//------------------------------//
// Divinity - Part 4 
// Story: Shattered Worlds 
// by Midnightshadow 
//------------------------------//


   The
  CONVERSION
       ►Bureau



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Shattered Worlds
Divinity
Part 4
═════════════════════════════════════
An MLP:FiM Fanfiction by Midnight Shadow





Susan leaned on the fence, arms crossed on the plaswood length, back arched so her chin could rest between them. She turned as footsteps neared, and her face lit up in a smile. "Hey there, Wendy-Oh"
Wendy mock-scowled, narrowing her blue eyes, "I thought you hated being called Susie-B? Cos you're aching for it, sister."
Susan Belafore chuckled, standing up straight. she nodded towards the far side of the paddock, where a butter-yellow gelding was being talked at by a larger bay mare. The former kept shying away, ears back, as if ashamed or - more likely - simply bashful. "That my boy?"
"Uh-huh," Wendy said, running a finger inside her riding boots to straighten her jodhpurs, before blowing a stray tuft of brown hair out of her eyes, "that's Sunshine alright."
"How's he been?"
Wendy chewed the crop she was carrying thoughtfully for a moment, before answering. "He doesn't say much, Susie, but I think he's happy."
"You tried to ride him yet?" asked Susan, her hands on her hips in a defiant gesture of protection for the pony.
"Relax, Susie, you know we take good care of all our boys. We always try to ride them first, you know that. With his colouring, I was hoping some sweet girl would take him. He's been through a lot, he deserves a quiet life."
"His file..."
"I read it," Wendy said, nodding. "Oh don't give me that look," Wendy huffed, as Susan scowled darkly, "I know it's classified. I have my ways, and I owed it to him. I wasn't surprised when he ran for his life the first time they tried to put the tack on him. Took a whole day to coax him out of the stall. S'why I let Nutmeg talk to him about it before today's attempt."
"Your boss mare certainly has a way with them. I wonder what she says?" Susan narrowed her green eyes, scratching at an ear before tucking her flame-red hair behind it.
"I don't know," Wendy said, smiling wistfully, "whenever I ask, they always clam up. I think it's just one of those pony-things they do."
"If they were half as gentle a set of creatures as they are, I'd be worried. Let them have their secrets, Lord knows they've got little else. I don't know how they'd manage without us to look after them."


***


Sal shied his head away from the towering mare. "B-but, t-they--"
"Sunshine look at me," Nutmeg ordered.
"S'not my na--"
"Yes, it is your name. Look at me." The order was given gently, but it was an order. Sal looked up, and found himself drowning in the kind, brown eyes of Mama Nutmeg. "What are you, Sunshine?"
"A pony?" he answered hesitantly.
"Yes, and no. You're more than that. a hundred years ago, Celestia was drawn to this place; she felt the suffering of mankind and made the decision to help them."
"B-but," Sal looked left and right. Mentioning Her name felt... dangerous, somehow. "But isn't she dead? She f-failed, didn't she? She tried to invade, and--"
Nutmeg smiled a sad little smile. "No, love, she's not dead. You wouldn't be here if she was dead. And she didn't fail, either. Look around you, honey, what do you see?"
"Umm..." Sal looked. There was grass, mud, fences, trees, humans and, of course-- "ponies?"
Nutmeg smiled. "Ponies. Her task was harder than she expected, harder than she could have known. But her task stands. You, and I, must bear her burden now. And part of that burden is in taking the bit, and minding the spur."
Sal shivered. He'd never had a good time with sharp objects and bondage, and the last encounter... he was glad he couldn't remember it properly. "But Mama... I don't..."
"Listen, foal," Nutmeg's voice was kind, "some think the bit is a symbol of our slavery, the tool by which the humans control us. I say it is anything but. It is a symbol of our freedom. It is a promise, to all of us ponies, of their dedication to our race. As a faithful mount, Sunshine, you will want for nothing. When you are hungry, they will feed you. When you are tired, you will rest. When you are sick, they will heal you. When you are dirty, they will clean you. And when they are lonely, they will come to you, and you need do nothing but comfort them. Your life, Sunshine, is as a beast of burden. You need never work a day in your life if you understand one simple fact..."
"What is it?"
"That this is your purpose. Your reason for being is to carry their load - their shopping, their children, their worries, their hopes and their dreams. Such a burden, even to a smaller pony such as yourself, is as nothing when you live according to your purpose. Look at me."
Sal looked up from where he had been contemplating the grass and Nutmeg's words.
"I am an earth-pony. Where I walk, the plants listen and the ground answers. You would have been a pegasus, or a unicorn, with your smaller frame, but now we are one people. One herd. And your purpose is Celestia's. You will carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, and you won't feel a thing. Put the bit in your muzzle, Sunshine, and be the best pony you can be. It is freedom, for mankind now serves you."
Sal turned his head, quizzically. "I never thought of it that way."
"I know, and neither do they. Sometimes I wonder what would become of them without us to look after them."


***


Sal stood in the middle of the corral. He shivered. Wendy busied herself around him, murmuring soft words of encouragement. He obediently lifted hoof after hoof as she checked them. Being shod for the first time had been stressful, with all the loud noises and the banging of hammers, and having the shoes hammered into his hooves with nails... it hadn't been fun, but he did have to admit it hadn't hurt. His hooves itched slightly, but at Wendy's ministrations with the hoof pick and brush, she cleared the dirt out.
"There, hooves all clean, honey. Now, here's a blanket to go under the saddle, okay? don't jink about, it's got to go on straight... there. suits you, huh?"
Sal turned around trying to get a look, and earned himself a light smack on the nose.
"I said stay still, silly!"
Sal plastered his ears back against his skull and chomped his teeth, but only earned another smack. he then felt another, thicker pad being placed on his back, up near his withers.
"This goes directly under the saddle, okay? Now hold still..."
Sal did as he was bid, and felt a sudden weight on his shoulders. The saddle draped down his flanks, resting on each side of his back.
"Hmm, yes, quarter-horse proportions. Good, good. Now just let me do up the girth-strap..."
Sal nickered as Wendy reached under his barrel to grab and then fasten the large strap that kept the saddle tight against his body to both sides of the saddle. He felt an elbow in his ribs and huffed out the breath he'd been holding.
"Sorry, Sunshine, can't have you holding your breath. I'd fall off and you'd get blisters if the saddle's not on tight. There," Wendy stood back and walked around the pony slowly, "yeah, that looks good on you. Now, I'm going to put the bridle on, okay? I want you to stand still, open your mouth... that's right... and take the bit in. It'll fit behind your teeth, I promise. It'll feel weird at first, but you'll get used to it, okay my love?"
Sal nodded, but shivered. He danced on his hooves as the headgear was applied, and whimpered in a low nickering neigh as the cold metal bar went between his teeth. He felt his ears being tugged, his mane being pulled, and the lump of metal settled into his muzzle. Then three sets of straps were tightened, one after another. The first went tight around his muzzle, behind and underneath the reins which he now felt placed over his shoulders. Two large metal loops jangled as the second strap that kept his mouth closed was tightened, and then a third, very loose strap was cinched just under his jowels.
"there," said Wendy, a big smile on her face, "aren't you a bonny boy today, huh? Want a look?" She tugged lightly on the reins, and Sal obediently followed her. She showed him to a trough of water. Looking down into it, he saw his reflection. He studied it with awe; red synthetic leather trimmed in silver and black covered his head, and his mane fell over one eye, the bridle around his ears. the saddle was simple, but trim and fetching. He almost looked--
"very handsome. Some lucky family is really going to win big then they buy you, my lovely," said Wendy, stroking him softly. "Before then, though, we need to break you in."

Sal was lead to the middle of a sand-covered square, and the reins were placed upon his back. Then Wendy closed the gate and returned to stand in front of him, just to one side. "Now, when a rider is on you, she will not use her voice; she will use her feet, her legs, her knees and her body to tell you what she wants," Wendy said, pointing to various parts of her anatomy, "and to accentuate that, she will use the reins. The crop here," Wendy showed it to Sal, handle first, "is merely used as a reminder, it is not a weapon and it is not meant to harm, okay? If anyone - ever - beats you with it, you go to Nutmeg or me. When you're out of here, off with whichever family takes you in, the same applies. You are a newfoal, you do not have many rights or responsibilities, but protection under the law is one of them. Abuse is not tolerated, especially not when purchased through our institution, okay?"
Sal nodded his head, Wendy returned the motion. Next, Wendy busied herself with the saddle. As a strange weight dropped to his side, Sal jumped a bit, but the brown-haired woman put a hand on his side gently. "It's okay, it's only a stirrup. Now, hold still, this is going to feel a little weird--"
Sal shuffled his hooves in surprise as the lithe woman put one booted foot in the stirrup, and with a single bound, swung her other leg up and over. In a blink, she was astride him. With a no-nonsense attitude, she worked the other stirrup down and tightened the saddle again.
"There, boy, how is it? Don't try to talk, it'll come out garbled, just nod your head if it's comfortable, then we'll run through some basic exercises, alright?"
Sal nodded tentatively, so Wendy wriggled until she was sitting properly in the saddle. She clicked her teeth once, flicked the reins and also kicked with her heels. Startled, Sal started walking. As he moved, she explained everything she was doing or about to do.

"The proper sound, should a rider wish to indicate movement, is a single click," here Wendy clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth to make a tsscht noise, "for walk, and a double for trot. Plenty of riders will disagree, so you'll have to learn what your owners want, alright? Some will click, sometimes it'll be more of a hiss, but you'll get the message won't you, buddy?"
Sal snorted and nodded his head. Then he felt a prod in his ribs. He jinked away from the sudden pressure, and Wendy expertly pulled the opposite rein.
"That's a turn, honey. Move away from the pressure. Better riders will use just their feet and legs, and more advanced riders will be able to tell you much more than which direction to move in."
Sal felt a sudden boot in his ribs, and he whinnied, breaking into a trot.
"Good boy! Keep trotting now, and we'll give you a bit of a warmup, okay?"
Sal snorted, tossing his head as Wendy began smoothly rising up and down in time with his hoof beats, striking a rhythm which let the ground flow under him as the cadence drew him onwards.

Sal was lead around the field, sometimes by the rein and sometimes by pressure on his side. Tug tug left, push push right, kick- move faster! pull- slow down.  As the lesson continued, he felt more and more relaxed, even as his body grew warmer. The wind blew through the field, rustling the leaves on the trees, his hooves sunk easily into the soft sand, and the weight on his back seemed to blend into the background. Strangely, he seemed to blend into the background. Everything was just command and motion, so when he felt a tap to his ribs on the outside, further back, and a brief pressure just behind his inside front leg, breaking into a gallop was obvious. He and his rider moved as one, in a silent dance that defined the arena in ways mere fencing could not. Motion and direction were all that there was, as above them the sun wheeled through the sky.
It came almost as a painful shock when he was asked, wordlessly, to halt. Breathing heavily, despite the cool-down laps he'd been doing, Sal's mind remained filled with the staccato impacts of a hundred thousand head of ponies telling the earth what it was, equine-shaped arterial blood cells of the planet flowing across the exquisitely thin layer of organic matter that covered the planet. He walked, silently, as he was led across the sand-covered arena, through the muddy courtyard to his stall. It was some time after Wendy had removed the bit and bridle, and loosed him from the saddle, that he returned fully. She was brushing him, the stiff bristles weaving through his coat, removing the mud and sweat. It felt almost like he was glowing, as she brushed. One hoof after another was checked and picked clean, and his tail was untangled. Then, as he stood there in his stall, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her head in his mane.
"Thank you," she said, "thank you, Sunshine."
It was then that he understood.


***


Sal dozed, legs locked. He probably would have stayed upright all night, had he not been woken by a small voice calling his name.
"H-hey, Sunshine? Psst!"
Sal blinked, snorted, shook his head, and almost fell over. Then he unlocked his joints and blinked. Somepony had opened the top half of his stall door.
"I, er... I saw you today. In the field. You were beau- I mean... you looked good. Real good. I... well..."
"West?" Sal asked. He stepped forwards. It was, indeed, the purple stallion. He looked almost black in the faint light of the stars, though Sal swore he saw the blush.
"I came to give you this, i-if you'll have it." The pony turned his head and took hold of something he was carrying on his back. It fell open as the pony attempted to hang it on the stall door.
"What is it?" Sal asked as the blanket-shaped object all but fell open onto the dirt.
"I, er, remembered you were cold. And that you don't have one of these. It's a stable blanket. It's mine, but I said I didn't like it so they bought me a new one. But I do like it, but I... like you more."
Sal blinked in the darkness. "What?"
"I..." West Wind dipped his head. "I think you look pretty, and you're... a nice pony. And..."
Sal tilted his head, "You like me?"
"More than--"
"but I'm nobody," Sal replied, stepping backwards, "you barely know me! We met once!"
"I'd like to know you better," West protested.
"They... they cut me..."
West laughed nervously, "It's n-not like I'd be m-making foals with you, you kn--" The stallion turned away. "Look, forget it. I'm sorry for bothering you."
"You really... like me, like me?" Sal asked, jumping forwards, sticking his head out of the stall as he called after West Wind.
West turned, "I think so. I mean, I can't get you out of my head, and... I'd like... a chance, you know?"
"You don't mind I'm..."
"Sunshine, I don't know if you've noticed, but most stallions around here aren't."
"How come you're not..?"
West shook his head, "Not tonight, okay?"
Sal breathed heavily once. then he made his mind up. He'd been wooed before, but always before it had been for only one thing. This felt like... it might be different. "Okay then, you'd better... can you get this door open?"
West grinned, "I got out here, didn't I?" The stallion bent his head and and fiddled with the latch before pulling the door open, then he slowly walked in.

The stall was close, cramped, but the two ponies could fit with just enough room to spare. Sal nosed at the blanket, "you... got me this?"
"Uh huh. Do you like it?"
"I don't know, I can't really see it. I can't really see you."
Sal jumped as he felt a pair of lips tugging at the base of his tail. "I don't need to see you."
Sal trotted around in a circle, moving away from the inquisitive tongue. "You think you can bring me presents, and that's enough?"
"It's not?"
"You think I'm... easy?"
"I think you're beautiful." West blushed, Sal swore he could feel the heat.
"You've only met me once, West."
"But I watch you. I... I've been making up reasons to stay, to watch you."
Sal's heart thumped in his chest. "They called you princess."
"That's why. I... I really do like you. I felt like we clicked, you know?"
Sal stood next to West, in the close, warm darkness, nose to tail. the larger purple stallion leaned against him, gently at first, but then with more force and familiarity. "I... think so." the moment of silence stretched out, akwardly, then Sal broke the ice. "How do we..? I mean, do you want..?"
"I do, if you do, and... don't you know..?"
Sal felt as well as heard the stallion moving around. The stall was indeed cramped, but there would be room enough. "Not... as a pony."
"I hear it's not much different, you know. Similar plumbing, whatever that means."
Sal laughed, his mirth exploding from his muzzle as a sudden weight on his back turned the chuckle into a cough. He set his back legs wider, and his tail... it moved up and to the side, seemingly of its own volition.
"You do know what it means," said West, his voice close to Sal's ear.
"Shut up and do your job," huffed Sal. for an answer, West's teeth closed on his mane and pulled, and the stallion thrust his hips forwards. Sal gasped as he was penetrated, and then there was no more talking, only command and motion.


***


The next day passed slowly for Sal, every task a chore that served only to grind against his anticipation. He was ridden again and he was brushed down again. He ate, he exercised, he was cleaned and he rested. Never had so little taken so long, but in the end, night fell.
When West finally visited him that evening, the stallion brought a bucket full of pony-feed. It wasn't quite the sort of candle-lit dinner Sal remembered hearing about from the public three-vee booths, and the harsh fluorescent strip lighting was less than flattering, but all in all it was the most romantic meal he'd ever had.
The next night they stole up to the racetrack. West beat him to the finish line, but it was Sal who got the reward. It was soon enough after his operation that his drive hadn't faded, so for the first and probably the last time in their burgeoning relationship, Sal knew what it meant to be a stallion.
Days lengthened into weeks, with them meeting almost every night. Mama Nutmeg disapproved, telling Sal that things between him and West could never be, but Sal didn't listen, not even when Nutmeg implored him to reconsider, that one day they would be forced to part. West always promised that things would work out. Sal was content to believe him, but in the back of his mind, there was doubt.

Sal sighed as the two lay together in the close darkness. "I don't know. Mama says I shouldn't see you, that you're bad for me."
"Do I make you feel bad?" West asked, pausing between grooming sessions.
"No, but she says it'll just hurt me when... when I have to go."
"I'd never let anyone hurt you, Sunshine. I'll always be there for you. I'll never let anyone take you away from me," West said, but Sal could detect a note of worry in his voice.
"You promise?"
"I promise. I'll always come for you."
The night drew on, and the two ponies huddled together for warmth. They spoke little, there was little to be said. And for a time, it was perfect.

The next day broke bright and clear, and though the weather was turning colder, it saw Sal continuing his training. He was ridden again and he was brushed down again. He ate, he exercised, he was cleaned and he rested. The routine was well-known, now, and there seemed little that could break it. It was only that evening that Sal realized how wrong he was.

"Oh, my bonny boy," said Wendy as she saw to Sal. She had a strange, sad little smile on her face. She fastened the gifted blanket to his body as the sky grew darker, and Sal looked at her quizzically, wordlessly, but she moved away. Sal breathed in the scent on the blanket. It still smelled of West Wind, and his thoughts once more moved to that evening.
He was dozing happily when there was a noise outside his stable door.
"West?" Sal asked.
"No, foal, it is only Mama Nutmeg." The mare's voice was strained and quiet.
Sal's heart jumped. "W-why..? What's..?"
The latch on his door was opened easily, and the bay mare strode in. "I have something to tell you, my foal. so be strong."
"What is it? Where's West? why are you here?"
"I am here because you need me. West is not here, and that is why you need me. They finally sent him away."
"What? Why?!"
"He is..." in the dark, the voice of the bay mare betrayed her. It was strained, taut, like a bowstring. "He is special. He should never have been here, and you should never have met him."
Sal's heart fell. It fell through his ribs, down to the floor, through the crust of the earth and down into the blackest of pits. "What? B-but... I... he..."
"Child, please, you should forget--"
"No!" Sal shouted, stomping a hoof.
"Then remember what you had. It was brief, but it was good. He cannot be with you any longer. He should not have been with you in the first place. I should have forbidden it. I was foolish. I did not think--"
"He can't be gone! Get out! You're stopping him from being here, aren't you? He's... he's the f-first, the only..." Sal's ears splayed back and he chomped his teeth. "Get out! Get West! I want to see West! If you won't get out, then stay here, but get out my way!"

Sal charged past the bay mare and out into the night, the blanket almost fouling his legs in his haste. He charged through the darkened courtyard, careening off fences and scattering misplaced buckets as he ran. He ran past the blocks of stables where the permanent residents lived, past the blocks for the new arrivals, and out to the special blocks for the sick, the injured... and the special. It was dark, but Sal could smell West all over the paddock. Locating the stallion's stall was foal's play, even through the tears. Opening the lock took but a moment. Charging inside took no time at all.
Waiting for West took all night.

They found him there in the morning, slumped in one corner. He barely raised his head when two stable-hands opened the door and scratched their heads at locating their missing newfoal in another's box. He didn't get up when they asked him. He didn't budge when they offered sugarlumps. He barely blinked when they tried luring him out with food and water. Eventually they closed the door and went away.
Sal lay there, sniffing, eyes dry as he had no more tears to shed. He berated himself for his stupidity, but... he really missed West. he didn't understand why, but it hurt.
"Why..?" he whispered to himself.
"Because," said the soft voice of Nutmeg as the stable door opened, "you love him. Haven't you loved before?"
"No," Sal replied, too despondent even to shake his head. "Why does it hurt so much?"
"Oh, my foal," nutmeg eased herself down next to Sal, and put her head over his neck, "you're a pony now. Ponies love unconditionally, when they find the right one. I just wish it hadn't been this way. You can never have him."
"But why?"
"Because you are a pony, and you do not get to choose."
"I didn't choose to... to fall in love with him!" shouted Sal, bursting finally into fresh tears.
"And now you must forget him and move on."
"I can't," replied Sal, and he realized it was true. the sunshine yellow pony curled up on his side.
"You must, my foal, or you will never leave this stall."
"Then I will stay here. Until he comes for me. He'll come for me, he has to. If he's the one, then he'll come for me!"
"Please, Sunshine..."
"He is all I have, Mama. If he doesn't come for me, I have nothing. I'd rather die."
"Then I will stay with you awhile in case you change your mind."
"I won't."

Sal slept fitfully that night. The next morning, water was once again put before him. He ignored it.
"Please, my foal, won't you drink a little?" Mama Nutmeg asked, hovering outside the stall hopefully.
"I'm not thirsty," Sal replied sullenly, "or hungry."
Nutmeg sighed. "I've seen ponies recover from many things, my darling foal, but a broken heart is not one of them. Please, young one, drink? For me? If you do not, you invite the grim galloper in."
"Let him come," spat Sal.
Mama Nutmeg eased herself into the stall. "You should not say such things, young one. The grim galloper comes easily to those who have lost their heart."
"I don't care," Sal replied. "I just want to see West again."
"They say," said Nutmeg, lying down next to Sal, "that he is a handsome stallion. Some speak of the pale mare, maybe she is one and the same. The grim galloper is as handsome as they come. He speaks with a soft voice, and promises to take you to the Summer Lands, where it is always warm, and there is plenty of grass, and sunshine, and room for everypony. I sometimes imagine it must be what Equestria looked like. If the grim galloper comes for you," Nutmeg whispered, "promise me you'll say no?"
"Leave me alone," Sal replied, turning away.

Night fell, and the sun rose. Shadows grew long, then short, then long again. Sal barely moved. An ear twitched, when hooves moved outside, but he could tell the sound of West's steps.
On the third day, the fever rose. His breathing was harsh and shallow. They tried to force him to drink, but he merely choked and spat it up. His joints ached and his heart thudded in his chest, and the world spun.
"Why didn't you come for me?" moaned Sal, his words falling into the dirt. He had been betrayed by the one pony he thought would never lie to him, and so with a heavy heart, Sal lay still and waited to die.
It had all been so unfair! Born unwanted, grown unwanted. Used and abused, and finally cast off like trash. He wasn't fit for anything, not even as a pony. It had probably been a trick, some... long, painful trick. Or a joke. That was it, his life had been a joke, and the punchline... well, it hadn't been very funny.
Sal cried. His spirit broke, and he cried. "Why didn't you come for me?" he whispered, voice hoarse. "You promised." Sal closed his eyes, and slept.

There was motion next to him, and a weight leant against him. "I'm here, Sunshine."
Sal tried to turn, tried to lift his head, but he was too weak, and the stable was dark. It didn't matter, he knew who it was. Ponies could survive many things, but not a broken heart. "Mama said you'd come for me. You've come to take me away, haven't you?"
"I have," replied the voice. "I've come to take you with me."
"Will there be fields? And sunshine?"
"There will be fields that stretch on forever, Sunshine, if you just promise to come with me."
"I promise. I promised once before, but--"
"Sshhh, that's in the past now. Here, won't you drink this for me?"
Sal bent his head, but a gentle hoof pushed him down to the floor again. A muzzle met his, and a trickle of cold water flowed across his tongue. The muzzle disappeared, and came back full. He drank again, then asked, "Will it... make me forget?"
"It will quench your thirst," the voice said patiently. "Can you drink more?"
"If it will make the pain go away."
"I promise you it will."
Sal kicked and rolled, and awkwardly got onto his stomach. He'd imagined being dead would be easier than this. The world still spun, but there was a bucket in front of him. His parched lips were cracked and bloody, and the cool water stung, but he drank.
"Can you eat?"
"Must I?"
"A little, for me?"
Sal grudgingly ate a few mouthfuls of warm porridge, but then his remaining strength left him. "I think that's it, sir. I'm ready. Take me with you."
"Rest first, love."
Sal dropped his head to the ground, closed his eyes, and slept.

When Sal awoke, his head hurt. He was still breathing, and felt mildly cheated. There was also a pony leaning against him. In the pitch black, he had no idea who it was. He imagined the Grim Galloper would glow, or something.
"Sunshine?" asked the voice.
"That's not my name," Sal huffed.
"It's the only name I've ever known you by," the other pony replied, sounding slightly hurt..
Sal stiffened. His head pounded, his joints ached and he shook like a newborn foal, but he was alive and with enough of his wits to put two and two together. "West?"
"Sunshine! You're okay?" the other pony's voice brightened.
"You came back for me?" Sal asked, incredulous. He could hear the grin as the pony spoke again.
"I promised you I would come back for you. I've come to take you with me. I promised!"
"B-but... how? Mama Nutmeg said I'd n-never s-see you again--"
"I told you, love," West kissed him, grooming along his mane, "I'm special."


***


The young woman with the flame-red hair and green eyes watched silently as two ponies chased each other around a large paddock. The sudden piercing ring of a pushbike's bell broke the spell, and Susan turned to see Wendy pulling up next to her.
"Hey there, Susie-B. It took a little bit of work to track you down, but it was worth it. You shouldn't try to hide my patients from me."
Susan smiled, "It's not my idea, but the powers that be do get a little protective over their little projects, even ones that don't turn out quite the way they wanted."
"So I was right, then?"
Susan nodded, "One hundred percent Equestrian. West Wind over there is one of a select few natural born-and-bred Equestrian ponies. I can't read the rest of his file, so goodness knows who they think he's related to, but it's fun to guess."
"Especially with his racing nom de plume, yes?" Wendy's eyes were bright.
"Especially then. I think they were disappointed he was gay, but maybe they figure his barn door will swing both ways? I don't know, but our boy stole his heart, so there wasn't much else to do."
"Tell me about it. I've seen ponies survive many things, but a broken heart isn't one of them. And now they're together," Wendy said, "their 'Divinity' is racing faster than ever."
"It seems love really does put a spring in your step. At least if you're a pony."