//------------------------------//
// The White Knight 
// Story: Fallout: Equestria - The Hooves of Fate 
// by Sprocket Doggingsworth 
//------------------------------//

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR - THE WHITE KNIGHT
"Without memory, there is no culture. Without memory, there would be no civilization, no society, no future." - Elie Wiesel




Correspondence from Pansy to Hurricane.  Letter §361.5B.

Civilization is kindnesse.  That, deare friend, is the entirety of the point - that we, through cooperation, can enjoy a greater bountey than if we all chose to toyl alone. 

I am not naive.  I, lyke you, haf seen war.  We've alle seen hungre.  We've all seen powre struggles that servd the intrests of no mare, save for the already powerful.  That, however, is a perversion of civilization's intended purpouse - an arguably unavoidable perversion, but a deviation nonethelesse. 

When the nomadic herrds of the Equiolithic Era first fashoned instruments of agricoulture, do you suppose that they dreamt of war?  Did they combyne their efforts, and raise barns for one another out of a common dream that one day, ponies would design new and exciting ways to kill one another - new and exciting institutions to extract the wealth o'the land, and syphon it into the hooves of the privileged few? 

No. 

That is the law of the jungle - the verry impulses that any worthwhile civilization must constantly seek to restrain. 

We built Equestria for a higher purpose.  The windigo shocked that purpose into our spines so very long ago.

I don't intend to forget it. 

That is why I must head out into the West, dearest Hurricane.  There's rumor of a power there, awakening, as you well knowe: strange reports of flying fish and swimming birdes; seas of tapioca; clouds mayd of accordion dust; and shouers of choclate raine. 

I go there now - against your counsel and your judgment - because our civilization is in perill.  Even as you muster your armies, I heade into the frontiers, naked and unarrmed.  My intent is to find the source of this chaos, and befriend it. 

It sounds ludicrous, I know - that's why I embarked upon my journey weeks ago, and left explicitt instructions for this letter not to be delivered until the next Full Moon. 

There was no other waye. 

Our dreams are dying, Hurricane.  Even if we could fynd and destroy this chaos that threatens our Western bordres, how much tyme will that buy us ere we also destroy ourselves?  

It was friendship that founded our brave new world - friendship that defeated the windigo - friendship that transformed our civilization into an actual cause - a common dreame with greter meaning and purpouse. 

Over the yeers, I've watched that dreame unravel as you, and I, and the other "founding sisters" forgot ourselves - led astray by the cold reality of dayly administration. 

Tonight, I head into the dangers of the Weste, not out of some innocent presumption that we will all be saved by simpel kindnesses, but rather, out of brutall pragmatism.  

There is rumor of a dragon-like being who reigns Supreme over the Westernlands - an agent of chaos. 

If I were to allow you five to warre with this mysterious being whom you do not understand, then even if you somehow defeated him, our civilization would already be lost. 

War transforms poneys - destroys everything civilized about civilization. 

I do not intend to allow Equestria to go the way of the windigo.  I gallop into the land of the setting sun on a mission of friendship: to invite this creatoure back here to our homelande, and throw him a tee party.  An alliance such as his may be the very thing that Equestria needs to steer us back on course. 

Should I fail - as well I might - knowe that it was all for Equestria.  

Jungles come, and jungles go, but civilization - actual civilization serving the dreame of a common goode - is far rarer.  It is that dreame that I intend to save - if not for this generatioun, then the next, or the one that followes.  Someday somepony will look upon the annals of our tyme and realize that war is madness.  That poverty is madness.  That civilization itself is an act of love - that, to settle for anything lesse is a death sentence. 

I have to go, Hurricane.  I have to try - if only to reassert who we, as Equestrians, are; to rescue the dreame of who we once intended to be. 

Without that dreame, then I fear that we are no civilization at all.  If we were to move forward against an unknown foe without first considering friendship, then in the end, we would find ourselves with nothing left worth fighting for. 

Wish me luck, old friend. 

Pansy.





*     *     *





The founding sister formerly known as "Private" Pansy is largely believed to have ushered in the Discordian Era by seeking out the dangers on Equestria's border, and inviting the dragonequus over for tea.  Some ponies believe it a naive maneuver made by a scared and desperate fool.  But her letters show more than that.  They show bravery.  Faith that Equestria could still amount to more than its failings. 

And if there's one thing that huddling in the trenches taught me - it's that hope reaches far beyond its time.  That stories have power.

Yes.  Attempting to befriend Discord was, of course, a ludicrous endeavor.  But those very failings - those treatises that Pansy wrote to her former commander - they were foundational in the post-Discordian era. 

When our wise and sovereign princesses sought to forge a new society.  On hope.  On sharing.  On the idea that civilization itself was an act of love - a longing for collective meaning - a cosmic realization that we can accomplish more together than any individual ever could alone.  It was the writings of Pansy that laid the foundations for their reign. 

And thousands of years later, the Safety kids had rediscovered that dream too.  Without ever having read a single word.   It was an oasis of civilization in a world of jungles.  A world shaped by conflict.  Just like Ancient Equestria.  The founding sisters themselves had forged friendships under the threat of the windigo.  Built an entire society on that bond.  A love between unicorns, earth ponies, and pegasi.  Born of crisis.  Of struggle.

Trottica was the same way.  Yeah, there were kids who dropped each other.  Stampeded in the dark.  Scary times show us scary things about ourselves.  But they also transform you, making warriors out of slaves.

We kids had created a fucking civilization right then and there.  A spark of friendship down in the mines.  An act of love.  For ourselves.  For one another.  It had erupted into something bigger than any of us could have dreamt of on our own.   

It made Strawberry Lemonade who she was supposed to be.  It transformed everypony.

I wonder what kind of society they built after I was gone.   What kind of culture that revolution created.  What kind of nation. 

The children of Safety had that same exact vibe.  Everywhere I went, everypony was thrilled to be a part of something.  Not just a school.  Not just a playground that grown-ups had built to entertain us.  We looked out for each other 'cause there was this electrifying sense that we were building something for ourselves. 

Plus, apparently, there's skee ball.





*     *     *





"Hey, Rose!"  Pistachio plopped down on the seat across from me, lowering his tray o' glop gently onto the cafeteria table.

"Huh?  What?"

"Still searching for your friend, huh?"

"Yeah," I replied.  Even though I'd spent the last half hour reflectifying on the fall of empires.  "I haven't seen them."

I scanned the cafeteria.  As though Misty was just gonna pop up the moment I remembered to look.

"Well, keep up hope,'' said Pistachio in a tone that suggested anything but hope.

I was beginning to lose my optimism too.  One orientation, one rooftop party, one dinner, one breakfast, one emo ed class, one hospital, and half of a lunch break later - still no sign of Misty Mountain.

Pistachio fidgeted with a scroll - an actual paper scroll.  "Uh, anyways," he said.  "I just wanted to let you know that it's, like...pretty brave what you did back there.   When you hit your head on the pipes, and --;"

"Yeah," I said.  "Real cool."

"Okay, so you're a dork," said Pistachio.  "But you're a brave dork."  He snorted out a warthog chuckle.

"Thanks," I laughed right back.  

"So, here you go, dork.  This is from Scribbles."  He slid the scroll to me.

"One of her paper drawings?"  I squeaked, knowing damn well what a scarcity paper was.

"Yeah, it's her way of saying 'Thanks for being a dork.'"

"Anytime," I said.

Pistachio grabbed his tray, and hurried out of the seat.  "You should come sit with us."

"I've gotta wait for Bananas Foster and Cliff Diver first, but that sounds good."

"Wairt forrrm mme to what?"  Cliff gripped his tray with his teeth, and sat down beside me. 

"Haha, later losers," said Pistachio as he zipped off.

Cliff scowled.

"What?"  I said.

"Nothing," he replied.  "I just hate that word."

"It's their way, he didn't mean--;"

"I know," he snapped.  "That's why I'm only telling you instead of going over there and...Hey, is that paper?"  Cliff Diver leaned over me.

"Oh yeah," I said,pulling the rolled-up parchment close to me.

"What's it say?"  

"I dunno," I replied.  And gazed across the cafeteria some more.  

Scribbles was still cringing at the sight of me.  Hiding behind Pistachio.  But no sign of Misty.

Carefully, I laid the parchment down on the table, and unfurled it:  A colored pencil drawing of a dragon with flaming nostrils.   And huge horns with axes growing out of them.  And lightning erupting from its mouth.

I unrolled it further: a white filly stood before the dragon.  Bold.  Unafraid.  Her red, yellow, and pink mane waved heroically in the wind.  Her cutie mark was emblazoned on a silver shield.  A scattering of rose petals.

In the background were pipes and crates and mops and stuff.  And two kids sneaking their way out the door.

"Are you...fighting a dragon...in the hospital boiler room?"  Said Cliff.

I buried my face in my forehooves.  

"I think I musta missed something," said Cliff.

"Mm mmnnmm mmnnmmm," I said, face still buried.

"What?"

"I said, 'This is embarrassing.'"

"Scribbles seems to be taking it worse," Cliff replied.

I tried to look without turning my head and being super obvious.  But there was no way to do it.  So I just plunged my face down again.

"She's practically under the table," Cliff described.  "What happened in that boiler room?"

"I made an ass of myself."

Just then, a donkey boy strolled passed us.  Tray in mouth.

"No offense," I said.

"None taken," he muttered, and moved on.

"I dunno," Cliff said.  "They seem to think highly of you."

He pointed at the parchment, illustrating the heroic deeds of Rose Petal, Dragonslayer.

"It's a joke,'' I replied.  "I thought we were under attack.  It turned out to be a Maintenance Mare.  The worst thing she did was lecture me before letting me inside."

"I really don't think they're making fun of you," Cliff said.  

"Where the Hell is Foster?"  I threw my eyeballs all around the room again.

"Quit changing the subject,"  Cliff said.  "Wait, that's a good question."

I got up.  Walked table to table to table. (Careful to avoid eye contact with Pistachio and Scribbles of course).  But I found no sign of Misty.  No Foster either.

...Until I heard her laugh.  All the way on the other side of the cafeteria, Bananas Foster sat alone with Elderberry Sunset, aka 1417-G.  

I approached.  Head bent halfway down.  Careful not to announce my presence. You never knew when Foster might be onto something.  Gathering info.  Establishing trust.  That kinda thing.  I couldn't risk screwing it up. 

"Excuse me," I said, maneuvering my way past a unicorn colt and his four levitating trays.

Little by little, I got closer to Foster and Elderberry.  From the looks of things they seemed to be playing checkers on an old lunch tray with lines drawn on it.  Using waffle fries as pieces.  Red and gold potatoes. 

Elderberry stood up on her stool.  And eyed the board.  Like she was under some kinda spell.  She was fascinated by the mechanics of the game. 

After careful deliberation, Elderberry skipped her potatoes over Foster's.  Grabbed her "enemy's" chips and ate them.  

"You're a natural!"  Foster said, beaming with pride.  

That's when she noticed me.  Foster held up a single hoof to indicate 'one moment.'  And silently urged me for some space.

So I headed all the way back.  Giving that same hoof signal to Cliff Diver. That we should sit and wait.

But I took the long way around the cafeteria.  Pretending not to notice that Pistachio was watching me the whole time.

Go over there and fucking say something!  My Rose Voice commanded.  Explain that you're waiting for Foster who got caught up in a checkers game (of all things).

….What are you doing?...Don't ignore them. They're gonna think you hate them - that you hate Scribbles' drawing and want her face to explode so she can never grip a pencil, brush, marker, or quill ever again.

She wasted parchment on you!  Another Rose Voice guilted me.  Parchment!

No, a third Rose Voice chimed in.  She used a parchment to make fun of you.

"Aaah!"  I said out loud.

And then, all the little ponies around me stopped and stared.

"Are you alright?"  Said Lucky, that country girl I hadn't seen since orientation.  Without her jacket, her entire body was a mass of scars.  Like a wicker basket fraying, scratchy-like in all directions. 

"Who me?"  I said.  "I'm fine.  I'm just, uh…practicing my screaming.  'Cause I plan to go out...screaming...tomorrow."

"Sounds like a blast," Lucky said.  "Can I come?"

"What?"

"Screaming," Lucky replied.  "Ooh.  I got a hooded sweatshirt shaped like a dire possum.  It'll be perfect!"

"That sounds, um, kinda cool actually," I said.  "I haven't really thought about the details.  But I should go for now.  My friends are waiting."

"Of course."

I tried to spin around, but Lucky had one last thing to say.  "Hay, Rose?"  Her voice was hard as diamonds.

"Yeah, huh, what?"

"If you ever have a problem or whatever, just...knock on my door, okay?  Or Glenn, or Miss Honey's, or even just your friends.  Nopony should go out possum-screaming alone.  Do you understand?"

I nodded silently.  Knowing that, despite my smooth social maneuvering, I'd still made everypony around me concernitty.  
Then I slunk back to my table.

"What's going on?"  Cliff said.

"Nothing," I sat back down.  "Foster's establishing trust.  She seemed to be...bonding with Elderberry Sunset. 

"For real?  Or for…"

"I don't know," I answered.  "But either way it's a good thing."

"I guess so," said Cliff.  "Good for her."

"Hay," Foster sat down right in front of me.

"Ahh!"  

"Sorry about that," she said.  "You know they never taught checkers here?  They have a cultural memory of skee ball, but they don't know what a checker is."

Cliff leaned forward.  Gripped Foster's forehooves with his own.  "Blueberry Milkshake?"

"No sign of her," Foster said.  "But let me tell you about Elderberry Sunset.  She tells the funniest story about mashed potatoes."

"Are you taking this seriously?"  Cliff said.

Foster's smile faded from her face.  She leaned forward.  "We passed 11 kids during orientation, not counting the 58 at dinner.  12 at the rooftop party, not counting 3 we'd seen before in the other aforementioned locations.  41 new faces at breakfast, plus 27 familiar ones.  5 at Emotional Education, plus the 11 who trickled in as we left.  15 on the streets.  16 new faces in the hospital - that's counting both visitors and patients.  Plus 21 new faces in this lunchroom.  That's 191 kids, 14 of which have been blue.  2 of those, cerulean.  One was female.  The other was the boy in intensive care who Rose already said isn't Blueberry Milkshake.

'That puts us at a little more than half of the student body in a little less than 24 hours.  I'd say we're doing well."

"Geez," Cliff threw his forehooves up.  "Sorry."

"Hay," Foster said.  "Is that parchment?"

"What?"  I said.

She pointed at the bundled up scroll in my bag.

"Oh, um...yeah.  It's a gift from Scribbles."

"Real paper," Foster smirked.  "Good job endearing yourself to the Safety kids."

"She did it to make fun of me."

Foster squished her face in disbelief.  "Gimme that."  She pried the parchment from under my hooves.  Laid it out nice and smooth.  Examined the dragon and the Rose Knight carefully.  Like a jeweler scoping out a diamond with one of those monocle thingies.

"Yes," Foster said grimly.  "I see what you mean."

"You do?"

"Clearly she wasted precious parchment to depict you as a dragon-slaying hero…entirely because she hates you."

"Shut up."

"Well, let's put it this way.  What did Scribbles say when you thanked her?"
…
…
…

"Pistachio snuck it to her,"  Cliff said.

"And then…"

"Then invited us to their table," I murmured.

"And you saaaid…"

"I told him I needed to wait for you and Cliff."

Foster blinked her bloinkitty eyes at me, and without saying a word, snatched my tray, and whisked it across the cafeteria.

"Hay!"

Cliff grabbed his own tray and followed.  Leaving me trailing behind.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.  I followed.  Cringing with every step.  Like there were nails in my hooves. 

"Uh, hey, Rose," said Pistachio.  "Are you okay?"

Scribbles lifted her head up.  Forced a cursory glance in my direction.  

"Yeah.  It's been...an intense day," I said.

I waved a meek little hi at Scribbles.  She waved back.

That's when Foster stomped on my hoof.

"Thanks for the drawing," I squeaked in pain.

"It was nothing," said Scribbles.

Three ponies scooted over so me and my friends could face Pistachio and Scribbles.

"So!  What did Rose Petal do to deserve this honor?"  Bananas Foster said.  Mischievous stars sparkled in her eyes

'Shut up!'  I said through my teeth.  Nudging her under-the-table.

"Oh," said Pistachio.  "Well, Rose believed we were breaking into someplace dangerous, you see...Where exactly did you think we were again?"  Pistachio turned to me. 

But I just buried my head under my forehooves again.

"Anyway, we were gonna get caught, and she sorta leapt out and made a diversion.

"You did what?"  Cliff said.
  
To my surprise, he had genuine shock and betrayal all the fuck over his face.

We're supposed to be trying to get out of here.  His eyeballs said.  To get home.  To fight Shadows.  The fate of the duckyerse is in the balance, and you're risking it all?

"It's not a big deal," I said.  "I knew that you could break me out later if you needed to."  I pointed to Scribbles.  "You broke in easily enough, right?"

Pistachio and Scribbles both blushed a little, but agreed.  "Yeah."

"Well, thanks," said Bananas Foster. Bringing the conversation around full circle.  All nice and smooth-like.  "Rose has been a true friend to me.  And to Cliff Diver.  It means a lot to us that you think so highly of her."

"I'm a dork,'' I said.

"Even if she is a dork."  Cliff added.

"I'm glad you like the drawing," said Scribbles' tangerine cheeks flushing red.  "I thought for a minute that you mistook it for me making fun of you."

"Never!"  Cliff, Foster, and I said in unity.

"No," I said.  "It's great."

I unrolled it again.  Just to get a peek.  The dragon was actually pretty awesome.  It reminded me of the cover art for one of the Pone-o-War albums that Roseluck listened to as a teen.  She thought she'd kept it hidden from me.  Up in the attic.  But rummaging children have a way of finding forbidden treasures.

"I see talking, but I don't see eating."  The old lunch mare passed our table.  She pointed to the clock on the wall.

Surprisingly, it was almost the top of the hour.  We'd spent so much time at the hospital reading to the boy with accordion lungs that we'd missed the beginning of our lunch period.  

Cliff shoveled pesto-flavored protein goop into his muzzle to make up for lost minutes.  I did the same.

"So where are you three headed next?"  Pistachio said.  "Back to the dorms to take it easy?"

"No," Foster answered.  "We wanted to jump right in.  So we asked Cherry Fizz to schedule us for classes."

Scribbles saw right through us.  Looked me square in the eye.  "I hope you find your friend."

"Oh, um.  Thanks."





*    *    *





After the bell rang, and we parted from our new friends, the three of us headed for our first real class.

"History," Foster said aloud from memory.

Cliff rummaged through his saddlebag, digging for the schedule as he walked.  Rustle rustle clunk squeak clang!  "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Foster replied.  "The yellow building.  It's that way."  She pointed down the main street that ran along the middle of the Safety campus.  Back toward where we first started our orientation tour the day before.  

Foster led.  We followed.

"Good," I said.  "Maybe we can learn something.  Just talking to Glenn for five minutes taught me so much about the pegasi."

Cliff glanced at the sky for a moment, decided against saying anything pegas-ish.  And instead turned his attention to Safety's streets.  "Maybe we can find out what's going on with those ponies in blue jumpsuits."

I looked around.  Noticed a few scurrying workers I hadn't spotted before.  "I dunno if history class is gonna explain that," I said.  "I get the impression we're not even supposed to talk about them."

"But they're everywhere," Cliff said.

"Oh, yeah," said Foster, suddenly awake to the jumpsuit ponies shuffling past us, carrying a ladder.

"You noticed 181 stranger k--:"

"191," Foster interrupted.  

"191 stranger kids," Cliff continued.  "But not the grownups right in front of you?"

"They're not relevant," Foster replied.

"But you notice everything," I retorted.

"Everything relevant," she replied.

Clip clop clip clop.  Clip clop clip clop.  Our hooves knocked against the pavement as the three of us held an awkward contemplatey silence.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice," Foster said at last.  Staring at the ground.  Pensive-like.  "I was thinking about him."

Clip clop clip clop.  Clip clop clip clop.

"The boy with the accordion lungs?"  I said.

Foster nodded silently.

"I didn't notice them either," I said.  "I was uh...thinking about all that stuff Glenn told me."

"About the pegasi?" Asked Cliff.

"About me," I said.

Suddenly all of the Foster-eyeballs, and all of the Cliff-eyeballs were pointed my way.

"You know."  I cringed.  "About blaming myself for everything.  About the 2 x 4 o' Friendship…"

Cliff and Foster turned to one another - shared a what the fuck is Rose Petal talking about now glance.

"...About trying to save the world at a reasonable pace."

Just then, I happened to glance in a window.  There was a blue jumpsuit pony inside.  Mopping.   Our eyes met.  

She hid from me like I was dragon made out of fire-breathing spiders and that scummy stuff you find on your teeth when you first wake up.

My hooves stumbled and shuffled to a halt.  "The spell.  That's how they get you."

Foster's face crumpled like a sock puppet turned inside out.

"Yesterday," I said.  "I was horrified at how everypony seemed, you know, totally ready to ignore blue jumpsuit ponies who are clearly oppressed...somehow."  I reared up and flailed my forehooves in frustration.  "But just now, we didn't notice them!  Safety has little ways of making you feel good.  Making you heal.  And you get wrapped up in the whole Safety lifestyle, and forget about the ponies making it all happen."

"Nopony ever thinks about who's making anything happen, or how," Foster said.

"Huh?"  Said Cliff.

"I've studied civilizations from all over," Foster explained.  "It's rare for somecreature to step into a building and think of the thousands of hours of labor that went into its creation."

"That's different," Cliff retorted.  "The grownups in blue are clearly oppressed."

"Somehow?"  Foster said.

"Yes," I said.  "Somehow."

Clip clop clip clop.  Clip clop clip clop.

Foster craned her neck backwards.  Sighed at the bottoms of the clouds.  Out of regret for the point she was about to make, "What about sheep and cows?"  Foster retorted.

"What?"

"In Equestria," Foster clarified.  "What say do sheep really have over their own lives?"

"The sheep aren't oppressed," I snapped.  "They're just...sheep."

"Sentient beings," Foster replied.  "Herded into pens like animals."

"That's different," I retorted.

"How?"

All the clockwork gears and wheels in my brain ground to a halt.   Sure the sheep are sentient.  They could talk. But they were in pens for their own safety.  Or so I'd been taught.  I never really thought beyond it.  Never talked to one.  Single.  Sheep.  Never asked how they felt.

"When you're an us," I whispered aloud.  "It's easy not to think about them."  

We passed another window.  And saw the silhouette of two more of those worker ponies.  Hustling.  Scared.  Even though nopony could really see much inside.

It twisted my stomach.

"Here we are!"  Announced Cliff Diver.  "The Yellow Building."

"How do you know?"  I asked.

He pointed at the two story brownstone that had been converted into one of many school buildings.  "Because it's yellow."

"Okay everypony," Foster said.  "I know that thinking about the plight of the ponies in blue, and our debate on the sheep question has got us all a little rattled.  But we need to focus.  Pay attention.  We could learn a lot in this class.  About their world.  About their culture.  We might even learn about Blueberry Milkshake, (or clues that could lead us to him)."

"Yeah," I said.  "You're right."  Even though my heart still burned for answers about the worker ponies.  And struggled with ethical quandaries regarding sheep.

"How many new faces have you seen so far?"  Cliff asked.

"The total's up to 204,"  Foster replied.  "Students of course."

I nodded.  Forced to temporarily acknowledge the efficiency of Foster's "relevant / not-relevant" method of examining the world.





*     *    *





The Yellow Building was finished.  Unlike the green one with its flimsy labyrinthian halls.  So as we walked in thinkitty silence, the sound of our clopping hooves came back at us.  A lush dense echo.  Like we were in a hospital.

Okay, Rose.  Focus.  Fucking focus.  One of my Rose Voices said to me.  Take Foster's advice.  Learn what we can.

But what about the sheep?  Another Rose Voice protested.  Are they really Ponyville's version of blue jumpsuit ponies?  The creatures who make everything happen? And if so, what the fuck, Ponyville?  What kinda world are we even fighting for?

The kinda world where we survive long enough to get home.  Said a third, more practical Rose Voice.  We're.  Fighting.  To.  Get.  Home.  We're fighting to get outta here so we can rescue Blueberry Milkshake.   And to do that, we need to blend in.  Lie low.  And above all, keep our eyes peeled wide for any signs - any clues at all - about what might have happened to Misty Mountain.

"Hay, Rose," said a cerulean pony as he passed us in the hallway.

"Oh, hay, Misty," I said.  And kept on walking.

Clip clop clip clop clip clop.  Went the hooves of my friends and I.  Foster's head turned to me.  Then Cliff's.  Then wham!  It hit me like a planet to the face.

I would have turned my own head around to stare at myself and say, Rose, what the fuck?  If my head hadn't been so poorly positioned to do so.

I shuffled.  Skidded.  Found Misty Mountain staring at me just as speechlessly as I, him.  His purple mane fell out of a pointy hat.  And dangled like jungle vines in front of his face.

"Rose?" He said, eyes darting between Cliff and Foster like bouncy balls of suspicion.  "Uh...Rose Petal...My friend from gym class, thees is where I know you from, yes?"  He winked at me.

"Uh…"

Cliff rushed in.  "We're from the past," he whispered.  "Like Rose Petal.  Like you."

Misty skidded back.

"We came to help you on your mission."

Misty pressed his flank against the wall.  "Rose, what have you done?"

His eyeballs pierced me like the Thousand Arrows of Betrayal on Pinkbeard's voyage to the Isle of the Amethyst Skull.  

He knew!  He knew I'd fucked with time and duckies and dreams.  And he got this terrible look on his face.  Like his own Sub Mine F was sparking to life behind his watering eyes.

"It was an accident!" I said.

Clip clop.  Clip clop.  Clip clop.   Other ponies headed up the hallway.

"An accident?"  Said Misty, shaking his head no in horror.  

Clip clop.  Clip clop.  Clip clop.  Clip clop.

I leaned in close.  Explained myself in hushed tones.  "I was running for my life down this corridor in outer space, and I kinda panicked and fell through your dream door, and called for help and dragged my friends with me."

His horn lit up.  A blue forcefield yanked me closer.  "You can do all dat?"  He whispered.

The hoofsteps came closer.  We weren't alone anymore.

"Elderberry!"  Foster leapt forward with a great big Smile o' Diversion.  "Great to see you!"

Foster switched gears so quickly that Cliff jumped back just a little.

Elderberry sauntered over to Foster, and gave a stiff little hoof bump.  Her version of affection.  "Hello."

"I can, and I can't," I answered Misty in a whisper.  "It's complicated."

"How?"  Misty demanded.  The kind of whisper so desperate it could crack open the earth by sheer force of its urgency.  "How?"

Iris, our other tour guide from the orientation, came up behind Elderberry.  "Rose Petal.  Cliff Diver!  Glad to see you jumping right in.  Ready for classes?  Already?  Wow!"  He snickered and snorted.

"That's us," said Cliff, laughing awkwardly.

Iris turned to Misty Mountain.  Pointed at him with his prosthetic hoof.  "Watch out for this guy with the hat, Rose.  He's a real Starswirl with that horn of his."

Misty swallowed hard.  Forced a smile more mechanical than Elderberry's shows of affection.  With a deep breath, he summoned the wits to straighten out his pointy hat, covered in moons and shimmery stars, and to brush his mane away from his face.

"I won hat in magic archery match," he explained.  Then turned to Iris.  "Starswirl ees nothing!  Een my country we have magicians twenty times better than your Starswirl with beard."  He puffed his chest out.  Forced his head up high.  Put on a show of bravado that anypony who knew Misty would undoubtedly expect from him.

"We're going to be late," said Elderberry dryly.

"Uh, okay, Elderberry," I said.  "Just gimme a minute.  I wanna hear about this magician ten times--;"

"Twenty!"  Misty interrupted.

"Twenty times better than Starswirl," I corrected myself.  Wondering how any memory of Starswirl had managed to survive the Wasteland at all.  (That was, like, obscure nerd stuff, even at home).

"Don't take too long," said Iris.  "Class is about to start."

Iris gave us a moment of privacy, shepherded Elderberry inside.  Assuring her that, yes, it was okay not to be early every now and again.

Once they were gone, my friends and I all huddled together.

"I am een roohm 4G of building at ent-of-roadt," Misty whispered in a hurry.

"The tall one with the rooftop view of the amusement park?"  Said Cliff.

Misty nodded back.

"We're in 7F," said Foster.  "Same building."

"Perfect!" Misty exclaimed.  "Now we can find each other.  If everythink fails, we meet there tonight."

"We should try to talk before then," I said.  "I've been looking for you for a long time.  I have so many questions!"

Misty held up a hoof.  "There ees field trip to market today at three.  Anypony who wants can sign up and go.  We will have privacy een dee crowd."

"Privacy is good," said Cliff.  

"Look for me at roll call before we leef.  We talk den."

My friends nodded.  All frank, and harried, and business-like.  But I just watched his ridiculous pointy hat jiggle atop his head.  
And a calm came over me.  Out of the blue.  A sense that, for once, things might actually be playing out the way they were supposed to.  "You really are The Magician," I said, remembering the tarot card Pinkie Pie had drawn to represent him.

"Dee best!"  Misty replied.  Standing up tall again.  As if by reflex.

I laughed.  Hugged him tight.  "I missed you."

He put a hesitant hoof around my shoulder, hugging back the best way he knew how.  

That's when I realized something.  Misty may not have been at the forefront of my mind every single day like Twink, (or even Strawberry Lemonade, with her great mysterious fate).  But that braggartry of his - that arrogance that drove us all so fucking crazy in Trottica - hearing it again after all I'd been through - somehow, it felt like home.

"I...missed you too," Misty replied, voice all confuseitty.   Like he had surprised himself by feeling anything at all.  

A tinny bell clanged from somewhere out of sight.

"Hurry," Misty said, but as I spun around to dart my way into the classroom, he called out to me one more time, "Rose!"

I scrambled back to hear what he had to say. Tripping on my own hooves till Clonk!  I knocked my head on the floor.

Next thing I know, Misty leans over me.  That primordial fear was back in his eyeballs again.  They looked a thousand years old.  Eyes that had seen too many shadows for one lifetime.  

"Lie low," he warned.  "Please!  No revolutions.  No speeches.  No Rose Petal-ing!"  His voice quaked like the fate of the duckyverse depended on it.

"Rose Petal-ing?"

"Don't fuck dees up," he said, and walked away.   "Please.  Just...don't fuck dees."

I got up.  Rubbed my head as my friends rushed over to scoop me to my hooves.

"What was that about?" Said Cliff.

Before I could answer, a grown up popped her head out the door.  "Oh, there you are," said the orange mare.  "Come on inside."

"Okay," I said.  "I'm fine.  I just, uh...fell."





*     *     *





The classroom was twice as big as any reasonable classroom should have been.  I swear, it musta had eighteen ponies in it!!  The desks were arranged in a circle too.   Closed off so the chalkboard was an afterthought.

Cliff shimmied around in his desk at first.  Looked to me for reassurances. 

But, like...what were we supposed to do?  We couldn't pass notes.  Couldn't whisper.  In that damn circle, everypony saw everything.  

Meanwhile, my brain was screaming.  Aaaahhhhh!!!!!  'Cause Misty was here.  Unharmed.  In Safety.  Not tortured.  Not imprisoned.  Not crying like I'd heard him when I fell through the time portal.  

Misty Mountain was winning pointy hats and making friends.  But even so, something wasn't quite right.  He was fearful.  Desperate.  

Had I just given him false hope?  Did he think that my friends and I could simply zip around the duckyverse as we pleased?

Damnit!  I was so stupid!  I'd blabbed about that stuff - knowing we didn't have time for a great big old explain-o-rama.  Misty must be so alarmed.  So confused!

And arg!  So was I.  But I had no idea how to deal with all of that confuse-osity.  Misty'd shaken me and pressed me not to draw attention to myself.  Not to go Rose Petal-ing!

I felt like my head was about to explode - a smashed anxiety melon, splattering my brain-worries over every wall of the classroom.  But I still had to do the one fucking thing I hated more than war.  More than shadows.  More than whack-a-doo innocence-hating cults who sacrificed kids to their bullshit god of gem mines.

I had to act normal.




"Rose Petal," said Miss Mango.

"Huh?  What?"  I replied.

"You've been quiet this whole time.  What do you think?"

Cliff buried his head in his hoof.  While I just babbled.  "Uh, umm.  Ummm."

"It's okay," said the teacher.  "Everypony in the Wasteland has different Hearth's Warming traditions.  And we'd love to hear about yours."

"Hearth's Warming?"  I said.  "Again?"

Foster nudged me under the desk with her knee - and by nudged, I mean cudgeled.

"Ow."

"We celebrated Hearth's Warming early," Foster explained.  Once all eyes were on her, she deigned to elaborate.  "We weren't sure we'd survive December.  So we built a fire, sang our favorite carols, and talked about home."

The class murmured and nodded in general approval.

"You're safe now," said Iris from across the circle.

"I know," I replied.

But Cliff shot his eyeballs at Miss Mango in surprise.  'Cause Iris had just called out an answer.  Without raising his hoof.

"Don't worry," the teacher laughed.  "In this classroom, we all help each other learn.  That's why there are so many students of different ages and education levels here.  You're not the first stable kid to find it a little odd, but I think you'll find an open classroom environment helps nurture an open mind."

"Oh, uh.  Okay," said Cliff.

"Everypony comes here with different ideas," said a purple kid next to him.  "'Cause we all come from, you know, different backgrounds.  It's okay if you don't feel ready to share.  But it's useful if you do!  'Cause, like, Safety has ponies who specialize in taking everypony's story, and piecing it together with what our troops find."

"Our troops?"  I said.  

"Yeah.  Red Eye's armies wander the Wasteland in search of clues."

I imagined an elite squad of Celestia's Royal Guard running around with magnifying glasses and Sherclop Pones hats.

"Fillydelphia has a lot of experts," Miss Mango explained.  "Every time a new stable is found - or a new maneframe in an old wartime building - they take the information they find, and use it to broaden our understanding of the world."

"Oh."  

I stopped and wondered what kinda information they might have found.  What might have been lost.  

The soldiers of No Mare's Land knew a bunch of Sweetie Belle recordings of Hearth's Warming carols, but had never heard the actual story of Hearth's Warming itself.  Meanwhile, everypony in Safety knew about skeeball, but Elderberry had never heard of checkers.

It seemed so random!  Yet, from this chaotic lottery of "ancient" information unearthed, Glenn had still managed to somehow revitalize the field of Psychology all by himself.  (And do a really good job of it).

"Would you like to tell us about Hearth's Warming in your stable?"  Miss Mango asked.

And suddenly that circle o' children was looking my way.  

I cringed.  Turned to Cliff Diver for support, wondering if we should tell them, but he just threw me a don't you dare look.  We still didn't know what kinda details were gonna stand out, and make us seem suspicious.  
Like…who knows?  Maybe Hearth's Warming dolls weren't a thing since the Great Doll Famine or whatever.

"Do we have to?"  Foster interjected, knowing damn well that prying was not the Safety Way.

"Of course not," Miss Mango replied.  "Do I have a volunteer to catch our new friends up on what we've learned so far?  Hooves up this time please, so you're not all calling out at once."

A bunch of forelegs shot into the air.  Like in a normal classroom.

"Yes, Lemon Drop," the teacher called out.

"Okay," said Lemon.  "Back in my stable, Hearth's Warming was really about songs, and, like, these amazing cakes they made out of reconstituted sugarplum compost, and like, I remember this one time my grandmother told me it had something to do with unicorns, and earth ponies, and pegasi.  But I don't know what exactly."

Everypony sort of snuck a peek at Cliff Diver.  To see how he'd react to the word pegasi.   

He stiffened in his chair.  Ground his teeth.

"We sang songs too," I said, changing the subject in a hurry.

It forced a little mumble of approval from the other kids.

"Me too," Cliff added.

Everypony leaned in close.  Moving as a herd.  Closing the giant circle tighter.  Even if only by a couple of inches.

"Anyway," I said.  "What did our...um...troops find?  You know, when they scoured the Wasteland in search of Hearth's Warming history?"

Iris chuckled. "They don't go out there just because of the holiday.  Think of it as how we build the future.  History, math, science.  We piece it together from the past."

"That's right,'' Miss Mango said.  "Now let me tell you the real story of Hearth's Warming."

"I'd love to hear it," I said.

"Once upon a time, all of Equestria had three distinct tribes - not like now where everypony is spread out all over the place.  The earth ponies stuck to their own kind.  The unicorns had their own country, and the pegasi hid themselves up among the clouds.

'One day, a mighty princess named Celestia showed up and saw the three tribes fighting all the time.  Going hungry.  Struggling."  Miss Mango tsked.  "So you know what she did?" 

I shook my head no.  Cliff and Foster did the same.

"Princess Celestia conquered the three tribes.  She took the best and the brightest among them, and formed the kingdom of Equestria."

"Um...What?"  Said Cliff.

I nudged him gently.  Remembering our real mission - to lie low and rendezvous with Misty at the field trip.  

"That's right,'' Miss Mango answered. 

"What happened to the rest of the ponies?"  Cliff asked.

"Pardon me?"  Said Miss Mango. 

"The ones who weren't the best or the brightest?"

"Oh," Miss Mango chuckled.  "The wise and powerful princess saw that they were toiling and suffering with no purpose at all.  Sometimes even dying because they couldn't feed themselves."

"That's awful," said Foster sympathetically.

"So she took pity on their wretched existence and made slaves of them all."  

Miss Mango smiled a great big squeaky smile.  Wholesome as pie.  The students nodded in general agreement once more.

While my jaw hit the floor.

"Hearth's Warming," Miss Mango continued.  "Is a celebration of the banquet they held to kick off their new civilization."

My brain spun around inside my skull.  A thousand question marks.  A thousand exclamation points.  All knocking into one another in every gangley bit of brain.  

And I just sat there, totally paralyzed by the craziness of it all.

"No it isn't," said Cliff.  "Hearth's Warming is a celebration of the earth ponies, unicorns, and pegasi coming together.  On their own."  He stood up out of his chair.  "And Princess Celestia?"  He squeaked.  "She didn't enslave anypony!  What's wrong with you?  What the hell is wrong with you?!"  

Cliff was shaking.

"Oh, dear," said Miss Mango.  "I know that this can be a sensitive subject - especially after what a lot of you kids have been through.  I understand exactly how you feel, Cliff Diver."

"The fuck you do," he snapped.

"I was a slave once," a green unicorn filly stood up.

Cliff caught his panting breath.  Nodded to the green kid triumphantly.

"But we're not anymore," the filly continued.  "It's better here."

"There are slaves serving you right now," Cliff said.  "Aren't there?" 

Nopony answered, so Cliff just snapped, "Aren't there?!"

"Cliff," I whispered, put my hoof on his shoulder, but he just shrugged it off. 

And stunned as I was by the nonchalantiness of the entire school's attitude toward fucking slavery, Cliff Diver still shocked me more.

"Slavery is what they call a constant," said Iris.  "It's not a happy constant, but it's the one thing that holds every civilization together.  Ours.  Ancient Equestria's.  The griffins.  The pegasi,"  he pleaded with Cliff.  "At least something good is finally coming of it.  For the first time in a long time."

The other students gave a small round of hoof applause against the linoleum floor. 

I turned to Bananas Foster.  Desperate for some kinda direction - some kinda plan.  Cliff was coming apart quickly.  Cliff was Rose Petal-ing.  And we needed to do something!

But Foster just shot to her hooves and clapped Cliff Diver on the back.  Backing his play.  Even if it was a bad one.  

We were a hive. 

Out of the blue, Cliff Diver looked to me. With watery eyes.  As if to scream at me: You're the rebel. You're the one who freed all those kid slaves.  Say something.  For the love of Celestia and Luna and Equestria and everything we hold sacred...fucking SAY SOMETHING!

And shocked as I was - determined as I was to lie low - to meet Misty Mountain later, free of suspicion - I couldn't turn away from those hopeless eyes. 

Cliff needed me. 

So I rose to my hooves too.  "The blue jumpsuit ponies," I said angrily.  "Who are they?  Why are they afraid of us?  Are they slaves?"

"Yes," Miss Mango replied. 

Both Cliff and I froze.  Totally unprepared for her blunt honesty.

"And the reason they're afraid is that working for Safety is both an honor, and a privilege," Miss Mango retorted.  "They won't talk to any of you kids because they don't want to lose their jobs."

The students heads bobbed in agreement - or at least seemed to.  A strange quiet had fallen over them.  A silent agreement that the subjugation of the blue jumpsuit ponies had been for the best.  

But some kids lowered their heads in discomfort.  Kids who didn't like the idea of slavery, but didn't wanna have to think about it either.

"Now who have you been talking to, Rose Petal?  Cliff Diver?"  Miss Mango said.  "Which one of them has put these ideas in your head?"

"My ideas are my own," Cliff snapped.  If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was about to leap at her like some kinda timber wolf, and rip her throat out.

"Hay!" Lemon Drop shot out of his seat.  

But Miss Mango just held up a hoof.  "Calm down," she said.  "Cliff Diver raises some interesting questions," Miss Mango conceded.  "But unfortunately, this is not the time or place for alternative history."

"It's a fucking history class!"  Cliff's voice cracked.

"Real history isn't pretty," said the green unicorn - the girl who'd been a slave once.  "Like it or not, sometimes there are winners, and there are losers."

Cliff's eyelid twitched.  And the feathers on his twisted wing stood on end.  Then, suddenly, he roared through clenched teeth, "They're not losers!"  He whipped around.  Bucked his desk right over in one fluid motion.

But a unicorn's magic caught it mid air; lowered it gently while two other kids jumped up and flanked us.

I leapt closer to Cliff.  Foster did the same.  But Miss Mango brushed the desks aside, broke out of the circle, and swept toward us.  

She charged right up close to Cliff.  Eyeball to eyeball.  And, at first, didn't say a word.  Just stared him down. Waiting.  Daring him to hit her.  

Cliff didn't know what to do.  He couldn't back down.  But he wasn't about to kick a teacher either.  So he just stared and stared and stared through tear-soaked eyes while the rest of him turned apple red.

Having nailed Cliff to the spot, Miss Mango pressed in closer.  "Miss Honey's office," she said softly.  "Now."