//------------------------------// // Chapter One // Story: Crawling Creeper, Gumming Gator // by Beegirl Scribbler //------------------------------// This story is dedicated to my two most spiffing prereaders, Eisenman and AnAverageGom. Pinkie Pie looked up. She didn't do this often. The skies rarely had much to show her, and she preferred to focus on what lay below. Ponies. Ponies smiling and frowning. The skies didn't have those, especially not at night. All the same, she looked up. The winter nights of Canterlot had always fascinated her, from her very first night spent beside the castle. She'd been colder, then, of course. With no shelter, she'd been colder. Not like now. In a private suite in Canterlot Castle, the cold was friendly—almost a welcome guest. And the nights fascinated her still. Hearth Warming's Eve was drawing near, and bright decorations lined the streets. Pinkie had spent all of the previous day sabotaging a complex colored light system Rarity had sought to place. She'd been brought to her senses before completely wrecking it, fortunately. Regardless of her efforts, even at night, the city remained a colorful and vibrant place. But this did not come without a cost. It came at the expense of the sky. Up above, the night was pitch black. There were no clouds—it was an exceptionally clear night. Elsewhere, it would be beautiful. But the home of the Princess of the Night herself could not see the stars for all the lights on the ground. Pinkie would wonder whether Luna went elsewhere during this season, or if Luna stayed indoors and tried not to think about it. Some ponies didn't understand Pinkie. They assumed she gave no thought to the thoughts of others, and that was true. Pinkie didn't understand how other ponies thought. It wasn't her fault. Other ponies were slow, and careful, and boring. She loved them, but they were boring. Pinkie didn't understand how they thought. She understood how they felt. She understood if they were truly smiling, or if they were close to tears. She understood if they needed to be alone, or if they needed a hug. Sometimes, when it was funny, she would ignore this understanding. But when it was actually important, she always tried to help. She understood. So she would wonder whether Luna was happy in this season, where her nights were longest, or whether Luna would prefer to wait until the shorter nights of Summer and Spring to show off her work. Pinkie would wonder this. But she wasn't thinking about the stars, nor the sky. Not even the night itself. She wasn't even thinking about Canterlot. She was thinking about a promise she'd recently extracted. She was wondering if the promise was being kept. Earlier that day... “Remember, Gummy.” Pinkie wagged a hoof at her pet alligator. “You can't come with me to Canterlot. No matter what.” Gummy blinked up at her. “Don't look at me like that!” Pinkie picked Gummy up and hugged him. “It's not because I don't want you to come!” The alligator's tail twitched. Pinkie held Gummy up before her eyes. “It's be-cause I need you to look after Sugarcube Corner! I'm gone, and the Cakes are gone. The shop's abandoned.” She grinned, raising an eyebrow. “You know what that means.” Gummy stared. “You Pinkie Promise?” Pinkie stared deep into the wide violet eyes of the toothless reptile. Gummy blinked. His tail twitched. Pinkie set him down, giggling. “Okey-dokey! Just remember!” She picked up her small suitcase in her mouth and trotted to the door. “Awtch ow or eepersh!” Years ago (quite a few)... Blowing up pony dwellings was a very delicate business. Everypony knew that. It was dangerous. It was an emotionally volatile political issue. It brought up ethical concerns. It brought up moral concerns. And it scared ponies. Add all those problems together, and a very delicate business was created. Sir Creepalot knew how delicate this work was. So did Princess Celestia. Creepers were born to destroy. It was literally their sole reason for living. If this was taken away, it could create a great deal of anger throughout the species. Explosive anger. At one point, a picket line had been threatened. Specifically, the line of picket fence protecting Celestia's home. Sir Creepalot himself had made the threat. It was a matter of professional courtesy to warn the victim in question, and so he had. Naturally, he'd ended up in the dungeons. This had been small surprise. Celestia was still sensitive after the banishment of her sister some twenty years ago. Sir Creepalot knew this quite well. He understood how difficult the loss of family could be—especially when one had to bring about the loss personally. Scars did not easily heal. The Princess was still in an emotionally...volatile state. But Sir Creepalot was a very popular creeper. One did not simply lock him up. Celestia knew this quite well. And so it came to pass, on one dark night, that he was granted an audience with the Princess of the Sun. For the very first time in Equestrian history, a creeper and a pony walked side-by-side through the gloomy castle of Canterlot. After a terse discussion, it was decided that a treaty could be drawn up. Certain restrictions were agreed upon. Chief among these restrictions? Fatalities were prohibited. If a death or serious injury occurred (besides that of the detonating creeper, of course), steps would be taken. Sir Creepalot understood. In truth, the creepers did not want to kill. They just enjoyed being remembered. And what better technique than to sneak up behind a pony, start to hiss, and see the look on the poor pony's face when they turned around? But there were alternatives. Griefing did not have to cause grieving. And so the creepers agreed upon the treaty. And nearly a thousand years later, the treaty remained in place. Creeper-pony relations were about as cordial as could be expected. All in all, the ponies thrived, the creepers thrived, and Sir Creepalot waited. Waited for just the right victim.