//------------------------------//
// Act I: Feathermay 
// Story: 16 
// by AlwaysDressesInStyle 
//------------------------------//





Steedville: ten years, three months, and four days ago


“Up and above the clouds, the only way to fly...”  I pumped my wings faster as I continued singing. “Is on the wings of love.”

I don’t get it.  I’m a pegasus, and my cutie mark should be something to do with flying or weather.  Yet I’ve spent countless days flying around bucking clouds and gathering storms, and I still don’t have my cutie mark.  I get that cutie marks are supposed to represent something you enjoy doing.  I enjoy flying.  I also love hiking through the woods, and I do that enough that if I was going to get a forestry cutie mark, it would’ve appeared by now.  Besides, tree cutie marks are usually for earth ponies, not that I’d complain if I had a nice evergreen adorning my flank.

Honk!  Honk! Honk!

A flock of geese!  I tucked into the rear of their V formation, no doubt an odd sight to anypony who might observe me.  Not that that would be a concern out here in the middle of nowhere.  Steedville’s sole claim to fame was being the home of Dusty Songs, the only notable pony to ever reside in this town.  I laughed at that thought.  It wasn’t like you could really call it a ‘town’ with a population of all of fifty-two ponies.

“Honk!”  Okay, so my goose impression needs a little work.

As I continued flying, I picked up a menagerie of birds following me.  Doves and blue jays, hawks and hummingbirds.  Predator and prey alike trailed behind me as I swooped and twirled through the air.

“I'd be so delighted if you would come with me.  On the wings of love, up and above the clouds, the only way to fly... is on the wings of love.”  I’d heard of those crazy musical moments other ponies have, but I never thought I’d be in the middle of one, let alone leading one of my very own! Okay, so it wasn’t an original song, and I didn’t know all the lyrics, but that didn’t matter.  I had backup singers cooing and chirping in tune with me.

Eventually the musical number ended, and the various birds returned to their lives, and I landed to get my bearings.  I’d ventured significantly further away from home than I’ve ever flown solo before.  I couldn’t see home any more, nor any recognizable landmarks.  I was officially lost.

Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha.

At first I thought somepony was laughing at my misfortune, but instead it was the call of a pileated woodpecker.  I’m being mocked by a bird.  Ha!  He’s not even a mockingbird, he’s a woodpecker!  The woodpecker continued his call, and soon I was joined by a blue jay, a goldfinch, and a cardinal.  I recognized all of them as having flown with me earlier.  They were all incredibly close to me.  I wish I had a camera with me!  For that matter, I wish I owned a camera…

The goldfinch, cardinal, and jay took off, and motioned for me to follow, so I did.  Instead of the loops and spirals from earlier, we flew in a straight line, and in less than an hour we were over terrain I recognized. I banked and saluted them with a wing, thanking them for leading me home.

I landed in the woods, eager to stretch my legs with a good run.  But before I could start running, the three birds landed in front of me. One blue, one yellow, and one red, each presented me with a feather.  I flared my wings and quickly preened three feathers of my own, exchanging them with my new bird buddies.  My flanks flashed, and I found three feathers matching those that had been given to me now marked my rump.  By the time I turned my attention back to them they were gone, their feathers being the only sign they’d ever been there.  The three feathers I’d given to them were gone, and I mused that they’d taken them back to their nests.  It was at that moment that I realized that despite all the time I spent in prime avian habitat, I knew very little about birds.  I made a mental note to check some books on birds out of the library as I galloped through the woods toward home.








Steedville: nine years, five months, and twenty-two days ago


Galloping through the forest was one of my favorite pastimes.  I’d been playing in these woods since I learned to walk, and I knew every tree like the bottom of my hooves.  My parents often worried about me because there were supposedly bears in these woods.  But last I checked bears can’t fly.  Well, except for bugbears, but there aren’t any of those around here.  I hope…

Unfortunately, it was too hot to gallop, and I was more interested in cooling down in the creek. While the shade of the trees had already cooled me off a little bit, the swimming hole in the woods was the perfect spot for taking a dip on a scorching summer day.

I hovered over my favorite swimming spot, tucked my legs against my body, and folded my wings into their resting position.  Gravity did the rest as I cannonballed into the water with a mighty splash.  The water cascaded off my head and down my back as I emerged from the water.  I continued swimming for the rest of the morning and much of the afternoon, attracting ducks and swans in the process.  While pegasi were the most graceful tribe of ponies, waterfowl were much more graceful in the water than ponies of any tribe.

We swam in circuits around the pool, and with my wings too waterlogged to take off, I periodically climbed onto the bank and dove back in to the bemusement of my avian friends. Eventually I tired of swimming and diving, and crawled onto the riverbank one last time to dry out.  As I lay there soaking up the sun, a heron touched down and started fishing in the pool.

Fishing was a rare occurrence in Equestria, usually only practiced by griffins and those ponies who owned carnivorous pets, such as cats or dogs.  I had yet to acquire any carnivorous birds, but I was familiar with the basic premise of fishing.  It was a helpful skill to know for when I eventually acquired a hawk, falcon, or eagle. A real fishing pole with a reel would’ve helped immensely, but I jerry rigged a makeshift rod from a sturdy stick, a vine, and a sickle-shaped stone.

For bait I raided my picnic basket.  I’d already eaten most of the food earlier, but there was still a daffodil and daisy sandwich hiding at the bottom.  I scarfed down the flowers and set to tearing up the mayonnaise-covered bread into small chunks.

Once baited, I cast the line into the water and waited.  And waited. And then waited some more.  At some point the combination of the boredom of waiting and a warm sunbeam caused me to drift off to sleep.

I awoke to the crude pole jerking underneath me.  I instinctively grabbed it in my teeth and yanked my head back.  The fish flew out of the water, past me, and landed several yards behind me.  Maybe I yanked a smidge too hard.

I trotted into the woods and retrieved the fish.  It was flopping around on the ground, and for a moment I felt bad for it.  It was about to get eaten, and it was all my fault.  Such is the circle of life.  Though as an herbivore, it was a little unnerving knowing I was ending a fish’s life.

I hesitated, and briefly considered cutting it free and returning it to the pond.  But I’d gone out of my way to catch it for the heron, so once I’d bitten the vine in two and pulled the stony hook from the fish’s mouth, I held it out to the majestic bird.  He walked over to me cautiously, then quickly jabbed the fish out of my hooves with his pointy bill.

He polished it off as quickly as I’d eaten the flowers, and nodded his appreciation to me.  He unfurled his wings, then took off for parts unknown.








Steedville: nine years, four months, and nine days ago


“Whatcha doing?”

“Tap dancing.”  Uncle Mayweather’s response was sarcastic, as he dipped the paint roller into the tray next to him.  “I’m painting, smartflank.”

Obvious answer is obvious, but that’s what I get for asking such a stupid question.

“And what are you doing, little missy?”

“Watching you.”  Two can play at the obvious answers game!

He rolled his eyes as he hovered in front of his house.  A fresh coat of chocolate brown paint covered the faded slate blue of his two-story home. “Why are you watching me work?”

“Supervising.  You missed a spot over there.”

He turned to look, but there was no gap in the paint.  “You’re a real pain in the rump, you know that?”

I nodded.

“You want your own pain in the rump?”

I shook my head.  His threats of spanking me were just that – he’d never laid a hoof on me in all the years I’d been pestering him.

“You sure?  Cause I’d be happy to send Honeydew home with you.”

Aunt Honeydew opened the kitchen window.  “I love you too, ya old goat.  You keep an eye on him, May.  Make sure he ain’t slacking out there.”

“Why don’t you come out here and help me paint, dumbflank.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and slammed the window shut.  They bickered like an old married couple, which technically they were.  Uncle Mayweather was more than twenty years older than my Dad.  He’d once explained to me that Dad was an ‘oops’ for their parents.  I loved that about him – he never treated me like a foal, and was always willing to tell it to me straight.  When the other adults talked about things in whispers, I knew I could always count on him to tell me about it later.  It would be nice if everypony would treat me like they treat each other.  I’m not a foal anymore.

“If you’re that bored that you’ve got nothing better to do than watch me work, grab the other roller and start helping me.”  He dropped his roller in the pan and watched me fumble with the other one.

“You missed a spot.”

“Nice try, but I’m not falling for that!”  I couldn’t stick my tongue out due to the roller in my mouth.

“Seriously.  You missed a spot there, and there, and over here too.”

I spotted just a hint of slate blue in my peripheral vision, and when I turned my head I saw that he wasn’t yanking my chain.  I groaned at my sloppy workmareship.

“Painting takes finesse, May.  You can rush through life doing a half-baked job, then have to go back and fix the mistakes, or you can take the time to do it right the first time.  In the end, the rush job takes longer because you have to do it again.  There are no shortcuts in life.  What’re you in a hurry for, anyway?”

I sighed.  “I just wanted to get done so we could play cards.” I loved playing games against my uncle – unlike my parents, he never let me win.  Whenever I beat him, I did so fair and square… even if Honeydew and I usually had to gang up on him.

“We’ll play another day, May.  Ha! Look at me – I’m a poet and don’t know it.”

“Don’t quit your day job.”

“Bah!  Everypony’s a critic.”

“Get your flank down here and eat up!”  Aunt Honeydew brought out some lemonade and oatmeal raisin cookies for us, and I moved the paint bucket and roller pan out of the way so we could eat.

Uncle Mayweather dropped the roller in the paint tray and sniffed at the offered cookies.  He wrinkled his nose in disgust.  “Would it kill you to make chocolate chip cookies? At least the lemonade’s appropriate, ya old sourpuss.”

“No, but it might kill you, ya bitter old grump.  The doc said your blood sugar level’s more sugar than blood.”

“He’s a quack that don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I’d be sad if anything happened to you, Unk.  Don’t you want to see me graduate from school?  Don’t you want to be a great-uncle someday?”  I chuckled.  “You’re already a great uncle, but you know what I mean.”

He sighed and bit into one of the oatmeal raisin cookies.  “Only for you, little chickadee.”  He tousled my mane, and I leaned into his hoof.

After our snack, I stepped back to admire our work.  We’ve made good progress on the west side of the house.  Clip clop clip splash.  Right, that’s where I put the paint bucket so it would be out of the way.  Smooth, May, smooth.  I turned to look at my left hind leg, which was now chocolate-colored from the hock down. Brown was also the color of something else, which everypony was going to assume I stepped in.  “Horseapples.”

Uncle Mayweather burst out laughing and Aunt Honeydew whacked him with a wing.  “Why’d you teach her that word?”

“She was gonna learn it eventually anyway.”  He picked up the hose.  “Get your flank over here and let’s see if we can wash that out.”

We couldn’t.  In the end, it only made things look worse.  My leg went from being entirely brown to fuchsia streaked with brown.  I’d gone from looking like I’d stepped in something to looking like I’d had an accident.  “Horseapples.”

Uncle Mayweather looked at my leg.  “Exactly. You gotta stop eating that spicy food. Just runs right through ya.”

I couldn’t help myself, and giggled.

“Well the good news is now you won’t be tracking paint all over the place.  The bad news is you look like you just ate at a cheap taco place. Again.”

I felt the heat in my cheeks.  “I was three!”

“I remember, I was there. I’m amazed you remember that.  You were still knee-high to a grasshopper’s rump.”

“You won’t let me forget it.”

“Parents love to embarrass their foals.”

“You don’t have any foals!”

“Yup, so I have to embarrass my brother’s kid instead.  That’s you, by the way.”

“No foolin’.  If your memory’s so good, why don’t you ever talk about when you were a colt?  I’d love to know what dinosaurs were like!”

Uncle Mayweather pulled a razor out of his saddlebags.  “Is that any way to talk to the stallion who’s about to shave your leg?  I’m an old stallion, you know how it goes.  My wings and hooves are a little shaky. Oops, I slipped.  Sorry about the blood loss.”

I started backing up. “Why are you going to shave my leg?” He motioned to the brown paint that still stained my coat.  “Oh, right. It’ll grow out.”

“The question is, do you want it to be brown while its growing back, or bare?”

“I think I’ll just invest in some socks.  But thanks anyway, Uncle Mayweather.”

“Suit yourself, but I reckon I’ll take care of the painting from here on out.  You don’t look good in brown.”

“Neither does the house.” I stuck my tongue out as I left.  Ugh, and he’s going to paint the trim orange.  Who does that to their house?!?  Earth tones might’ve been in style forty years ago, but it was a mistake then, and there’s absolutely no excuse for orange trim whatsoever.








Steedville: nine years, three months, and twenty-seven days ago


The next time we went to the ‘city’, I begged my parents to get me a pair of parakeets.  I had issues calling a population center with merely six hundred or so ponies a ‘city’, but it was the biggest town in the area and the only one with a pet store.  My intent was to breed them, but we ended up with a pair of females.  I was positive my parents did that intentionally to permanently limit the parakeet population of our household to two.

Being mimics, parakeets could be taught to speak Equestrian words, though they couldn’t string them together into a cohesive conversation.  Teaching my pets became my new goal, since breeding them was out.

My mind went into overdrive. What should I teach them first?  Most ponies went for ‘Polly want a cracker’ even if their bird’s name wasn’t Polly. That seemed really stupid to me, and I’d made sure neither of my parakeets was named Polly.  Instead I’d named them Dolly and Holly.  If anypony asks, I’m going to claim they’re Polly’s sisters.

I’d definitely inherited my uncle’s corny sense of humor.  Thinking of him was what finally inspired me as the perfect thing to teach my birds.

“Twenty-one paces past the palm tree.”  I kept repeating it until Dolly and Holly picked up on it.  They were fast learners, and soon I had them randomly blurting out various snippets from a fictional treasure map.  So what if pirates tended to keep parrots instead of parakeets?  As sad as this is, a lot of ponies can’t tell the difference. They’re all birds.  Besides, we live in the middle of nowhere.  We don’t get visitors – not even door-to-door salesponies venture this far out into the sticks.  I guess we’ll never get the Encyclopedia Equestria or a new vacuum cleaner. The only exception are the Filly Guides, because they’re the most voracious pack hunters to ever walk the land – timberwolves and sickle-clawed ponysauruses have nothing on them!  Hmn, I think we still have a few boxes of Thin Mints in the back of the pantry…

I confirmed that and grabbed one of the boxes, polishing off the chocolatey mint cookies one by one as I taught Holly and Dolly more map instructions.  “Eighteen paces due west and the light of the setting sun will shine on the ‘X’.”

I had no idea why pirates always buried their treasure.  You’d think they’d spend it on something instead.  I know I would!  I’d have a mountain of toys and candy!  I shrugged. I’m not a pirate, and I’m not planning to be one, so it doesn’t really matter.  I would, however, love to train a parrot to sit on my withers all day, because that would be cool!








Steedville: eight years, two months, and twelve days ago


My efforts training my parakeets had gone far beyond my expectations.  Not only were they talking, I’d managed to teach both of them to ride around on my back without flying away.  They were riding along as I trotted into the newest addition to the family homestead: the chicken coop.  Unlike with Dolly and Holly, my suggestion to acquire some chickens was met with excitement from my parents.  I’d already proven myself responsible enough to keep pets, and they loved the idea of having fresh eggs every day.

They especially loved it when I set up a stand in town to sell the surplus.  Well, the ‘city’ of six hundred, because there was a bigger market there.  It was thirty miles away, or about an hour by wing, so I started getting up when the rooster crowed.  That was usually just enough time for me to make it there in time to catch the morning rush.

I loved it because it got me out of the house and interacting with other ponies.  I was homeschooled because there weren’t enough foals in the area to support a full time school.  Which meant I didn’t have any friends my own age.  My besties were my uncle and Dusty.  Granted, it was cool to be neighbors with a retired rock star. He was always giving me shirts and guitar picks, and his wife was a sweetie who was always baking delicious treats. My parents and I were even allowed to use their hot tub any time we wanted.

One would think my fellow sellers in the market would hate the arrival of new competition, but the opposite proved true.  The apple seller was relieved, and gave me a dozen hens so he could stop worrying about keeping the town stocked with eggs and get back to focusing on his orchard. 

Sales were good enough to pay for the costs of the chickens and net a decent profit.  The market wasn’t big enough to expand, but a pony could make a living doing this if they wanted to.








Steedville: seven years, one month, and three days ago


Uncle Mayweather was sitting on the porch reading the newspaper when I trotted up to his house. He folded the paper up as I approached. “May, did you hear about the cheese factory explosion in Prance?”

“Oh my gosh!  Is everypony okay?”

“Everypony’s fine, but da brie is everywhere.  Get it? Da brie, debris?”

I groaned and he chuckled.

“You’re so gullible, little chickadee.”

I pouted and sat down in front of him.  “Be serious!”

“I am serious.  You’re very gullible.”

“Hey!  That’s not what I meant!”

“May, you’re naïve and innocent.  You’re adorable, but there are ponies out there who take advantage of ponies like you. We don’t have many ‘round these parts, but that’s mostly ‘cause we don’t have many ponies ‘round these parts, period.”

I shrugged.  “So then why’s it matter?”

“‘Cause ‘not many’ ain’t the same as none, and ‘cause I can see the ol’ pegasus wanderlust in your eyes. It’s as plain as the snout on your face. Ain’t no way you’d be satisfied to stick around these here parts the rest of your life, and I ain’t always gonna be around to protect you.  I don’t know much about what comes after the final curtain call.  Some ponies think you go to the Eternal Fields if you’re good, and rot in Tartarus if you’re bad.  All I know is if somepony hurts you, you bet your sweet little rump I’m gonna do my darnedest to come back and haunt them.”

“Don’t say that.  You’ll be around a good long time to come.”

“Cut the horseapples, kiddo. I’m more than sixty years older than you and my health has seen better days.  Quite frankly, I didn’t care about taking care of myself and I’ve reaped what I’ve sown.  I ain’t got much longer for this world and we both know it.  Five years ago, if you’d asked me, I would’ve told you I didn’t regret a thing.  Now that it’s too late I finally have a reason to stick around.  I wanna watch you grow up, but it just ain’t meant to be. All I can do is fill that pretty little head of yours with the wisdom of my years and hope some of it sticks with you so you don’t make the same mistakes I made.  Stars above, you’ll make enough of your own.  But there’s days when we talk when I think your head’s nothin’ but a tunnel for my words to pass through on their way out your other ear.”

“Hmph.”

“Look at me when I’m talkin’ to you.  This is important, May.  You’ve got a brain in that head.  I know, because I’ve seen you use it.  You’re a clever filly.  But you can’t focus worth horseapples.  If you memorized your schoolwork like you do the woods, you’d be sittin’ pretty.  You wanna be outside all day?  I reckon I can’t blame you none.  Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.  But you’ve got to utilize your time better.  Like when it’s rainin’ and you can’t be out in the woods. Or when it’s cold and windy.  Then you should be doing your schoolwork. Maybe even get ahead with it so you don’t have to miss out when the weather’s nice.  What’s the point of staring out the window, hoping the rain’ll stop soon?  We have a weather schedule, May.  You know darned well when the rain’s going to stop.”

“But…”

“No buts, little missy. You want to waste your life being a cloudpusher, more power to you.  Stars above, we could use more weather pegasi around these parts.  Maybe that’s what you’re best suited to, always on the move, wrangling storms.  I think that’s a waste of your talents, personally, but if you want to drift through life, you can do that.  Move from town to town, staying with the storms.  But if you want to make it in this world, you need to apply yourself.”

I sighed.  As much as I hated to admit it, he had a point.








Steedville: five years, eight months, and twenty days ago


Sitting still was never my forte.  I’d always been an active filly, preferring to be out and about, playing in the woods, exploring nature, not sitting around the house.  It was the reason I was glad I was homeschooled; I wouldn’t last long in a public school.  I could do my classwork and homework on rainy days, humid days, or bitterly cold days. There were a lot of all three in the middle of nowhere.

It was ironic that the sun was shining.  I fought the urge to fly up there and make the sky weep like I was.

Uncle Mayweather was gone and it wasn’t fair.  He had so much more to teach me, and I had so much more to learn.  He had so many more corny jokes to tell for me to groan at. So many more games to play.

From now on the only game he’d be playing was the quiet game.  Permanently.  He’d tried that on me once when I was a little foal.  It hadn’t worked on me then, and I wished with all my heart that it wouldn’t work on him now.

Steedville was a small village, and everypony loved my uncle.  The entire town had turned out, and even some ponies from surrounding communities had made the trek for the funeral.  In our small corner of Equestria, that was the norm.  Unlike larger cities, our community was exactly that – a community.  Everypony came together in times of need.  Albeit, for some, it was mostly an excuse to gossip – the downside to living someplace where everypony knows your name… and what you did last summer.  And the summer before that, and the summer before that, and so on.

There was a podium next to the casket, and ponies paid their last respects to my uncle.  I heard their words, but couldn’t focus on them.  My parents urged me to go up and say something, but I couldn’t.  I couldn’t find the words, and I couldn’t have stopped crying even if I’d had a beautiful speech ready to go.

My buddy.  My mentor.  Gone.  He wouldn’t get to see me grow up and graduate school and get married and have foals. And those foals would never know their great-uncle, and have no point of reference for how great he really was when I inevitably rambled on about him.

Dusty stood next to the podium.  He didn’t say a word.  He dipped his head and started playing his steel guitar.  It wasn’t one of his own compositions, but a traditional dirge.  He didn’t preface his performance with his normal jokes about the rest of his bandmates not being able to make it because they were sick… of him.  If I hadn’t already been crying, I would’ve lost it then and there.  Dusty was usually so full of life, but standing there he looked every year of his age and then some.  It was a stark reminder that he wasn’t as young as he used to be either and it wouldn’t be much longer ‘til we had his funeral too.

As Dusty played, the pallbearers picked up the coffin and carried it to the waiting pyre, gently placing it on top.  I’d helped decorate the pyre, covering large sections in some of Uncle Mayweather’s favorite jokes.  My drawing skills were middling at best, but I’d insisted on being the one to draw his picture.  Nopony, not even Aunt Honeydew, was taking that from me.  I’d poured my all into that image, and it showed.  It was the best thing I’d ever drawn, hooves down.

Aunt Honeydew lit the fire and we watched as the flames consumed the mortal remains of one of the greatest stallions to ever live.  My parents each draped a wing over me as I struggled to pull myself together until the end of the ceremony.

Uncle Mayweather had once told me that the pegasus funeral pyre was an ancient tradition started before the unification of the tribes.  A tradition borne of necessity, to prevent unicorn mages from reanimating deceased pegasi and using them to attack pegasus settlements.  In reality, he’d made that up to make a tedious ritual seem more exciting to an impressionable, easily bored filly.  The truth had turned out to be much more mundane – pegasi traditionally lived in cloud cities, and burying things in clouds was an effort in futility.  His version was better.  Why let facts get in the way of a good story?

Pegasi were uncommon in our predominantly earth pony region.  As such, funeral pyres were rare in Steedville, happening only when a member of my family passed.  Earth ponies preferred to be buried, letting nature reclaim them and serving as fertilizer for the crops.  I’d never been to a unicorn funeral, so their traditions were a mystery to me.

One by one each of the attendees added something to fuel the flames.  Dusty added a guitar pick emblazoned with his band’s logo.  The Pony pick wouldn’t contribute much to the combustible mass, but that was only part of the tradition – the better attended the funeral, the brighter the fire would burn.  The other part was sentimental symbolism.  The pick had meaning to Dusty, and it was a tribute to Uncle Mayweather.

I added an old rag doll to the flames.  A much loved toy from my fillyhood, it had seen better days.  I’d carried it around everywhere back then, including on many trips to see my aunt and uncle.  As I watched the flames consume my once-favorite toy, I thought back on those good times.  There’d be no going back in time, those days were gone forever.  Uncle Mayweather wasn’t coming back, a point hammered home by the fire.

The fire burned bright, fueled by the pyre, the ceremonial coffin, and the town’s offerings.  The heat was intense, and we all backed away, watching the last goodbye of Uncle Mayweather from a safe distance.

Hours later the fire had burned itself out, much like my uncle’s star.  The smoldering remnants had been reduced to ashes, which were then scattered to the winds, leaving behind nothing but a few shards of bone. I was overcome by an overwhelming urge to grab the biggest piece of bone I could find, so I did so and stashed it in my saddlebag.  I’d heard of ponies keeping the ashes of their loved ones in vases, but I had a different idea in mind.

Once home, I raided Dad’s toolshed for a drill brace and bored a hole through the bone.  Tears stung my eyes I dug through my meager collection of jewelry, looking for an old necklace.  Once I found one with a good chain, I yanked the cheap pendant off and strung the chain through the hole I’d drilled.  Other ponies might call it morbid, but this way I could always keep a piece of my uncle close to me.

Once I’d accomplished my task, I buried my face in my pillow and cried myself to sleep.








Steedville: five years, three months, and sixteen days ago


I trotted the two miles to Dusty’s ranch, enjoying the mild evening.  We were technically next door neighbors, but we both had big properties. I found Dusty and his wife, Sweet Treats, in the hot tub.  I dropped my towel down on the picnic table and carefully slid into the tub so as to not to splash my friends.

We all sat there in silence, enjoying the tranquility.  Eventually Dusty broke the silence.  “May?”

“Mn?”

“You ever think about what you want to do when you grow up?”

I nodded.  “Same as I do now: raise chickens and sell the eggs in town.”

He thought about that a moment.  “Are you going to be happy with that life?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve always been a free spirit, hon.  Dusty and I worry about you a lot.” 

I turned to Sweet Treats. “Why’s that?”

Dusty answered my question with one of his own.  “Do you know why I retired here, May?”

I shook my head.  “You were born here, right?”

“Nope.  I found this place on one of my last tours.  By then, the boys and I were playing county fairs and small towns instead of big arenas and major cities.  It’s a beautiful area and I fell in love with it immediately. Sweet Treats agreed, and once my bandmates and I decided to call it a career, this is where we settled down. It’s peaceful here.  It’s a great place to retire.”  I nodded.  I couldn’t argue with any of that.  “But it’s a lousy place to live.”

I cocked my head and looked at him.  “I like living here.”

“You don’t ‘live’ in a town like this; you survive instead.  Up at the break of day and work the land until the sun sets.  Half the ponies in this town have never traveled more than thirty miles from here.  They go to ‘the city’ once a month to get supplies and then they come back home.  Does that sound like ‘living’ to you?”

“I guess not.”  I frowned.  I hadn’t thought of it like that.

“What Dusty’s trying to say is you’re a smart kid, May.  Don’t you have any hopes or dreams to shoot for?”  

I chuckled.  “I always wanted to be a jungle explorer, documenting new species of birds in the rainforest.  I’m a few centuries too late for that.  Every few years somepony will discover an unknown insect, but there hasn’t been a new bird discovery in over two hundred years.”

Dusty nodded.  “That would be a problem.  I see the same wanderlust in you that I had myself at your age.  I think you’d do well to see as much of Equestria as you can.  Me?  I discovered I had a talent for music, and I made a decent living at it.  It was a great excuse to travel, and I never felt like I worked a day in my life.  Aside from those times my bandmates and I had creative differences, I enjoyed almost every minute of it.”

“I can’t sing.”

“We know,” they answered in unison.

At least the birds like my random musical numbers.  But I’ll give Dusty a pass since he knows good music when he hears it.  “So what can I do?”

Dusty shrugged. “That’s up to you, kiddo.  If you think you’ll be content the rest of your life just raising chickens and selling eggs, more power to you.  But if you ever feel trapped, like you’re denying part of who you are, just look within and you’ll understand what I mean.  I’ve always felt like you’re a caged bird that wants to fly away.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sweet Treats added hastily.  “This town owes you nothing, and you don’t owe it anything either. I’ve heard it said that nopony from this town ever amounted to anything.  So why don’t you go out and be the first, hon.”

“What do ponies know? Don’t listen to those who never leave the comfort of the herd mentality, or you’ll never realize your potential. Never regret what you’ve done, only regret the stuff you didn’t do.  Follow your dreams.”

I mumbled something noncommittal and the silence dragged on awkwardly until I decided to get out of the hot tub.  I grabbed my towel, thoroughly dried out my wings, and then I took to the sky, towel wrapped around my hair as I headed for home.  I had a lot to think about.  Were my friends trying to shove me away, or just push me out of the nest because my parents never would?








Steedville: three years, two months, and one day ago


Gossip traveled quickly around these parts, but legitimate news took forever to show up.  I’d spent the last few years planning out an expedition well beyond the borders of Equestria.  There was a band of parrot pirates I planned on joining up with on a quest to Klugetown and beyond.  Just because every bird species in Equestria has already been documented doesn’t mean there aren’t new species out there waiting for me that have never been seen by pony eyes.  And I’m gonna find them.

Then everything changed. A parallel universe was discovered. Teeming with life very similar to ours, and home to a sapient species, we’d apparently been discreetly infiltrating them for forty years without the general population of either world knowing. But now the secret’s out, and it’s time for action.  Equestria was looking for recruits to go to Earth, and volunteers to host humans here in Equestria.

Aside from learning the local laws and languages of the areas we intended to travel to, there were no specific requirements to go there.  We’re on our own to do as we please, as long as we don’t do anything stupid and/or illegal since we’ll all be ambassadors on behalf of our country, and even our species – anything we might do wrong would reflect poorly on ponykind as a whole.

Sounds good to me!  I tossed out my previous notes and instead started working on a new plan of action. My first order of business was to write to the address indicated in the newspaper to get the training materials. I’d been homeschooled my whole life – teaching myself a few new languages isn’t going to be that difficult.

No, the difficult part would be trying to figure out what to do with myself once I’m there.  The newspaper indicated that as a parallel universe to our own, the plants and animals were all very similar to what we have here in Equestria.  As soon as I confirm they’ve got birds, I’m all in.








Heiferson City: two years, eight months, and eleven days ago


I was lying in a pile of hay in the back of a wagon as I was pulled to ‘the city’.  Steedville lacked a restaurant, so our dinner reservation was the nearest population center.  Six hundred ponies do not a city make.

Not that there were all that many options in town either.  Just the cheap taco place and Irma’s Diner.  Irma was a middle-aged mare with an unkempt white coat and stringy black hair that was almost as greasy as the food.  Her hairnet was purely decorative – it did absolutely nothing to prevent her hair from getting in the food.  The fact that her cutie mark was of said hairnet, and not a picture of something edible, should’ve been a giant flashing warning sign.  The truly mind-boggling part was that none of the other ponies in town were better cooks.  Statistically, there had to be at least a few good chefs in town.  If any of them ever decided to compete they’d run Irma out of business in less than a week.

My date brought the wagon to a stop and I fluttered out.  As far as colts went, Wheat Bread wasn’t unattractive.  He still had all of his teeth, which was a small miracle considering even ‘the city’ didn’t have a dentist.  Unsurprisingly, every time a pony left town with the intention of becoming a dentist, they set up their practice somewhere with more patients.

I sighed as I stood outside the restaurant.  I’d eaten at Irma’s a few times previously.  Once because I didn't know any better; the rest under protest.  This would sadly have to fall into the latter category, and our date certainly wasn’t starting off on the right hoof as a result.

Once he’d hitched the wagon to a post, we went in and took a seat at the counter.  The taco place had booths and tables, but Irma’s just had a counter.  I was already regretting that we hadn’t gone there, but Wheat wanted to impress me.  Irma’s isn’t going to cut it in that department, but I can’t hold our geography against him.  It would be better if he had a family that could cook.  Or better yet, if he was a good cook personally.

I ordered a plain salad, with nothing but iceberg lettuce.  I figured it was something even Irma couldn’t mess up.  The fact that it was served to me burnt wasn’t a good omen.

“It’s something new: salad flambé!”  

“Seriously?”

“Sorry little darlin’, we had a small kitchen fire.  Just tryin’ to make the best of it.”

As soon as she turned tail my head hit the table in defeat.  It was a reminder as to why I packed a lunch on the days I was selling in the market.

Wheat Bread’s meal looked even less appetizing, though he bravely ate every last bite of it.  Most impressively, he did so without gagging even once.  I nibbled at my salad, but burnt lettuce had little appeal.  When my date asked if I was going to finish it, I happily shoved my bowl over to him.  If he wanted to eat it, more power to him.  He was paying for it, after all.

“So what’s the deal with your necklace?  It almost looks like it’s made of bone.”

I nodded.  “It is.  This was the biggest piece of my uncle left after his funeral pyre.”

He spat out the mouthful of salad he’d just bitten into.  “Are you serious?”

I nodded.  “Very.”

“That’s weird.”

“It is?”

“Very,” he parroted me.

I shrugged.  “He meant a lot to me.  Still does.”

“He’s dead.”

“I know.”  It was a good thing the food was unappetizing to begin with, because the conversation would’ve made me lose my appetite either way.  “He was a great stallion.”

“I remember him.  I don’t remember there being anything special about him.”

Of course.  Everypony in Steedville knows everypony else.

“Then you didn’t know him like I did.  Are you done yet?”

He slurped the last of the salad dressing from the bottom of the bowl and then went to pay while I sat there fuming.

Dinner had been unpleasant, and I really didn’t want to spend any more time with Wheat Bread, but he insisted we see a movie while we were in town.  Rather than move the wagon we trotted the three blocks to the picture house.  

It was a short walk, but Wheat Bread absolutely freaked out when a robin pooped on him.  He tried to throw a rock at the bird, but he was way too slow and the bird was out of sight before he’d even picked one up.  He stood there cursing until I nudged him toward the theater.  Whatever good will I’d had left for him disappeared at that moment.  Even the birds don’t like him, and they’ve never led me wrong.

Unlike the cities that had big multiplexes, we had a single screen picture house, meaning we were at the mercy of whatever the cinema had chosen to show for the week.  They’d picked a sci-fi epic about an alien invasion, and I couldn’t help but notice that the aliens looked suspiciously similar to humans.  They were bipedal with furless bodies and long, gangly limbs, but more colorful than the humans I’d seen pictures of.  And they had long, leonine tails, which humans also didn’t have.  At least not to my knowledge – maybe they were hiding their tails under their clothing?

Ugh.  Playing on the fears of ponies.  Humans are different than ponies, and hence obviously evil.  Themes like that were common in works of fiction, and especially popular in the heartland of Equestria.  Wheat Bread ate it up, of course.  He spent half the movie making snide comments about humans, and continued taking potshots at them as he attempted to convince me to abandon my plans to go to Earth.  I hadn’t told anypony that except for my parents, so it wasn’t hard to guess who’d tipped him off.

It had started to rain while we watched the movie.  That would be unheard of in most parts of Equestria, but there just weren’t enough pegasi in the area to keep rogue storms from wandering in, especially not at night.

Wheat’s hooves splashed in the puddles as he trotted towards my home, while I rolled around in the pile of hay like a filly, concealed by the darkness and the canvas top.

As I played in the hay, my mind wandered to all the small-minded ponies I knew – Wheat, my parents, most of the town.  I was starting to see what Dusty meant about this being a place to retire, and not a place to live.  Steedville was stagnant, a place that was trying to stay frozen in time because things were better ‘in the good old days’ decades or even centuries earlier.

Times change, ponies change.  Steedville didn’t.  Couldn’t. Wouldn’t.  The community tolerated our family because my parents said the right things, but mostly because somepony needed to wrangle the weather so they could grow their crops.  If not for that, they’d probably tie us to the next train heading out of town.

The wagon came to a stop and Wheat poked his head under the canvas top.  Raindrops cascaded off his finely sculpted jaw.  He was certainly attractive physically, if not mentally.  “How about a roll in the hay?”  He wiggled his eyebrows for some odd reason.

“Nah.  I rolled in the hay the whole way here.”  I stood up and dusted bits of hay off my dress, then stretched my wings and took to the air.  “But the wagon’s all yours if you want to pick up where I left off.  Thanks for dinner, but I really don’t think you’re my type.  Sorry!” He stood there in the rain, watching me fly out of his life.

In a small town, everypony knew we’d been on a date.  It also meant everypony knew I’d left him standing in the midnight rain.  Not that I cared – I was leaving town anyway.  My parents had set me up with the only eligible colt in my age bracket in a convoluted attempt to keep me from going to Earth.  Pity he was a teenage dullard.  Nice rump though.  Celestia knows I had a perfect view of it the whole way to the city and back as he pulled the wagon.  I’m positive that was intentional.  Chivalry my wing feathers, he just wanted me to stare at his hindquarters all night.  Darn my raging adolescent hormones for falling for it. I’m glad I got rolling around in the hay out of my system before he asked.  Who knows where that could have gone otherwise…

You can do better.  My inner voice sounded a lot like Uncle Mayweather.  Regardless of whether it was a message from beyond the grave, or just my overactive imagination, I couldn’t argue with the message.  My sample size was one immature colt, and I certainly wasn’t going to settle down with him just because he was the only boy in town within five years of my age.  It was tough because he was hot.  He worked on a farm all day and it showed – muscles that rippled when he moved.  My breath caught in my throat as my heartrate sped up.  I forced myself to stop remembering watching his rump as he walked.  But I’d rather be alone than be with him.  No sense fantasizing about a pony that makes my skin crawl.








Steedville: one month, and six days ago


When the time came to announce my departure to Earth, I didn’t even have to say a word.  I hadn’t told anypony except my parents, not up until the last day I was spending in town.  They’d told Wheat Bread, but if it had made the rounds in the rumor mill, I hadn’t heard it.  I trotted over to my neighbors, wondering how I was going to break the news to them.  I knew they’d support me, but it didn’t make goodbye any easier.  It didn’t help that they’re both getting up there in years.  There’s no guarantee they’ll both be around when I return five years hence.  I tried to put that thought out of my mind.

“You’re leaving.  Good for you.”

I blinked.  “How’d you know?”

“You’re all fired up. There’s a burnin’ in your eyes I haven’t seen since you were a little filly.  What did you decide on?”

“I’m going to Earth. From what I can tell, a lot of the bird species are the same, but they’ve got some we don’t have, and while most of them are already known, they’re still finding a few new species each year.  Even if I never go out looking for any, personally, there’s enough known species on their world to document.  I’m going to gather specimens of as many as I can, bring them back to Equestria, and start an aviary.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow.  We won’t be allowed through the portal until next month, but it’ll take a few days to travel to the Everfree Forest, and then I’ve got to jump through hoops and pass all their tests.  I’m leaving a few weeks early because I found a pen pal who’s also going, and we want to practice speaking the various human languages to one another before we go in to take our tests.  Learning the words isn’t difficult to do solo, but learning how to converse is decidedly more challenging on your own.”

Dusty nodded.  “I suppose it would be.  I’m proud of you, May.  It’s not an easy decision to leave everypony and everything you know behind to chase your dreams.  But I’ve known you almost your whole life at this point.  There’s nothing you can’t do when you put your mind to it.”  He nuzzled me, and I reciprocated with a peck on the cheek.

“Thanks, Dusty. You’ve been my mentor for as long as I can remember.  The pony I go to for parental advice on the stuff I can’t ask my parents about.”

He chuckled.  “We’re gonna miss you, May.”

“I’m gonna miss you two, too.”  I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes.  “I should get going.  Have to finish packing, make sure I’m not forgetting anything.”  Maybe find a nice quiet place to cry.

Excuses made, I trudged home, not trusting my wings to make it.  Never fly when you’re an emotional wreck – that was a lesson I’d learned the hard way more than once.  I was going to miss them, I was going to miss my parents, and I was even going to miss these woods that I’d galloped through so many times.  I’d spent so much of my fillyhood playing in this forest, exploring every nook and cranny.  And the river, where I’d spent so much time swimming with the ducks and fishing with the herons.

It’s hard to leave it all behind, it really is.  But Dusty and Sweet Treats are right – I need to keep moving.  I’ll come back someday, because this little slice of Equestria will forever be home.  I’m just not sure if it’ll be to settle down and raise a family here like my parents, or to retire here like Dusty did.  The furthest I’ve ever been from home is that day I got lost and the birds led me home. I’ve never even spent a night alone from my parents.  It’s time to change that, no matter how hard it is.  Five years isn’t that long.  I’ll be coming back home eventually.

Sneaking through the house, I climbed the steps and made a beeline for my room.  If my parents were to see me like this, they’d try to talk me out of going again.  Instead I crawled under the covers and hugged my pillow tight against my barrel, burying my muzzle into it to muffle my sobs.

I’ve gotta keep reminding myself of the fun I’m going to have; of all the adventures waiting for me.  I’m going to become Equestria’s leading expert on the birds of Earth.  Probably our only expert on such a topic.  That’s exciting.  Big cheery smile to go with those red, puffy eyes.








Ponyville: one month, and two days ago


It had been less than a week since I left home, and I was already homesick.  The train ride took the better part of two days, and I spent the third day recovering.  Try as I might, I found it nearly impossible to sleep on the train, and I only managed to catch brief catnaps along the way.  The third day was mostly spent sleeping.

But Ponyville beckoned, and since my pen pal lived there, there was no time like the present to get started.  The picture Bifröst had sent me indicated she was a pink pegasus with a rainbow cutie mark. She’d also graduated from the School of Friendship, and I couldn’t help but be more than a bit jealous of that accomplishment.  I’d earned my diploma two years early because the homeschool lessons weren’t particularly challenging, and there wasn’t a whole lot to do otherwise, especially in the winter.  So I’d worked ahead per Uncle Mayweather’s advice, and it paid off.  It had given me plenty of time to focus on learning Earth’s laws and languages.

I’d go to college if continuing my education interested me, but it had been two years since I last did schoolwork, and having a break from it had dulled any enthusiasm I once had towards the idea.  Had I attended a real school and made friends I might’ve felt differently.  Instead I’d rather flee Equus entirely and spend my time hanging out with birds instead of ponies.

I pulled out my favorite headband, adorned with three feathers still as pristine as the day they were given to me, and trotted into town.  Ponyville was in the process of turning into a tourist trap, but the quaint charms of the small town it once was hadn’t completely faded away just yet. Once such charm was Sugarcube Corner, which is where my pen pal requested I meet her.  I took a seat and an adolescent filly trotted up to take my order.

“Hi!  I’m Pumpkin Cake!  What can I get ya?”

“What’s good?”

She giggle-snorted. “The easier question to answer is what isn’t?”  She added in a whisper, “The carrot cake, but don’t tell Dad I said that.”

I nodded and settled on a raspberry tart and a glass of lemonade.  I’d intentionally arrived over an hour early for my meeting so I could do something I almost never had the opportunity to do back home in Steedville: pony watch. Dusty had mentioned more than once that he sometimes gathered inspiration by watching ordinary ponies going about their daily lives.  Ponyville wasn’t a major metropolis by any stretch of the imagination, but it was an order of magnitude bigger than ‘the city’ back home.  I could properly call it a ‘town’ as opposed to a village with delusions of grandeur.

More to the point, it was the biggest town I’d ever set hoof in and I wanted to get a feel for it.  I wasn’t used to interacting with ponies, especially those my own age.  My pen pal was a little older than me, I’d say about five to seven years if I had to guess, but I was all right with that.  I’d always gotten along great with those older than me, no doubt because of how much time I spent around both my uncle and Dusty.  I couldn’t believe it’d been almost six years since Uncle Mayweather passed away.  I’m too young to be reminiscing about the ‘good old days’ but I miss him something fierce.  He had a goofy sense of humor and a heart of gold.  And he never sugarcoated things.  If it needed to be said, he said it.  I learned more from him than anypony else.

I munched my snack as I watched Pumpkin dart from table to table, always with a smile on her face. She’s a little social butterfly, and I wish I could be like her; the ease of which she starts and continues conversations.  She never let anypony’s drink get below halfway filled.  Well, ‘anypony’ is a bit of a misnomer considering that Ponyville’s population of non-pony citizens is the highest in all the realm. Hippogriffs, kirin, yaks, dragons, griffins, and more all called the town home these days, and I was in awe of all the different creatures.  If I wanted to see diversity back home all I needed to do was look in a mirror.  As a pegasus, I’m rather exotic back home.  No one had even given me a second glance since I arrived in Ponyville.  Except that one pink mare with the poofy hair.  She took one look at me, gasped, and ran off the other way before I could even say ‘hi’.  Talk about crazy!  I’m not that scary looking.

A unicorn stallion walked in and took a seat in the corner.  Pumpkin materialized next to him as if out of thin air.  She’s really good at customer service.  With a dark blue coat and silver mane and tail, I found the unicorn kinda handsome, even though he looked old enough to be my father.

“How are you?”

“As crazy as ever and thrice as ugly!”

She stuck her tongue out at him.  “You use that line every time.”

“Not every time. Sometimes I check my pulse.”

“And then you pretend not to find it and do that silly zombie impression.”  She giggled and rolled her eyes.  “What can I do ya for?”

“Speaking of predictable, you ask me that every time, too.  And I keep telling you to ask me that when you’re older.”

“But I am older!  It’s been three whole days since the last time you came in!”

“You’ll know when you’re old enough.  And when you realize exactly what you’re saying, you won’t ask it anymore.”  He tousled her hair.  “I’ll take my normal.”

It felt like the temperature in the room had gone up fifteen degrees.  I could feel my heart racing.  Call it love.  I drained my lemonade, trying to cool the heat I felt in my cheeks.  I never realized it, but I like my stallions mature. He has that same corny sense of humor as my uncle.  And he didn’t dismiss the filly because of her age, just treated her like he would anypony else.  Just like my uncle used to treat me, the little tagalong filly he got stuck foalsitting constantly.

Pumpkin once again appeared out of nowhere with a pitcher of lemonade, ready to refill my drink.  I stopped her.  “The stallion who just came in.”

“Hmn?”

“Does he have a marefriend?”

Pumpkin put a hoof to her chin.  “I don’t think so.  I’ve never seen him with any of the mares around town.  He keeps to himself for the most part.”

“He does now.  Put his meal on my check.”

“Don’t you think he’s a little old for you?”

“You should ask yourself the same thing.  I know you know exactly what you’re saying.”

She giggle-snorted. “Of course I do.  He thinks I’m an adorable, innocent filly, so he tips better. It’s one of the many tricks I learned from Pinkie Pie.”

“Pinkie Pie?  The Pinkie Pie?  Equestria’s premiere party planner?  Element of Laughter?”

“The very same!  She used to work here.  She used to live upstairs.  She was my first foalsitter.  She taught me everything she knows!”

“Tsk, tsk.  I taught you everything you know, but I didn’t teach you everything I know.”  The pink mare that I’d briefly interacted with earlier was standing next to us.  “I don't feel the need to give such secrets away. But if you insist, on knowing my bliss, I’ll tell you this…  When you want to know what the reason is, I only smile when I lie, then I’ll tell you why.”

A bona fide Pinkie Pie song number!  Sure, it was a slightly tweaked Foal & Oats song, and not an original, but that meant I knew the lyrics!  “Because your kiss, your kiss, is on my list!”

Pinkie giggle-snorted, and I instantly knew where Pumpkin had picked up that habit.  “You’re cute, hon, but I’m married.  I only kiss my hubby.”  She winked and blew a raspberry simultaneously, while my cheeks lit up redder than a mare of my fuchsia coat color has any right to.  “But if you’re looking for somepony to kiss…  Hmn…”  She tapped a hoof to her chin, mischievously.  “I might just know the perfect stallion!”  She headbutted me, pushing me across the restaurant right toward that unicorn stallion I’d had my eye on.

“Swiftspeed!  I want you to meet Feathermay!  She’s new here in Ponyville, and only staying for a month. But I think you two should get to know one another!”

How did she know that?  I hadn’t told her any of that.  I hadn’t told anyone in Ponyville anything about myself, so she couldn’t have overheard it somewhere.  Pinkie Pie was a legend, so I chalked it up to ‘Pinkie being Pinkie’ and rolled with it. “Uh, hi!”  Smooth, May, smooth.  I resisted the urge to facehoof.  Pinkie had me even more flustered than I already was.

“Hi.”

“Your kiss is on her list of the best things in life!”  Pinkie Pie continued being helpful, and Swiftspeed quirked an eyebrow at that. “I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone!” She smooshed us together and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

Swiftspeed pulled away. “You okay?  I don’t know what’s gotten into Pinkie.  She’s normally subtler than this.”

“Because she wanted to get it through your thick head that this cute mare likes you.  Because I assure you, being subtle doesn’t work with you.”  Pumpkin Cake hadn’t left with Pinkie Pie. “If this doesn’t work, I’m going to beat you over the head with a baseball bat that says ‘Feathermay likes you’ on it.”

“Do I even get a say in this?”

“Nope.  Pinkie Pie has spoken!  The two of you should be a couple.”

“I’m pretty sure nopony actually goes to Pinkie Pie for relationship advice.  I thought that was more Rarity’s thing.”

I wisely kept my mouth shut, watching their exchange.

“If Pinkie hadn’t acted, you wouldn’t have noticed until three months from now, when she’s already gone… say, where are you going, anyway?”

I guess Pinkie’s ability to know everything about everypony was one of the tricks she’d withheld from Pumpkin’s education.  With the spotlight thrust back onto me, I stammered out, “Earth.”

Pumpkin whistled. “She’s going to be gone for at least five years.  You’d probably never see her again.  Now though, interaction!”  She threw her hooves in the air and confetti exploded all around us.  “Make sure you get her contact info so you two can write! You should totes doodle little hearts in the margins!”

Swift glared at Pumpkin. “There goes your tip.”

“Worth it.  Besides, we both know that five minutes after storming out of here without leaving a tip, you’d feel guilty, come back, and leave twice as much as you would’ve left in the first place.”

“Except I’ve got the tab, and I won’t feel the least bit guilty stiffing you.  Say, Swift, can I call you Swift?  Are there any other restaurants in this town?”

“Sunny Meadows’ place is great.  But it isn’t open during the day.”

“A place named Sunny Meadows is only open at night?”

“Yes.  The owner’s a thestral.”

“A thestral named Sunny Meadows?”

He nodded.  I couldn’t think of a good response to that.  Uncle Mayweather would’ve had a good one-liner. I bet Swift does too.

It was at that moment that Bifröst walked in.  Horseapples. I’d forgotten all about her.

She looked around, spotting us immediately.  She pulled up a chair, confused to see me sitting with one of the locals.  “Hello, you are being Feathermay, yes?”  Her accent was thick northern Equestrian.  It was going to be challenging just to converse with her in my native language, let alone all of the foreign ones.

“Yes.  Bifröst I presume?”

She nodded.  “Shall we begin with the learning, or am I interrupting the something?”

“We can start momentarily. Just let me wrap this up.”  I was already completely embarrassed, both by Pinkie Pie and my own complete failure to make a good impression.  There was no reason not to go all in.  I leaned over and kissed him.  I patted one of his forehooves with mine.  “I’m really not normally this awkward and tongue-tied. Pinkie caught me off guard and got me all out of sorts.”

He shrugged.  “If it’s any consolation, you’re really cute when you’re flustered.  If you’re serious, I’ll give you my mailing address.  But I’m probably old enough to be your dad.”

“Good.  Colts are too immature.  I like a good sense of humor and the wisdom of life experience.”  And the amusing anecdotes that go along with them.

He slipped me his address, then left.  Mission accomplished?  Sure enough he left a tip for Pumpkin Cake.  I saw him arguing with Pumpkin, trying to pay for his meal, but she denied him.  I guess she’s earned that tip after all.

Speak of the little brat… She appeared to take Bifröst’s order. “Oh, you two are totally pink and pinker!”

I ignored the comment. Pink coats, like Bifröst’s, were common in Equestria.  Bright fuchsia coats, while not unheard of, were significantly less common.  It also meant finding clothing and accessories that didn’t clash horribly with my natural colors was nearly impossible. Suffice it to say, I never cared for ponies making comments about it.  I’ve been in the vicinity of reflective surfaces; I know what I look like.  I’m not pretty in the least.  It’s unfair – I exercise regularly, I eat relatively healthily, and take great pains to maintain a perfect figure.  All ruined by a color scheme that looks tacky: a fuchsia coat with red, orange, and yellow hair.

Bifröst clopped her hooves together.  “Let us get to the conversing, then I shall be taking you to see your stallion when we’re done.  He is being the local blacksmith, very easy to find.”






Ponyville: sixteen days ago


I was supposed to be staying with Bifröst and her roommate, Honeybuzz, but I’d invited myself to stay at Swift’s.  He was obviously a night owl, and the clanging coming from his shop at all hours of the night explained why he didn’t have any nearby neighbors.  I’d adjusted as best I could, but I’d always been a morning pony and it was hard to keep my eyes open much past midnight.  Not that it mattered – Swift only had one bed and insisted I take it.  When I woke up the first morning I found him sprawled out in the back of a wagon.

The next night I made him promise to join me in bed.  I awoke the following morning with him on the far side of the bed, facing away from me, like he was intimidated by me.  I rolled over and wrapped my hooves and wings around him, pulling the unicorn tight against me.  I was half his size, so my trying to be the big spoon probably would’ve looked ridiculous to any outside observers.  Fortunately, there wasn’t anypony around to see me draped over him like a blanket.  I could feel him breathing and it felt nice to be close to my special somepony.  That gave him the hint, and from then on I woke up to find him cuddling me.  Aside from my language practice with Bifröst, I had no place to be, so I’d just lay there until he woke up, usually around noon.

I could feel he was waking up.  “Morning, sleepyhead!”

“If it’s still morning, it’s too early.”  He yawned, never opening his eyes.

I wiggled backwards, snuggling up against him.  “What do you call a fish with no eyes?”

“Fsh.”  He yawned again.  “You’ve gotta get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on me.”

I could feel his heartbeat slowing as he relaxed back into sleep.  “Yeah, really early.  Noon, at least.”  He was already fast asleep and my ironic retort fell on deaf ears.  I was impressed though – even at his worst, first thing in the morning, he was witty and sharp enough to answer silly jokes correctly.  I vowed to come up with one that he wouldn’t guess the answer to.

I wiggled out from under his embrace and made my way to the kitchen.  Swift’s apartment was directly over his business, and the neighborhood had given the smithy a wide berth – there were businesses nearby, but no residences.  I watched ponies shop as I sat at the table eating authentic Manehattan bagels with real Fillydelphia cream cheese.  Steedville was too far off the beaten path for the general store to stock such niche goods, and it was nice to experience things I’d heard about in magazines.

The scent of freshly toasted bagels was enough to rouse Swift from his slumber, and we chitchatted about everything and nothing as we enjoyed our midday breakfast.  He’d been up most of the night straightening the frame on a wagon that had been in an accident.  I was surprised to learn that wooden wagons had metal frames for strength and rigidity.

He went downstairs to work, while I headed to Bifröst’s apartment to practice languages.  Bifröst had an advantage, since her roommate Honeybuzz was also headed to Earth.  But they hadn’t ended up picking the same languages, so I practiced French and Dutch with Bifröst, and German with Honeybuzz.  English was mandatory, and the three of us practiced that one together. Nopony else I knew had chosen to learn Arabic, so I did the best I could with that one solo.

We started with English, and once Honeybuzz left for work, Bifröst and I switched to Dutch.

I opened a European tour guide booklet and placed it on the table between us – it had pictures and basic descriptions of all of the countries on the continent.  I flipped to the pages highlighting Netherlands and the Low Countries.

“Nederlands is niet zo moeilijk als ik dacht, wat vind jij van de locaties in dit book Bifrost?”

“Ze hebben kastelen in Nederland en veel windmolens, zijn tulpen bloemen die wij ook hebben?” Bifröst’s reply was steadier than mine, with less hesitation.  She’d been living in Ponyville since before the portal to Earth had been announced, and had the benefit of having attended one of Equestria’s foremost schools. She’d had ponies to practice with and it showed.

“Geen idee maar ze zijn erg kleurrijk, hoezo? Wil je er een paar proeven?”  My reply was shaky, and my pronunciations were probably awful – human vocal chords were different than pony vocal chords, and their languages didn’t roll off equine tongues nearly as easily as they did human tongues.

“Misschien wel ja, maar niet uit een kas, Ik wil ze uit het wild of van een veld, om te zien of het weer dat zonder pegasus ponies word geregeld de smaak van bloemen verandered.” Her reply was almost instantaneous and I was jealous of her speed and accuracy.

I continued our Dutch conversation as best I could, “Ik wil lokale vogels zien als we daar zijn, de meeste zijn dezelfde als dat wij hebben maar misschien zijn er subtiele verschillen.”

“Wel dan hebben we in ieder geval een plan, misschien monumenten of steden bezoeken terwijl we toch bezig zijn?”

“Goed idee, toeristische steden zoals Amsterdam of Rotterdam klinken leuk.”








Hours of talking shouldn’t have been as exhausting as they were, but it was mentally taxing trying to think about everything I wanted to say in one language, and then have it come out of my mouth in another.

By the time we were done, it was after dark, and I stopped at Sunny Meadows’ All-Nite Café on the way back to Swift’s place.  I’d almost started thinking of his apartment as ‘home’ and that would be dangerous.  Nothing is forcing me to trot through the portal.  I haven’t received my stipend yet.  I can back out anytime.  I shook off the traitorous thoughts and reminded myself I didn’t owe it to Equestria, I owed it to myself.  Equestria doesn’t care if I stay behind as long as I don’t take the money.  But this is what I want.  This is what Dusty wants for me.  It’s what Uncle Mayweather would’ve wanted for me.

“Hey May.”  Sunny Meadows greeted me with a smile.  I’d been coming in long enough for her to learn my name. 

“Hi Sunny!”  I’d adapted to eating later so I could get meals at Sunny’s instead of Sugarcube Corner.  Sugarcube Corner had great food too, but Pumpkin Cake rubbed me the wrong way. I didn’t like her teasing Swift – that was my job, and only my job.  Sunny was everything the tween Cake brat wasn’t – polite, mature, and respectful.

“The normal?”

I nodded and she passed me a box.  She didn’t need Pinkie’s training to have a dozen cream-filled powdered doughnuts ready to go for me.

I could hear the clanging from halfway down the block.  It didn’t matter that it was past sundown – there was a job to do, and Swift was going to get it done.  I walked through the open garage door.  It didn’t matter that it was almost Hearth’s Warming, his shop got hot and he needed ventilation.

I’d hung around Uncle Mayweather and Dusty long enough to know the fastest way to get a stallion’s attention was food.  I could’ve walked in wearing the sexiest little skirt I could find and he probably wouldn’t even look up and notice it.  But doughnuts?  One whiff and he stopped what he was doing.

If I really want his attention, I should just roll around in powdered sugar.  I filed that thought away for our honeymoon.  Assuming I could convince Swift to marry me.  For a pony that spent all his time working with metal, he treated me like I was made of glass – like I might break if he touched me.  There’d be time to convince him – little love letters I could send him from Earth, to stoke the fires of our love.  To let distance make his heart grow fonder.

From what I’d managed to gather, it had been years since Swift had last dated.  I couldn’t help but wonder if I had enough time to worm my way into his heart.  I don’t know what happened to him, but there’s a fortress around his heart.  He’s so guarded, he never lets anypony get close. Will our romance survive me trotting through the portal?

“Somepony’s been to Sunny Meadows’.”

“No manure, Sherclop.”

“I should hope not.  I’d expect that kind of service from Pumpkin Cake.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at that.  He’d picked up on my disdain for the young Cake.  “So what have you been working on all day?”  He’d been hammering when I came in, but I couldn’t see anything in the shop. Whatever it was, it wasn’t as obvious as a broken wagon.

“Just a little somethin’.” He’d already started munching one of the doughnuts.  “If you want to see, look in my saddlebags.”  He pointed to where they were hanging across the shop.

I grabbed one of the doughnuts before Swift could eat all of them, then trotted over to the saddlebags. I don’t remember them being this shiny.  I stopped in my tracks as I got close.  Is that… Oh my gosh, it is!

Pinned to his saddlebags was a life-size replica of my cutie mark, with sapphires, cymophanes, and rubies set inside three golden feathers.  “It’s beautiful!”

“Open the bag.”

I did so, and found it contained a matching cutie mark – Swift’s.  Also made of gold and set with precious gems.

“Figured we could keep them as reminders of each other.  You know, when you’re far away.  You can pin it to your saddlebags, or to clothing, or just keep it someplace safe. I’ve never worked with gold before, and as tricky as it was, the hardest part was bribing the diamond dogs to find me gems.”

It was the nicest thing anypony had ever done for me, and I was speechless.  So I did the only thing I could do – I kissed him.






Everfree Forest: today


“Beauty is more than coat deep.  You’re beautiful, May.  I know you’ll never believe me when I say it, but I mean it.”  Swift held up a mirror.  “Pretty mare.”

The dork has a romantic streak.  Why did he wait until now to show that?  I could still stay behind.  Nopony’s forcing me to go to Earth.  My parents would be thrilled if I didn’t trot through the portal.  But Dusty would be disappointed in me, and I’d be disappointed in myself.  I have a goal.  I have to go.  I pounced on Swift, peppering him with kisses.  “You’re sweet, funny, and even handsome.  How were you not already claimed?”

“Because I’m also annoying, keep odd hours, and a recluse.”  He patted his stomach.  “And about thirty pounds overweight.”  He looked me up and down.  “There’s not an ounce of fat on you at all.  You know you can do better than this.”  He motioned to himself.

“Don’t want to.”  I nuzzled him.  “Mine.”

“Yours.  For now.  Until some colt on the other side catches your fancy.”

I waved a hoof dismissively.  “Not happening.  They’re not allowing colts or stallions across, unless they’re already married.  And those couples are being warned well in advance if they plan on having foals, they’re to have them here in Equestria.  We’re all Equestrian citizens, and they don’t want the mess of dual citizenship arising.  At least not yet.”

“Are they only sending one gender of humans here?”

I shook my head.  “Look around, Swift.”  I swept a foreleg behind me, motioning toward Ponyville, hidden in the distance by the thick foliage of the Everfree.  “You’ve lived in Ponyville a long time.  Does it look like we have a problem with allowing creatures other than ponies live in Equestria?”

“I guess not.”

“Humans are the only sapient creatures on Earth.  This is an experiment to see how well people and ponies do living alongside each other.  That’s why we’re locked in for five years.  We have to give this enough time to see if it works or not.  Five years from now, the princess might recall all of us back to Equestria and cut ties with Earth entirely.  Or we could open completely new avenues to the ponies who follow in our hoofsteps.  Time will tell.”  I kissed him one last time, then knelt down so he could load me up with all of my belongings that he’d so chivalrously carried along in his magical field.

He trudged to the viewing platform, reluctant to leave my side, while I scanned the crowd for Bifröst. I was hoping to travel to Earth with her, but she was walking with a group of her friends.  I chuckled to myself.  I’ve been a tagalong for years, I’ll just follow them.  Nopony wants to go alone, after all.  I waved to Swift, then galloped to catch up to them.

The queue to cross through the portal was long, and my dawdling with Swiftspeed had left me near the end of the line.  I’d never been one for staying still in one place for long, and I suppose that was why Dusty suggested a change of venues.  Despite all my nervousness and doubts, this still felt like the right thing to do.  But it was so boring waiting in line.  All around us I could hear the calls of the birds of the Everfree Forest, and I desperately wanted to go running off to explore the spooky forest.  If there are any undocumented species of birds left to find in Equestria, they’re in there somewhere.  Along with hydras, timberwolves, and thunderbats.  The trick would be living long enough to find them.

Only a few more ponies left to go through until it’s my turn. I scanned the crowd on the viewing platform, trying to find Swift.  Maybe it was the distance, or more likely the blurriness in my eyes, but I couldn’t spot him. I must’ve gotten a speck of dust in my eyes again.  I can’t cry.  Not now. Just a few more minutes.  I can break down on the other side, but for now I’ve got to be strong.  For Swift. For Dusty.  For me.







Pine Barrens, New Jersey: today


The forest on the other side of the portal wasn’t quite as spooky, though it was no less dense. Both security checkpoints were on this side, Equestria’s and Earth’s alike, since it was safer on the Earth side of the portal.  The ponies who’d already passed through security were being loaded onto a large motorized metallic transport the natives refered to as a ‘bus’.  It was nothing like anything I’d ever seen, and I admit to being fascinated by it.  Still, it was an enclosed space, and pegasi hate being confined for any length of time.

Before I could board the bus, however, I spotted a flock of seagulls, and I had to check them out.  The first thing I noticed was that the wildlife of Earth was noticeably more skittish than Equestria’s.  When they finally allowed me to get closer, I couldn’t discern any visual differences from Equestria’s seagulls.  Sooner or later I’d have to collect a breeding pair, but I didn’t think they’d like it very much if I brought birds to the consulate, so now definitely wasn’t the time.

A blue jay landed right in front of me.  Perhaps I’d been hasty to dismiss all of Earth’s birds as skittish.  This one certainly wasn’t.  Seconds later the jay was joined by a cardinal, and then a goldfinch.  Déjà vu.  Each raised a wing, displaying a magenta feather mixed amongst their natural plumage.  My eyes about bugged out of my head.  “My feathers.  My friends.”  I reached into my saddlebags with a wing, quickly putting the headband I’d made on, proudly displaying the feathers they’d given to me.

Before I could gauge their reactions, I heard the motor on the bus fire up.  “Horseapples!  I forgot all about the bus!”  I turned back to my avian friends, but much as last time, they’d disappeared by the time I turned back.  It would be really convenient to be able to do that right now to get on that bus!  I flapped with all my might, but the bus was already on the road by the time I caught up to it.

I flew alongside the bus, but the windows were tinted.  They could probably see out, but I couldn’t see in.  Instead I followed the bus, enjoying the flight through the Pine Barrens, and taking the opportunity to examine Earth.  The motorized vehicles came in all shapes and sizes.  Some were colorful, while others were bland.  I could see humans inside of many of them, and more than once a driver or passenger noticed me and pointed and waved at me.  I returned the waves, continuing to trail after the bus I was supposed to be on.

I’m probably the first pony any of these people have ever seen. I guess that means I need to make an especially good impression.  I’m no Rainbow Dash, but I’m no slouch in the air either.  I did loops and dives, barrel rolls and corkscrews for the amusement of my new human audience.  If they like this, just wait until they see a Wonderbolt!

I noticed a red car with a pony emblem at the very front.  The chrome pony was mid gallop, and I imitated the pose as I flew alongside the car.  The driver gave me a thumbs up.  According to my studies on human cultures, that was a sign of approval.  Thumb up is good, middle finger up is bad.

I was so focused on my aerobatics, I almost lost sight of the bus I was supposed to be following.  Whoops!  I flapped my wings furiously to catch up.  Unsurprisingly, I’d attracted the attention of several different birds, all of whom were now following me.  I’d never seen another pegasus have this effect on avians.  And while there weren’t a lot of pegasi back home, there was no shortage of them in Ponyville.  In the month I was there, I didn’t see a single bird following a pegasus for more than a few seconds.

I’d been flying for at least an hour when an overpowering stench hit my nostrils.  What on Equus…er what on Earth is that?  I climbed, seeking altitude to get away from the noxious odor.  Thank Celestia that pegasi have better than average vision.  It was no problem to keep an eye on the bus from up here, as long as I didn’t get it mixed up with the dozens of other ones.  I forced myself to concentrate on watching it.

The sound of an engine approached and, much to my horror, I found myself staring down a helicopter.  I dove.  I’d forgotten that Earth’s skies are filled with machines that pose flying hazards to pegasi.  Staying close to the ground wouldn’t cause any problems, but going too high would put me in airspace restricted for aircraft.  I guess I’m the first pegasus to inadvertently break that law.  I hope no one saw my faux pas.

Okay, the good news is I’m low enough to be out of the flight paths of aircraft and high enough to avoid the stink below me.  The bad news is I have no idea which of those buses down there is mine.  I groaned in frustration.  Back into the stench I go to figure out which bus is the right one.  Maybe I’ll just ride on the roof.  I facehoofed.  Why didn't I think of that earlier?  Right, because I wanted to show off for all the humans.

Before I could dive back into the stink I noticed a great horned owl riding on one of the buses. That couldn’t possibly be a coincidence – a nocturnal bird with a sense of smell so notoriously bad that they were the only routine predator of skunks, riding a bus through obnoxiously noxious fumes in the middle of the day.  I don’t know how or why they do it, but the birds are looking out for me, even here on Earth.

Much to my amazement, several parakeets swarmed around me as we flew closer to the large suspension bridge looming in the distance.  They definitely weren’t natives to this area – not many parrots could survive in temperate climates, but apparently these parakeets were able to.  I could see the city skyline clearly from here.  It looked vaguely similar to pictures I’d seen of Manehattan, but bigger.  Much, much bigger.  

I landed on the roof of the bus.  As fun as flying through the maze of buildings looked, I knew I’d never find the bus again if I got separated from it.  There’d be plenty of time for that after meeting with the duchess.  My plan is to build an aviary near the portal.  Hopefully she has some ideas on people I can work with.  There have to be experts, and if anyone can find them, it’s the duchess.

The bus kept coming to stops at the intersections, and I found myself ducking or fluttering over traffic signals until we finally came to a stop for good.  Once the ponies inside the bus started disembarking, I glided down to the ground and joined them.

Bifröst approached me.  “I saw you doing the flying outside the bus.  I wish I had been thinking to do that too.  The bus was cramped and uncomfortable.  And it is smelling funny.”

I laughed.  “I assure you it smelled funny outside the bus too.  There was one section before the bridge where I had to fly high to get away from a horrendous stench.”

She nodded.  “We were smelling that on the bus too.  Oh, and just so you are knowing, there was a pony on the bus who is wanting to open a hotel.  I am deciding to go in on it.  Perhaps you should be considering this also?”

“Interesting.”  If it isn’t too far away from here, I could make that work as a home base.  And if she’s getting a bunch of us to pool resources…  Suddenly I don’t need to worry about paying for a large parcel of land for an aviary.  “Yeah, I think I want in on that too.  Can you point her out to me?”

“She is talking to those two mares right now.  She is being the blue unicorn with the pink hair and snowflake mark.  Her name is being Snowcatcher.”