“The horror!" wailed Lily. "The horror!”
“It’s awful! I… I can’t stand the sight of it!”
“There’s so much… carnage!”
Two fillies were standing next to each other, one trying to fan a third who was on the verge of fainting. They stared wide-eyed at the broken wood, at the jagged pieces of pottery, and at the brown mess strewn all over the road. Spike walked up to them.
“I didn’t know you girls were selling ladders now," he said. "Though I think you’re going to need a bigger cart if you want to carry them around.”
Daisy, who was still fanning her friend, threw a worried look at her pale companion, who was getting paler by the second.
“Rose walked under a ladder,” Daisy said accusingly.
The ladder was propped up against Sugar Cube Corner, or at least it had been. Now it was mostly propped up by a flower cart, and though the cart itself had only split a plank on one side, several flower pots had been broken, one of the compost sacks had been torn, and a lot of soil had been scattered over the floor of the cart and over the road. The third filly was coming around from her near-faint, though when she caught sight of the cart she almost went down again.
“Rose! Oh, Rose, what have you done?” she said. The lily in her hair was askew.
“She walked under a ladder! And do you know what this means?” said Daisy.
Spike scratched his head. “That she knocked it over?”
“There will be no flower stall to attend!” said Daisy.
“We’ll be out of business!” said Lily.
“I walked under a ladder!” said Rose, who was never first in the queue for the uptake.
“Ladies, relax,” Spike said, picking up the ladder and moving it off the cart. He lifted it over his head and moved towards the Sugar Cube Corner window display, guiding it from horizontal to vertical until the ladder was back to its original place against the shop. Daisy, Rose and Lily blinked.
“Amazing!” said Lily.
“So simple!”
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
“At the risk of blowing my own trumpet,” said Spike, “I happen to be a dab hand, or a dab hoof – or a dab claw if you prefer – at the art of cleaning up unexpected giant messes. Twilight gives me plenty of practice, trust me. Just move all the flowerpots and compost sacks, and I’ll have this cart spick and span in no time.”
Daisy and Lily looked at each other and at the soil-smothered and pot-peppered cart contents, before nodding to Spike. As one, they took up position either side of the cart and began unloading the pots. Rose was crouching in the middle of the road, biting both her front hooves now.
“It was an accident. It doesn’t count if it’s an accident, right? I’m jinxed! I walked under a ladder! Oh, what will become of me?” With a thump, Rose was supine on the road, covering her upturned eyes with an empty flower pot that had survived the disaster. It looked like it was trying to eat her face.
“I simply can’t imagine,” Spike muttered. He walked around the cart to the back. “Oh look, you have spare plant pots back here.”
Lily went over to see. “So we have. Amazing!”
“So simple!” said Daisy.
“Why didn’t I think of that?”
“You did,” said Rose, breaking out of her self-induced nightmare for a moment.
“Well, I clearly didn’t tell me that, or I’d have known. Silly Lily never tells me anything,” said Lily.
“My hero!” said Daisy, hugging Spike. Embarrassed, he tried to squeeze out of her grip. Lily, picking up a plant pot with her hooves, moved it away from the cart.
“Where do we put them?” she said, when Daisy finally let go. Spike rolled his eyes.
“Put them on my head, where they will most certainly be out of the way when I try to clean the cart.” Lily gave him a curious look, but shrugged and balanced it gently on top of his green spines. He snatched it off. “I was being sarcastic! It doesn’t matter where. On the road will do.”
They began unloading the pots. Once Lily had encouraged Rose to join in, things were moving faster, though Rose kept looking at the ladder and placing her pots away from it, in case it fell over again. From up the road came Cheerilee’s voice, followed by the teacher herself.
“Hello, Spike.”
“Cheerilee! I thought you were still at Twilight’s.”
“We didn’t have much to discuss." She peered over his shoulder. "Why are they putting their pots onto the road?”
“Because if I didn’t tell them what to do, they’d still be standing there screaming at the ladder.”
“It was horrible!” said Rose, making a dramatic pose with a flower pot on her head. “I’m cursed! I am cursed!”
“Oh, give it a rest, will you? It was just a ladder.” Spike pointed at the wooden rungs. Rose dropped the pot, then realised what she'd done and jerked back when it shattered. Her teeth were clenched, holding back the bile of panic.
“But I walked under it, and do you know what that means?”
“Yeah: you left your common sense at the florist's. Honestly, is there anything you won’t scream at?”
“Well, excuse us, purple dragon, for being a smidgen over-cautious,” said Rose, frowning. “But that is no way to address a jinxed filly.”
“Scaredy little foal, more like,” said Spike.
“You have no sympathy at all. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a festival to prepare for. Lily, did you pack the tickets?”
“Um…” said Lily, reaching into the cart.
“You didn’t pack the tickets?”
“I thought Daisy did.”
“Me?” said Daisy from the other side of the vehicle. “I thought you did, Lily.”
“Me? I thought you did.”
“You already said that!”
“I was double-checking.”
“Oh horsetails,” said Rose, burying her face in another empty plant pot. “My bad luck is kicking in already!” She tried to pull her head out, only to find that she was stuck. She tried again, more frantically this time. Then she collapsed, plant pot still upright and still stuck up to her neck.
Cheerilee and Spike watched with astonishment as the two fillies began removing the pots faster. Soon, there was nothing but a layer of soil at the bottom of the cart, and both florists were trying to dig through it for the tickets. Cheerilee turned back to Spike.
“Oh, and sorry for having to shut you out,” she said. “It was a little private. Between ponies.”
“Oh,” said Spike. “Oh.” He seemed to be thinking about it. Then he said: “Ooooooooooooooooooh! Ah, gotcha. No problem, Cheerilee. No questions asked, no answers given, no awkward pauses in return." He winked, which completely confused her. "So how are you feeling now?”
“Just a little down. Nothing a little Cheerilee Chocolate-Covered Cupcake with Caramel Cream and Chocolate Chip Cinnamon Cookies couldn’t cure!"
"Can I have a cure for my bad luck, please?" said a muffled voice behind them - Rose was trying to prise the pot off her head, both forelegs braced against the rim. "Or a little butter, or something?"
"Um… aren’t you coming in, Spike?”
“Sure, sure. I’ll be there in a minute, just, er, just sizing up the goods…”
He was ogling the cakes in the window. Behind him, Daisy tried to restrain a frantic Lily, who was screaming and pulling up planks from the bottom of the cart. Rose had somehow managed to wedge both neck and forelegs into the pot, and her rear end was dragging it against the paving slabs. Cheerilee shook her head and pushed the door open, upon which Mr Cake nearly bumped into her on his way out. He apologised before he carried on over to the cart. The bell tinkled.
Cheerilee walked into Sugar Cube Corner, where she found Apple Bloom at the counter, snorting up hot chocolate with her face stuck in the mug. She was blowing bubbles.
“Apple Bloom!" Cheerilee said. "Please take your nose out of your mug and bring your drink to your snout, not vice versa."
Apple Bloom’s face came out of the mug with a pop. Her chocolate splattered snout turned guiltily at Cheerilee, who was standing at the door.
“Sh'that you, Mish Cheerilee?” she slurred, pointing a foreleg at Cheerilee. “I didn't know you had twinsh.”
Her foreleg wobbled so that she was variously pointing at Cheerilee, the cake display, and the bell above the door. Cheerilee noticed that the young filly’s eyes were out of focus. She nearly toppled the stool, and hastily straightened up to avoid falling off.
“I know these are the holidays,” said Cheerilee, “and therefore I am not your teacher at the moment, but you really shouldn’t make a spectacle of yourself like this.”
“Ah wash lookin’ for mah doughy nut,” Apple Bloom slurred. There was a donut on the floor next to her. “An’ Ah don’ wanna talk right now. 'M not feelin' sho good...” Painfully, she turned back to the counter and pretended not to notice Cheerilee as she approached.
“Apple Bloom?”
Apple Bloom made a non-committal hum. She had another gulp out of her hot chocolate mug, emptying it. Mrs Cake came up from below the counter.
“I’d let her be, Miss Cheerilee. She doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. Now, what can I get you, deary?”
“Oh, the usual please, Mrs Cake.”
“Coming right up.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Cheerilee turned to face Apple Bloom.
“Apple Bloom, my little filly, whatever is the matter? You look a little tired,” said Cheerilee.
“That’s jush’ the hot chocolate. Applejack shaysh it goesh to mah head. Which ish shilly, becaush Ah tried payin’ atten-shion, an’ all Ah notished wa' that it goesh down to mah belly like everythin’ else doesh.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“About the hot chocolate?”
“No. You look sad about something.”
Apple Bloom didn’t respond. Instead, she was staring into her mug as if reading some depressing news from the chocolate sprinkles left at the bottom. Cheerilee put her forelegs on the counter.
“Apple Bloom? You can tell little Miss Cheerilee about it. I like to help my students when I can, even if this is summer vacation.”
Her reward was a yellow shoulder turning away, as if the fairy cake selection next to the little foal was slightly less uninteresting.
"Surely there’s something I could do?”
“No. You wouldn’t like it. You’d think Ah was bein’ shilly.”
“There’s no such thing as a silly problem, Apple Bloom.”
The young Apple pony sighed into her mug, but there were no ripples because the hot chocolate was gone, and it wasn’t as diverting without them. Her flank squeaked as she rotated in her stool. “You won’t laugh at all?”
“Certainly not,” said Cheerilee, pulling up a stool of her own. “You can trust me.”
There was a long pause while Apple Bloom examined Cheerilee’s expectant face. She cast dark looks at the cookies behind her, in case they were listening.
“Enjoying the summer vacation?” said Cheerilee.
Apple Bloom shook her head. “Ah ain’t got nothin’ to do.”
“What about the farm? I’m sure Big Macintosh and Applejack are keeping you busy for the bucking season.”
“No, they ain’t. I don’t help around the farm at applebuck. Applejack says that Ah only get in the way.”
“Well, I’m sure you have many friends to play with.”
This was rewarded with a sigh. “Miss Cheerilee, Ah’ve been with mah friends ever since we broke up.”
“Well, that’s wonderful –”
“An' the only thing Ah learned from it was that they was as bored as me.”
“Oh dear. It looks like you’ve got the holiday blues.”
“Aw, that too?”
“Yes. I used to have that problem when I was a young filly. I used to spend my days… in a daze. But then I found the solution.”
Apple Bloom gave her a thoughtful expression, or at least tried to while the hot chocolatey thoughts ran around inside her head, making her wobble on the chair.
“How would you like to join the Ponyville Homework Group?”
This sobered Apple Bloom up pretty quickly. It also made her recoil, toppling her stool and sending her crashing away from the counter. Cheerilee winced.
“Ah couldn’t, Ah shouldn't!” Apple Bloom said, sitting forlornly on the floor. “Scootaloo would laugh at me!”
“Now, don’t think so poorly of your friends. I’m sure Scootaloo would be very supportive of your decision. She would rather see you happy than bored.”
With a steely look, the youngest Apple filly took a deep breath. “Miss Cheerilee, Ah haven’t done nothin’ for a whole week, an’ Sweetie Belle an’ Scootaloo an’ me have done nothin’ after nothin’, an’ so Ah was thinkin’ of an idea, an’ Ah said we should do ess-pown-ee-arge… uh, ep-see-own-arge, uh… an’ Ah said we should do spyin’, but they said spyin’ was dumb, an’ then Ah got into a fight, an’ Sweetie Belle had to fight herself, Applejack tried to turn Pinkie into a pie, Fluttershy laid a bad egg, Scootaloo ate a mud pie fer a bet at the bottom of a well, an’ we chased three screams for nothin’. Ah’m just runnin’ out of things to try, an’ there are still weeks an’ weeks of summer left. But joinin' the Ponyville Homework Group? They just get laughed at. Everypony in there gets laughed at. Ah can't do it.”
“Oh, but those are the reasons why the group would be perfect for you, my little pony. And ponies used to laugh at you for not having a cutie mark, and that didn't stop you.”
Apple Bloom glanced at her flank. Then she hummed to herself, sitting in a more comfortable position on the carpet, stroking her chin.
“Maybe they are. Oh, but maybe they ain't! Ah don't know. Ah’ll have to think about it, Miss Cheerilee. But that ain’t a no – uh, Ah mean, but that ain’t a yes or a no. Maybe. If Ah think about it.”
“No problem at all, Apple Bloom. Just come by the school tomorrow at midday if you decide you want to try it. Bye now,” Cheerilee said, as she accepted her order from the Cakes and turned to leave. Apple Bloom clambered back onto her stool and sat back at the counter. She traced a hoof around her mug’s rim and stared at it thoughtfully. A musical note sounded from it. She lifted her offending hoof and blinked in complete astonishment at it, then at the contents of the mug.
Within the confines of Carousel Boutique, amid mirrors and models and kaleidoscopes of textiles, Rarity sighed with pleasure and began to write.
“Dearest Sir Fancypants," she dictated, while the glowing quill danced over the parchment.
“I am very grateful to you for inviting me to the Hoity Toity fashion gala. I cannot tell you what an honour it is to be considered for the line-up for this year’s New Alicornia Millennium Celebration. The fashionista festival would be the crowning jewel of my career. It is simply marvellous, so wonderful, so absolutely fabulous … no, cross that out, that’s too much.”
The quill scratched viciously. Rarity regained her composure.
“I shall be bringing the three suits you requested, as well as my latest ensemble for your friend.”
The door opened. One corpulent cat waddled in, wearing a purple bow and a self-satisfied smirk. Sweetie Belle lagged behind her.
“Ah, Opalescence. You found her. Excellent! Excellent timing! Just in time for your bath.”
The smirk vanished at once. Opal's eye twitched, but before she could run the Persian cat was enveloped in a blue glow and dragged, clawing and screaming, across the room and out the door. Sweetie Belle winced in sympathy when she heard the dreaded splash.
"I had the hot water going on for so long, too," said Rarity, before biting her tongue and picking up the quill again.
“Rarity, why am I going to this thing again?” she said.
“Sweetie Belle, it is about time we resolved our few remaining differences. One day, you’ll be a big girl, and I want my sister to have the best start in life when she comes of age.” A full stop was stabbed into place.
“But I don’t have a cutie mark yet.”
“Oh, but I want to help you gain your cutie mark too." Rarity turned to face her and lowered her spectacles. "Which is why I think this festival would be perfect for you. Maybe you’ll find your special talent when I take you to New Alicornia.”
“In designing and fashion?” Sweetie shrugged and raised an eyebrow.
“Sweetie Belle, it is about time you learned from the fashionable ends of Equestria. Maybe something will rub off on you. The culture. The company. The sophistication. Fashion, finesse, and fabulous fabrics. You will be at the culture capital of all unicorn kind. Why, an experience like that would do you a world of good, or should I say: il sera une expérience incroyable?" Rarity giggled to herself. Whoever this Fancypants was, thought Sweetie, he was clearly a bad influence.
"But come!" Rarity clapped her hooves and Sweetie found herself levitating above the floor. "The train will be leaving soon, and you’re not even in your dress yet.”
"Would it make any difference if I let my sigh out now, or should I let it out in private?" said Sweetie. She knew her sister meant well, but she wished that her sister also listened well. At times, Rarity seemed to conduct both sides of the conversation in her mind, regardless of what the other pony actually said.
"Why, whatever is the matter?" said Rarity, walking over to her.
"You just do the same thing over and over again." Sweetie folded her forelegs - it looked less ridiculous than letting them dangle in midair. "We always end up doing what you want to do. You, you, you."
"Please, Sweetie Belle! Don't say such things. We're all past that now, right?"
Is that a winning smile, thought Sweetie, or her just showing off her teeth? She somehow managed to shuffle on her haunches in midair, not looking at Rarity, who broke ranks first.
"Alright, my dear," said Rarity, ears falling. "It's only fair if I do a little giving as well. If you do this for me, I promise that when we come back, I will do something with you that you want to do. Is that acceptable, sweetums?" A hoof was extended towards her.
Sweetie didn't budge, a good negotiation tactic that actually numbered sixth on the ancient scroll of The Art of Sisterhood. Rarity stretched her hoof further.
"OK." Rotating in midair, Sweetie Belle extended her own hoof to touch her sister's. "Deal."
"Now we have an understanding," said Rarity, smiling again. "It's time for your bath. I hope Opalescence isn't taking too long."
A sarcastic hiss came from the bathroom.
At almost the same moment, several miles away, a young filly's scream echoed over Sweet Apple Acres.
Scootaloo leapt and aimed a hoof. Enraged, Rainbow Dash blocked with crossed forelegs held up like a shield, then aimed a sideways swipe that knocked into Scoot’s cheek and sent her other cheek smacking into the ground.
“Show me what you’ve got, little filly!”
Scootaloo screamed in fury and dived beneath her, sliding between her legs. A flip and a lunge had her on Dash’s back, but the wings opened and Dash fell heavily on her forelegs, her rump going up like a see-saw and bucking Scootaloo off.
When Scootaloo tried to bite Dash’s leg, Dash simply raised it up and Scootaloo continued flying through the air.
“No biting! If you want to play dirty, you’ll only make it harder for yourself!”
Dash didn’t even move. Scootaloo simply soared over her left shoulder and landed face first on the trunk of the tree. Scootaloo thumped onto the ground.
“What was that? Were you actually aiming that time?”
To Dash's surprise, and then to her alarm, Scootaloo was whimpering. She was clutching her face where she’d hit the tree and suppressing cries of pain. Dash bit her own hoof.
“Uh oh. Hey, kid,” she said, leaning close to pat her on the wither. “You OK? I thought you wanted rough and tough? Remember what you said? Scoots? Come here.” She cuddled Scootaloo with one leg, stroking her mane as Scootaloo held on tightly and buried her face in Dash’s other foreleg. It felt quite wet where her eyelids met it. A bit of blood dribbled out. Dash looked around with a panicky expression.
"I'm not crying," said a voice into her fur. "I just, I just got some bark in my eyes."
“It’s just a nosebleed. It’ll stop soon.” When this didn’t work, Dash tried shushing her gently. She didn’t know whether this would work either, but it was better than not saying anything and she wanted to drown out the half-stifled sobs - she really couldn't stand the sounds.
There was a clattering of cart wheels. Big Macintosh came over the ridge of the hill, chewing on hay and hauling a cartload of apples behind him. Dash watched apprehensively, and as he was passing, he stopped and turned to look at her. Then he looked down at Scootaloo, who was wiping her face on her own leg, and stopped chewing.
He blinked in puzzlement.
“Uh,” Dash said, her eyes appealing to the sky. “We were fighting. I didn’t think she’d get hurt. Well, yeah, it’s fighting, so you’d expect somepony to get hurt, but I didn’t mean... well, I meant to, but I was… I… she…" A weak chuckle failed to explain things any more clearly.
They both looked on awkwardly as Scootaloo sniffed and took a step back. "I'm OK, now. No biggie."
“You sure, Scoots?”
“It was nothing, really. I was… just surprised, that’s all. Yeah. Let’s keep fighting.”
Dash threw a nervous grin at Big Macintosh. He shrugged.
"She says she's alright," he said. "So Ah guess she's alright." With that, he continued chewing his piece of straw and pulled the cart downhill.
“Keep fighting?" said Dash, once she was sure the red giant was out of earshot. "But what about the –?”
“This? Nah, it’s nothing.” She winced as she poked her swollen nose. “I’m still ready. Come on.”
A lightbulb flashed over Dash's head.
“Why don’t we take time out for a bit?" she said. "I mean, obviously, I’m a little tired from all the fighting, and, um..." She stretched her legs back and forth, and then yawned like a lion. "Shall we get a drink?”
“Uh, sure. Yeah.”
It was some time later. The sun was setting, casting everything in an orange glow. The two of them were sitting with their backs against the apple tree, tactfully not mentioning the sore on Scoot's nose.
“Today was so awesome," said Scootaloo, holding back a squeal. "Hey, Dash. Do you think I could be a spy one day?”
“You can be whatever you want to be, kid," Dash said, folding her arms behind her head. "Personally, I had you down as a good hoof on a scooter.”
“Nah. That’s nothing special. I’d rather learn kung fu fighting from a black belt any day of the week.”
“Yeah? You gotta be good to keep up with me.”
Scootaloo beamed. “I intend to be the best.”
“Ooh, I heard some kick in that one." A back rolled forwards and four hooves rested on the fallen leaves.
Scootaloo got up too. "Can we do this same time tomorrow?”
"Sure, kid. Cloud duty's pretty easy in summer. If you're lucky, I might steal one of Rarity's dummies and bring it around for you to test your moves on."
"Cool! I can't wait."
Dash yawned again, genuinely this time, and flexed her wings. "For now, I think it's bed time for both of us. AJ’ll probably chase us off the fields if we’re not out of here before dusk. See you tomorrow, Scoots.”
There was a whoosh, and Scootaloo's blossoming eyes reflected the rainbow streaming across the disc of the sun.
Applejack panted, but took several more steps back until she was at the crest of the hill. She looked across the gap towards the peak of the next two hills, and spied, atop the third like an obnoxious King Harold, the apple tree. Two tufts of grass were churned up as the workhorse pawed the ground.
Then, with a rear and a whinny, she went straight into a full gallop, down the hill, across the fields, through the valley, over the foot of the offending hill and nearer the base of the foliage fortress. She leapt up, and still carrying on under her own momentum, raised a leg and screamed woody murder.
The kick was enough to split the trunk in half. Applejack whooped in midair as the apple trembled on its twig.
There was a thud, an “oof,” and a crunch.
A while later, Big Macintosh walked up the hill and towards the two halves of the tree, one lying on top of the other. A layer of orange fur was sandwiched between them, with four legs sticking out. Big Macintosh turned around and bucked the lower half, with both halves tumbling aside. A table that looked a lot like Applejack fell onto the ground and popped back into shape. There were little apples spinning around her head, but she shook off the dizziness and the illusion vanished.
“Doncha think yer takin’ this a li’l seriously?” said Big Macintosh. Applejack snorted.
“Ah ain’t gonna lose ter a Pink Lady. Ah’ll have her off that tree afore sundown.”
“Yer can do it tomorrow. Get some rest fer now."
Hooves smacked against the fallen trunk, but the apple still dangled from its twig. Applejack seized it in both hooves and braced herself against the trunk, pulling and twisting with all her might and with a lot of groaning.
Big Macintosh watched patiently as she slipped and fell onto her croup. "It's time for feedin', now. Yer’ll have yer strength back in the mornin’.”
Applejack heard sense, but she still growled with frustration and turrned to the tree.
"You listen to me, li'l troublemaker. Ah ain't got time fer hangarounds. Ah've bucked bigger apples than you, so don't you go gettin' ahead o' yerself. An' so help me, Ah will not buck another tree until Ah have you down an' harvested like the rest o' 'em."
Then she adjusted her hat before she passed her brother, trotting moodily downhill. Big Macintosh chewed his piece of straw, then looked back at the tree.
"Ah guess she sure told you," he said, and followed his sister down a while later.
Stealth isn’t really something that thrives in Equestria. Stealth requires secrets, and secrets require ponies to acknowledge someone as a potential enemy, which really doesn’t happen when you’re baking pies and singing ditties for the entire neighbourhood. There were simply no wars, there were never two opposing sides, and there was, most fatally, an enthusiasm for “talking things over” whenever a misunderstanding threatened to make things interesting. It wasn’t perfect; it was sickly sweet, and peril, intrigue, and war were all diabetics.
But there had been periods in history when this was not the case, and the mentioning of such times - times before Celestia’s takeover of Equestria, for instance - drew shudders from the historians. They were principally known as the ‘Exciting Times’ but went under many names, including the Big Uh-Oh, the Bad Juju, the Moment We’reinforit, Things Differently Peaceful, Oshi, and several more names that had been lost through the mists of time, if only because this was the best way for the more sensitive ponies to read the words.
And at the other side of the millennium, in more recent times, things had been shaken up again. Ponies had received that harsh wake-up call that complacent minds get when they are reminded that peace never comes for free and never stays for free. Thankfully, due to six unassuming ponies (whose efforts were historic and mighty and, for mysterious reasons, promptly forgotten about), the world was not cloaked in eternal darkness. It had been rescued from chaos, it was safe from mad gods, and it was not populated by ponies all fighting over one rather smelly grey doll that had its own homework set and a lot of bad stitching.
Events like that lead to a lot of probing in museum attics and within underground library archives. They set minds racing. Through the U-turn of history, the echoes of the Exciting Times came back and an overture was created. The minds of artists became the notes of a new, furious melody that was heard across the realm. Throughout the more intellectual areas of Canterlot – or at least those areas where the word ‘intellectual’ wasn’t spelled with a ‘harumph’ at the end – the printing press began an enterprise between the artists and the historians.
Comics were one of the results.
Apple Bloom was staring up at the ceiling. The moon was shining onto the floorboards, next to her chest of toys in the corner. From down the hall, she could hear her sister muttering into the pillow. Big Macintosh’s and Granny Smith’s rooms were silent.
The quilt was kicked off her stomach. It slumped onto the floor, cushioning four yellow hooves when she rolled out of her four-poster. Her bow’s shadow fell over the lid of the chest. A quick flick of the nose revealed a teddy bear, a blue ball, a green model of a spire, and several more useless items inside.
Apple Bloom dipped her head like an apple bobber who’s just been told that she has to bob not only for the apples, but for her carnival prize too, and emerged with black fabric between her teeth. It had a few white stars on the legs and collar.
Once she’d put on the bandana as well, a pink hoof struck the air and she beamed at an imaginary foe. Putting on the suit was a definite statement. The roof even seemed to slope upwards while she pressed her back against the door, as if making room for her raw confidence.
Hinges groaned as the wooden door was pulled, like two guards briefly disturbed from their sleep. Two fiery eyes peered out. They looked to the left. They looked to the right. They looked to the left again, just in case something popped out of nowhere during the few seconds spent looking away – according to her comics, this was vitally important for avoiding villainous duck-billed platypuses. Then Apple Bloom's head craned around the doorframe and examined the corridor.
Opposite her was a portrait of a pink pony with a white mane. Next to that was Applejack's bedroom door. Noises were coming from behind it, giving the impression that the door was sleepily asking for another apple fritter. Opposite the door were the stairs. Apple Bloom gulped. It occurred to her that anything with only raw confidence in it simply wasn’t well done.
She eased her hoof around the doorframe, placing it gently onto the floorboards. There was no squeak. She tried a second hoof. No creak was heard. Remembering the spies from her comics, she took the bipedal option, wiping her back against the wall as she crossed the hall. She wished the window wouldn’t keep staring at her like that.
Finally she reached the top of the stairs. The flight descended below her. From behind, she heard the apple decoration on the bedroom door mumble about lassoing runaway pies. There was plenty of shadow down the staircase, but perhaps the white stars on her costume would contrast with the black fabric enough to give her away in the dark. The rouge neck ribbon was probably overkill.
One of the steps creaked: Apple Bloom instantly froze. An ear swivelled to face the door upstairs. She held her breath.
The green door loudly groaned and complained about the rope being covered in apple sauce before a snore cut it off. Apple Bloom breathed again, but it took a long time for her limbs to unfreeze. There were no further creaks as her forelegs eased themselves down and off the handrail, which had bite marks on it, because a pony falling down the stairs isn’t fussy about what it grabs onto.
The novice in stealth crossed the main room, regretting the lack of furniture to hide behind. It didn’t feel stealthy, but at least the round rug in the middle muffled most of her hoof steps.
It was quiet outside, and in the barn when she slipped inside. All around her were mountains of apple crates. Straw crunched under her hooves before she stopped in front of an old cart wheel, spokes and hub made of that tough timber that seemed to fossilize instead of decaying. It was leaning against the crimson wall, near a white window frame. Apple Bloom traced a line with her nose as if following the moonlight pouring through the glass.
Her little hooves worked feverishly, scattering straw. Then she was scattering dirt. She stopped, nose covered in earthy clumps, and beamed down at the prize. A while later, her small head poked through the gap between the barn doors. A quick adjustment of her jaw was all that was needed before she darted out and ran past the white fences into Sweet Apple Acre’s orchard.
There were lights on within the treehouse, the yellow glow pouring through the heart-shaped gaps in the door and the shutters. Next to the L-shaped walkway leading up to the balcony, what looked like a blue skateboard with handles was leaning against the trunk. Occasionally, a “haiiiiiiiiiiiii-YA” punctuated the cricket chirps, which were coming along nicely now and the poor chaps probably wouldn’t need that rehearsal they’d scheduled for tomorrow night.
Three buckets were placed upside-down on the floor. They sat and waited, woodenly. To a sufficiently hyperactive mind, they were squatting ninjas about to pounce. Their nonexistent eyes narrowed. Their imaginary arms tensed. Legs did not bend like sumo wrestlers squaring off. They were professionals, if you wanted them to be.
Two purple eyes, both perfectly real, concentrated on each one. Enamel scraped against enamel, making a screech that would make a dentist rub his hands in glee. Toe bones cracked like knuckles. A drop of sweat dribbled down an orange forehead as if hoping to drop out of the fight.
There wasn’t actually a bell, but if there had been, it would have pinged. Scootaloo rushed forwards, lungs exploding through her mouth, and kicked the first bucket. It sailed through the air and struck the door, or at least would have done if Apple Bloom hadn’t opened it first.
When she came back up the steps a second time, Apple Bloom was moaning into her hoof.
“Scoodnoo!” she cried, rubbing her nose. “Wha’ d’hay’re you doon?”
“Apple Bloom!”
“Ah dought somepony w’in dere.” Apple Bloom let go of her nose, which was still red and throbbing. She nearly shook her mane off until the pain vanished. “Ah saw the lights were on.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?”
“Aren’t you s’posed to be in bed?”
Two pairs of lips were pursed.
“Ah won’t tell if you won’t tell,” said Apple Bloom, before spitting on her hoof and extending it. After a pause, Scootaloo spat onto her own hoof and they shook.
“O’ course,” added Apple Bloom, “if you do tell even one pony, Ah’ll crow it to the rooftops o’ every house o’ every pony in Ponyville with a megaphone that you kicked a bucket into mah face, but Ah feel that’s only to be fair. Keeps the deal on the sweet, yer know?”
“I thought I’d stay up and learn some karate moves,” said Scootaloo, gesturing towards the buckets. She howled in Japanese - though since the only word she knew was "HAAAAAIIII", it wasn't exactly bilingualism at its finest - and delivered a kick which would have made any kung fu master witnessing it chew the back of his chair in outrage.
Apple Bloom gave the resulting bucket-shaped hole in the wall a cursory glance.
“I was learning karate in the fields with Rainbow Dash. Well, OK, we were supposed to be learning how to sneak around and stuff, but that was so boring, and then Dash said ‘hey want to know how to disarm somepony instead’, so I said ‘hey, why not’, and then we tried hitting each other's jugulars. Or at least we tried to. Is the jugular the one in the leg? It kinda went a little Oriental from there.”
“So you think mah idea was righ’ after all?” Apple Bloom sat down on the floor, folded her forelegs and gave her pegasus partner a wry smirk.
Scootaloo wiped the smile off her own face. “Nuh uh. I still think it’s a dumb idea. I just don’t think it’s too dumb, like way-stupid dumb. It’s more daft-dumb, with a bit of really weird and a lot of ‘ooooooooookay’. It’s not that dumb on the dumb-o-meter of dumbness, really. Um, it’s a smart-ish kind of dumb.
“And karate is cool,” she added, pushing her luck a bit. The conversation was loyally dropped after that, which is the sort of thing friends can get away with without looking awkward.
“Well, OK, we can try that out,” Apple Bloom said. “If yer want some hints and tips, Ah’ve got some comics ter show yer how it’s done.” The paper was slapped onto the floorboards. Scootaloo cast a shadow over them. “This one is Wolfenstein,” said her friend, nudging her aside. “The ninja warrior pony-wolf.”
He had a peg-leg, an eyepatch, and a grin filled with kitchen knives.
“He was a spy fer Princess Luna, when she was Nightmare Moon. Durin’ the day, he was a normal pony called Silver Platter, an’ a servant of Princess Celestia. But durin’ the nigh’, his real wolf form came out an’ he used to sneak around the palace, carryin’ out Nightmare Moon’s evil schemes an’ thwartin’ Celestia’s evil plans.”
“Evil?”
“They’re told from his point of view. An’ he was cunnin’. He never got caught.”
“Was he real?”
“Ah dunno. Mighta been. If he was, he was awful good. An’ sometimes he even won against Celestia.”
“Gee, wouldn’t Princess Celestia find this kind of thing… disrespectful?”
“She loves ‘em. She even suggested some o’ the plotlines herself. One o’ the stories was even hosted as a royal thee-atrical. Besides, Ah like stories with good bad guys.” Apple Bloom sighed. “Ah’d sure like ter be like him. Then Ah’d have all kinds o’ neat toys ter play with, an’, an’ super-slick moves an’ stuff.”
“Who’s that guy?” Scootaloo pointed at a second comic.
“Huh? Oh, that’s the Night Watch Pony. She sneaks out at night in Manehattan an’ catches criminals an’ bad ponies."
Without warning, Apple Bloom leapt onto her back legs and pointed a hoof at the treehouse ceiling, shouting: "Come, Cloppin! TO THE PONY POLE!”
She blushed at Scootaloo’s expression.
"Hehe," she said. “It’s a, er, catchy-phrase she says. It goes like this: there's a scream of fear, then the two ponies look around all startled-like. Then Cloppin says 'What was that', and the night Watch Pony replied, 'That was our work bell.' Come, Cloppin, to the pony pole! An' then they get into the Ponymobile an' leap into action!”
There was a scream. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo jumped off the floorboards.
"What was that?" cried Scootaloo.
"It's comin' from Ponyville!"
"Well, shall we see what this one is?"
"Are you crazy? At this hour?" Apple Bloom said, walking up to the window and peering out. "It could be dangerous."
"Well, we wouldn't have to do anything, just look at it. See what it is. You know." The young pegasus leaned in close to Apple Bloom's ear. "Ess-pee-own-arge on it."
"No."
"Unless you're chicken?"
"No, Ah'm not!"
"Bdak, bdak, bdak!"
"Alrigh', smart mouth, Ah'll come. But how're we gonna get there?"
This was met with a broad grin. "Well, we kinda have a Ponymobile of our own."
"Does it shoot lasers an' things from the front?"
"Well, no, but..."
"Does it have heat-seekin' rockets and giant magic tasers?"
"No, but..."
"Does it have an ejector seat? Rocket boosters? A magnetic lasso?"
"NO, but..."
"Does it even have a cup holder?"
"Look, do you want to come or not?"
"Answer the question!"
"NO, it doesn't have a cup holder!"
"Huh. Well, Ah guess it ain't a Ponymobile, now, is it?"
"You're killing the mood." Scootaloo slapped on her helmet and marched towards the door. "Come on."
As the last of the Ponyville house doors slammed shut, a motor growled and two fillies on a scooter zoomed down the street, losing some speed on the uphill. The passenger was pointing and shouting directions for the driver, who adjusted and turned tight corners before speeding down another street. They passed Sugar Cube Corner, where the lights were still on, and they passed the library tree, the lights of which were also on.
Twilight lowered her quill and peered out the study window. She could hear the growling motor and was just in time to see the two Cutie Mark Crusaders whizz past.
"Hm," she said, tapping her hoof. This was a common reaction to the sight of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, especially when they were looking so purposeful.
The scooter ground the soil and skidded to a halt. Scootaloo stopped leaning back and Apple Bloom unwrapped her hooves, freeing the orange waist. Ponyville's main streets were empty of ponies, and in the half light it began to unnerve them.
“Dang,” said Apple Bloom. “Ah was sure it came from around here.”
They lingered nonetheless. Leaves rustled and were dragged past them in the low wind. The night was colder than usual, and though the stars were dutifully filling up the void, the moon seemed not to have cleared the trees yet.
"I'll try the next road," Scootaloo said, leaning back again. Then she paused.
"What? What's wrong?"
"Sh! D'you feel those vibes?"
At first, she felt nothing. There were no sounds except for the wind murmuring in her ear. But the longer she listened, the more she felt that things were out of place in the gentle rhythm of the night. She couldn't put her hoof on it.
"Scootaloo...?"
"Sh! Sh! There! D'you feel it?"
The ground was shaking with each double thump. Apple Bloom looked around for the source of the noise.
Scootaloo gripped her friend’s head in both hooves and rotated it by ninety degrees. That was how she saw what was coming up the road. The result was that Apple Bloom had Scootaloo’s wide-eyed expression to a T, though her eyes were a double ‘O’, her ears more a ‘V’, and her mouth an unmistakeable copy of the universal ‘AARGH’.
The noises were getting louder. Scootaloo spun the scooter around and did a good impression of a V2 Rocket propelled by a combustible fuel of disbelief and fur-wetting fear. A bouncing black mass followed them up the street, like a drumbeat counting down the seconds they had. Apple Bloom seized Scootaloo’s waist again, then squeezed tighter as they took a hard right and sped down an alleyway.
There was a fruit cart up ahead. There was always a fruit cart up ahead, because any chase vehicle has to smash through something and Hollywood hates healthy food just as much as you do.
As they zoomed up, Scootaloo leapt off the shooting blue scooter and worked her wings, Apple Bloom fluttering behind her like a cape made of lead. The scooter fell on its side and slid beneath the cart before all hooves were reunited with it, knocking it back to an upright position and incidentally allowing a ninety degree turn before they zoomed down the next road. Their pursuer didn’t bother with such niceties. Planks and fruit rained down over the house opposite. Apple Bloom squeezed her eyelids tighter at the crunching noises.
They sped on as the thing behind them began howling. Scootaloo saw a second cart, this one empty but leaning towards them. It made an obvious ramp for a scooter. She steered them to a good angle and then braced herself as the scooter hit the wooden planks and soared over the edge and onto the thatched roof, which gave way. There was a pause while the house let out light through the new and unplanned loft conversion. Then the front door opened outwards and they both shot out, revving the scooter.
Apple Bloom looked around and behind them, but there was no sign of the beast. She breathed a sigh of relief.
"Ah think," she breathed, "Ah think we're going to be OK!"
Four paws landed in front of them. Scootaloo screamed as it bounced past, and wrenched the handlebars. The scooter spiralled down the road, despite her savaging the controls, and they both crashed into a pile of cardboard boxes. A dust cloud enveloped them all. Apple Bloom felt like the world had been snatched out from under her feet. It took some time to stop.
Through the settling dust cloud, three silhouettes lay slumped in the wreckage. Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom’s forelegs, but they were wrapped tightly around the pegasus’ hips and the Apple pony was curled up in petrified fright. Scootaloo pushed again, more frantically.
There was a thumping sound, and when they looked up, the giant dog was bounding down the street towards them. Slobbering jaws were agape, overloaded with shark-like teeth so large none of the mouths could even shut. It roared. Three times. Once per head.
The thumping drowned out their own heartbeats as the two fillies closed their eyes and curled up together. Something else was thumping, too. Four ears swivelled, trying to locate the intruding sound.
Twilight landed in the space between the boxes and the dog, and clenched her teeth as the purple glow flowed through her horn. A puzzled yelp, a skid of braced paws, and the loss of the thumps finally got the better of the two fillies. They opened their eyes. The dog skidded to a halt inches before Twilight's frown.
All three heads looked down at her quizzically. There was a long silence while Twilight’s horn glowed more brightly. Six red eyes blinked.
From outside of town, on the edge of the Everfree Forest, a vine-smothered tree glowed purple as if in response. Soil trembled at its roots. Finally, with a wrenching of its boughs, the tree burst through the ground, scattering clumps of earth. It hovered in midair, before it drifted over to the town's borders.
The three-headed dog was waving a paw in front of Twilight's face and examining her for a reaction when the tree drifted into view. It floated down the road, and while the dog was scratching its left head, a bunch of leaves was thrust into its faces.
They looked down. Twilight winked. They looked at each other uncertainly.
Then all three faces beamed. Three tongues hung out and it rose up on its hind legs, panting. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo beamed as its gigantic tail wagged through the air like a hefted club.
“Here boy," said Twilight, waving it about enticingly. "You want the stick? Get the stick, boy! Go get it!” With a swish of leaves, Twilight threw it in a high arc clear over Ponyville rooftops and into the depths of the forest. It didn't even hesitate; the black hellhound bounded after the tree, out of Ponyville and through the outlying trees, where it was out of sight. Behind her, Twilight heard two sighs of relief.
“T-Twilight?” said Apple Bloom, getting to her hooves.
The unicorn turned around. A blinding flash of light spread from her horn, enveloping the town. Splatterings of fruit drifted through the air. Planks rose off the ground. Beneath their feet, the dust stirred and the two fillies jumped back as cardboard boxes began stacking themselves. The hole in the roof shrank and sealed up. Soon, the shattered wood was fitting together, piece by piece, until the fruit cart was complete and it was gently placed back onto the ground.
“We," began Scootaloo, as the last box topped the pyramid, "we can explain…”
“Girls,” said Twilight, looking down at them. The glow in her horn vanished. “What are you doing out so late? It's not safe tonight."
"But why not? Where'd that... thing come from?"
"It ran out of the Everfree Forest a while ago and gave us a bit of a fright. But that doesn't concern you now. I think it would be a great idea to go back to your homes as soon as possible, girls. Your families must be worried about you.”
Scootaloo and Apple Bloom hung their heads and traipsed off, Scootaloo dragging the scooter behind her with her tail. Once they were gone, and while chewing her lip, Twilight examined the giant paw prints in the ground.
"A cerberus?" she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "But why would one of those be coming here?"
From the distant forest, three cheerful howls rent the night.
To be continued...