that soon enough he's standing with only the test stick in hand.

This doesn't go unnoticed, by any of us. Crispy's breaths turn short and shallow. “Is it done..?”, I dare to ask.

“Yes...”, he mutters, scowling at the little piece of plastic. “And the result is negative.”

...

It... what!?

No, th at's no—

“Ha!!”, Crispy shouts, making us all jump! “Of course it is! Of bucking course!!” She wobbles up to her hooves but doesn't make it far before plopping back down on her rump in front of us, relief and joy and anger flashing through her eyes: “I've kept telling you, but did any of you listen to me!? If you all think I'm too fat I'll go on a bucking diet, all right!?”

Buh– but..! Follavoine heard it, Fleur heard it, I heard it too! Heck, even the doc himself said he heard something! I stagger towards the human: “Are you sure?”

He shoves the test stick in my face. “See for yourself...”

I squint, and spot a little blue dot on one of the fins. Going by how regular tests usually work... “There should be at least two dots, right?”

“Good guess. There's always the slim chance of a false negative, naturally, but the simple fact that there is a dot proves that the test does work with your biology. Ergo, the second one should too.”

“What 'second one'?”, Crispy retorts. “You just said it, your test is negative, something I could've told you myself! I know I'm not p– that I'm not! So thank you for clearing that up, doctor. There's really no need to waste another test for this, I can assure you.”

She glares at each of us in turn, as if daring us to say otherwise, but the doc only cocks an eyebrow, unmoved: “If you're so certain, this second test should be pure formality then.”

“But that's—”

“Yes yes I get it, and I don' care.”, he cuts her off with a dismissive flick of the hand. “I've got a job to do, and I'll leave only once I have a definitive answer. You dodged the ultrasounds, so you get the tests; end of discussion.”

In any other circumstance I'd be furious at this guy for being so rude to my mare, but... he's right. Making sure she's pregnant or not is the whole reason he's here and we have to endure his bad bedside manners, what would be the point of not going all the way? Well, rectal probing notwithstanding, of course... “So what do you need for that second test?”

“Some urine to dilute, and we'll have results in ten minutes.”

Darn it, why did he have to be so laconic this time? Right now I'd rather pay attention to how his scraggly 'stache wobbles as he speaks than to Crispy's downright venomous look..!

“Pretty much like the usual store-bought ones, then?”, Fleur notes, trying to sound encouraging.

“Indeed.” He then turns to Crispy: “But let me guess, your bladder's even emptier than my bank account?”

“Couldn't have said it better myself.”, she replies icily.

“Ah, then it is quite serendipitous that I happen to have with me a full pot of drinkable water, wouldn't you say..?”

“Tough luck, I'm not thirsty either.”

“Stop playing this game with me, missy.”, he shoots back, dead serious this time. “You've been trying to keep your tail from rising for the past twenty minutes, a little more and you'll start pissing yourself. Only question now is how much dignity you'll be able to salvage... So, your move.”

Crispy's own face betrays her as she turns beet red. “Well I..! I... Oh whatever!!”, she snaps, stomping in anger. “I know I'm right, but if you're so eager to waste that one too, fine by me! You want me to take a leak in your bucket, that's it? All right, let's take care of that right here, right now!”

She pushes herself up, forehooves firmly set on the ground, lowers her croup with hindlegs stretched back, and raises her tail high in absolute defiance, enough that locks of long brown hair are swept forward and brush over her cutie mark, and I, uh...

“Hey come on, you can't do that here!”

“Criss please, this is where we sleep..!”

She glowers at her two friends, but they do not back down so easily this time, and, uh, yeah I agree! It's just not the place to do this, and besides that stance's all, uh, improper and stuff!

“Suit yourself.”, the doc shrugs. “I'm not the one insisting on not treating you all like farms animals. Should I also go get the halter and bridle while we're at it?”

S– stop putting pictures into my mind!!

Now she glares at him, yet her new opponent is even more unyielding than the last two, by a sizable margin. I, uh, could butt in, sure, but I'm perfectly happy being forgotten in my corner... She's fuming so much, calling her a kettle sounds a lot more literal right now!

“Fine, fine!”, she barks, absolutely seething. “Let's keep up this nonsense for just a little while longer, then! Give me that darn bucket, I'll fill it with enough piss to drown yourself in if you want it so badly!”

His eyes roll so hard I'm surprised they didn't pop out of their sockets. “Cut the melodrama already...”, he sighs. Emptying what water's left in the pot into the bucket, he gives the former to Sassie: “Make sure she does it and that it is hers. Don't try to trick me, I will know.”

Crispy is already storming out, kicking open the poor doors that dared to be in her way, and Sassie darts after her. Well that, uh... Well, mood swings alright, yeah.

“You really can't tell otherwise, doctor?”, Fleur inquires before he can get back to his phone. “I mean, she's, er...” She glances back at the doors, as if Crispy could come back any minute... which I guess is kind of true, so she's actually right to be cautious. “She has a little pudge, sure, but not to the point she looks pregnant... Maybe we just heard wrong, after all?”

“Most horses don't really show until mid-gestation or later.”, he explains, keeping his eyes on the phone anyway. “I noticed that you seem to pack fat both like horses and like humans, so physical signs may be even less useful than usual.”

“So we can't know how far along she is..? If she's really pregnant, I mean.”

“I can tell you it's at least past the one-month mark – whatever she may say – or we wouldn't hear a heartbeat in the first place... Well, if it's really a heartbeat and not some other oddity of your biology, that is. We're doing both tests to confirm it, then to see if we're closer to the first or second trimester, or to a later stage of gestation. It's the best we can do, without ultrasounds. But even if it's confirmed, I wouldn't give you a definite gestation time either. Most horses are in the ballpark of eleven months, a little less for miniature horses, but then, who knows with aliens? Maybe I should have stopped by the drugstore, come to think of it... How exactly you freaky ponies work is still a bit of a mystery.”

“Can't you make an educated guess?”, I ask. “It can't be that difficult...”

“You think so?”, he counters. “Quick question then: can you breathe through your mouth?”

“I...” What the heck is he talking about? I try to do so, to humor him, and it works just like it should. “Well, yeah, of course, why?”

“Because regular horses can't. See, this is just more evidence that we can't take anything at face value with you ponies. We don't have much to go on, and I'm afraid that tiny horse people aren't a priority for the government at large or the medical authorities, so that's not about to change any time soon.”

“Charming prospect...”

“That's how things work.”, he shrugs, showing just how moved he is by our plight. “When people don't care about you, you better learn to take care of yourself. Like, was it so hard to, I don't know, use some kind of protection before doing the deed?”

“First off, I don't think they even produce any in this size range, and secondly, like she said herself, we didn't do anything!” Not as the current versions of ourselves, at any rate!

“Anything with you, maybe...”, he muses with deliberate nonchalance. “Just saying. That's a more logical hypothesis than magical pony Jesus.”

Crispy's return saves us from any more of his nonsense. Maybe fresh air mellowed her out a bit, because she doesn't look half as murderous as on her way out. Sassaflash flutters right behind her, holding the pot with the very tip of her outstretched hooves, and she wastes no time in setting it a the doc's feet before dashing back outside.

“I believe this is all you need.”, my mare states with a voice so cold it could freeze solid any sample she may have provided.

But again the human is just too chill to care. Without a word he gets to opening that 'foal checker' pack and collects some of the yellow liquid with a dropper, mixing it with another fluid in a little test tube.

We wait on him to finish whatever other steps are needed, Sassie soon coming back with her forelegs sogged up to the elbows and smelling of soap. Crispy's sitting with her head held high, imperious contempt written all over her face, but I can tell that there's something else just under that mask. It's not that easy to stop your own ears from twitching nervously, or your own scent from giving away how you really feel...

Like the doc said, it doesn't take long this time. He presents us with what I imagine a pregnancy test stick would look like if you stripped all the non-essential parts: “And lo and behold, the result.”

Crispy squints at the oblong piece of plastic, then snorts. “Just like I told you, you wasted it. Only one bar means it's negative, that's how these things are supposed to work, no?”

I get a sinking feeling as I see him cock his eyebrow. He wouldn't have sounded so nonchalant if he had wasted it.

“Like I told you, not the same for us human as for you equine folk. It'd be two lines, if your uterus were empty...”

At first she doesn't react, beyond a twitch of her eyelid.

Then she lunges at the man's outstretched hand: “Give me that!!”

He lets her seize the test between her hooves, and she glares at the thing with such ferocious intensity, it's as if by glaring hard enough she could coerce a second line into appearing, but...

“This– this doesn't mean anything!!”, she screeches desperately, throwing the test to the floor. “So what, one is negative, another supposedly positive, you can't draw any conclusion!”

“Quite the contrary.”, the doc replies conversationally, unconcerned by her outburst. “The two testing methods target different molecules, released at different stages of gestation. These results just mean that we're well past the one hundred days mark.”

“O– one hundred!?”, she stammers, the anger slapped right out of her and leaving only utter befuddlement in its place.

“At the very least. This test works from around days one hundred and ten to three hundred.”

“This can't be, this... This just can't be, I told you, it's only been a month..!”

He merely does another of his shrugs while putting his stuff back in his bag. “I won't speculate on the 'how'. I'd say 'congratulations', but something tells me those aren't exactly in order... We'll do another checkup at the end of next week, same time as your boyfriend.”

“But I..! I...”

She can't finish her sentence. Her mouth opens and closes uselessly as her whole body sags, horror dawning in her eyes. She doesn't seem to notice the doc on his way out, or hear Fleur's empty promises that 'it will be alright', or even feel my hoof against her own. Oh my Crispy, I'm so—

“Abortion!!”, she suddenly blurts out, pushing us away with newfound strength and staggering after the doc. “This can be done, right!?”

He stops at the door, considering the question. “I'll have to do some research for the best way to do that mid-gestation, but yes, it shouldn't be a problem.”

I can catch her sigh of relief from here. “And, uh, can I ask for another professional opinion?”

“If you know someone more qualified, be my guest.”, he answers with his usual lack of care, and leaves.

So she... She wants to abort? But that's– I mean, I can understand, but... We should at least discuss it! I follow after her: “Honeybunch, are you—”

“I need to call her!”, she exclaims before rushing out of the barn, without even a look back! I try to follow suit but I'm forced to stop, leaning against the doors to stay upright, while she gallops right for the farmhouse.

*blink*

Call who..?

I lift Dusky up so he can rest a foreleg over the rim of the sink and finish brushing his teeth. He may claim his wings are tired, I'm still pretty sure he just enjoys being attended to...

Not really surprising, I guess. Usually he takes care of these things with the other ponies, who are so dead set in doing everything communally. The other ponies who have also long treated him like a little foal at best, or like an undesirable weirdo at worst... If I were in his place, I too would probably appreciate to spend most of my day with only just one other person, one who doesn't infantilize me, and doesn't mind being in my presence.

Still, it's... strange. It feels a bit like taking care of a cat, just one who talks back, and keeping an eye on him is more often than not a welcome distraction, but... After what Dad said this morning...

Anyway, that's enough thinking about that. Once he's finished we'll finally head off to bed. No shower for me tonight, as tempting as it may be – drying myself off was a nightmare I'm not about to reenact so soon... At least this bathroom is of an old design and includes a bidet, something surprisingly useful with pony bodies.

“I'm done!”, he chirps, and I let him down. Leaving the bathroom, he lags behind more than usual, the cadence of his steps slightly uneven... Maybe he is more tired than I thought? That may make getting up the stairs more difficult for him – they're uncomfortably steep for a quadrupedal stance, and especially so for him with his short legs.

Granted, that didn't stop him earlier when he made a game of gliding down the staircase over and over... Mom and I said no, but I suspect Dad encouraged him all the same. Maybe I could convince him it's his fault Dusky's so exhausted, and he could carry him to—

I freeze at the brief fluttering of wings, and a foal landing on my back.

...

My, uh, my thoughts need a second to restart after having ground to a halt, plain surprise still keeping me immobile.

Dusky's little weight settles evenly, his hooves finding secure purchase in the folds of my sweater.

It's...

I...

“I'm tired...”, he eventually says with a yawn. “You mind?”, he adds with a smidgen of worry.

That's the thing.

I don't mind. At all.

But I should.

Shouldn't I?

I mean, is it so much different than a cat sitting on my lap?

Cats don't talk. Cats weren't humans a month ago.

He was a pony first. A foal first.

Can I blame him?

For what..? For being tired? For having me carry him the only way I can?

I feel him shift, moving to get down.

“It's okay.”, I let out, in spite of myself – or a least of the rational part of me, because however I may feel, I... I don't want to hurt him.

He hesitates an instant, then gets back in place.

“Thank you...”, he whispers, and my heart clenches all the more.

Dear god in what new circle of Hell have I walked into, that I've done so willingly..?

All right Laurence, enough with this for now... It's your own damn fault for not setting boundaries more clearly, you'll have to straighten things out tomorrow.

I finish the walk to the stairs, and ever so slowly begin to climb them up. The wings at my sides pull up slightly of their own even from under the sweater, as if to make sure Dusky won't slip. It does reassure me a little, and I allow myself to hasten my clumsy ascent.

Getting to the landing without issue is an immense relief, and I waste no time before crouching to allow him to get down.

Instead he moans pitifully, snuggling closer against my back.

Don't push your luck, kid... I let myself roll sideways, gently enough he sees it coming, and he tumbles over the carpet with a plaintive whinny that I'm pretty sure is just for show.

“It was nice up there...”, he grumbles with a pout that fails to completely hide his smirk.

“And you know full well that you sleep with Mél tonight.”, I counter.

“I knoooooow..!”, he whines dramatically, still sprawled on the floor. “But I want to stay with you...”

As if I didn't notice...

He crawls toward me as I get back up. “I feel safe with you, and I don't want to be alone...”, he mutters. “And I don't want you to be alone either...”

“It's just for the night, Dusky... I need it.”

“You won't leave me, right..?”, he goes on, and the emotions behind his words aren't faked this time. “I know you care, and I really, really like you! Even if you get to be human again and I don't, maybe you... Maybe you could still adopt me..?”

Wh– what!?

Dammit, has he been talking with Dad!? Is this some sort of conspiracy against me!? Did the old man go to such extremes to pester Mél with this before she came out!?

And now there's this poor forlorn foal looking up at me with tears pearling in the corners of his eyes!

“Dusky that's– I mean it's—”

A door opens down the hall and– ah Mél, my beautiful nightgowned savior!!

She notices my distress right away: “Hey, what happened?”

“We, uh, Dusky was just telling me that, uh, well, that he's afraid I'm leaving him alone, but like we said it's just for a very short night and it doesn't mean anything more, right Mél?” God I sound pathetic but my brain can't come up with any better!

My sister gets down on her knees next to the colt. “Of course.”, she says softly. “It's only for tonight, Dusky. She's not going anywhere, she just needs some time on her own in her old room, you understand? It's something she has to do, it's not to punish you. We can talk about it together, if you want?”

He nods with a sniff, and once she's back on her feet she picks him up in her arms as if he were a cat – a large purple cat that would be staring tearfully at me, that is.

Come on Dusky, you're a child only in body, not in mind! You know it's ridiculous to cry over something so inconsequential so why do you insist on acting like this!? The only thing it does is make me feel awful..!

Mél is still standing there, like she's waiting for something from me, eyebrow raised, and– oh! “Uh, good night to you two, and be good, Dusky! We see each other first thing tomorrow morning, all right?”

“Alright...”, he mutters sullenly, squirming in Mél's arms to face away from me. Dammit, are you trying to milk all the culpability while you can, you little imp!?

Mél's satisfied, at least, and she carries the sulky colt back to her room. Before our parents decide to come and add their two cents, I hurry into my own and firmly close the door.

Well... That was dreadfully awkward... As if I didn't have enough on my plate tonight! But it's all right, I trust Mél – she'll talk to him, explains things, clear out whatever ridiculous idea Dad put in his head, and we will never speak of this again!

*sigh*

Anyway...

Here I am, at last.

My vision progressively adapts to the gloom and thus, even without turning the lights on, thanks to the rays of darkening twilight filtering through the closed blinds, I can tell my room hasn't changed much, if at all. This, I expected.

The issue is that I changed...

Good point in favor of you and your pointless puerility, Dusky: you still make for an effective distraction. Braving the sanctity of this room, while I'm reduced to an awful parody of myself, it's...

All right, stop. Breathe in, breathe out, and be pragmatic – you can do it!

First things first: let's open these blinds.

Doing so goes swiftly, in part because I'm less able to judge the unnaturalness of my actions in the dark, and I'm greeted by the early night sky over Noirétable. We're in the outskirts of an already small town, so the nearest houses aren't that close, many obscured by trees. The weather is relatively clear, and the moon full, if a bit dim – quite enough for me.

I take a minute to admire the view. Even if there's not much to see at this late hour, with or without binoculars, the familiar activity is still soothing for my nerves. Back in the old apartment I used to watch domestic pigeons and house sparrows, and the best thing about moving to the countryside, aside from the general calm, has always been the birdwatching walks with Dad, and having a much more diverse avifauna under my window in the first place.

I've always liked and envied birds and bats and pterosaurs, all these animals that could escape the vexations of the ground and fly far up in the sky...

The irony almost makes me gag.

Turning away, I face the room once more, my body tracing a faint shadow over the wood and carpet. Little sanctuary of mine, away from an ever-stressful world... To think I hated you when we met, because your walls were keeping me away from my sister. The house itself may never have won my heart, but you eventually did.

It's a little sad to see you so bereft of life now, bookcases only half-filled, desk barren of precisely-set writing implements, console and video games vanished. Even your scent has become impersonal, with my time spent away. My apartment inherited so much from you, and then I lost it, too...

A shame I didn't leave at least one bungee cord when I moved. I really could use one right about now.

I trudge toward my old bed, leaving a moist trail behind me. On it, a pillow, sitting on impeccably ironed and folded sheets and a blanket. All with the scent of fresh lavender.

Mom expected her daughter to use her bed.

Why wouldn't she, after all?

I turn away, and my eye falls on the small vanity. Mom never completely abandoned the hope I could someday turn into a proper lady, even if I've always been more of a tomboy. I remember how she would try to instill into me all the arcane ways of makeup and coiffure while brushing my hair, to no avail. Still, the vanity stayed through the years, if only by virtue of pragmatic practicality.

'You don't spend enough time practicing in front of mirrors', Dad told me this morning. Not recently, no. I never thought I'd have to go through this tedious process ever again...

Slowly, reluctantly, I move in front of the vanity, and its mirror.

The mare is there.

The vile, disgraced mare who stole my life.

The only way I ever wish to see her is dead.

But Dad wasn't wrong... Like it or not, this body is the only vessel I have at my disposition if I ever want to get my life back someday.

I may hate it, I still need to know how to use it.

How is a stupid collection of facial muscles any worse than wings and magic, after all..?

So be pragmatic Laurence, do what needs to be done...

And so, I look at the mare in the mirror.

The first thing that catches my attention is, appropriately enough, that big purple eye, the tears making it shimmer under the moonlight. I go through a set of basic exercises, controlling the precise movements of the upper and lower eyelids, wriggling the eyebrow... Now that I really put efforts in it, I have to admit Dad's right – it's mainly a question of proportions. Still pretty sure the eyebrow doesn't work with the same muscles, though.

As I keep peering at that face, I also note wrinkles under the eye. Be they from age or tiredness, I guess I can better understand why ponies think me older than I am.

From there, the fog of inner war slowly lifts. I notice how the eye is rimmed by hairless skin, darker than the azure coat. Strong cheekbones, a squarish jaw. A somewhat long snout, in the manner of Vi and Amber, but with none of the elegance – this one is thick and robust. That face could easily fit a feminine stallion instead of a mare, with all these slightly softened hard angles.

...

Tsss... Why should that bother me?

Maybe the scars don't help. Little grooves and pits pockmark the right side of the face, from the same night the eye was lost. There's also the barely-healed gouges crossing the right cheek, fresh from last Sunday. We're lucky enough this body is so resilient... And looking closer now, the white stripe in the otherwise pink mane originates from the same zone as a patch of slightly discolored hair. Another scar, an old one, one that came with the body...

If she really were a guard, I'd bet there must be scores of ancient wounds in other places, under the new ones...

But that's neither here nor there. Mastering this visage is the priority tonight, until I fall over from exhaustion.

I make some more progress, but apart from a pretty good stern look, my usual palette of emotions is hard to rebuild. It doesn't help that even if she tries her damnedest to hide it, it's still painfully obvious that she's hurting. It's beyond any specific parameter I could put a finger on, more like a subtle yet palpable feeling I get from looking in her eye... But I'm biased, of course. However I may try to forget it, it's still me behind this eye.

Or...

Is it, really..?

My brain chemistry is clearly different. Having Dad smoke next to me more or less confirmed that I'm not addicted to nicotine anymore. It also made me realize that I haven't taken my meds for weeks, without apparent effect on my anxiety levels. Hell, even my anxiety seems to work a little differently, being mostly restricted to social things now.

But that shouldn't surprise me. I'm not in my head. I'm in hers.

How could I not realize it earlier? I saw how the others were changing mentally, how their human nature eroded more and more as they transformed, and yet... In my hubris, I failed to see the beam in my own eye.

...

When did I stop being me!?

No, no, calm down! That's not the only explanation! It's normal to change, with time and circumstances, to adapt!

But it's not adapting here! It's not my neurology getting better at resolving issues, it's my neurology being altered!

And– and so what!? It's like Theseus's ship, there's continuity of consciousness, of existence!

Yet it's certainly not like Theseus's ship when the new parts are for a completely different boat! Fuck, the new parts aren't even from another boat, but a damn plane!

She's replacing me, erasing me, and I didn't even fucking notice!!

Whatever's left of the real me is drowning in this cursed brain – for all I know there's already nothing left but my memories!! She's killing me, SHE'S KILLING ME!!

Not my body, not my life, not even my mind anymore!! She's the one crying, the one striking her awful face with her hooves trying to get her brain out, she's– she's—

N– no..!

I promised Dad, I can't..!

I can't let her hurt herself!

I keep her hooves away, away from her face, she must stay alive so I can live again, I can't let her die! She's killing me but I can't let her die!!

She can't die..!

Can't die...

No she can't...

I promised..!

I..!

And I won't yield..!

Not to her... Not to anything..!

I...

...

Ugh...

W– whut..?

I... I must have dozed off, eventually...

The shadows are giving way to the first glow of dawn, and I can hear a nightingale singing outside. The wooden floor is cold under my left cheek, the limbs on the same side still asleep.

Guess I didn't even care to aim for the carpet...

I'm still in that hallowed state, between unconsciousness and being fully awake, during which I can delude myself into thinking that all is right in the world... Though of course being aware of it kind of breaks the magic. And after last night, after...

*sigh*

Way to ruin my mood first thing in the morning...

I mobilize my reluctant body, and get up. The hair on the left side of my face sticks a bit to the floor, or rather to the splotch of dried blood there. Just great, not only I'm losing my mind, but I reopen my wounds... Mom and Dad will be delighted.

At least I missed the carpet.

The blinds stayed open through the night, letting the daylight in. The nightingale keeps on singing, my old binoculars are sitting on the sill...

Hell, why not? Looking outside rather than inside, that's textbook distraction, no?

I stagger to the window, and I embrace the literal tunnel vision afforded by the binoculars. Like I thought, the bird's not far, perched on a branch of our cherry tree. I almost don't need the binoculars, actually, but they enhance the image all the more if I focus them right.

The nightingale flits away after a moment, so I move to more distant vistas. Guided by the faint echo of magpies chattering, I locate the couple of black and white birds in the tall pine at the edge of a neighbor's garden.

I like magpies. Most people don't, but they're very intelligent, they're not too showy, and they fly off when you look at them. I can relate.

The birds jump from the pine to the neighbor's roof, and while I adjust my binoculars, my gaze is attracted to one of the second floor windows, where light is showing.

I'm clearly not the only one who's fallen out of bed...

Or fallen next to bed?

Semantics.

The magpies refuse to stay still, so I—

Wait.

I focus on the window, on the person standing behind it, her hand pushing the curtain away, revealing her anguished face...

And this ridiculously wavy, white-and-cyan mass of hair on her head.

Not just hair – a mane.

...

Well fuck.