//------------------------------//
// Cohiberi (non-canon) 
// Story: Jumping In At The Deep End 
// by Anotherrandom 
//------------------------------//

Anon woke up. 

This, in and of itself, wasn't exactly that abnormal. One could argue that it had happened every day so far in the jumpers' life - Anon went through great lengths to ensure it stayed so. 

No, what was abnormal was the noises from downstairs. 

A quick look out of the window revealed it was still dark outside, with the moon hanging high and silvery stars shining down on the land. Indeed, a picturesque night sky was all that could be found outside her window. A vast scape of wonder whose tranquility would surely bestow only a sense of calm to those lucky souls who witnessed it. 

Anon shuddered. 

She threw her blankets off, slowly tiptoeing–tiphooving? The jumper wasn't sure anymore–towards the doors, but not before taking the True Spork from its storage in the floor. She reached for her neck, making doubly sure that her necklace was still there, the orb serving as yet another safety web for her mind–in more ways than one–as she scanned the room. 

It could be just Bon Bon waking up early, Anon reasoned, yet she was still advancing out to the hall, waiting a few seconds in the darkness until her eyes adjusted. Watching. Waiting. Wondering. But Bon Bon would be more careful not to wake anyone up. 

A shadow moved on the wall next to her. 

With speed borne of years spent defending her life at every turn, she spun with the weapon at the ready, striking out at the unknown attacker and– 

A firm hoof stopped the weapon mid swing.  

Bon Bon stood there, shushing her with a grave-yet-reassuring look. The jumper froze in confusion before simply nodding once in reply and staying quiet. 

Lyra stood in the doorway to their bedroom, right behind Bon Bon. Her eyes were wide, concern plain on her features. That and utter befuddlement. But Bon Bon was stone faced, her expression cold. Well, as much as an expression can be cold when one is holding a flashlight  - turned off - in their mouth. 

More noises came from downstairs: The creaking of wood, some clanging of metal against metal, and perhaps some faint echoes of a high-pitched voice.

It cannot be one of us, Anon realized. 

As Bon Bon pushed past Anon, something glimmered in her front hoof: A brass metal horseshoe adorned with spikes.

Is that a pony version of brass knuckles? The jumper pondered, her face scrunching up in thought before she shook herself and returned to the matter at ha–hoof. 

Bon Bon moved. Anon couldn't call the mare’s pace slow, exactly, but she was taking her time. She approached the stairs leading down to the living room, her eyes darting across the halls before stopping on a mirror on one of the walls for a brief second - she had put the mirror there exactly for situation like this, the reflection would show her if anypony is waiting behind the corner to ambush her. After seeing nothing, she moved closer, taking care to avoid the creaky floor boards. 

Bon Bon tensed up as something touched her from behind.

Lyra stood there with a detached lyre string bound around her fetlock. Her horn was left unlit, likely for reasonable fear that whoever had broken into their house could spot its glow. 

She tapped Bon Bon on the shoulder, gesturing down and then left, nodding meaningfully. 

The kitchen, Sweetie Drops realized. 

Sweetie Drops withheld her awe as Lyra descended the stairs side by side with her, moving just as fluidly as her. The mares descended the stairs quickly - Lyra’s eyes watering as she withheld a groan of pain -  covering each others’ blind spots as if this was something they did every day. 

The stairs were a nightmare: No cover and too many angles of approach for the potential attacker. They were too open, which Sweetie Drops only now realized she should have corrected and chastised herself for that very fact. There was nothing she could do with it now, though. 

Live and learn, the agent thought.

Hopefully. 

Lyra checked the corner behind the stairwell, stopping to see if the shadows would reveal their foe. 

Nothing. 

Only more noises: The very same clanging and wooden steps as before, if slightly clearer and more audible thanks to their increased proximity. The sounds were definitely coming from the kitchen, Bon Bon could hear that now. 

Lyra turned towards Anon, who was waiting atop the stairs with her True Spork at the ready and a determined squint adorning her face. The elder unicorn bade the filly wait with an upraised hoof, to which she reluctantly nodded and took a step backwards. 

Together, Lyra and Bon Bon approached the kitchen's entrance, each taking positions at opposing sides of the wall and instinctively covering the others’ blind spots as before.

Bon Bon pointed at her ears, moving them to either side three times. Lyra gave a nod of acknowledgement; She had understood the gesture with completeness: 

A signal. Count of three.

One swivel. 

Bon Bon tensed up, shivering at the sensation of adrenaline filling her veins. She grit her teeth, every hair on her back standing up. 

Two swivels. 

Sweetie Drops fought to regain control of her breath, conjuring the mental image of the kitchen in her head. She would have to go around the table and turn right, while Lyra would know to take the left. The enemy would have a second to react with a solid oak table between them. Going around it would take time, potentially too much. A second at most, but while that may not seem like much, it was enough time for an experienced unicorn to summon an offensive spell. 

Third swivel. 

She couldn't allow the enemy to get that second. 

Both she and Lyra took off in one perfectly-synchronized explosion of movement. Bon Bon bit down on the flashlight, causing a cone of harsh white light to suddenly fill the room and hopefully blind the attacker. 

She saw them in the kitchen, standing menacingly by the stove. Sweetie Drops rushed around the table.

A quick jab at the throat; enough to hurt and incapacitate, but probably not cause any damage that would be too permanent. 

Only, it never landed. 

“Pinkie!” Sweetie Drops let go of the pink mare, dropping the flashlight. Pinkie merely bounced back, giving her a wide, bright smile. “What are you doing in our house?!”

To her utter confusion, the pink mare stuck something into her mouth,

"Shhh!" Pinkie hushed, winking conspiratorily. “You’ll wake up Spring.”

It was a cupcake with chocolate strips. 

Finally, the agent took a belated glance around, noticing quite a few things in the process: 

The smell of baked goods, the bowls strewn around and a small pile of colorful, cone-shaped hats. 

Lyra, similarly befuddled by the situation, finally turned on the lights. 

The agent took a step back, meeting with Lyra in the doorway before they both stared at the now-fully-revealed giant red banner hanging in their kitchen.

“You have got to be kidding me…” Lyra mumbled, her voice comprised of tones of both dread and the beginnings of horrified realization. 


HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANON SPRING!


Lyra gave Sweetie Drops a look: the unmistakable desperate look of somepony utterly lost. 

What was before them was a party. 

A classic Pinkie Pie surprise party, to be exact - just not quite finished yet. 

"It's Spring's birthday today!" The party mare said as she bounced in front of the still-very-confused Lyra. "My Pinkie sense went off, telling me it's somepony's super special day!"

The mare stopped mid air, deflating for a second as her puffy mane fell flat.

"But I checked my ledger-" Pinkie Pie pulled out a book from her mane: A tome filled with dates, blueprints and something that–based on the short glimpse Sweetie Drops got of it–looked suspiciously like an elaborate heist plan on how to steal Princess Celestia's cake "-and nopony in Ponyville has any birthday, anniversary, name day or discovers an ancient prophecy of doom for at least the next twenty-four hours."

"Wait, what was the last one?" Lyra piped out before Pinkie shushed her with a charming smile and mysterious wink.

"But, who is the only pony not in my ledger? (yet!)" the pink one asked, to which both other mares in the room backed up, their weapons suddenly feeling very inadequate in their trembling hooves. 

"How…how did you do that with your voice?" Sweetie Drops asked while fighting a sudden urge to run and a faint sensation of cosmic dread.

Pinkie Pie–of course–ignored her, merely putting the ledger back from whence it came.

"It's Spring! I don’t have her in my ledger. That means that today must be Spring's birthday!" She whisper-yelled, her mane and smile puffing back up to their usual slightly-unhinged state. 

"But why are you in our house?" Lyra managed, despite an unceasing feeling of eldritch horror slowly gnawing at her consciousness. The pink pony’s smile grew wider and wider before she made her reply. 

"To prepare the party, duh,” Pinkie answered simply. “But I cannot find enough spoons.” 

“What the hell?” 

Anon was peeking around the corner, her eyebrow cocked and a small frown on her face. She’d been worried for her caretakers before, but her concern was now replaced by utter bewilderment. 

Before Anon could see what was happening, Pinkie Pie jumped on the table, blocking the view with her own body. 

“Nothing here!” Pinkie shrieked. “Absolutely no party here!” 

Anon cocked her head.

“...Sure?” the jumper said uneasily, shooting a glance at Bon Bon, who simply shrugged. 

“Hey Springy! You have a spoon on you?”  

Anon shuddered. She had only the True Spork, but …, well, this was the Pink One. Who knew what she could do with it? 

“Pretty please?” The pink party pony pleaded pitifully. 

Damnit. 

The spork manifested in the jumpers hooves as she threw it towards the party mare. 

It doesn't work without my powers, anyway. So what’s the worst that could happen?
Pinkie Pie touched the Spork. The jumper felt a sting deep in her bones as reality itself shifted slightly. 

Ah, this apparently. 

The Spork morphed, changing forms as it violently flew away from Pinkie’s hoof, striking the jumper right in her chest.

Right on the Sun Orb, cracking the artifact. Gold magic leaked out if it like torrents of water. 

And then, there was light as the world around her fell. 





Bon Bon Heartstrings sat before her kitchen counter, hard at work on attempting to prepare a nice early breakfast. 

The key word in that sentence: Attempting. 

The curious, friendly, and extremely physically affectionate colt currently attached to her was making that particular venture rather hard. Knight–that being the name of this hug-hungry youth–had propped his front hooves on the countertop, which made him just tall enough to peek his head over and watch what she was doing. He'd quickly found such a stance rather unstable, but had just as speedily remedied that issue by leaning heavily into the side of Bon Bon's barrel. 

This, in itself, was not all too immobilizing. What did, however, freeze the mare in place was just how excessively adorable the unicorn looked. The way his ears perked forwards, his eyes shining in their sockets with rapt attention focused towards her actions and his head tilted at just the slightest angle, was simply too distracting. 

The former agent had dealt with siren's songs before, and had to complete numerous missions while under heavy stimulus and ridiculous amounts of pressure. 

Bon Bon had thought she was well-acquainted with distractions. 

She had thought wrong; she was no match for the little foal she had so readily adopted. 

So, there the two were, one paralyzed by the other's innocent curiosity while that selfsame individual merely watched on in earnest interest. What didn't help was Bon Bon's supposed ally and wife, Lyra, merely watching them go at it from afar. The earth pony had sent numerous pleas for help her way in the form of somewhat-panicked glances backwards, but only received a winning, smitten smile in response. 

Some backup she turned out to be.

The once-agent had to admit, though, that she wasn't truly angry at the situation. Or frustrated. Or even, for that matter, all too inconvenienced. 

Mostly, she was overcome with the joy that emerged from realizing her son felt safe enough around her to do this in the first place. Faust knew he deserved that much, at least, and Bon Bon would do her absolute best to ensure that his trust wasn’t misplaced. That she proved herself a threat only to those who would dare bring harm, physical or otherwise, to him. 

(Unfortunately)Thankfully, the colt eventually grew bored of the inaction and so slipped down from the counter to wander elsewhere. There was no problem with that; he did have free reign of the house, after all, and he had been constantly exploring it since the day he woke up there. 

Still, Bon Bon felt a stab of anxiety from the separation, earnestly watching him as he left her vicinity. 

I guess this 'motherhood' thing is really getting to me. The mare let out a defeated sigh before turning her attention back to the cooking supplies she'd been able to bring out. There weren’t many; Knight had become curious soon after she began, so only a mixing bowl and some measuring cups were laid before her. Of all the anxieties I've faced, all it takes is some foal to take care of and suddenly I'm a raving loon.

The earth pony let out a sardonic chuckle at her plight before finally setting to work on the conquest that was making breakfast. A habitual cursory glance around showed Knight completely absent from the room, with Lyra also gone elsewhere. Maybe she followed him? It doesn't really matter.

That was what the ex-agent stoically told herself, doing her absolute best to stamp down the sudden insecurities she found herself with. 

An abrupt BOOM! that shook the house itself interrupted that effort, and Bon Bon spun to confront the new threat. She flinched and grimaced as a blinding yellow light shone down through the very floorboards, accompanied by a sound best described as a pained whoomp, the sort of noise a dying gibbon might make.

What in Tartarus is that?!

Whatever it was ended as suddenly as it started. 

And then the alarms started blaring. 

New noises came from upstairs. A…conversation? A quick, panicked one that mostly consisted of "What happened?" "Get down!" and "Is that a goddamn laser cannon?" With the rest being rather creative curses the likes of which no common Equestrian could dream of creating.

But none of that really mattered to Bon Bon Heartstrings.

What did matter–and indeed, what swiftly became the sole domineering thought in her mind–was the simple fact that her son was upstairs, right where the new noises were coming from.

There are few pegasi that can claim that they broke the sound barrier (and most of them are named Rainbow Dash) but even less earth ponies could hope to accomplish such a feat. Many would even posit the opinion–one, in all fairness, built upon the rather solid foundations of common sense and conventional wisdom–that the very idea of an earth pony breaking the sound barrier by running was ridiculous.

That didn't stop Bon Bon from trying, though.

And for a second, she did think she had broken the sound barrier. What was more, she somehow managed to be faster than the speed of light. Indeed, it seemed she had, in her haste, spontaneously gained Knight’s ability to manipulate the very building blocks of reality to her whims and in the process created some form of spacial rift, or something along those lines. 

How else could she explain the fact that there was another her upstairs? 

The scene upstairs resembled something out of Discord's wildest dreams. The defenses they’d installed were in full action: Charms, hidden runes, elemental glyphs and all kinds of nasty deterrents for unwelcome invaders they installed with Twilight’s help after the break-in were now firing in tandem. 

The turrets in particular–sleek, polished models that Bon Bon had payed good money to have imported–were ablaze with a special kind of life, sending salvo after salvo of magical projectiles and laser beams at their target. 

Said target being a furiously-dodging green filly who cursed with every shot fired. 

“Do something!” She yelped as one of the laser cannons scorched the floor just next to her. "Turn it off!" 

"How?! There's no off button on these things!" 

And that was Lyra, holding onto the cannon and trying to pry it open with her magic while scratching her head. 

Lyra, who to Bon Bon’s best knowledge, was still downstairs, staring up at the voices in total and absolute confusion. 

"Just break them!" Called out…herself? Bon Bon didn't really know anymore. 

The other Bon Bon - who probably wasn't her but she wasn't sure - was in the process of rapidly delivering powerful bucks to the cannons, effortlessly turning the meticulously constructed wonders of modern magical theory into scrap metal. 

A few quick theories went through Bon Bon Heartstrings’ mind as Lyra - her wife, not the other Lyra - finally ascended the steps to stand next to her.

Time travel? 

Not likely, Twilight was locked safely away in her garish castle and it wasn't a Tuesday. But it would explain why the turrets were not firing on the copies - they had the same magic signature as them. 

The mirror pond? 

Probably also not. She didn't know how it worked, but as far as she’d seen, the resulting clones were incapable of much thought or sapience. Indeed, what haunting memories of the Pink Invasion she dared recall revealed a very limited collection of abilities they’d possessed. Granted, that could have simply been the case for Pinkie Pie, but Bon Bon figured there wasn’t yet enough information about the experience to really consider the possibility. Plus, the pond had been quite thoroughly sealed off, which only further reduced the likelihood of it being the cause of this mayhem. 

Body doubles? 

Had S.M.I.L.E. sent body doubles to replace her and Lyra? But why would– 

Bon Bon’s attention was suddenly drawn to the green filly who performed a neat barrel roll, successfully dodging a laser cannon shot and–

Knight! 

The colt sat right in the middle of the chaos, watching it with absolute confusion written plainly all over his face. Laser beams flew past him, some coming far too close for comfort, but thankfully the top-of-the-line targeting systems refrained expertly from hitting a friendly. 

Knight’s gaze was set on a constant swivel between the other versions of his moms, the weird green blur, and the defensive systems. He seemed to grow yet more distressed the longer the chaos continued; what began as a befuddled expression soon shifted into a frightened one. 

Meanwhile, Anon was in trouble.

The jumper landed on her hooves, but slipped, sliding on the polished, tactically-carpetless floor.

Fortunately for her, the impact was softened by something fluffy. (Unfortunately for Knight, that something was him.)
 
Anon prided herself on her instincts. Her gut had something which could approximate a built-in danger radar with limited future-seeing capabilities. She didn't know how it worked, just that it did and she would be dead several hundred times over without it. 

At that moment, her gut feeling kicked in so violently she nearly did a backflip. 

Anon tried her best to get her bearings, but she failed. Something hit her like a bus filled with trucks. She nearly lost her lunch. Anon silently thanked whoever happened to be listening  for the surprisingly warm rug she landed on. 

Something was wrong. On a deep, fundamental level. She tried to see it. And when she saw it she tried to ignore it, because it could not be right. 

The Weave changed shape. 

The Weave, the building stone of reality, was moving on its own. Molding, changing, stretching.

A jumper tore holes in it. A jumper manipulated and tricked the Weave. Dirty cheaters was what they were, through and through. Fooling the fundamental rules of reality, that was a jumper’s daily bread and butter. 

This…wasn't that.

This was using reality like play dough. Effortlessly moving it to one's own will. She’d heard of jumpers tearing small pieces and using them to create things, but in that case, the Weave shouldn't be cooperating. 

Before she had more time to have a crisis, the rug under her stood and stared at her with big, watery eyes. 

Oh. Maybe not a rug, after all…

The cannon Lyra was wrestling fired one more shot. With the beam coming straight for her, the jumper prepared to simply phase and avoid the attack.

The Weave moved, and Anon felt her power slipping beyond her grasp..

The next thing Anon knew, there was something impeding her vision. Light gray and shimmering slightly, only somewhat transparent, which gave the world around outside it a washed-out quality. A barrier of sorts, perhaps? 

Slowly but surely, the barrier absorbed her released power, growing bigger and brighter by the second thanks to  the new energy gained from the jumper. 

There was only one appropriate reaction.

“Ah goddammit,” Anon muttered.  

Meanwhile, Sweetie Drops kicked another turret, turning it into yet another worthless heap of scrap metal. Someone ran to her.

“Lyra, we have-” 

"Imposter!"

And promptly kicked her in the chest. 

It wasn’t Lyra. 

It was…herself?

Sweetie Drops dodged the next blow right, reeling back and preparing an attack of her own, acting on muscle memory alone. 

A quick jab left, followed by the real blow aimed at…her throat. Their throat? 

The agents struck with all her strength - agents, plural.

As in both of them.

At the exact same time.

With the same attack.

"Mother. Bucker!" "Faust dammit!" 

Sweetie Drops hissed, holding her red and swelling hoof close to her chest. Bon Bon nearly fell over, her eyes watering.

"I’ll show you for this!" "No, I will show you for this!" 

Sweetie Drops spun around, kicking with her hind legs and- 

"Auch!" "Horseapples!"

Sweetie Drops dropped on the ground, same as the other one. If they kept at it like this, both of them would be unable to walk for a week. 

"Who in Tartarus are you?" Sweetie Drops asked, pointing her one remaining healthy hoof at the imposter. "And how did you get into my house? And why are there lasers in it?!" 

"Me?" Bon Bon asked. "Who are you!?" 

And as if the universe waited for some cue, the barrier around Knight and Anon exploded. 

The reality-bending power was let loose, reducing the floorboards into a discolored  misshapen mess that would give any interior designer an aneurysm. Pieces of bricks were turned into clouds-of-vaguely-blue. The curtains caught on fire, because of course they did. The railings around the staircase began to melt, despite the fact it was made of wood. The staircase itself turned upside down.

And the turrets started to sing. 

Having retreated to the relative safety of the downstairs, Lyra watched the pandemonium occurring. She watched in horror as, crying and screaming, a ball of green and white slowly, painfully, weakly crawled out of the wall. 

Lyra did not hesitate. The musician lunged forth and grabbed a flailing hoof, trying her very hardest to pull them out. 

She was failing. She couldn't pull them out. She wasn't strong enough. 

Somepony ran up to her, grabbed one of the foals, and started pulling with her.

It was herself.

Not taking time to have an existential crisis, the second Lyra grit her teeth and gave a few powerful yanks. Only after both minty mares worked together and synchronized their pulls did the two foals finally slip out of the walls. They were singed, bruised, and covered in soot, but alive. 

Anon fell into Lyra’s waiting hooves.

Into the wrong Lyra’s hooves. 

And so did Knight. 

Lyra's eyes widened in surprise as the soot-covered lump in the vague shape of a foal clutched itself to her chest, burying its muzzle into her fur and whimpering pathetically. 

Something wasn't right. Something didn't feel right. 

Spring was afraid of physical contact, Lyra could tell. It didn't mean Spring didn't want it, but there was a wall preventing the filly from just going for something as simple as a hug by herself. Even in a situation like this, Spring would flinch or at very least hesitate. She definitely wouldn’t be so eager to bury her face in the mare’s barrel.

It was with this reasoning that Lyra chose a logical, but most unfortunate, course of action: 

She pushed the foal away from her. 

Not with any force, mind you; not even enough to get the soot monster any meaningful distance away, but simply enough that she could see the foal's face. 

Sadly, that was enough for Knight to realize something was very, very wrong.

"Ehm, hey little guy," Lyra said slowly, now that she could see that this foal was a colt and thus probably not Spring. "Are…you alright?" 

Knight stared at her, unblinking, his expression shifting to one of fear and betrayal.

"You're not Mommy." 

Knight took a few steps back until his rump was against the wall. His breathing became quick and shallow and a few tears started to flow down his cheek. Lyra glanced about worriedly, somehow getting the feeling that she’d done something wrong as a sensation of incredible guilt settled over her. The colt’s current expression hardly helped matters, and the mare began attempting to correct whatever misunderstanding had taken place. 

"Don't touch me or I stab you!" 

Things weren't going much better for the other Lyra. 

At first, Lyra Heartstrings had thought she had it under control. 

‘Had’ being the important part of that statement. 

Lyra prided herself on her uncanny ability to read ponies like books, and for good reason; she was freakishly good at it.

But Lyra didn't exactly need to be overly skilled in the matter to see that the green filly threatening her with a spoon was, in fact, quite miffed. 

The mare didn't know when it went wrong; she’d simply approached, intending to help the foal get back onto their own hooves, as any self-respecting adult would do.

She didn't expect an attempted stabbing the second she came into spork range. 

“Please calm down, everything-” Lyra attempted to say as the filly backed further away, her green eyes focused on her. 

Lyra gulped nervously, watching them and allowing herself to peer a little deeper. 

She was very good at discovering what others thought. She was so good at it, in fact, it was scary sometimes. Reading ponies’ expressions could have been her special talent, if she’d never discovered her love for music. 

But the gift was a double-edged sword, and not only because it freaked other ponies out when she could tell what they thought before they said it out loud. The true curse was being able to know the things ponies wouldn't say out loud, but think anyway. 

The way this green filly was watching her, with her eyes darting between her throat and legs, the lowered stance, and the utter coldness behind those green orbs… The foal saw her as a threat, an obstacle. Something to either maneuver around or…dispatch. 

A foal, a school aged filly probably not much older than Apple Bloom, was right now internally debating if she should go for the throat, or if the legs with their juicy arteries would make a better target. 

And the most terrifying thing about it was the calm; The filly wasn’t panicking. All of it came from the rational, near-clinical thoughts of weighing risks against gains as she made plans on how to murder her if she got in her way. Like all of this was normal, something she dealt with on a regular basis. 

Worryingly, maybe that wasn't too far off from the truth. 

“Please calm down, I don’t-” Lyra began before the filly callously interrupted her. 

“You’re not Lyra,” Anon said, slowly backing off until her back met the wall. 

Or, in this case, Knight, who was backpedaling so he could hide in a corner away from the mare that looked like Mommy but was mean to him. 

“I don't want to hurt you. Nobody here wants to. Please. I-” 

“It's going to be alright, you’re-” 

Both Lyras stopped as they finally registered each other’s voices and their gazes met. There was a moment of brief realization and an “Oh,” from both of them as all the puzzle pieces fell into place. 

“Switch?” Lyra offered.

“Yeah,” the other Lyra agreed. “This was silly. But at least nopony is hurt.” 

And just then, the stair’s railings fell apart and down tumbled two agents, still viciously wrestling each other. 

“Let go! “No, you let go!”

The two mares landed in a flailing heap. Lyra (both of them) could only watch in mute horror as their fiance and wife respectively tried to strangle each other. 

‘Tried’ being the word of import here: The beige mares were unable to do much, as they had to release their grip on each other and gasp for air at the same time. 

“Enough!” 

The agents froze, their hooves lowering as the Lyras gave them pointed glares. 

“But-” Sweetie Drops attempted, a chair leg she’d tried to use as an improvised bludgeon clattering to the ground. 

“No buts!” Her Lyra - and Sweetie Drops was sure it was her Lyra for reasons she couldn't fully explain even if she tried - interrupted her. “No more fighting! And apologize, both of you!”

Bon Bon’s jaw clenched and her shoulder sagged. Many thoughts began flowing through her mind like the waters of a tainted stream only now becoming clear.  

Why did she attack? Why did she let her emotions take control of her? She wanted to protect Knight, but the poor colt was traumatized enough without more violence happening around him. She’d fought to restrain herself and succeeded before, so why was it so hard now? And just who were these strangers? Why did they look so similar to them? Where on Equus–or beyond–had they even come from?

So much was going through her head, in fact, that she never saw the sneak attack coming. 

Sweetie Drops had a lot going through her head. 

Where were they? They’d jumped, she’d deduced as much, but to where? An alternate Equestria? Sweetie Drops knew enough from Celestia to not trust anything here - Anon’s scars were plenty proof of that. Jumping was dangerous; other worlds were dangerous. Standing here and doing nothing was dangerous. What horrors could lurk in this world? 

So much was going through her head, in fact, that she threw caution to the wind and lunged at her opponent when she spotted the opening.

What happened next was a blur of screaming, action, and more screaming, 

Sweetie Drops attacked. Bon Bon deftly dodged, but the attack had too much speed and force behind it to simply end there. 

Anon watched as it came her way. 

She didn't panic - she knew she was too slow to dodge, but what are a jumper's powers good for if not for this? A simple teleport should be enough to get her out of harm's way. 

Behind her, Knight cried out, seemingly in pain.

The Weave shifted again. A barrier rose between her and Sweetie Drops. 

Anon started to panic. 

In a flash of white light, the foals vanished. 





Dash between the shadowy trees. 

Duck under the plentiful brambles. 

Dodge your assailant. 


I do believe I told you this was going to happen, sooner or later. 
You ridiculous fools just can't learn from your past mistakes. 
Why did you ever trust them?



NO! MOMMY'S GOOD! I LOVE HER!

SHE WOU–

PAIN!


Erupts from your hind end. 

Gracelessly fall to the forest's floor. 

Whimper as the shadows play with your vision. 


That is honestly so supremely stupid it is funny. 
You legitimately just ran into a tree.
Must I present any more proof of your idiocy?


Crawl under a nearby fern. 

Try desperately to process the information. 

Make sense of the events. 

Why were there other ponies? Why'd they start fighting? Why am I here?[/size


WHERE'S MOMMY?!



How on Equus have you not gained an ounce of sense yet?



ATTACKER! GREEN!


Watch as the strange green filly comes to a stop nearby. 

Observe her flick her black tail and give a cursory glance around. 

Tense as her gaze passes over your badly-hidden form. 


She is going to see you, moron. 
Your white coloration acts as a camouflage that is about as effective as your dumb skull.



MAYBE SHE'S FRIENDLY!


No. Not possible.


For once, I agree with Knight.


Flinch away as she takes a few steps forward. 


Though, I would like to add that such an idea is unbelievably unrealistic. 
Is everypony just a potential friend for you to cuddle?


Rapidly back away as she comes even closer.


NO.



Oh? And who, pray tell, is the exception?



PAIN!


Bite back a cry as you accidentally step on a sharp rock.


YOU! YOU'RE MEAN!


Defensively curl up as she brushes the foliage aside.


Ouch. That almost offended me.


She's talking!

“Er...hey there, bud. How's it going?...God, I’m bad at this.”

Apprehensively wait for a blow. 


How is it going? Well, I am in a room surrounded by absolute dimwits with all the mental capacity of a disheartened slug.



HE'S BEING MEAN TO ME!

I WANT MOMMY!

NOT A BIG PONY...?



Fillies usually aren't, cretin. I would say she is not that much older than ourselves.


Cautiously stand up. 

Gasp as you falter and collapse back to the ground. 

Flinch away when she lifts her foreleg. 

Brace! Plead for mercy!


Yes, that is an agreeable course of action.


“Please–no! I’m sorry! Don’t…”

Blink as the hoof stops several inches away. 

Warily watch as she gives a reassuring smile. 

Flick your ears as she speaks softly. 

“D'you...uh...want some help up?”


AH-HA!

SHE IS FRIENDLY!



Silence, fool. 
You don't know that. 
You don't know anything.


She doesn’t…look very scary.


SHE'S NOT BIG!



I fail entirely to see how that is relevant. 
She is going to attack you. You know this. There lies no doubt. 
It is only a matter of when.



NO! SHE'S NICE! SHE WANTS TO HELP!


Tentatively take her hoof. 

Gasp lightly as she hoists you up. 

Retreat backwards when she eyes you. 


This whole situation is ill-advised. You are all nincompoops. 
Please grow some sense for once.


Shh! She's talking!

“Well, so, if you hadn't noticed, we're kinda in the middle of the Everfree forest.”


WHAT?!?! DANGER!!!


Lock your legs in sudden fear. 

Fight to restrain yourself from bolting. 

Gaze about your surroundings with newfound caution. 

“...And I'd like to get out of here as soon as possible. I would teleport us out, but that hasn't been too reliable lately. Or really ever, but especially now. So, eh, tough luck.”

That smile looks...playful.





Nay, fool. It is clearly predatory. Have you gone blind?






NO! SHE'S FRIENDLY!


Nod your agreement as she heads off.

Gasp in time with her as you both hear a dry, rattling howl.

Speedily light your horn as the sound of cracking twigs draws nearer.

Timberwolves!


DANGER!!






Quick, you dimwit! Use the shield!






WHERE'S MOMMY?






Silence! Let the mature ones handle it!


Whirl around to face the first wolf that bursts into the clearing, followed eagerly by its comrades.

Pause to quirk an eyebrow as the filly performs a well-executed facehoof, muttering softly to herself.

"Really?! This again?!"

No time for that!





SHIELDS! NOW!






For once, I agree with Stupid. Be quick about it!






I WANT MOMMY!


Please be quiet. I must focus.

Grit your teeth as a sizable sphere materializes around you and the filly.

Breathe out in relief when it appears just in time to intercept the first lunge.

Whip around to face her as she lets out a loud gasp.

"Aw, [redacted], what the [redacted]!"

Blink blankly back when she looks at you quizzically.

"Wait, did I seriously just get censored?"

Tilt your head in total confusion.

...?





And what could she possibly mean by that?






WHAT?


"[redacted]! [redact-dac-dacted]! [redadedacedydacted]! [bleep]! Holy [bleeep], I'm getting censored! That’s definitely a first! Wait, how’s that supposed to work?"

Edge away from the filly.

Quietly question her sanity.

Flinch back when her horn starts violently glowing.





...What in Tartarus...?


"No no no! Get rid of it, get rid of it! The [bleep] shield! Get rid of it!"


ANGER!


Tearfully stumble away from her. 

Pin your ears at the increased volume. 

Light your horn once more. 

Okay! Don’t be angry!





LOOK! MOMMY!


Instinctively remove the shield as two mares emerge from the thicket.

Squint in confusion and fear as two more follow behind them.

Totter backwards as the remaining timberwolves snarl and advance.

It's the others! From earlier! That were fighting!





MOM! MOMS! MOMMY!






I would like to take this moment to remind all you imbeciles that the wolves are still closing in and we are in incredible dang–






MOMMY! THEY'RE HERE!

HURRY!


But what if they fight?





Hello? Anypony? That one looks like it is getting pretty close!






THEY WON'T FIGHT!

THEY'RE FRIENDS NOW!




YEAH!


Watch as the mares and their duplicates gallop straight towards you.

Wince when they effortlessly blast apart the wolves foolish enough to get in their way.

Perk up when Mommy calls out to you in her wonderful, calming voice.

"Knight! Spring! We're coming!"





That is nice and all, but I should like to point out that there is still a ravenous beast blocking the way and he looks like he would be all too happy to tear you nitwits to shreds.
That is unacceptable, for it is indeed my job to do so.
If you would not mind, I would like to get moving? Soon?






MOMMY!


“MOMMY!”


MOM!


Take bounding leaps towards the mares.





Not that way!!


Abruptly stop in your tracks as its slavering jaws draw near.





UH-OH!






Really?! That is all you have to say?


Cry out as you're too slow to summon a shield.

No! NO!

Stumble back as it makes a swipe and leaves a cut on your muzzle.

Pant madly as it doesn't do that.

Blink in shock when the claws simply phase through your flesh.

What? How did…

Seize up in reaction to a tingling sensation.

Tense every muscle in your body in response.

Fight back against the unwelcome feeling.


NO! IT HURTS!


It doesn't hurt…





That is not what he is speaking of.
If you would be so kind as to grow a pair of eyes, you would see that your supposed 'friend' is currently assaulting you.


Cry out as the filly clutches at your barrel.





You can even see from her eyebrows just how livid she is.


Flinch away when the wolf takes another swipe.





NO! SHE'S JUST CONCENTRATING!


Gasp in confusion as it simply goes through like last time.

They're everywhere! We're surrounded!





You must bring the shield back! Now!






NO! MOMMY! HELP!






It is the only way!


Light your horn once more in a desperate frenzy.





Hurry, fool! Use your shields! Now!


Lock terrified eyes with the filly as her muzzle opens in the beginnings of a protest.





NO! STOP! MOMMY'S HERE!


Look one last time at the distant mares.

They're too far!


NO!!






Yes! Finally you see sense!


A blur of green and black.

A blinding flash.

Darkness.





You failed.

Bon Bon Heartstrings paced the grassy ground of the clearing. She had been doing so for long enough that a streak of eroded dirt was beginning to appear, marking her path. Back and forth she went, plodding ceaselessly from one end of the hilltop to the other.

He's gone.

Distant voices echoed from somewhere far away, but she paid them no mind. The mare was far too enthralled in her own world of worry to so much as notice the others in the area. A lively conversation was taking place, one she could take no part in.

She lacked the capacity for anything but pacing and anxious thought at the moment.

You were too late.

Sudden snarling erupted from behind her amidst shouts of alarm. An enterprising timberwolf had returned and was now attempting to get the jump on her, it seemed. Bon Bon didn't so much as flinch when it sprinted straight towards her, still absorbed in deep thought and still processing the situation.

Too late to save him.

Again.

The mare performed a vicious one-legged buck, connecting solidly with the stolid wolf's face and reducing it to a pile of toothpicks in an instant. She blinked abruptly as a familiar face–her own, in fact–came into focus, approaching the top of her hill.

The agents thoughtfully stared at each other for but a few seconds before Bon Bon exhaled shakily and resumed her agitated pacing. With the way her mind was at the moment–a storm of worried thoughts and self-deprecating comments the likes of which would usually be found only in the midst of mythology–the earth pony simply couldn't find it within herself to care.

Finally, she let out a sound that was halfway between a frustrated huff and a distraught sob, sitting down with her head bowed in resignation. Bon Bon's ear twitched absently as the rustle of grass to her immediate right revealed her alternate self sitting also, but she still refrained from lifting her head to so much as glance in her direction.

"I'm assuming you can already guess as much, but it was different that time." Sweetie Drops' voice was official and impassive, her words delivered with a sense of utmost formality. A stoic mask to hide her own dismay, no doubt. Bon Bon appreciated the effort, though she could still see straight through it.

"You said Spring is a Jumper, right?" A terse nod greeted Bonnie's halfhearted glance upwards, but Sweetie remained staring out into the trees, avoiding eye contact for reasons the former understood all too thoroughly. "That definitely wasn't a teleport, so it must have been her jumping; there's no other reasonable explanation." Another nod, then the two sat in silence.

For a time.

"I'm sorry." The phrase was curt, but Bon Bon still caught the waver in her other self's voice. She would have responded then, but had the sense that Sweetie wanted to say more. Several uncomfortable moments later, she was proven correct, still staring vacantly at the grass below and fighting back tears. "None of us meant for this to happen. It was only by some freak accident we ended up here in the first place. If I had jus—"

Sweetie Drops choked suddenly, cutting herself off with a pained grimace. Bon Bon waited patiently for her to finish, only half-present on the hill in the first place.

"I should have been more reasonable. We all could have been more level-headed about this whole thing. If I'd only known..." An odd feeling emerged within Bonnie's chest as she lifted her head once more to make eye contact with her twin. What she saw was in many ways a reflection of her own feelings, different but somehow the same. 

Hesitation coated every fiber of Sweetie's being, directed towards what she was about to say next, but she pushed through regardless:

"What happened to him?"

Bon Bon clenched her eyes and gritted her teeth, scarcely able to hold back a pained whimper as images of her colt's beaten and used body flooded her brain. Some pragmatic part of her realized that Sweetie Drops must have known the answer to her own question, at least to some degree. Bonnie's thoroughly-trained agent instincts wanted her next words to be a succinct, precise, detached summary of events. A brief surge of information to catch her fellow agent up to speed, just like she had done countless times in the past.

"Everything."

And that was all she managed to get out before bursting into distraught, heaving sobs, the memory of her last failure flashing cruelly inside her head. She only wanted to hold him now, as she had back then. Back on the airship she had at very least known that, whatever execrable things had been done to him, he was safe. That he was with her and she would not let events repeat themselves.

With Knight's catatonic body in her forelegs, Bon Bon had sworn to never let anything happen to him again.

And she'd failed.

Lied.

Her oath now lay broken in pieces scattered about her hooves, much like Knight had been.
Bon Bon hardly noticed the tentative, consoling hoof resting itself onto her shoulder. Sweetie Drops sighed deeply past what sounded like a lump in her throat, bowing her head in expression of their shared sorrow.

The agents sat there for a time, both deep in two very different yet similar kinds of thought as the forest breathed around them. A stray glance revealed their respective special someponies conversing some distance away, perhaps even keeping a watchful eye on them to ensure they didn't battle it out again. Neither Lyra had to worry about that, though; Both earth ponies' hooves and legs were throbbing ceaselessly even now from their brief, senseless scuffle.

Gradually, the mourning mother gathered herself up, just as she had done those weeks prior. Bon Bon sniffled but once and was still, hurriedly drying her face with a foreleg as she lifted her head for the final time.

"Is there anything we can do? To find out where they are?" Sweetie Drops pursed her lips at this, thoughtfully scuffing a hoof against the grassy ground as she mulled it over. The faintest spark of hope began to grow in Bon Bon's barrel as the silence continued, but she did her best to stamp it down and prepare for disappointment.

"Not really," the preparation was vindicated, "but if somepony in your world knows about The Weave, there's a chance." It was Bon Bon's turn to mull things over and she did so with vigor, still attempting to mitigate the insistently-increasing speck of optimism.

"Princess Celestia is a possibility," she finally answered, "or maybe Princess Twilight." The other agent seemed greatly surprised at this, for whatever reason.

"Princess Twilight?" But Sweetie shook her head in response to Bonnie's raised eyebrow, simply waving a hoof in dismissal. "Oh, sure, whatever. Does she still live in Ponyville?" A simple nod was her reply, to which both mares stood in sync, turning to face the way they'd entered the clearing. Sweetie Drops eased into a slow gallop, wincing imperceptibly as her sore hooves protested such a course of action. "We'll start there, then."

A sidelong glance revealed Bon Bon's face set in stone, with the other agent seeming mostly recovered and back in business. The Lyras noticed their approach soon enough and popped up to follow without question, sliding into place just behind their determined lovers.

Together, the mares made their way out of the forest, their crystalline goal in plain sight just above the dismal canopy and one prevailing thought present in all of their minds:

I hope they're okay.





Daisy bent down, gripping her fierce enemy in an iron grasp

With precision only a lot of practice can give, the mare took out the pesky weed from her precious strawberry patch. 

Of course, pulling a weed out from the wet soil was relatively easy. Doing so without harming any of her flowers around it was the hard part. 

Her job done, Daisy looked over her now weed free garden, smiling contentedly as she wiped sweat from her brow. It was much warmer today than she had expected, but now-

"Good day to you." 

The stranger's voice sounded from behind Daisy. It was a mare's voice, Daisy could hear as much, but it had an unusual quality. Gravely and coarse and very crackly. Almost sounding like a fire in the background.

Daisy felt a gust of warm air. Suddenly, it got much hotter.

But the gardener was preoccupied, her attention fully on the last vine she had missed, hiding between her few pea plants, almost trembling in fear before her. 

"Ehm?" Daisy said, distracted. "Oh, good day, ya need something?" 

Daisy didn't turn to face the stranger, but she could hear her hum to herself - it almost sounded like a gas stove left on.

"Yes,” Another gust of warmth hitting Daisy as the mysterious mare spoke.”You wouldn't happen to see a small filly around here? Green, black mane, has a tendency to cause explosions?” 

Daisy dug into the soil, successfully uprooting the last vine. 

“Well, I don't know about any lost foals.” With a grunt of satisfaction, the gardener tossed the plant on the pile with all the others. “But try asking Princess Twilight or one of the other Elements. Filly causing explosions seems right up their alley.”

There was a moment of thoughtful silence from the stranger. Daisy started smelling smoke - had she forgotten something in the oven, maybe?

“I see,” the stranger said slowly. “Thank you, my little pony.” 

Daisy gave her a little wave, before suddenly freezing. There was something very familiar about those words.

Daisy spun around, looking for the stranger. 

But there was nopony there. Only a few burn marks on the road.

And a few shards of a yellow rock, faintly glowing gold.





With a blinding flash and a somewhat-familiar dying gibbon noise, reality itself was once again torn asunder despite its vehement protests. A gaping tear about a cart's length wide was violently ripped, hovering there in the air for the few seconds it took to spew out the travelers like so much garbage. 

Two small foals came tumbling out the gap. 

One—green-coated with a black mane—was quite well-versed in performing exactly this sort of stunt and accordingly was able to land somewhat on her hooves, stumbling only a little. Anon shook her head dazedly and looked around in confusion for a few seconds before realization dawned on her and she adopted a ready stance, prepared for anything this new universe could throw at her. 

And then the other foal–pure white from horn to hoof–being significantly less used to this mode of transportation, landed right on top of her. 

This was only the start of their troubles. 

The green-coated filly crawled out from under her unwilling travel companion and took a cursory glance around, feeling a pit form in her stomach. 

This is a military encampment.

Anon had several reasons for coming to this conclusion: The tents, barbed fire, sand bags, general air of doom and misery and a large amount of siege weapons strewn around them didn't exactly leave much to the imagination… 

…and the soldiers standing in a circle around them, waving sharp objects in their faces were another clue. 

In spite of the inherent, obvious danger, the jumper couldn't help but take a disgruntled glance at the reddish sky, shaking a hoof at it in a show of anger. 

Yeah, I hate you too, world!

It was at that precise moment that the armored ponies leapt into action. Anon tensed further, readying herself as the closest enemy came yet nearer and robotically swung his spear.

The jumper deftly ducked the attack and sprung forth, noting with confusion the strange way these ponies moved. It was as if they were nothing more than puppets dangled on strings, lurching around with finely-controlled yet highly-predictable motions.

Mind control? The helmets could have something to do with that...

A loud cry from behind nearly caused Anon to freeze in realization, which in turn made her narrowly dodge another strike from her combatant. She took an alarmed glance back, feeling her eyes bulge when they witnessed several of the armored ponies close in on her accidental companion.

Said colt was speedily backing away to where the portal had been before it closed, frantically sweeping his gaze across his surroundings as his horn lit up.

Anon felt a stab of pure panic upon seeing the dreaded light grey glow.

No! Not those barrier things again!

Luckily, Knight's gaze was drawn to her visage before he could summon anything and he hesitantly powered down his horn.

Unluckily, the short exchange lasted just long enough for the enemies to close in. The white colt was scarcely able to return his stare before one of the ponies lunged, easily pinning him to the barren ground and slipping a ring around his horn.

Anon would have gasped in shock, but found herself preoccupied in fending off the flurry of attacks that then came from the ponies around her. 

Anon dodged, phasing for a brief moment to avoid a thrown spear. 

Her shoulders relaxed and she lowered her stance as her mind raced to find a way to clear another wave of attacks without getting hit. 

She could do this. This was her element, her bread and butter. 

Anon smirked. 

Dodging, phasing, and teleporting, the filly wove through the offense with practiced finesse. The enemy didn't make it easy, however; each opponent moved in perfect sync, lining up their shots and evading each other's with such exactness that it seemed they were collectively sharing a single brain.

Suddenly, everything froze when a sharp voice cut through the commotion, with the soldiers all stopping as one and standing to attention.

"Enough!"

Anon landed stiffly from her mid-air roll, panting slightly as she warily searched the area around her. The crowd of armored ponies parted, allowing a single mare through. This figure had scars covering her body, with the most prominent one being what was once a deep gash stretching from her forehead, across her muzzle, and to her chin.

That wasn't what caught the jumper's attention, though: What the filly was immediately surprised to observe was the mare's slightly-transparent body, which refracted the light that entered it in a display that would have been dazzling were it not so dismal and dulled. Her eyes, too, with their crystalline appearance, seemed aching to shine like radiant suns rather than form the cold glower they did now.

"By order of the mighty King Sombra, you are to be taken as a prisoner of war." The mare glared harshly, but the longer Anon studied her, the more it resembled instead the dead, empty gaze of someone who'd lost all hope. "If you surrender now and cease resisting, we will escort you to the prison where you'll simply rot until the end of your days." Here, the once-shimmering pony reached behind her to roughly grab something out of view. "If you don't, though?"

The jumper's blood ran cold as the mare turned back, dangling a chained, gagged and thrashing Knight from her hoof as she smirked sinisterly.

"We'll make your little friend here wish he'd never been born."

One look at the colt's terrified-yet-utterly-fruitless wriggling was all it took for Anon to slump in defeat.

Well…shizzle-

Wait, I can curse again!

Shit! 





Anon was cold.

The shackles they'd slapped on her were freezing, as if they stored them in liquid nitrogen when they weren't in use to inflict that much more pain on the wearer. The barred window had long been cracked, its broken panes doing absolutely nothing to keep the chilling breeze out of her cell. Said cell was made so that every surface seemed specifically designed to suck away any trace of warmth. It was a miserable place of horror, where no joy survived. 

In other words, it was repurposed army barracks. 

And the endlessly-thrashing white colt chained to the wall across from her was hardly helping matters.

"Save the effort. We're not getting outta here anytime soon." Anon said, tugging at the chains. She suspected she could get them off at the price of her hooves getting pretty badly scratched, but that was only part of their trouble. From her experience, escaping the cell itself wasn't the hard part, but getting away without being caught was. 

And now that her reality-bending powers were useless—the nullification ring they'd placed around her horn worked on those too, apparently—their best bet was to bide their time and wait for an opportunity. 

Doing so likely wouldn't be too difficult; Anon had a few tricks up her metaphorical sleeve and, from what she'd seen, the mind-controlled guards didn't look all that bright. The schedules the guards were using were rigid, using the same route on every patrol. If they timed it right, they could get away.

But there was the issue: They. She wasn't alone in this. 

Anon took another glance at the colt. 

The jumper didn't especially know what to think about him.

It was a kid. A child. And now, by her fault, that kid was a prisoner of war at the mercy of a mind-controlled army of obvious evil. 

And not just any kid. Bon Bon’s and Lyra’s kid. 

A hollow chuckle escaped the jumper. The pair was looking to adopt back in her Equestria, right? Maybe this was the foal they were supposed to end up with if she didn't enter the picture. 

She basically stole his home twice. 

But he has powers. 

Was he a jumper? No, what he did definitely wasn't jumper power.

Maybe the opposite of a jumper? 

Her further musings were unfortunately interrupted as the outside world found out that being together was too boring and decided to shake things up a little.

The sirens went off. 

Anon stood up in her chains as much as she could, trying to reach the window. Was there an attack? Some other prisoner escaping? 

And then the cracks sounded in the distance. 

It was a strange sound. Sharp, distinct. The closest thing to it was thunder, but somehow more pronounced. Heavier.

The soldiers outside started to gallop. Organized as they were, they seemed like busy worker ants. Most of the soldiers disappeared into buildings, but few instead ran towards some strange constructions under camouflage netting, which were promptly torn away, revealing giant, dark crystals - glowing with inner power.

And then the crystals started firing. 

Anon couldn't see exactly what the crystals were targeting- but a sudden pressure wave rocketed the whole building. A wall of air hit Anon, lifting the foal of her hooves and onto the cold floor, the chains digging into flesh. 

The realization hit.

We are getting shelled. 

Another realization came after.

They have goddamn magical artillery! 

Also magical counter battery measures. 

Trying to ignore the throbbing came from her front hoof, the jumper thought. More explosions came from outside as more shelles managed to squeeze through. Poor Knight whimpered and cried out through his gag with each one.

The one firing had to be close - Anon could hear the crack of the artillery battery firing before the actual shell landed. She couldn't identify individual shots, and trying to guess the distance based on how long the shot traveled wasn't exactly viable anyway, considering she was dealing with magical artillery, so the ballistics were probably wonky. But it shed some light on their situation.

This was a frontline - or maybe even a siege. Two sides just throwing fire on each other, until one of them breaks. Considering the level of encampment they were in, it must have gone for some while. 

Their prison shook again - another shell went off nearby. More whimpering and crying from Knight. She didn't blame the poor kid. This was out of their hoof. A lottery. One unlucky shot - or lucky, depending on the perspective - and the whole barracks would be gone up in flames. The best she could do was try to think about something else. 

Anon cursed under her breath. She should have paid more attention to their surroundings when she got the chance. Now even if they managed to escape, they would still be hopelessly lost in enemy territory. And this background of artillery only made it much harder. 

Or did it?

No patrols outside during shelling. Only the soldiers crewing the crystals. 

Of course, there would still be positions manned outside - waiting in case of an enemy attack. But those probably wouldn't aim inside the encampment. 

The best time to escape and slip away. 

Slowly but surely, a plan began to form.


PART TWO: https://www.fimfiction.net/story/522436/libero