She ran. It was quite silly when reconsidering her options; the manor she lived in was single-hoofedly the best in all of Canterlot, save the Princesses Celestia and Luna's. Servants ready to attend to her whim, beautiful lush grounds, a garden fit for royalty, house-schooling suitable for geniuses and all of the influences, and resources, capable of toppling entire governments.
But she couldn't stay there any longer. It wasn't natural, her living there while somewhere out there, the most sinister of plots was occurring. That letter that had chilled her bones was burned into her memory; she still held it, for sentimentality rather than addled memory, as she ran. Escape was, ironically enough, not as glamorous as the media would have you to believe.
First off, she hadn't believed the security would be so tight. Honestly, she had figured she could simply trot away from the grounds and be done with it. No, indeed the security was of a considerable density. This was partly due to the fact that the young pony would be a target for malicious ponies, and partly due to the orders of the pony who owned the home; her elder sister.
She had evaded the sentries after climbing out of her window and scaling the wall. It was uncomfortable, but the young filly was rather athletic despite her posh and comfortable life style. Hopping over the rosebushes, she was able to see the gates at the bottom of the hill. There were four more sentries over the hill, but they were too far to be able to notice her.
It was easy, a bit too easy. Before her, the open field was about one hundred feet of well-maintained grass and some trees, she would be easily exposed if she ran down there and the alternative of skirting alongside the edges would be inadvisable. It wouldn't take long for the maids to notice her disappearance, as soon as that happened the grounds would be put into high alert, making escape impossible.
She sat there, hidden by the bushes and shroud of darkness, mulling over her options. Give up and go back, or make a break for it?
The choice was obvious.
Pocketing the revered letter into her saddlebag, the pony looked at the grounds once more to get a feel for her environment. She had walked on these grounds a million and two times and could navigate them with her eyes closed, but under the night sky everything felt foreign. It had felt like she was looking at a different world, not the home she had become accustomed to for fourteen years.
The sentries went away briefly to complete their perimeter search, now would be the most opportune time.
Despite the possibility of being candid and redundant, she ran.
Making her way down the hill like a bat out of Tartarus, the pony covered half the distance in ten seconds. Not exactly a record maker, but it was quick enough to notice the guards circling back. She picked up her pace, her heart burning, her throat feeling constricted, her hooves aching and her mind clouding from the pain, the pony dove toward the gates.
She had made it, safe underneath the hill that obscured the line of sight between her and the guards. But, the possibility of them nearing the gate was entirely feasible, so she wasted little time. Getting back up, she stood before the ten-foot gate and grimaced. There would be no scaling of this goliath, it would take too much time and would leave her entirely exposed and there was an easier way.
At the far right of the gate, hidden underneath thorn bushes, was a hole produced by wild animals. It would be big enough for her to just barely crawl through, but small enough so that she wouldn't be easily followed.
Pushing through the bushes, earning a few scratches here and there, she found purchase! The hole burrowed underneath the stone walls that encased the entirety of the manor and flanked either side of the gate. Taking haste, she entered the hole.
Moments later, she emerged on the other side, and although she had dirtied herself, she had come out of the hole enlightened. Shaking off the dirt from her sleek body, she checked her person to ensure her effects hadn't been disturbed during the experience.
Her saddlebags were still there. Leaving the grounds, she quickly made her way toward Greater Canterlot. The shops would be closed by now, but a few stragglers had lingered here and there; they would pose no danger, however. Despite what someponies would have you believe, Canterlot was actually entirely safe.
High-class ponies were as dangerous as a basket full of bunnies; they would pose no threat to her. Finding her way toward the local café, she would not embark on rations but would need to check herself.
The earth mare removed her saddlebags and placed them on the ground before her. Opening them up, she carefully produced the contents in front of her: a spare change of clothes, toiletries, some food – her favorite! Cupcakes with a bottle of hot sauce as toppings – and, finally, the letter.
It was silly to think that this flimsy piece of paper could terrify her, but her hooves shook as she held the artifact. Sometimes, she would delude herself into thinking that the letter was a mere product of her imagination, that what it had said was nonexistent. No matter how many times she closed her eyes, however, the letter was still there when she opened them.
Flipping open the envelope, she pulled the letter out and spread it open.
In elegant print, it read:
"My dearest daughter, I must be frank. Due to certain extenuating circumstances, I cannot remain in Canterlot any longer. Have no fear, I am alright and will continue to be so during this journey of mine. But, I must traverse to resolve this issue, I am uncertain of how long it would take; weeks, months, perhaps even years. Do not worry, I will return someday. Until then, you will remain with your eldest sister in Canterlot, I would recommend you to Ponyville, but in her line of work, things may be turbulent.
I love you. Stay safe, and do be nice to your sister."
Those words still brought chills. Her mother was not the type to simply run off without proper notice, much less be mysterious and enigmatic. She was always straightforward and explained things in a concise manner; this type of secrecy was disturbing. What was it that had her mother so shaken that she felt the need to leave so suddenly?
This letter was secretly delivered to her only two days ago. When she had inquired about it to the maids, they had told her that her mother left within that time frame but had done so publicly. Confound it; two days ago she had spent some time at a cotillion with a friend.
One thing was certain, she needed to find her mother, and quickly. There were a few guesses as to where she went, one of them being Ponyville. Her mother hated Canterlot, and only stayed because of her eldest daughter's insistence.
But, getting to Ponyville may be a bit difficult. For one thing, if her elder sister would hear about this escape (which she would) she would devote all of her energy in detaining her. She couldn't let that happen, not before finding her mother.
She placed her stuff in the bags, threw them over herself, and stepped out into the street. Her blue coat, gray curly mane and tail and her caramel eyes shone with a certain aristocracy, providing a dignified aura of confidence. Her cutie mark of a magnifying glass shined in the moonlight.
~--~
It was amazing how much and how little I knew of my friend, Pinkie Pie. I knew her little quirks and idiosyncrasies, her favorite foods and her disdain for spinach. But, I didn't know anything about her personal life.
I was unsure whether or not she had any romantic inclinations, I didn't know anything about her family, her pet peeves or even how she gets her queerly expressive mane the way she does!
That is why I was indefinitely confused when this earth mare had approached me.
She was a dull gray pony with a dark poofy mane, wide concentrated purple eyes and a curious cutie mark of a black calligraphy pen, it blended in with her near monochromatic color scheme. The pony practically pushed me over when she crashed into me; I was on my way to Sugarcube Corner after picking up a few books for Pinkie when this stranger collided with me.
"OhmygoshIamsososorry, areyouokay?" the excited mare asked me, trying to help me up and simultaneously pick up my books.
"Yeah, uh, I'm fine," I grumbled, thoroughly annoyed with the prospect of how most of my meetings go with strangers, "Are you okay though?"
"YesI'mfine, I'vegotareallytoughhead, likeyoucouldprobablysmashaboulderovermyheadandit'llbefine!" her rapid-fire style of talking was disorientating and reminded me of Pinkie. She was a bit bigger than Pinkie though, slimmer and lithe, beautiful really. If I thought about it hard enough, I could imagine Pinkie as her.
"Could you, ah, slow down a bit?" I asked quietly, in hopes to both decrease her volume and speaking rate.
The pony grinned, "Ah, I'm sorry. I talk fast when I get excited and I'm super excited today!"
"Oh?" Picking up my books, I feigned interest, "And why's that?"
"Because this is my first time ever in Ponyville! And since I'm new, I don't know anypony here, and if I don't know anypony here, so I'm lonely! But I met you! We're gonna be the bestest friends now!"
"Whoa, what?" I stammered suddenly as this strange pony moved in and hugged me.
"Hi! My name is Inky Pie! Who're you?"
"Oh, I'm Twilight Sparkle-"
My poor books were mistreated today; the shock of her name had caused me to drop my levitated books in the mud, but hadn't paid them any mind even though they had splashed mud all over me.
"What did you say?!" I cried, jumping in the air to punctuate my surprise.
"'Hi'?"
"After that!"
"'Who're you?'"
"Before that!"
"'My name is'?"
"Inky!"
"Great guess! You're a smarty-pants, aren't you? Oh wait, we don't normally wear pants, right?"
I placed my hooves on Inky's shoulders and settled her down, looking into her eyes, I instantly recognized her. Well, not her, per se, but I could recognize the look in her eyes. I saw the intensity that Pinkie Pie held when she was using her full mental faculties, but Inky had the same look despite appearing so docile.
"Are you… Pinkie's sister?" I asked stupidly, as the answer was painfully obvious.
"Yep! Inkamena Selene Pie, at your service!"
She explained why she was in Ponyville. She wanted to see Pinkie and ask for her assistance, it didn't take much to deduce that it must be detective work. Inky wouldn't explain why she needed the help, but it was severe as her cheerful demeanor dropped slightly.
"If you're, um, her sister, have you inherited… you know, the thing she does."
"Her singing? Yeah, I'm a pretty good singer." She looked at me with that huge smile.
But, I shook my head, "No, I meant her deductive powers. You know, how she can tell so much about somepony with just one look."
"Yep!" Inky answered simply.
Dead silence followed between us for five seconds.
"Um, well, care to demonstrate?" I asked.
Inky stopped to look at me with a simple frown.
"Your little dragon assistant is a little brash, you should probably get a new mattress or at least sleep on the right side of the bed, I'd suggest tidying up around the library a little more; those books can collect a lot of dust. And although I know your breakfast was bad, you shouldn't throw it out and finish everything; after all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day!"
My jaw dropped. She had explained things so simply and efficiently that it had the air of a professor rather than this eccentric mare that stood before me. She didn't appear similar to Pinkie in her explanation or speed, Pinkie liked to mess with me and do things for the sake of showing off. But Inky was very cold and clinical; explaining in a manner a doctor would to their patient. And Inky was a lot faster in her deductions than Pinkie.
"How did you…?"
"Your mane is a little singed, it doesn't look like it was burn by normal fire, must be magic. Who else could breathe magic fire? Dragons. The burn is at the end of your mane, so I can deduce that your dragon is awfully short, probably quite young. Also concerning your mane, it is messed up in a way that implies you slept on the left side; and judging by the way you stand, the bed is uncomfortable. There is a little bit of dust around your neck and shoulders, probably from those books you're currently holding. And finally, you look rather hungry but you have crumbs over your mouth; you probably ate but didn't enjoy the meal too much."
"Right…"
Inky just smiled at me and continued to walk; I had to play a little catch-up considering her speed. She walked like a pony with a purpose. Although I had to keep up, my mind was still reeling at her intelligence. It was hard for me to believe that somepony like Pinkie could exist, but to know that there were two of them was staggering!
I had so many questions. I wanted to ask whether or not Pinkie realized her ability of deduction at an early age or if it was something recently discovered. Or if this high intelligence was a genetic trait, or if she has any cute pictures of Pinkie as a foal! You know, for science.
But, I walked beside her, dumb and mute. Unable to bring up my curiosity, for some misguided fear of rejection or ridicule. In fact, I was so clouded by my apprehension that I hadn't noticed Inky stop in front of me.
"Uh, Twi, I'm not sure where Sugarcube Corner is, I've only heard of it from her letters," she had explained.
Embarrassingly, I took the lead and quickly headed for Sugarcube Corner. The place stood tall in front of us, a monument to all things sugary and sweet. When I opened the door, I saw Pinkie standing in the far back, glaring at a cupcake so intensely I figured she was trying to psychically cause it to explode.
"Hey, Twi," Pinkie absentmindedly called out, sparing me a single glance before going back to her cupcake, "Sleep on the couch again? Late night study session, huh."
"Actually," Inky interrupted, "It was her bed, not the couch."
Upon hearing her sister's voice, Pinkie's eyes widened and she stared at the gray pony. At first, I had thought that the Pie sisters would have a sweet, lovable reunion; many tears shed from joy. But, Pinkie just glared at Inky like she was her mortal enemy. And, before I knew it, Pinkie had run across the room, wrapped her leg around my shoulder, and pulled me away from Inky.
"What're you doing here? Did you do anything to Twilight?" she asked with uncharacteristic venom in her voice.
Inky just smiled maturely, her cheerful demeanor was gone and was replaced by a calculative one. Ignoring her initial question, Inky looked around at Sugarcube Corner, assessing it quietly in her mind, then once satisfied; she frowned and turned back to Pinkie.
"This is where you're staying?" she muttered with some distaste, "Certainly, you could've done better with your talent."
"I happen to like it, sister dear," Pinkie shot back.
"I see," she sniffed, brushing her shoulder off indifferently, as if standing in this room alone would infect her.
"How's the castle though? I see that their chimney is in need of a good cleaning."
"And I see that your trombone is in need of repairs, little sister."
"You should really lay off the cupcakes, sister dear, they will do well to ruin your diet."
"And you have been losing the pounds that I have so ungracefully gained. What plagues you? Is it the case of the ghostly mare? Such simple trifle."
"I'll have you know, I'm nearing a breakthrough in the case, almost done with it."
I frowned, "I thought you were stuck on that case?"
Pinkie looked at me and whispered, "Yeah, but she doesn't have to know!"
"It was the butler, little sister, there, case solved. Now, I need you to do something far more important than that little domestic occurrence," Inky announced almost proudly as she walked closer to Pinkie and I, her dull eyes glinting with a mischievous shine.
"Whatever it is, aren't you the most capable pony for the job?" Pinkie retorted, taking a step back.
"I'm afraid it isn't quite as simple as that. You see, it involves family. Our lovely, albeit confused, little sister has gone missing."
"Blinky's missing?" Pinkie cried.
"Wait, you have another sister?" My head was starting to hurt, I could handle two Pies, but three Pies were pushing it, "She's, you know, not like you guys right?"
"Of course not," answered Inky, "She's hot-tempered, a filly of passion, quick to act, enjoys showing off, and highly distrustful of others. Poor girl, I should've raised her right."
"It's only because of you that she's like that. You didn't have to move her out to Canterlot, mother could've raised her properly-"
"At that desolate, depressing rock farm?" Inky finished indignantly, "Hardly the place to raise children."
"Anywhere is better than Canterlot, especially with the kind of treatment you gave her-"
"I treated her like a princess," Inky snapped, her temper reaching its limit, "She had everything she could possibly want!"
"And you don't see how psychotic that is?" Pinkie asked, stepping forward, glaring at her elder sister, "If somepony has everything, then nothing is valuable. She should've stayed with me."
"Hardly. You aren't exactly the motherly type and I am the eldest, Blinky is my legal responsibility, Celestia knows that mother was incapable of raising her."
"Wait, wait, wait," I stepped in, trying to stop this heated argument, "This is neither the time nor place for this. Shouldn't we be concentrated on finding Blinky?"
The two mares stopped and looked at me with their calculative eyes. I was uneasy being under the scrutiny of the Pie Girls, but I had displayed a cool and confident expression, making sure not to be intimidated by them.
Inky was the first to secede, she backed off and scoffed lightly, "Your assistant is right-"
"I'm not her assistant, I'm her friend," I corrected.
"We should focus our energies on Blinky," she finished.
"Right, come on, let's go upstairs." Without waiting for us, Pinkie had already headed toward the stairs. Inky and I followed suit.
We made our way into her room, and, to my surprise, it was perfectly normal. Without her crazy diagram, this place seemed pleasantly unremarkable. Her bed was pushed off to the left wall, as if sleeping hadn't mattered, a dresser by the window, over to the right was a pile of strange contraptions; her inventions. Opposite of her bed sat a large table; atop it were messes of paper strewn over it to the extent where it no longer resembled a table but rather a pile of trash.
It was messy, but clean at the same time. Everything was in its proper place, her papers, her case files, her inventions, etcetera, etcetera. We stepped in closer as Pinkie went off to the back, into her closet and rummaged a little bit before emerging holding a small box in her mouth.
Dropping the box on the bed, she opened it up and spilled the contents out. More paper came out but these were sentimental artifacts rather than informative. Here I saw an essay Pinkie wrote when she was in grade school, earning her a grade of C (but earned a remark toward her expansive imagination), there were old photos of Pinkie as a young filly along with one remarkable photo of another mare.
It wasn't Pinkie or Inky, I had guessed it was their mother. She was pure white with long greenish hair that, unlike the Pie sisters, was straight and elegantly done. She was quite young in this photo, I would say around the same age Pinkie was presently. They didn't look very similar; her cutie mark was a trio of rocks while Pinkie's was an eccentric one of balloons. She wasn't smiling as wide as Pinkie, but held a small, playful smile toward the camera, as if asking the camerapony to hurry things up. There was a certain mischievous gleam in her eyes that I had recognized on Pinkie whenever she got in the pranking mood, but, the only thing that convinced me that this mare was her mother were the eyes.
Like Inky and Pinkie, she held a curious look in her eyes. As if she were thinking of a million and four things at the same time, she had that same look of brilliance that would've convinced me that she was a detective or a police officer.
“Bellamena Pie,” Inky supplied, “Our dear mother.”
“She’s… beautiful,” I said.
Pinkie pulled out another photo and showed it to us. Inky smiled at this photo while Pinkie grimaced, as if it brought back bad memories.
There stood a family of ponies in front of a farm; the mare from the first picture, an unknown stallion, and three young fillies. I recognized Pinkie and Inky instantly but couldn't believe my eyes. Pinkie was so young there, her mane was straight and depressed, a sad look was present in her eyes and her flank was blank (not that I was looking at it).
Beside their mother stood a tall, somewhat good-looking stallion; he looked nothing like anypony there, his coat was a caramel brown, his mane gray, his eyes of an exhausted orange, and his cutie mark of a pickaxe.
Inky stood beside Pinkie, slightly taller but still quite young. Her mane was also straight and she was cutie markless. And to Inky's left side was a smaller filly, much younger than the two sisters. Her curious brown eyes, her light blue coat and mane indicated that she was their younger sister. I almost frowned when I recognized the look in her eyes, the same look every other mare in that family had; the famous Pie look of quiet brilliance.
"Blinkamena Iris Pie," Inky answered my silent question.
"Interesting choice of names," I remarked.
"After father's passing, I had moved everypony to Canterlot to stay with me. Of course, Pinkie was resolute at staying in Ponyville," she looked at me with raised eyebrows, as if to say I was the reason, "Mother and Blinky hated Canterlot. But, it was a much better living than that rock farm. Mother didn't need to worry over anything, really, with the nature of my job-"
"What is it you do anyways?" I asked.
Inky stared at me with a slight frown, but smiled when she said, "I am…. The Princess's consult when things get serious. I help Celestia out when she is in a bind."
"It is never really clear what she does," added Pinkie, "She's so far up in the government you could say that she is the government."
I wanted to protest that Celestia was the highest authority, but Pinkie's tone suggested that she was not speaking hyperbolically.
"Minor trifle," remarked Inky, "Anyhow. With mother and Blinky being taken care of, all was well, no? But, like mother, Blinky was quite… rebellious. She had never properly adjusted to Canterlot life, and hated the place. You know how it goes, fillies always get rather rowdy at a certain age."
I certainly didn't know, to be honest, I spent my fillyhood as the Princess's personal pupil. I hadn't had time for rebellion or rowdiness unless I was to be graded on it.
"Four days ago, my mother had left the grounds of my manor. It was an overt task, maids and butlers saw her leave, but she hadn't returned in two days' time-"
"What?" Pinkie interrupted, "Mom is gone too?"
"I had sent my best ponies to search for her," Inky insisted.
"Why didn't you tell me?" demanded Pinkie.
"I simply couldn't leave the office for too long, not when the diamond dogs are getting restless- ah, but, that's none of your business. Blinky left two days after, she was a little sneakier than our mother. Snuck out in the middle of the night, completely evading the guards."
"You sound impressed," I noted.
Inky shook her head, "No, no, merely disappointed at how our younger sister could be so… reckless."
"She's out to search for mother," Pinkie deduced, "Simple! We find Blinky, we'll find mom as well!"
Scrunching up her eyebrows, Inky frowned like Pinkie said something offensive, "Do you really think Blinky would be able to find mother before my ponies could?"
"I'd bet on it," affirmed Pinkie.
It was odd to see just how much faith she had in her sister. Then again, Pinkie was, if anything, an optimistic mare. She never failed to hold her ideals strongly, despite my status as her lowly assistant, she held me to high regards; undeserved if you ask me.
"So," I chimed in, "We should, ah, head to Canterlot? Try to gather some clues as to where she would go, right?"
"Canterlot, no. I have a better destination in mind!" Pinkie's eyes lit up, in the same fashion as when she got excited, or stuck, on a case, and she ran across the room and out of the door, leaving Inky and myself alone.
"Was she like that as a filly?" I muttered half-rhetorically to Inky.
The gray mare smiled nostalgically, "Yes, whenever she got excited about anything, there would be no stopping her."
That much certain I can attest to. Whenever she set her mind on something, Pinkie would devote all of her energy (which was nearly infinite) to it, if she wanted to throw the biggest bash since the Grand Galloping Gala, she'd do it, or if she wanted to solve a really difficult case, she'd do it; there would be no distractions.
Then, Pinkie poked her head inside and looked at us strangely, "Aren't you silly fillies coming? Come on! The game, my dears, is ahoof!"
We took off in Inky's private chariot, much fancier than anything I had used during my time spent in Canterlot. The ride was spent in silence, however, as the Pie sisters mulled over their options while I stood rather awkwardly at the other end.
"If not Canterlot," I said suddenly, breaking the silence, "Then where are we going?"
"We're going to the only place my sister, and mother, would be, my dear Twilight," Pinkie explained enigmatically, "Los Pegasus."
The flight to Los Pegasus was much shorter than I had anticipated. Perhaps the fact that Inky and I had played I-Spy the entire time made everything go by much faster. When we reached it, a large city had opened up before us.
Personally, being a Canterlot pony myself, I wasn't very impressed with Los Pegasus. But it was still lovely, especially when compared to the relatively tiny Ponyville. The buildings were modern and large, no skyscrapers however, and everything was just so big.
In Canterlot, and Ponyville, everything was so close by. You could walk down a random street and come across multiple stores and venues, but here everything was a bit confusing. The points of interests and locations were so spread out, and everypony sauntered about without a care in the world.
Why would Pinkie's mother be in a place like this?
"What next?" I asked.
"First, we need to find the starting line," explained Pinkie, "Then, we follow the trail from there."
I knew that if I had asked what she was referring to she would look at me with a strange expression. Following Pinkie's line of thought had proved to be incredibly difficult, even despite our friendship. It wasn't surprising or novel when Pinkie did something completely random then have it suddenly become relevant later on.
Quietly, the three of us traveled across town in seemingly random directions. Ponies were giving us strange looks as we passed through. Whispers and rumors echoed as we trotted down the street. The Pie Sisters were seemingly oblivious to the amount of attention we were attracting; they sauntered around as if they owned the place.
"Why are they looking at us like that?" I asked.
"We stand out, of course," answered Inky, "It's no surprise, considering our reputation."
A filly with her mother approached us. She was a tiny unicorn with a black as coal coat and silver mane and tail. Her flank was blank. She grinned at us with unbridled foallike enthusiasm, levitating a piece of paper and pen toward Pinkie.
"Can I, um, have your autograph?" the filly asked.
"Me?" Pinkie gasped, pointing at herself, "Silly filly, I haven't done anything special!"
The filly shook her head. "I've read the stories. You're the amazing detective aren't you? The one who found Princess Platinum's tiara. And the one who figured out who stole Princess Celestia's cake, and also the one who-"
"Yes, yes I am that pony," interrupted Pinkie with a wide smile. "But I'm not that great. I'm just a silly old pony who likes to play detective."
"No, you're amazing!" the filly insisted, "I want to be like you when I grow up!"
Pinkie laughed and patted the filly's mane affectionately. Then, she took her paper and kindly autographed it. The filly looked so happy, she acted as if she had just gotten her cutie mark.
"And you're Twilight Sparkle?" she asked, turning to me with an equally large smile, "Her companion?"
Stifling a laugh, I nodded. "Something like that. Though, I'd prefer the term friends."
"Yep!" Pinkie wrapped her leg around me, gripping me in a half-hug, "She's my bestest friend!"
I blushed, and not because the filly then asked me to give her my autograph. Embarrassingly, I signed her paper and gave her a warm smile.
"Thank you so, so much!" the filly squealed.
They left us, the filly hopping gleefully alongside her mother, unable to believe that she met the great Pinkie Pie and her "companion" Twilight Sparkle.
It was endearing to find that we had fans, though, quite frankly, a bit strange. Even more so to think that our fans were fillies, I wasn't aware that the young took an interest in autobiographical detective stories.
"I didn't know you had fans," Inky remarked with a smile.
"Me neither," admitted Pinkie.
Although the readership to these published works has been moderately good so far, I had no idea that it extended this far with a broad audience. Pinkie's nickname, Equestria's Great Detective, was something the publishers at Canterlot thought of to draw more readers, I didn't know it was a literal title.
We continued onward through the relatively mild streets of Los Pegasus, until we found outside in an open clearing, at the city's outskirts. The plain was beautiful and a stark contrast from the industrialized city we were in minutes ago. A forest sat ahead of us and all around you could simply feel the nature.
Taking a deep breath, the scent of grass assailed me.
"Why here?" I asked.
"This is where the trail begins," answered Pinkie. "Look."
She pointed past the clearing and into the forest. I squinted, unable to spot anything save a few stray branches and a bunny here and there, nothing that resembled a starting line.
Then, I saw it. Coming out of the forest and into the clearing was a large caravan. It was bloated, like an obese elephant. Purple and green covered the outside as a group of slovenly ponies pulled the carriage. The ponies looked like they lived in the forest for ages, completely divorcing themselves from civilization.
They wore brown rags and torn hats, covered their cutie marks and wore many beads around their necks. Some of them carried trinkets and charms, ancient runes it seemed.
"Gypsies," supplied Pinkie, "They're here to show us the way."
We had gotten together with this traveling band of gypsies; they were an extended family it seemed. Dozens of ponies poured out of the caravan, ranging from foals to ponies wizened with age, their backs bent and manes grayed to indicate extreme age. None of them were particularly bothered by us; the fillies were interested in the fact that none of us wore anything, but they all kept to themselves.
In fact, the more we walked through this camp, the more I noticed that there were some gypsies that refused to make eye contact with us. None of them gave their names and none of them asked for ours. They weren't hostile, but there was a sense of impeding dread, as if we were at the threshold of violence if we pushed their limits.
"Gypsies?" I asked, careful to keep my voice low.
"Traveling ponies. They don't like to conform to societal conventions and generally keep to themselves," said Inky.
"No, I know what a gypsy is. But I mean, why are we asking them for help? Didn't you just say they kept to themselves?"
"They'll help," answered Pinkie, "After all, I was a gypsy at one point. And so was mother."
I stopped. Mouth agape, I gave Pinkie a quizzical expression. Pinkie Pie? A gypsy? The thought was as strange as Pinkie Pie as a librarian!
"The Gypsy Bard, they called me," Pinkie explained, "It was before I officially settled in Ponyville. I know how gypsies work, and knowing my mother, she'll have probably come across them."
I looked toward Inky who nodded in agreement, "Father never approved, but the three of us were traveling gypsies, spent months on the road going nowhere." She explained it as if she hated being a gypsy.
"What did they call you?" I asked with a sly smile. If Pinkie was the Gypsy Bard, an appropriate title, mind you, then I wondered what Inky would be.
"The Ice Pony," answered Inky with a devilish smile.
"Oh… nice name." I didn't want to think about how she got her title.
"Ah, here we are," she gestured toward the last carriage, a small and humble vehicle with blue and red covers. The ponies around this carriage were much more docile than the ones we saw earlier.
"Is Sirin in?" asked Pinkie. They glanced over to her lazily, with their distant eyes and bored frowns, I wasn't sure how helpful they would be to a bunch of wondering ponies.
"Who asks?" a female voice asked. Turning, I saw a relatively elder pony stepping out of the carriage. Her coat was gray, her mane white, but her eyes shone with a youthful intelligence that spoke volumes on her integrity. She wore a bright purple coat and a necklace of an eagle; her cutie mark was of three brilliant stars.
"Pinkamena Diane Pie," Pinkie answered, "The Gypsy Bard."