The others let Pinkie Pie sing away to her heart's content. She sat on one side of the cell, close to the bars, and happily belted out a song which followed the Dryponies' melodies though she inserted her own lyrics. Everypony else hoped that so long as their loud and merry friend was grabbing the most attention then maybe Spike's absence would go unnoticed. They clustered together on the other side of their cell, away from Pinkie Pie, and hid the torn vines that used to hold the dragon in the middle of their crowd.
They mostly tended a quiet watch, speaking to each other only in whispers and generally only as they needed to. Twilight kept her pacing going with slow and dreary steps, cycling back and forth in a small line in front of the other ponies. She wasn't pondering over anything in particular or working her mind for solutions; she was just keeping herself calm. The anxious clap of each of her clops was audible to everypony, despite the controlled speed with which she walked. Fluttershy had been exceptionally quiet since her agitated outburst. Whatever was eating away at her continued to do so and she laid low and still, looking inwards, as it consumed her silently. Rarity shuffled in place. Desperately she tried to perform upkeep on her face, mane, and tail. They all suffered from her environment's lack of accommodation for the rightfully beautiful.
"Ugh," the disgusted unicorn spewed as she tried to stroke the dust and dirt out of her tail. "What a terrible place. Filthy, nasty, messy, dirty... bleh..."
Looking about the meager prison and shaking her head, Applejack responded, "It sure ain't home, but it ain't bad. Could be worse."
"It's undignified is what it is," Rarity complained. "How is a classy pony like myself supposed to maintain her elegant beauty in such a dingy place, where she doesn't even have so much as a mirror?" She rubbed her face, feeling the light grime and stains that had accumulated. They might as well have been sticky, oozing slime. "Oooh," she sobbed, "I must be so hideous... I probably look like something the cat dragged in."
"Don't think pampering was their prime concern with this place, Rarity," Applejack tried to support her friend. But she couldn't hold back from sliding in an honest remark, "'Sides, we got more important things to worry about."
Rarity nodded her head. "I know...," she said, shallow and hushed. Fearful concern danced behind her eyes. "... I do hope poor Spike is okay. It would be heartbreaking if he were to get hurt."
Rainbow Dash turned her face and gave Twilight a powerful stare; powerful enough that it stopped the pacing pony in her tracks. The unicorn let out a chilled sigh, exceptionally sorry to again disappoint her friend, and still shook her head no.
Annoyed, the pegasus griped, "The longer we wait, the worse it's likely to get."
"We don't know that," Twilight contended lowly.
"True, we don't," Applejack chimed in, rife with concern, "but don't know otherwise neither. Supposin' they find Spike?"
Though she shivered with worry, her emotions barely on the safe side of calm, Twilight was still in control. "Forcing our way out of here is an action of last resort," she maintained unwaveringly. "We shouldn't do it unless we're absolutely sure we have no other choice and we also have a shot at doing something meaningful before we're likely recaptured. But now that Spike's run off..." She held herself up on her shaky legs but said with solid determination, "I'm worried about them too but we have to risk giving them their chance."
All of the ponies went silent (except Pinkie Pie, the living phonograph) and stewed in the sweltering tension together. After many vacant moments Rainbow Dash picked her head up like she was about to say something. However, her honed alertness caught something in the corner of her eye. She quickly signaled to the others in warning.
The two guardsponies were peeking into the prison hut again, watching the performing Pinkie Pie with undetermined stares. They kept looking between each other and the pink pony, trying and failing to grasp just who this unusual oddball was, and how she could possibly be behaving like that in such circumstances. Then, very unexpectedly, they got up from their posts and stepped inside the room. Coming right up to the bars of the cell besides Pinkie Pie, they sat down and watched her more closely.
The others quickly tried to act casual (for prisoners anyway.) Rarity, Rainbow Dash, and Applejack tightened their formation to look as if they were chatting to each other in murmurs. They slide the severed vines to the back of their arrangement. Twilight renewed her pacing while keeping a sideways eye on the guards. Fluttershy, however, stayed how she was: dismal and silent.
Unlike the rest of them, Pinkie Pie chose to make herself more noticeable. She indulged in having a more attentive audience. She raised her voice higher, hammered her hooves harder, and poured all the more pep and zest into her song. Ultimately her tune was still about fudge sundaes, frosted ice cream cakes, rivers of caramel, deliriously delicious and creamy milkshakes, crunchy cookies, and any other tasty thought that came to her snack-happy mind, but in her own unique way it captured all the power of the Dryponies' music.
The guards kept their eyes entirely on Pinkie Pie. Never once did they notice or even so much as cast a blinking glance at the others. In contrast, most of the rest of the ponies always had their eyes discreetly on the guards. Who knew what these sentries were up to? Or if they'd notice the missing dragon? Or if the pink pony's endless parody of their music would invoke some nasty behavior from them?
At last, Pinkie Pie put the finishing touches on her concluding verse, stretching out the final note while undulating her tongue, and she stamped once with her whole body to punctuate it. She gave a big bow to the guards, like an actor at the end of a stage play.
The mare guard looked at her stallion counterpart, and he looked back at her, and then they both turned and looked blankly at Pinkie Pie.
Suddenly the mare guard said, in a murky tone which was odd yet also polite and unoffended, "That... was nice... but... that's not how the song goes."
"Oh, I know," Pinkie Pie immediately acknowledged, "but I remember the tune a lot better than I remember the words!"
The stallion spoke up and offered a gentle if modestly reserved statement, "You do sing it really well, except for having all the wrong words."
Pinkie Pie threw her head against the cell bars, practically squishing her face between them, and begged excitedly, "Oh, I have an idea! Why don't YOU sing it to me? That way, I can hear how it's supposed to go again and learn the words better!"
The two guards exchanged uncertain and reticent glances once more, hardly seeming amenable to the idea. But rather than wait for their confirmation, Pinkie Pie took it upon herself to get the beat going. She immediately stamped in perfect time and provided a strong backing hum for them to sing to. They squirmed nervously as what should have been the first verse floated by without the slightest vocal contribution from either of them. Measures of humming drifted on like a cold breeze, unaccompanied and hollow.
Pinkie Pie recognized performance anxiety when she saw it. While the guards would have joyously sung along if their voices were lost in the thunder of the Drypony crowd, they were undoubtedly far less eager to be the center of attention. It never once occurred to the cheery pony that some of their reserve could also have come from performing at the behest of their own prisoner. Nevertheless, she was enthusiastic and determined to get them going. She hummed more strongly while she smiled encouragingly, and she even threw out an inviting, "Come on!" between breaths.
Again a full verse of hums passed without support as the guards only darted their eyes about nervously and swallowed their dry breaths. But then, when Pinkie Pie started humming the melody a third time, the stallion guard suddenly opened his mouth. Very, very weakly, but in tune, the words came out:
Ho-hum... ho-hum...
Heartwood fire and blaze begun...
Pinkie Pie was so excited that her stamping became rampant and exuberant, almost getting out of line as her giggles interrupted her humming. Her response caused the stallion to pull back, and he hung his head with some embarrassment. Undeterred and smiling relentlessly, the pink pony kept the sound going and welcomingly encouraged him to give it another try.
One last time, the two guardsponies looked at one another. Then, when the start of the song came around again, both of them gave resigned sighs and opened their mouths. The lyrics eased out slow, low, and steady... but there they were.
Twilight and the others had a hard time believing it. The ponies who were supposed to be standing an unfaltering watch over them... had just joined a singalong with Pinkie Pie? Some of the very same ponies who had ambushed them and captured them? One of whom had thrown themselves aggressively on top of Applejack in order to subdue her? And also the other, who had bounced spectacularly between tree branches to tackle Rainbow Dash out of the sky? They, the Drypony guards, were singing to the hums and stomps of one of their sworn-enemy prisoners? But all doubts aside, indeed, there they were. They sang, warmer and warmer as the song went along, guided by a happy pony who kept spilling out cheerful laughs with every open breath.
Before long, the guards were full-voiced and confident, singing together as if they were in the midst of the Drypony crowd. Chorus after chorus, verse after verse, they went through the entire song, unconsciously picking up their hooves and stamping along to it partway through. When they finished up a complete pass through the whole thing, Pinkie Pie didn't even pause. She kept them going, and they willingly and eagerly started fresh from the beginning, with the very first 'ho-hums.' The pink pony herself threw her own voice in, using the correct words this time. She added a certain mirthful timbre to the heavy sound, causing the song to feel particularly harmonious and complete.
By the time the trio had rolled through two whole runs of the song, they were all entirely at ease. Their singing gave way to laughter and then even basic, friendly conversation. The Drypony guards were a little careful about how they talked to Pinkie Pie, perhaps somewhere in their heads still mindful of their duty, but they were comfortable enough to politely treat her as a friendly stranger in passing.
Even as all this was going on, the rest of the ponies kept up their casual charade. They continued watching the guards with hidden glances and deceptive glimpses, even as they felt completely ignored and unwatched by their supposed sentries. Mostly.
Rarity couldn't keep calm. Somewhere inside she could sense the uneasy pricks of being watched. She couldn't bring herself to ever pick her head up fully and visually search the guards for confirmation; she feared being too overt. She just kept jittering in place and occasionally throwing up a hasty glance at the guards, and all the while she prayed that the mysterious pressure she felt wasn't their suspicious leers (or them noticing how tragically unkempt she had become.)
She had a terrible fright when, during one of her quick peeks, she accidentally locked eyes with the stallion guard, who just happened to be looking at her at the same time. The unicorn froze up, a gasp choking to death in her throat.
But, almost immediately, the guard shyly turned his eyes away. The surprise of his action firmed Rarity up, bringing her back to herself. Leaning in, now unafraid to stare, she studied him a bit more closely. Across his face, upon his cheeks and under his eyes, thin waves of a red blush rose up.
Less then a minute later, she heard him ask Pinkie Pie in voice so bashful it was almost adorable, "So... uh... who's your pretty friend?"
Like a rocket, Rarity blasted off from her crowd of friends and landed by Pinkie Pie's side. With her unending charm and her ladylike nature in full swing, she greeted through the bars, "Why hello there! I'm Rarity! It's such a pleasure!" In her time of dire beauty-impairment, in her age of great aesthetic hardship, in her hour of desperate fawning-need, it was incredible what that little bit of charmed appreciation had been able to do for her.
Twilight had enough sense to immediately take Rarity's former place in the circle of pretend whispers so that the charade would be upheld, but somehow it hardly felt necessary. She and her friends all gazed on in awe at Rarity trading giddy words with the sheepish Drypony.
Applejack mumbled, "Well don't that beat all..."
"Spike?!" James gasped. Seeing the little dragon standing on the balcony just outside the window was one of the last things he had expected. "What are you doing here? How...?"
Spike flashed his claws, twiddling them. "I cut myself free," he simply explained.
James peeked about outside the window, looking quickly and suspiciously at every branch, every visible hut, every wiggling leaf; searching for any prying eye that may have caught a glimpse of the dragon. He shot his arm out and reached down to seize Spike. "Get in here, come on," he called.
Yanking the stealthy lizard in through the window, James set him down upon a long table that rested against the wall. The eclectic menagerie that was spread over the apparent workbench was so unusual that the dragon almost didn't look out of place among it all: plants in various states of being potted, partially carved figurines of Prideheart or other Dryponies, bark-skinned books not fully bound, tiny cups filled to the brim with different colored powders, bundles of feathers of a wild sort, stacked baskets of many varieties of leaves, and more. There were also several large pots, rivaling Spike in size, that held loose collections of varyingly shaped and colored crystals.
Being raised off the floor meant Spike didn't have to crank his chin up so much to look at James. The dragon related openly, "I came to check on you. The others were kind of worried that something might happen to you."
"They what?" The man squinted a little, startled.
"Yeah," Spike reinforced, "they thought that you might get into real trouble when the Dryponies find out you're not whatever it is they think you are."
"Oh. No, I'm fine," James said. He turned and rested his back on the wall, rubbing the side of his neck. He didn't sound convinced of himself at all. Shaking lightly, he mused aloud, "I mean, Willow Wise is insanely stubborn. I straight up told her that I wasn't what she was looking for and she wouldn't buy it."
Spike scratched the side of his head, mumbling, "Uh... that's good news... I guess?"
Folding his arms, James hummed harshly. He had hoped her obstinance would have been a useful thing. Something he could have leveraged to his advantage and used to speak to her openly, whereas Twilight hadn't even been able to get the time of day. But if Willow Wise's stubbornness was so great that it wouldn't allow her to doubt him, maybe it was also too great to let her be steered off the crash course she was on. And who knew if any of that even mattered anymore; the old mare had left in dark spirits. Maybe he had already fallen out of her light and she had gone off to declare to her ponies that he was a false idol before she pushed forward with whatever her plans for Twilight and the others were.
He lifted his head up in realization. "What about you?" he suddenly asked the dragon. "Isn't there going to be trouble when they notice you're gone?"
"I don't think they'll notice, honestly," Spike quipped nonchalantly. He shrugged and continued in befuddled bemusement, "They're so spooked by Twilight and so confused by Pinkie Pie that I don't think anypony ever gave me a second look."
"I hope so," remarked James. He thought for a moment. "And how the others? They're alright?" he worried.
"Yeah," Spike confirmed, mildly hesitant. "We've just been locked up in some hut in the trees, that's all. I mean... Rarity's losing it over how dirty it is and Rainbow Dash can't stand being cooped up, but otherwise they're okay." He shrugged again.
"So they're just waiting up there?" James asked.
"Well, Twilight's considering breaking out, again cause she's worried, but that's why I got out to check," the dragon stated comfortably. "She doesn't want to escape unless she really has to."
"Good, good, she shouldn't," the man nodded. "Glad to hear Rainbow Dash hasn't pushed her into it yet. If they did that it's just going to justify the Dryponies' narrative in their own minds." A pony like Broken Oak was probably waiting for them to provide such ammunition. And what good would a jailbreak do in the end? He idly said, mostly to himself, "Even if Rainbow Dash got away to get a warning out to the Princess, I doubt it would do anything."
Spike tilted his head. "Why is that?"
Because she already knows, James thought. If there was something she thought she could have done herself, she would have already done it. That's why they were here instead. But he refused to speak his mind out loud. He only lowered his head again.
The dragon waited politely for a response that never came. Eventually his tail drooped down, dragging on the table, as the grim despair which hung in the air started to come down upon him. But, gathering all his hopeful strength, he held himself up and tried to push on, saying, "I don't really understand what's got the Dryponies so upset. Why can't they trust us or Princess Celestia?"
"Something really bad happened to Prideheart, their leader, a long time ago. In all the years that they've been isolated since, they've thoroughly convinced themselves that the Princess is at fault and that she's out to get them. And there's enough incidental things going on which, from their perspective, completely back up their twisted beliefs," James moaned with a murky air. His heart sank in his chest. It was such a tragedy. Prideheart's fall had been tragedy. And now, hundreds of years later, his heroic sacrifice was the impetus for more tragedy. It was as if no Drypony was interested in finding a way to put an end to it; to let some kind of healing and closure take place. To move on.
The man gave a despondent sigh, saying, "I don't know what exactly they intend to do but they're going to act to protect themselves... and if they keep on with all their unrelenting anger, they're liable to force Princess Celestia into taking some kind of dire action... all because they refuse to open their eyes."
"So... what do we do?" asked Spike earnestly.
James felt ill and brought his hand up to his mouth, letting upset breaths spread across his palm. "I don't know," he whispered. His despair was boiling; he melted in it, forlorn, before eventually he summarized vainly, "I've been trying to appeal to Willow Wise's sense of logic but... she's so caught up in this story she's built around herself that she won't even try to see the things that are right in front of her face. The story is more important than the real world to her!" It deeply bothered him somehow; his very bones shook and resonated with an almost sympathetic frustration. "I mean, something is CLEARLY VERY WRONG and she won't even acknowledge that! She TRIES to not acknowledge it. There's an excuse for everything! Just so incredibly stubborn... and even in the face of all this darkness and danger she clings to it... Who does something like that?" His body shivered.
Spike grabbed the end of his tail and restlessly massaged it with his claws, looking down. All he could offer was, "Well... we've got to try to do something, right? If this is going to end badly otherwise?"
"I don't know," James echoed, lost. "I feel like the more I push on her, the more I'm earning her distrust. No matter what I say. By trying to do something," he sighed in resignation, "we may only be speeding up the inevitable disaster."
The dragon twisted his grip on his tail hard, obviously upset. But he still fought on, and he innocently suggested in a whisper, "But we can't just do nothing."
Pushing off the wall, James stepped in front of the table and planted his hands on it, leaning into Spike. "But if we make it worse?" he complained. "If we're responsible for pushing it over the edge?"
The little dragon winced with the thought but his innocence was still incorruptible. No matter how disconcerted he was, no matter how open he was to the reality of the situation, he held on to his faith. "I don't think we can just sit back and hope everything goes well because we're scared of doing something," he said, still fiddling with his tail. "And especially now that we're already here and tangled up in it all... aren't we responsible then anyway, if we don't do anything and just let something bad happen?"
The man wobbled, leaning more on the table and shaking his head.
Spike lamented, "I don't really know who these ponies are but I don't want to see anything bad happen to them... or our friends." He dropped his tail and stood tall. Nervous, uncertain, and even frightened, he was still able to courageously say, "It's worth it to try something, instead of regretting doing nothing."
"I don't know what to do..." James heaved.
"Hello? Excuse me, great Walking Desert!" a light and jubilant voice shouted from the hollow archway.
Fumbling and slipping, with his unbalanced legs nearly collapsing beneath him, James shot up and flipped Spike with one smooth motion, dumping the dragon into one of the large, open pots. The fat urn rolled on its bottom rim from the impact as the tall crystals inside jostled with a glassy rattle. Like a top, the man whirled about to face whomever had arrived, catching the table edge with his hands and leaning back upon it to stabilize himself. He fired out in uneven greetings, "Yes, hello, hi, yes, hi!"
Poppy stood in the archway, no longer in the ceremonial dress she had been wearing for the performance. A wooden tray that was piled with food sat on top of the vines which wrapped her small body, effortlessly balanced on the back of the nimble filly. With a queer stare, she watched as the man carefully caught his breath and slowly stood up straight. Without looking back, he placed a steadying hand on the still rocking pot to bring it to a stand still.
Although she was flush with some confusion, it was obvious that most of the filly's hesitation came from a contained excitement. She had the ready trembling of anticipation frolicking through her. Her amber eyes almost glowed as she looked up at the man; this fabled legend that stood before her. A storybook hero, come to her very village! The slowness of her voice didn't betray her dreamy attitude. "Okay...? I... uh... I brought something for you to eat, if you wish."
Spike's addled and clay-coated voice came from the pot, "Yeah, I'm starving."
James coughed heavily to hide the dragon's words as he slapped the pot once. "Uh, excuse me," the man gagged, "I mean, yeah, sure."
Very trepidatiously, Poppy started to approach. She was clearly wary of the man's unusual and clumsy floundering but not out of any suspicion. It seemed like she was more worried that she was intruding on something or bothering him in some way; a child frightened to make a nuisance of themself. Once James was able to settle himself, he gave her a far more inviting look and then she eagerly surged forward. Despite her bounds and skips, the tray on her back never once so much as tilted, kept in expert balance.
Landing before him, she bowed down while she pushed the tray up towards him. "Here you are, great Walking Desert," she humbly offered.
He perused the selection with his eyes; mostly a bounty of vibrant berries from the forest with some different nuts here and there. They were laid out in a spread, swelling with color, and the rich juiciness they exuded awoke his hunger almost immediately.
He was so caught up in imagining the berries' succulent tastes that he countered her naming of him with a completely idle indifference that was greatly removed from his earlier agitation, "My name is James."
The tray shifted and teetered just slightly as Poppy raised her puzzled eyes up. "But... you're the... the great Walking Desert," she said in a stumbling tone.
It was enough of a remark to get James to push the fruity thoughts out of his head. He leaned down a little and gently invited, "Yeah, but call me James."
"But..." There were loose bubbles of sounds that followed but ultimately the filly, timid before an idol, didn't know where she wanted to take her words.
James quickly leaned in further and swiped the tray off of her back, which caused Poppy to pick herself up out of her bow. He dropped the delicious cargo on the table behind him but went straight back into bending steeply towards her.
He looked her over with a bit of a thoughtful hum. Her obvious worship of him didn't quite have the quality of spiritual reverence. He was more super hero than he was fateful destiny. Or actually, it almost felt more intimate than that. Remembrances of the gatherings of his large extended family came to mind. The aunts and uncles would chat away, content to leave the youngest cousins to do as they would... and what they would often do is just latch on to the older cousins and follow their steps without hesitation. A form of idolization that came in the simple package of youthful innocence and familial love.
So, he adopted a bit of his well practiced elder cousin-like mannerisms and asked her very intentionally, "Your name is... Hoppin Poplar, right?"
A great, embarrassed blush raced across the filly's face, so bright that not even her deep brown fur could hide it. The two long bundles of hair that sprung out of her mane seemed to curl down in self-consciousness as she swung her head towards the floor. There was a side of her that was crushed to be addressed by her full name by someone so important, but only in that transient way that seems so momentarily essential, real, and important in the rampant imagination of youth. She mumbled in a wispy voice, pleading like flustered fillies often do, "Just... just Poppy is fine."
"Alright, so," James cleverly intoned as he straightened himself up, "let's make a trade? I'll call you Poppy, and you can call me James."
The little filly picked her head back up, still embarrassed, but she drew out a smile. There was something that felt good about the bargain; something that made her feel tremendously respected. With emerging confidence, she agreed, "Okay... James."
Happy, James gave a smile, nod, and thumbs up all at once in approval.
Immediately reminded of his hunger by a groaning, squishy sensation in his stomach, he turned his head and grabbed a chestnut-sized berry off the tray and popped it into his mouth. A little more tart than he would have expected for the plump juiciness of it but it still had a savoriness that was plenty easy to enjoy. It registered on his face immediately, causing Poppy to beam with pride.
The man plucked several more berries off the tray, gathering them up into his fist. Just before he indulged himself with another one, he recalled that he wasn't the only one here who was hungry. It would only be right for him to share. He turned away from Poppy and pretended to cough into his free fist, using the momentary distraction to drop several berries into Spike's pot. A quiet "thanks" echoed back.
Snacking on a berry or two more himself, James looked backed down at Poppy. The eager filly was still watching him attentively; a face glowing with excitement. She seemed like she was just clamoring for his next words.
He swallowed what he still had in his mouth and leaned back onto the table. "Hey, Poppy...," he called.
She bounced a step forward and her avid smile opened up, thirsting for whatever he was going to say to her.
"Aren't you a little young to be caught up in all this?" the man asked plainly, without the remotest whisper of judgment.
For just a moment, the small filly pulled back with a twinge in her face. She could tell that he wasn't admonishing her; only asking her a question. But it wasn't one that she had ever possibly expected. When she swiftly recovered, she smiled again, closed her eyes, held her head high, thumped her chest with a hoof, and declared confidently, "I'm the youngest Branch Dancer to ever join the Heartwood Guard, cause I'm just that good! I can leap higher and farther than most of the Dancers who are... uh..." Her bold stance quivered a bit, her eyes opened slightly, and the rolling trains of numbers and equations that were crashing into fiery wrecks in her head could be seen right through her peeping slits. "... who are, uh, TWICE my age!"
As she saw James nod to her assertion, it only encouraged her to continue. She carried on, more with boastful pride than with prideful brag, "I can get to the top of the spruces in ten seconds flat! I've made it from one end of Heartwood to the other running a non-stop course without slipping or falling once! I've done more laps through the lake heights than the rest of the Branch Dancers combined! I once dove into the lake from the highest branch and did TWO Quadruple Whirling Rainfall Nightmare Deluxe Spins before hitting the water!" She peeked now and again to check that James was paying attention and taking her exploits in, which he was with great amusement. The exuberant pony pounded her chest again, asserting, "That's why I'm allowed to be in the Guard! I'm the best! Broken Oak says I'm going to lead them one day."
James couldn't keep from chuckling, and he told her in full honesty, "Yeah, I saw some of your acrobatics out there and it was really impressive! I don't know how you get all the height and control and balance that you do but it's pretty amazing!" He sobered up quickly though and then remarked calmly, "But... that's not what I meant when I asked you if you were a little young."
Poppy's confidence slowly drained away into a neutral confusion as she tilted her head and blinked at him.
He asked her instead, "How do you want this all to turn out?"
Again her thoughts could be seen behind her eyes, gears of different sizes with mismatched teeth coming together and trying to turn. As the delay before her answer lengthened, she felt the air grow nervous and stuffy under the man's watch. She suddenly started speaking rapidly but there was a certain vacancy to her voice. "T-The Drypony dream. To meet our destiny. The wicked Sun wants to-"
By the shaky cadence of her words, it felt to James like she was reciting something just for the sake of having an answer, and he cut her off with a wave of his hand. "No, no," he said, "don't worry about the Sun and all that; forget that for just a minute. What do YOU, Poppy, want from all this? What do you want to do?"
There was another thoughtful silence wherein the filly's concentration was in full display. Her eventual answer was more original than the last one but again it lacked something essential and personal. "I... I want to be Prideheart strong and serve the Heartwood Guard...?" She sounded more like she was searching for an answer than giving one.
"Okay," James accepted pleasantly. He straightened himself out for a moment before he redoubled his efforts in trying to be an encouraging, cousin-like figure: he bent his knees to bring himself down closer to her, he softened his voice even as he tried to fill it with a friendly respect, and he kept a warm, closed smile always on his face. To help relate to her, he revealed, "I can definitely understand that. I served in a guard of my own once before."
"You did?!" Poppy lit up and nearly sprang off the ground. Her imagination filled with a hundred quick, made-up stories about the great adventures of the Walking Desert. Or how maybe, since this shared experience brought them closer, she herself could one day grow up into a great Walking Desert too. But just as swiftly as she had whirred to life, a worried doubt rushed into her and she eyed him strangely.
"Not the Sun's guard," the man emphasized to reassure her. "This was before I ever met the Sun. I served with a bunch of other troops, working together and fighting together. So, I know about all that. That unity, and loyalty to each other, and dedication and service. Not wanting to just do your job but wanting to do it right and well. And I bet you'll do good with all that; you seem like the type," he said laudingly, which drew a small smile from the little pony. He continued, pulling an experienced seriousness into his voice, "But... I also had a life beyond that, you know? Like, my service was-... IS a big part of me and how I live, but there was more to me. There still is."
The thoughts were a bit too big for Poppy to follow. But she clearly wanted to. She stood still and stared, her eyes asking him to try something else.
"Have you ever wondered what's outside the forest?" he tried.
"The... the Sunpony village...?" Again her response was caught between question and answer.
"No, further than that," he said, waving his arm towards some far off horizon. "Ever wondered what's behind those giant mountains you can see when you peek out of the forest?" The details from Twilight's books rushed into his head: encyclopedic articles about different places around Equestria, snippets of stories and histories from the world over, little crumbs of the far-off actual which tempted the imagination. He was almost awestruck himself as he told her, "There's whole other forests, wild and free. There's thunderous waterfalls taller than these trees. There's oceans bigger than the mountains. There's towns with more ponies than you can count; each one of them different. There's farms with endless orchards of apple trees. There's castles with towers and courtyards. There's cities in the clouds! They're out there. Don't you want to explore some of that? To see more than what's here?"
Ponderous silence again. Then, the most genuine answer yet came from the little filly. "I didn't know there was anything like that out there. I... never thought about it before," she whispered slowly.
"Don't you have a dream of your own, beyond the Drypony dream?" asked James.
Poppy withdrew into herself for another round of mental gymnastics, but she was far more agile with her body than her mind. She eventually looked back up at him with a blank stare and shook her head slowly. Almost sadly, even.
It was the expected answer but the amount of sympathy that stung the man surprised him. He could relate. The roles had, in fact, been reversed when he had talked with Princess Celestia about much the same thing. He had admitted to the Princess about having no real thoughts of a life beyond the now. Even his commitment to the military had been, in some small way, driven from a lack of better things to do. The world had simply caught on fire and signing up had seemed to be the thing to do in that moment, since nothing else of significance had been going on.
This filly could spend her whole life in this forest village. True that she would walk a noble path of service while here, but was that it? Could she have no more? Would she just grow into an old nag with one single story on life, like Willow Wise?
Even if she was a little pony from a culture he didn't fully understand; someone he would probably never know well and maybe even never meet again once this was all over... she was still someone so young and full of potential, and he wanted something more for her than the limited path she was walking right now. Something more than he had given himself. He wanted her to dream.
The long silence seemed burdensome to Poppy, who started to shuffle uncomfortably.
James didn't quite know how to follow up. He couldn't give her an answer for something he had never discovered himself. Then, from some shadowed corner of his mind he was suddenly dealt images of fresh, recent faces: Twilight, Rainbow Dash, Fluttershy, and the others. He saw them at the party they had for him, gathered in a circle and sharing themselves with him as he shared with them.
Slightly wistful, the man asked Poppy, "What do you think of those ponies who came in with me?"
This time there was no doubt in the filly. She frowned and spat, "They're filthy Sun-kissers. They came into our forest to try and do the wicked Sun's work. I hope they get what they deserve!"
It was a dismal and disappointing answer, particularly because of the sincerity that spilled from the little pony. But James still felt that ringing element of memorization and recitation in her words; something produced from blind practice.
To carry her along, he put some mock woundedness into his voice and said, "But they're my friends."
Poppy immediately became guilty and tried to apologize, saying, "Well, I didn't mean- uh..." She suddenly struggled with the dissonance that crashed into her. Her mouth kept opening like she wanted to speak but the only breaths that came out were empty, choked with her fear of upsetting him. In her entire short life she had literally never come across a single individual who had ever opposed her on this matter and she hardly understood the feelings she was having, let alone how to handle them.
She looked to James, as if he might provide some answer for her, or perhaps she hoped that he might take back what he said with some kind of "just kidding," or that he might do anything to resolve her conflicted feelings. But this was her time to grow... at least, just a little bit. He nodded with evident concession and confirmed, "Yeah. They're my friends."
"But... but... the Sun... must have... I mean, you..." As she tried to create an excuse of her own to clear her feelings, she turned her head away. She hoped that not facing him directly might make it easier to tell him something that she didn't necessarily believe.
James had to turn his face askew also, but only because he found Poppy's attempts to mimic Willow Wise's excuse generation so endearing. She was still young enough to have not built up a practiced emotional avoidance, nor was wielding innocent lies or shady half-truths a comfortable exercise for her yet. He kept his head turned until he could clear himself up, not wanting to take the filly out of the moment by suddenly chuckling.
When he faced her directly again, she was still babbling incomplete phrases and partial words. Very gently, James brought his hand to her head and guided her back so she was looking at him again. He told her, "No, no. The Sun WAS how I met them but she was barely involved with us becoming friends. You know that unicorn? The one you slipped that horn-cap thing on to?"
Poppy nodded.
"Well, SHE was the one ordered by the Sun to look after me. But that was it. And that wasn't what made her my friend. She's my friend because..." The man had to stop for a moment. He knew how he was going to continue; he was just almost frightened by how spontaneously it had come to him. "... because she's smart, mature, and fun to talk to, and... she cared about me when she didn't really have to. And when it wasn't easy to."
The filly's head wiggled as if his words were a worm crawling into her ear. The idea of a storied enemy as an individual, with friendly traits, a unique and dynamic personality, and a life of their own, was a very new concept for her.
Wanting to continue with those thoughts, James gripped his shirt and stretched it out. "You see this?" he asked.
"Yeah," Poppy replied. There was a tiny squeak of intrigue in the lone word; something about the finely-made clothing he wore was appreciable and nearly envy-worthy to her.
"Well, the other unicorn, with the purple mane... she made this for me," he revealed. "This is what she does. She sews together stuff like this." He couldn't even take a beat to pause. More and more he felt a solace filling up in himself as he charged on, "And the pink pony, the one who acts really silly? She threw me a party once. And the fast one with the wings, and the strong one in the hat? We played some games together at it."
Different pictures filled Poppy's head of the enemy's world. Pictures with ponies in dresses and clothes, who attended parties and played games. It was so different... yet so normal. "That's... what they do?" she questioned herself.
"They're just my little pony friends," the man reinforced, nodding to himself. He placed a finger just shy of the filly's nose, and the way it pushed on the air tickled her slightly, giving her a free giggle and a smile. "Ponies just like you," he expressed earnestly to her. "Even the Sun is just a pony."
"She is?" All on her own, Poppy was moving past her lightheaded confusion and now she lapped up the information.
"Yeah. She certainly has her own kind of magic and important things to do, but she's just a pony," James reiterated. "Do you know the Sun's name?"
"... no?"
"It's Princess Celestia."
Poppy repeated the name to herself with a inward wonder. She had, in fact, heard it before, but she had never had anything to attach it to.
"You know," James began in realization, "I noticed you Dryponies always call her the wicked Sun... but I bet she's just like you and me, Poppy." Somewhere inside he was struggling with himself about just how much he could feel like a magical pony princess. But he could in some ways, couldn't he? "She probably prefers to be called by a specific name, too. Her name."
The little filly squirmed in agitation, feeling the implications of rudeness that he was laying out. But it was one thing if the Walking Desert wanted a different name; the wicked Sun was the wicked Sun and didn't deserve such respect... right? Again, the tiny, incomplete Willow Wise in her arose to sputter words, "But... but she... and betrayed... and... and... and Prideheart..."
James remembered his meeting with the Princess. When she had tried to be the elder cousin to his lost child. When she had spoken of her attachments. When she had pulled out her scrapbook of dear ponies. When she stoically moaned of ponies lost and eagerly wished for ponies yet to come. He suddenly said to Poppy, trying to believe it himself, "You know what I think? I think... she really misses Prideheart."
The filly's eyes widened as she gave up a dry, awed whisper of, "What?"
He pointed around the room, saying, "You've got all these paintings and carvings of him here, because he was such a great pony and you really miss him right? You want to remember him, and all his good deeds, and his tremendous honor, and all the wonderful things about him."
Poppy bobbed her head in passive agreement, and she automatically brought out another bit of memorized minutia, singing softly, "Prideheart hero, stronger than light, humble and low, courageous might..."
"Mhmm. And the Princess likes to remember the ponies she misses in the same way," he said. "In her castle she keeps lots of pictures and statues of all the ponies she misses. And because she's lived for a very long time (remember, she was around in Prideheart's day,) she has A LOT of pictures and things now." Her thick scrapbook came to mind. How many more books on the shelf that had been behind her were just collected memories? He saw the expansive castle gardens and the statues within it; frozen memories of ponies past. Ponies; individuals that she had known once: the stargazer, the wizard, the musician, the acrobat sisters, the- !
"In fact!" James started, laughing with joy. He had THOUGHT that the Princess missed Prideheart. That had been his guess. But now he knew. HE KNEW. "In fact, in her garden she has a statue of Prideheart facing down the dragon! Just like you Dryponies remember in your song and performance. He's there in stone; strong, noble, dignified, proud, valiant, unafraid... that's how she likes to remember Prideheart."
A long silence followed. Poppy glanced about as different feelings filled her. Sometimes the confusion rose up, other times a smile of happiness creeped upon the corners of her mouth, and other times mists of wonder danced in her eyes. When the strongest of them all finally settled in her, she became almost upset and looked up at James. "But... why?" she asked.
"Why do you think?" he responded.
She was still for a moment. All she could think to reply with was what she had heard before and she repeated James in another half-question, "Because... she misses him?"
As much as he wanted an ally in the Dryponies, he didn't want to force an authority over her. He didn't want to replace her Drypony culture with some conceptions that he had selected himself. He didn't want this encounter to be some trick over her to play to his advantage. She needed to feel this out and decide it for herself, not have it dictated to her by him. So, he offered, "Wouldn't it be great to ask Princess Celestia why?"
The little filly looked down, pondering it for herself.
She didn't have long, though. Loud voices suddenly rose up from outside, accompanied by rushed clops and swishing branches. It was a clamor which exploded all at once; some kind of chaos with a frantic order trying to rein it in.
James got up and briskly stepped outside, looking down over Heartwood from the balcony. Dryponies were racing across the concourse to trees with climbable steps. Branch Dancers helped them along before they soared off into the heights themselves. They were all shouting to each other and out into the trees, relaying some kind of message. Most every pony was trying to get off the ground. Only Broken Oak and a few other stern looking Dryponies remained. The large and commanding pony was pacing in front of them; laying down firm and quick instructions; formulating some kind of fast plan like a squad getting ready to respond to a sudden emergency.
Since Poppy had followed the man out and was now also observing the commotion, James asked her, "What's going on?"
Listening intently to the shouts, she relayed to him with some worry, "More predators have wandered into Heartwood!" However, she looked down at Broken Oak taking charge and she immediately felt soothed. She said with better confidence, "It's okay, though. We can just hide up here. Broken Oak will take care of them."
She turned to look up at James with a smile but it quickly fell away. She saw that her words didn't assuage his worries at all.
"He'll 'take care' of them?" the man nervously questioned.
Completely unsure what was bothering him, the little filly grew more nervous herself. "Yeah... he'll do what he has to," she answered trepidatiously.
James didn't know what exactly she meant by that but his imagination had one particular answer. On the one hand he didn't know why he was so worked up about it; give him a gun and he'd do what needed to be done also. But on the other hand, he saw pleading cyan eyes in his mind's eye, and a distraught, heartbroken yellow face.
He felt an especially sharp stab of panic when Poppy then mumbled, "I hope nopony gets hurt this time..."
"... 'this time?'"
He shivered a took a step back before he suddenly turned about and raced inside. "Spike! SPIKE!"
The dragon popped his head out of his pot just as James got to the table. His green frills quivered with a steep alertness and his eyes were sharp. Even uninformed, he could feel the critical sense of crisis that pervaded the situation and he was ready to do anything asked of him.
James grabbed the dragon and pulled him out, setting him down on the table. "Spike, you have to get back up to the others and get Fluttershy out!" he pleaded.
Spike's eyes rolled away and he scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. "Oh, I don't know if... uh... well... the thing is...," he sputtered, "... getting down here involved, uh... a lot more... falling... than I thought it would, aheh... Oops?"
Despair clawed up at James, tangling around his legs, ready to pull him under. But it was quickly overwhelmed by a completely different feeling of panic when he saw Spike's eyes suddenly look beyond him and pop.
The man whirled about to see Poppy staring at them both, aghast. Trembling in body and voice, James started to ramble, "P-Poppy, it's okay! I can explain! I can expl-"
It was like he was struck by lightning. Spike's awkward explanation for why his trip was one-way; the agile filly before him; the leaf wrapping a twig that was her cutie mark, practically jumping off of her flank...
He stepped forward and dropped to his knees in front of Poppy, placing his hands about her small shoulders. She stared back at him with undecided doubt and uncertain apprehension. Steadying his voice, he said to her slowly and strongly, "Poppy, listen. Fluttershy, one of my friends, the yellow pegasus... She works with animals. That's what she does. If we can get her out, she can take care of this without ANY PONY getting hurt. Do you understand?" He nodded his head back towards the dragon but he never broke his eyes away from Poppy's, and he asked, "Can you PLEASE help Spike here get back up so he can get her out?"
The filly's jaw wobbled slightly with a numb movement but there were no words that came out; not in opposition or promise.
"PLEASE, Poppy," James begged again, "we just want to help!"
Spike added in, full of encouraging cheer, "I'm a nice dragon, honest!"
James felt a warmness come into the filly through her shoulders, but she suddenly looked away with nervous reserve. She rubbed her legs together in agitation.
For a moment James was frightened that instead of having won her over he had scared her away, but then he quickly recognized her behavior. It was that of a child hiding a secret. One holding on to a fib that they're suddenly uncomfortable keeping. "What? What's the matter? It's okay, you can tell me," he asked gently, trying to coax it out of her.
"W-well...," she stuttered, still jiggling her legs timidly, "Lady Willow asked me to come up here to... to keep an eye on you... and..." She hung her head down and frowned sadly, unable to go on with her explanation.
But it told James everything he needed to know. He rubbed her shoulders reassuringly. "It's okay, I understand," he consoled her. "And listen, I don't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or get you into trouble, okay? But..." He shook her lightly to get her to pick up her head and look at him again. "But... I REALLY want to make sure that no pony gets hurt! I PROMISE that we're just trying to do the right thing, okay? If it helps, when you get Spike up there you can make sure he only lets out my yellow friend, alright?" James looked to Spike for confirmation.
The dragon laid a claw over his heart and put his other up in the air, swearing to Poppy, "Only Fluttershy. On my honor."
The little filly trembled, weighting everything. But slowly, bit by bit, a calm came into her. She gazed deeply into James as he gave a beseeching smile, and at last she said, "... Okay, James."
"Good, good! Thank you, Poppy!" On impulse the man pulled her in for a hug. It surprised her at first, but the sheer energy and spontaneity of the act got her to giggle, bringing a great smile to her face. When he released her, he breathed, "Now go! As quick as you can!" As a last bit of encouragement, he gave her a sly smile and remarked, "Speed isn't going to be a problem, is it?"
The silly quip drove the last crumbs of hesitation out of the spry filly and she boldly declared, "Not for the best Branch Dancer in the Heartwood Guard!" She blasted off, rushing towards the window and commanding, "This way, mister dragon!" Popping off the floor, she flipped through the air perfectly, straight out the window.
"H-hey, wait for me!" Spike called. He took a leap from the table and just barely managed to grasp the edge of the window. As he kicked and struggled to get over, James grasped his tail and flung him through with a flick of the wrist.
The man looked back towards the entry archway, the sound of the crash behind him all but silent to his ears. Whatever was about to happen, he needed to make sure that Poppy and Spike had enough time to get Fluttershy free first.