//------------------------------//
// 14. The Dust Of Four Years 
// Story: HUMAN in Equestria: A Conversion Bureau Story 
// by Chatoyance 
//------------------------------//


The Conversion Bureau


HUMAN


in Equestria
                                                                By Chatoyance



14. The Dust Of Four Years

Lime Sherbet is used with the permission by the superb author Gabriel LaVedier, from the excellent Dames Of The Tea Table, which you should read because it is wonderful.



Every day, just after princess Celestia set her bright sun, and princess Luna caused the stars to show and the moon to rise into the sky, Lime Sherbet entered the Waiting Room.

There were only two statues left, the little human filly which Lime had learned was called 'Isla' and the larger human filly-to-be who was called 'Oliver'. The larger held the smaller up, over its head, trying, apparently, to save the little human filly without regard to itself. The frost had taken most of poor Oliver's lower body, such that the creature would begin to die the second it was released from stone.

But of course, the princesses would not allow that to happen. Not so long as the courageous human child agreed to allow itself to be helped. 

Lime, as she dusted the double statue, wondered at the pair. The little filly, up so high, had such an expression of gratitude and horror. She had been aware, in that moment, of just what her friend was doing for her. And her friend? The stone expression was not one of horror or fear. Just selfless determination. 

When Celestia had announced, so many years ago now, that she was going to allow refugees into Equestria, it had caused quite a stir. Everypony knew the story of the griffons, and of the trouble they had caused when they had been allowed to stay. The diamond dogs, when they found their way to Equestria from beyond, had begun their lives with the death of an innocent pony. And the dragons - most ponies tried not to think overly much about the dragons. 

Celestia had a habit of rescuing the dying and the doomed, and in the past this had resulted in great tragedy until things had finally been worked out. The Pax Equestria now kept the four great races - pony, dog, griffon and dragon - at peace. But there had not always been peace, and those difficult times had cost countless pony lives.

Many had objected, openly or in quiet, to allowing the 'humans' in. The arguments had raged through the royal court. It would be like the griffons, some said. It would be the dogs all over again, others claimed. It could be another draconic-level situation, some whispered. 

Celestia had said three things to all of this.

The humans were dying. Their world could survive for only three more generations, and then their entire kind would perish, forever. 

She had promised the humans, in exchange for her very life, that she would rescue them.

This time it would be different. These refugees would not come as strange monsters, but as ponies just like anypony, anywhere. They would not kill, like the griffons and the dogs and the dragons. They would not try to conquer, like the griffons and the dragons. They would not steal or enslave, like the dogs and the dragons. They would not harm a single pony, because they would become ponies themselves.

And though it would be difficult, there would be benefits. The humans were clever, and imaginative. They had new songs and new stories and new foods and ways of preparing them. In becoming ponies, they would allow all ponykind to vastly outnumber the dogs, and the griffons, and the dragons, which would safeguard pony interests within the universe.

But still there were complaints. The humans had destroyed their own world. They were greedy, and violent, and dangerous. These things might be cured by ponification, but why help them at all?

Celestia had said one thing to that.

The humans could not help themselves, because they were the product of an uncaring, deadly cosmos. But even so, despite this, they were capable of the most astonishing love, the most powerful devotion, the most magnificent self-sacrifice, and the most enduring friendships. Despite living in a nightmare, they often tried their best to be more than what they were.

Lime studied the two figures. The larger filly had known she would die, that the frost would take her, but she had lifted her little friend up over her head. She had stopped running, so that she would not slip, so that she would not drop her smaller friend. Lime tried to picture the moment... the little human creature realizing that there was no way to outrun the killing cold. Standing its ground, grabbing the little filly and lifting her, protesting, up over its head. Thinking only of her friend's survival, knowing that she herself was doomed.

And the humans did not experience death the way Equestrians did. For them, the end was... truly the end.

Lime tried to encompass what it would be like, as a foal, to make so dire a decision, to actually do such a thing. 

She thought of Crimson, and Morning Star, and the other newfoals she had met. No, it hadn't been at all like the dragons or the griffons or the diamond dogs this time. These strange, thin, flat muzzled aliens deserved a second chance.

As she left the Waiting Room, the dusting done, she hummed a tune that she had once heard. Princess Luna had taken her and a mutual friend to see a show put on by newfoals. They had sat in a balcony, covered in dark cloaks, sipping tea. The newfoals had brought many good things to Equestria. Their foods, their artwork, their stories, and of course, their wonderful and clever songs.


"Mairzy doats and dozy doats
And liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
Yes! Mairzy doats and dozy doats
and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?"


"Yes, I suppose I would. Alehoof ivy is tasty, especially with garlic." Lime made her way down the hall. "Oh, pudding. Now I feel hungry again!"











Stefan Bettencourt went over the numbers. He noted the little splotch of ink that covered part of the column that listed the number of families reduced in rank to servants. Quill pens were still a problem for Bertarelli. Roman was the only man Bettencourt trusted to handle such matters, but even after thirteen years, he still couldn't get the hang of using quill pens.

"Roman. How many children are left?" Another splash of ink obscured that number, and Stefan couldn't help but wonder if this particular accident was entirely accidental.

Bertarelli's expression was grim. "Thirty-six."

"Out of eighty-seven human children, only thirty-six remain?" Stefan scowled at the thought. Since that first year, when his own daughter had run off with five other children, the story of their escape to ponydom had led to attempt after attempt. With the new ruling that came from the 'guns and bacon' incident, any human that left the walls of the Masada was legally subject to immediate ponification.

Any child that could breach the walls could be assured of safely becoming a pony by bedtime. The princesses would not permit another tragedy, and adult humans had been declared untrustworthy and above all, a traitorous danger to the court. Which, honestly, they would have been, if their scheme hadn't been rumbled by the ghost of a goddamned dead pig.

Forty-five children had followed his rebel daughter Petra. Somehow they managed to get outside. Stefan suspected - no, he felt certain - that the escaping children were getting assistance from beyond. Mysterious breaches in the walls just large enough for a child to crawl through. A mysterious climbing ivy that had grown overnight, providing an organic ladder over the barricade. A tunnel under the wall that was suspiciously safe and well dug.

Worst of all, most of the time, the parents and other family members followed. They willingly left the gates and went pony to be with their children. Half of the new servant class had run away in just such a manner. Of the over three hundred Good Families, less than eighty now remained in the Human Masada. There could be no more new children, and everyone knew it. Bettencourt sank his head into his hands, his elbows on the desk.

It was already over. He had tried. He had tried to keep the true humanity, the ruling class in power, and to keep them human, but he had failed. The children couldn't understand that there was something more important than mere happiness, exceptionally long and comfortable lives, endless plenty and life in a beautiful magical wonderland. Children couldn't understand the value of real power. They couldn't comprehend the majesty of being a true human being whatever the cost.

What hurt Stefan the most, though, was that apparently those he once called the ruling class, adults, had willingly joined their wayward children. The biggest shock of all had been Brin's defection. For a mere child. That moment when Sergey had invoked Section Six, trying to get Celestia to ponify his mortally injured child... Stefan still had not recovered from that betrayal. When Brin had fought his way outside the gates, after the ruling, Bettencourt had not been the least bit surprised.

Hurt, yes. Angry, yes. But not surprised.

The Good Families were becoming peasants, mere rabble, the lot of them. Once their ancestors had been kings and pirates, robber barons and empire builders. Now, most had fled, seduced by the small desires of the weak - pastoral plenty, beauty and friendship, a life of magic and pleasure. They were mere animals, no better than the corporate wage slaves that once they had owned the lives of.

"Enough, Roman. Enough." Bettencourt's head ached. The writing was not on Bertarelli's sheets, but on the wall. The Masada was dissolving, fading, ending. He, Stefan Bettencourt, had held the entire population of earth hostage to secure the special treatment that now his ruling elite were throwing aside. What had it all been for, he wondered? All the wars of conquest, both economic and physical? All the work to make the earth their own private farm, with billions of peasants to work it? Centuries of striving to become the de facto kings and queens of the planet?

But there was no planet, now. "Go. Just... go." 

Roman Bertarelli left, shaking his head. He quietly closed the door behind him.

Bettencourt sat, alone in the Muleskinner, staring through the windows at an alien, magical moon. In time, they would all leave. There was no way to stop them. Future ponies, the lot of them. Even Roman, that old bastard. But not him. Not Stefan Bettencourt. "I won't." He didn't know if the lunar princess could hear him, but he spoke out loud anyway. "I say no. In this world, your world, you would call me a monster, wouldn't you?" Of course there was no answer.

"I won't be a peasant. I would rather rule in hell, than serve in heaven. Milton was right. If I am the last human man, I will not settle for less than my proper place." Bettencourt's face grew red.

"I AM THE CHIEF EXECUTIVE OFFICER OF MANKIND!" Stefan panted, out of breath. "I am the god-damned chief executive officer... of all mankind..." The moon shone down, implacable, uncaring. "I... I am a big... deal. A big, god damned deal."

Just to the right of the moon, Stefan noticed a pattern in the stars. It was a smiley face, the sort once popular on the hypernet, long ago. Luna must have arranged the stars that way to give any night watchers a gentle laugh.

Even the cursed sky of this place mocked him.











Purple, shimmering wings carved the air into a sculpture of flight. The young pegasus colt carefully circled the apartment tower, until the third level balcony came into view. Conscious of his saddlebags, he flapped to gentle landing beside the large ceramic planter overflowing with mallow and clover. "MOoooommm! I'm hooommme!"

Peridot set her quill back into the ink pot, and withdrew her telekinetic field. She had been laying out, in thaumatic script, the parameters of a focusing spell that could be used in the thaumatic microscope project. The effort had widened to the development of a tool that non-unicorns could use. The new version of the microscope used a Bevelmeiter tube to magically drive a mental link that any pony could tap into. In theory, pegasai and earthponies could use the device even without a unicorn being present. The focusing spell would permit such ponies to zoom in, or out of whatever they were studying.

It had been two years now, working on the microscope, since her son had been brought back to life. Things moved slowly in Equestria, but then they didn't need to move quickly. Entropy held no court of dire judgement here, there were no terrible droughts or freezes or crop failures to fear, and all the predators of any real danger had signed the Pax Equestria and were now friends. Pushing for progress was the game of desperate aliens from dying worlds. That, and ancient, grumpy unicorns like Peridot's supervisor.

It was Peridot's wish that her child might one day see what she saw, without needing her help. Beyond that, medicine and research were not the province of unicorns alone. There were many earthponies and pegasai in all fields, and if earthponies in particular could be given the mystical perception of unicorns, the benefits to all ponykind could be fantastic.

"Oh... I didn't get to see you land!" Peridot took a great deal of pride in her colt's flying ability. He was having some trouble learning advanced flying, but he had proved exceptional at the basics. His landings were exceedingly good, well controlled, and almost silent. Peridot loved simply to watch her child land. It looked so effortless and splendid.

"I guess I can take a turn around the tower and do it again, if you really want." His tone did not suggest that this was something he was very enthusiastic about doing.

"No, no. It's all right. Momma's just..." Sometimes Peridot's voice would catch when she said that. Momma. The only thing that made her more proud and happy in her new life than her thaumatechnical work, was knowing that she mattered to her son. "Momma just loves to see you fly. It's pretty amazing, you know." 

Peridot hugged her colt tight, with her neck, and then pulled back. "How was school today?"

Shinden Cabochon - his name meant 'magnificient lightning' and was taken from some ancient experimental plane his mother liked - wiggled free from his saddlebags and headed toward the kitchen. "I still can't do that thing where you go up, roll over, and swoop down."

"Immelmann turn?" Peridot followed her son, lifting his saddlebags with her hornfield and setting them on the hook by the door in passing.

"No." Shinden finished pouring a glass of spiced cider and replugged the keg. He took a sip. "Well...yes, but that's the human term for it. It's really called a... um... Nimbuswing Maneuver." Mom was always using alien words for stuff. It was confusing sometimes, especially when he kept forgetting the correct terms.

"Of course." Peridot's ears briefly fell, then lifted. "Nimbuswing. Sorry." There was so much to learn - and unlearn - for both of them. "I was thinking we could go out tonight. I've got a lot to do on my project for tomorrow, and... well, cooking takes a long time. Is that okay?" Peridot enjoyed cooking, and it made her feel happy when Shin liked the food she made, but her project nagged at her.

Shinden seemed excited at the thought. "Pizza! Can we get pizza? Pleeeese? Pizza? Mom?"

Peridot sighed. Ever since the new pizza restaurant had opened on the first tier, it had drawn her son like a magnet. Him... and a lot of the population of Canterlot City. There was always a line to get in. Earth cuisine had become trendy of late. "Shin... there's always a line... the whole reason for going out is so that..."

That look. Oh, sweet Luna, protector of foals - and fools. "PLEEEEEEZZZEEE????"

Sedulous The Incontinent would make that 'harrumphing' sound at her tomorrow. She'd get dirty glares from him until lunch time, which usually cheered the ancient unicorn up. But that look... that look on her Shinden's muzzle! 

Her heart melted... like four different cheeses under six kinds of vegetables. "Yes... we can do pizza. Again."

"YAY!!!" Shinden ran out of the kitchen, straight for the balcony. "Just for you mom!" 

With a flap of graceful purple, the young pegasus was in the air, already beginning a circle around the entire apartment tower.

Peridot went to the balcony entrance, and looked out over Canterlot. She laughed to herself. The microscope could wait. It wasn't like getting her work done tonight made any real difference. Sedulous was just fussy. What did matter was hearing about her son's day over his favorite food, and being allowed that precious, irrecoverable moment with him, before he grew up and no longer needed her the same way anymore. 

She had almost three hundred years to finish that microscope. But childhood was short, and it only happened once. Peridot had almost thrown the gift of being Shinden's mother away, back when he was 'Milo'. Nothing in all of Equestria could make her want to throw it away twice.

She kept herself from showing it, but she almost started to cry when Shinden came to a perfect, gentle, utterly controlled landing. She felt so proud. "That... that was really good, son. Thank you for letting me see." Peridot turned and sniffed, briefly. "Go get your flight manual. We can go over the... Nimbuswing Maneuver at dinner. Maybe I can help."

"MOOOooommmm!" This was not the completely free-from-responsibility night Shinden had been hoping for.

"Ponies who get pizza three nights this month are ponies that also get good grades." Peridot loved indulging her son, but there was a limit. "No arguing now."

"Aw... Snickerdoodles." Shinden stomped to his saddlebags, on the hook by the door. He rooted around in the right bag with his muzzle until he pulled out his flight book. It was the one that smelled like cheese. He'd taken it to the pizza parlor before. "I goth ith!"

"Tell you what." Peridot grabbed her own saddlebags, the light, fashionable ones. "IF you can recite the Stall Proceedure, without looking at the book - the whole thing now - we'll go get ice cream after." Peridot watched as her colt tucked his flight manual under a wing.

They headed for the long, spiral ramp down. "Um... 'When your feathers fail, and you start to fall, that is what is called a STALL!" Mother and son began the trek down the tower. Without a thought, the door was left wide open. It was Equestria.

"Good," Peridot smiled at her son. "But not ice cream good. Next line?"

Shinden's poll wrinkled briefly. "You might feel a bit of fear, but control and sense will save your rear..." The sun was going down. Just above the first tier, at castle level, the two princesses were trading off day and night. "...reduce the angle of attack, increase speed and don't look back!"

The city spread out before them, ponies everywhere, going home, going out to eat, going to shows, just enjoying the sunset. Peridot considered taking a cab to the first tier, but then remembered the lovely park on the way. It was just such a nice park, and everything was just so pretty. 

Sedulous could be as grumpy as he liked tomorrow. The lightsprite firefly lanterns were being awakened, everywhere now they glowed. Somewhere, probably in the park above, Peridot could hear music playing. "Very good!"

Shinden grinned. "Ice cream!"

"Yes. You don't mind if we walk there, do you?" Peridot smiled and nodded at a couple as they passed. A unicorn and an earthpony smiled and nodded back.

"Nope. Especially if we just... happen... to walk by the toy store."

"Just happen... to walk by the toy store?" The poor thing couldn't be less sneaky if he deliberately tried.

"Well, you know... it might be on the way... and if it was... it might be fun... to peek inside. Just a little."

Peridot worked hard not to laugh. "Just take a little look. Just in case. To be sure."

"Exactly!" Shinden's face lit up. "You never know, you know?"

"Oh, I know. Oh, how I know." Peridot was losing the battle not to smile.

"Exccccellaaaannnnt." Shinden's large ears twitched in devious delight. Doubtless he thought himself a pegasus mastermind. The little colt turned and looked at his mom. "What are you laughing about?"











Hwinem finished the row, then bent his neck back to unlock and lift the coulter and mouldboard. With a twist of his head, they were locked again, but above the ground. Now the ploughcart could be easily pushed back to the barn.

The newfoal once named 'Sergey' had taken the name Hwinem to be clever. He thought it was clever, anyway. His son, Asher - the reason he had become a newfoal - had named himself Swiftwind. It was a bit of an unusual name, because his son was a unicorn. 'Swiftwind' would have been a perfect name for a pegasus, and in fact Hwinem often dealt with that. When he mentioned his son, the common response would be 'Pegasus, eh?' which would lead to having to explain, no, he's a unicorn, he just likes to run fast. 'Oh!' would come the surprised reaction, 'That's usually a pegasus name, wind and air and all that, you know?'

Not once had Hwinem ever been asked about his own, unusual name. This mildly aggrieved him.

His son was named Swiftwind. Jonathan Swift. Gulliver's Travels - Hwinem knew for a fact the book had been translated (with only minor expurgations) to Equestrian - it was in the local library in the 'extraversal books' section. Hwinem. It was how 'Houyhnhnm' - the race of intelligent, talking horses in the book - was pronounced!

Hwinem sighed. It was likely that few of the locals actually used the library much. Despite princess Luna's efforts to inspire more reading - 'Reading is as sustenance to the wit!' the campaign hadn't actually made much of an impact in highly rural East Paddock. 

Swiftwind wanted a place where he could run, where he could be by a pond with animals and trees all around. Canterlot was out, and that left the borders of Equestria, almost to the start of the Exponential Lands. Hwinem wanted to be near to Canterlot Mountain, and the Human Masada on the back of it, and Swiftwind did want to be able to visit Canterlot again someday, so East Paddock was a decent compromise.

A week on hoof or a few hours by air was not too close or too far. Hwinem and Swift shared a very comfortable two-story cottage in the village, and Hwinem had regular work on all of the farms. Land ownership was somewhat loose in tiny East Paddock, so pretty much everypony shared everything, and the various farms were essentially one big village farm. Everypony had a stake in the harvest, because everypony shared, and so everypony helped out. Hwinem had half-laughingly remarked that only ponies could make communism actually work. 

Nopony had understood the word 'communism'. Old Beans, the elder of the village, wanted to know what 'izem' was, and felt it couldn't be that common, if he hadn't ever heard about it. Tangle, the village barber (and medic, and dentist, and farrier) reasoned that 'izem' sounded like something a pony could eat. Hwinem had tried to explain what he had really meant, but failed utterly. Finally, in defeat, Hwinem had offered that izem tasted sort of like strawberries.

Both Tangle and Beans thought and discussed and pondered and considered. Finally they decided that izem had to be just another name for strawberries, and those were pretty darn common, so - by that logic - Hwinem must be right. So they bought him a cider for 'knowin' fancy words'. 

After that, Hwinem was the go-to pony for anything the villagers didn't understand. Since Hwinem was a newfoal, and didn't understand much of Equestria, in a moment of pressure he once resorted to making stuff up. It seemed to work. He got cider for free, and nopony in East Paddock seemed to care. Hwinem half suspected they knew he was pulling notions out of his flank, and that really, they just enjoyed him going on about things.

Free cider is free cider.

"Dad!" Swiftwind ran up to his father, and helped him store the ploughcart properly. With the barn door securely shut - so the chickens wouldn't try to nest in the carts - the two began the walk to their cottage.

"I spent the day at the pond!" Swiftwind loved the pond. Hwinem enjoyed hearing about his son's adventures there. Sometimes Swift liked to swim, most times he played with his animal friends. Apparently, there were all sorts of little animals in Equestria, and all of them were semi - or completely - sapient. Only hooved animals had the power of speech, but other creatures were still smart, and they had their own ways of communicating. Swift had befriended all he could find.

"Dusty - he's the big trout I told you about? Dusty did this backflip, splash, right in the pond, only the water went all over Jumper and she got so mad!" Swiftwind was damp with sweat. He'd apparently had a good day running about.

"Jumper?" It was hard to keep up with all of his colt's little animal friends. "Bunny, right?"

"No! Skylark. She likes to jump around because flying frightens her." Of course, a bird. How silly to think otherwise. "Jumper got so mad at getting splashed that she squawked really loud, and that woke up Squirrely, who was sleeping and..."

Hwinem interrupted. "I didn't know you knew a squirrel. Red or grey?" Hwinem had seen storybook pictures of red squirrels and always wanted to see one for real.

"Squirrel? Oh - Squirrely! No, he's a beaver. Totally nuts, though. Just crazy as a loon. anyway, Squirrely..."

"Wait..." Hwinem pushed open the door of the cottage with a hoof. "Squirrely's a beaver, who's Crazy the loon?"

"The loon's not named Crazy, dad." Swiftwind used his horn to pump water into a large bowl, which he then began drinking from. "The loon's name is Logic. Anyway, Squrrely woke up like 'AHHHH!' and Jumper went 'WARRRRK!' and..."

"You know a loon named 'Logic'. In this village." Hwinem shook his head as he set about making dinner.

"Logic's really smart, dad. She knows more than any waterfowl I've ever met." The colt seemed serious.

"So you know a skylark named Jumper, a beaver named Squirrely, a trout named Dusty, and a loon called Logic? Is that correct?"

Swiftwind pumped more water. He was very thirsty. "Uh-huh. Yeah?"

"Third base." Hwinem checked the pantry for mallow. Ah. Mallow roots. That would do.

"What?" Swiftwind was confused.

"Never mind, son." Cabbage would be ideal. There had to be some in the garden. "Can you go get cabbage, Swift?"

"I didn't know you knew Cabbage!" Swiftwind seemed overjoyed. "Should I invite him for dinner?"

Oh yes. 'Cabbage' was Swift's donkey friend from down the road. "No. I mean get cabbage - the plant - from the garden. Please?"

"Oh." The colt seemed disappointed.

Hwinem sighed. "If you can find three cabbages out there, you can ask your friend to join us."

"I'm on it!" That seemed to cheer the foal up. 

Hwinem watched his colt rooting through the vegetable garden. He smiled as he leaned on the windowsill. The daisies were moving, growing in real time and tickling his nostrils. Oh. Earthpony. It was easy to forget, sometimes. Happy feelings made the plants grow, and what he felt for his son must have made the freshly planted daisies shoot up and flower in just those few seconds. 

Swiftwind had two cabbages in his telekinetic field and was searching about for a mature third.

Hwinem carefully touched a forehoof to one of the daisies in the little pot. An almost electric green crackle danced between hoof and plant, barely visible. One would hardly notice it normally. The plant responded by growing even taller, and producing three more tasty flowers. It was a strange thing, being magic. But it was also satisfying in a way nothing else in his earthly career ever had been. 

Reams of paperwork just couldn't compare with making a single flower grow because of the love in your heart for your son. All of that accounting and legal nonsense. Infighting and family politics. Trying to destroy rival families, using obscure points to ruin lives by violating the spirit of agreements. Getting ahead was a dirty business.

Hwinem delicately touched the edge of his forehoof to the soil in the pot and marveled as miniscule electric snakes of green light wove their way through the dirt. The daisies seemed to stand taller, as if coming to attention, eager to please.

Getting ahead had been a dirty business. But actual dirt... was a clean business. Hwinem shook his head in confusion and wonder. It was so different out here, outside the Masada.

"Third cabbage!!!" The three vegetables danced and floated around his colt's head, all wrapped in blue light.

Hwinem laughed. "Go get your friend, Swift!" the cabbages floated to the windowsill, where the blue glow faded. Hwinem watched his unicorn son galloping off down the dirt road, kicking his hooves up in simple joy.

With the pan heating, Hwinem held the blade by the handle with his teeth. His mouth grip was solid, and he didn't feel any shock as he chopped the cabbages and mallow. Hwinem considered... spicy, or sweet? Little of each, he reckoned, and used a bit of both sauces. It seemed that stir-frying was a pan-universal cooking technique. Then again, why not? A pan was a pan, be it a wok or an Equestrian saddle-skillet. The curved cooking surface reduced the grease content, but looked odd. It worked though.

Hwinem added a little more vegetable oil. The smell of dinner almost overwhelmed his nostrils, and made his belly rumble. 

It had been three years now, since Hwinem had been transformed, since he had traded hands for hooves. The first few months had been difficult. He had felt clumsy and unsure of his new body. Now, he was amazed at how easily he accomplished things with nothing more than mouth and hoof. Swiftwind had his magic, but earthponies had their supernal agility and tirelessness. 

Hwinem balanced a platter on his back, as he had finished with the sweet-n-spicy improvised dish. Swift and his newest friend were already galloping toward the cottage. 

Intelligent animals, magic, ponies and donkeys and loons and beavers and green growing everything everywhere. Equestria was not a simple world, but it was... it was a nice one, Hwinem decided. He reached back and placed the platter on the table just as the two colts burst in.

"This is Cabbage, dad! He's my friend!" Swiftwind beamed. 

The donkey colt grinned and waggled his ears in greeting. "Hello, Swiftwind's dad!"

No background checks, no security reports, no assessments of financial status, no concerns about connections, affiliations, or family history. There was a new personage in the house, and he was a friend. Just like that.

"Well, hello there Cabbage!" Hwinem laughed. "I hope you like yourself, because that's what's for dinner!"

The donkey turned his head and blinked. "I love cabbage!" Equid noses. He would have known what was being cooked from his own yard. "In fact, you'll never guess where I got my name!"

Hwinem had a pretty good guess.

Then again, considering all of his son's animal friends at the pond, it was almost certainly wrong.











Lime Sherbet placed the hearthswarming wreathes around the marble chamber. The four years were nearly up. Next month, the smaller statue would turn eighteen by the calender, and then both Isla and Oliver could be brought back to life. 

Lately, Oliver's mother, Hyssop Garden, had been coming sometimes twice a month to see her child. She had been ponified years ago, in preparation for what was soon to come. Lime had spoken with her several times.

"I just want her to have a really nice home when she becomes a pony. I've made her the most darling room, and I've gotten everything she could need. At least I think I have. If only she'd told me..." The teal pegasus had fluttered her wings and rubbed her poll on the statue of Oliver. "Oliver confided in Celestia things she didn't feel safe telling me. I tried to make her understand she could tell me anything, but..."

"Maybe little Oliver was just afraid of burdening you with something you couldn't do anything about? It's pretty clear your filly cared about others more than herself." Lime always tried to comfort every guest of the princesses. Actually, Lime just tried to comfort everypony she could. It was just nice... to be nice.

"No, no..." Hyssop Garden had looked sad, then. "In the old world... it wasn't accepted... to be born the wrong sex. Oliver would have gotten that message from everything and everypony around her. Even from me, I suppose, back then."

"I don't think I'll ever understand what it must have been like for you. But you're here now! And the princesses will make everything all right, you can be sure of that. Little Oliver will awaken to only love and friendship and support, right?" Lime had gently nuzzled the worried mother.

"Yes. Yeah... I just feel bad sometimes, for the past. But you're right Ms Sherbet." Hyssop brightened. "I'm here now. I'm finally fully here for my Oliver, and that's what matters."

The wreathes didn't actually do that much to brighten the Waiting Room, but they were a cheerful effort. At least it was a way of including the poor stone children in the life of the castle. They couldn't see or hear or feel or think, but Lime liked to imagine that somehow they could sense the love she tried to send their way. 

Ten years seemed like a long time. Luna had explained that, for the children, no time at all would have passed. Oliver and Isla had waited the longest of all the Masada runaways, a full decade - until Isla was legally eighteen. It had been too dangerous to try to separate the two.

In a month, the little circus would return. Lime wondered if they would all show up. Crimson and Plantain, Morning Star, Swiftwind and Shinden, and their parents too. Celestia was sending special invitations to everypony involved this time, for one big, last reunion. 

In a way, it was slightly sad. As Lime exited the Waiting Room, she realized this next event would be the last time that the Masada Six would be a part of castle life. She had gotten used to the excitement of the revivifications. They were like opening presents in a way, with the gift inside being new ponies to laugh and play and be glad of the magic of life.

Just before she turned the corner, she remembered her feather duster. Silly. Lime went back into the Waiting Room and lifted her duster with her hornfield. The last four years had been the last years of her taking care of the lithified children. In one month, the Waiting Room would likely vanish altogether. The corridor would just suddenly lack one door. And not a single member of the staff would see it happen, most likely.

Though Lime had been working on a plan to try.