//------------------------------//
// Chapter 7:  Desperate Times 
// Story: The Crusaders:  A Shadow Over Manehattan 
// by Starhunter 
//------------------------------//

Chapter 7 - Desperate Times

The thug's hoof hit Cold Star right in the face.  Her training saved her from a broken nose, but even as her own hoof came up under the thugs jaw and knocked him for a loop, she could feel the swelling beginning around her eye.  

She didn't have much time to worry about it - the thug's companions were getting back to their hooves.  The two heavyset Earth Ponies circled her, trying to put her in between them.  It was a simple but effective tactic, especially with one of her eyes threatening to swell shut.  

She didn't give them a chance to take the initiative.  Launching herself at the pony to her left, she accepted a painful knee to her chest in exchange for taking hold of his other front leg.  Her wing darted out and swept his back legs, throwing the larger pony onto his back.  Not willing to risk him getting up a second time, Cold Star made an unpleasant choice: with a deft twist of the leg she was holding, she broke his knee.  

The Earth pony on the ground howled in pain, and his companion chose that as his signal to charge, putting his head down and aiming right at Cold Star's exposed back.  Cold Star could feel the heavy pounding of his hooves on the pavement behind her, and she used it to time her jump perfectly - a high back-flip that landed her squarely on her opponent's back.  It took him a moment to realize what had happened, and by then Cold Star's legs were already firmly around his neck.   The fact that it was the same choke she was teaching her students was not lost on her - sometimes the simple tricks were the best.

The stallion was a fighter though.  He threw himself against the brick wall of the nearby building, trying to crush the Crusader between himself and the unforgiving masonry.  Cold Star's wings reached out to cushion the blow, and the stallion began to wheeze and stagger before he mustered up the strength to try it again.  The loss of blood to his head left him dizzy, and the big pony stumbled.  By the time he had righted himself, Cold Star had already released the choke.  Her hoof came down on the back of his head like a hammer and the stallion pitched forward, his body already limp before it hit the pavement.  

The thug she had kicked in the face was trying to get to his hooves.  Another good kick bowled him over, leaving him staring up at her with a spilt lip.  His eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched Cold Star's grim advance.  

"You!  You're the Crusader!  The one from the paper!"

Cold Star continued to stalk towards him, feeling a measure of satisfaction as the fallen pony did his best to crawl away from her, the terrified pounding of his heart crystal clear in her ears.  "Of course I am.  Have you not heard?  Your boss Stoneheart has chosen to make himself my enemy.  Now you and all your comrades must pay the price for his wickedness.  And your own."

She continued to advance, and the thug found himself pressed against the wall with nowhere left to go.  "How did you know we work for Stoneheart?  We didn't wear our colours, just like he told us..."

Cold Star lunged forward, slapping a hoof against the thug's chest hard enough to bounce his head painfully off the wall behind it, then using it to hold him in place.   With her other leg, she pointed to the small storefront across the street, where a pair of young ponies were watching in terror through their front window as the fight unfolded.  "Because when you came here last night, you threatened the couple that works here using his name.  You demanded a payment for protection.  I decided that when you returned tonight to collect on that promise, I would be waiting."

"But... but how could you know?  There was just the five of us in the store."

Cold Star leaned her face in close to his.  "Remember this.  Anywhere you go, I might be following.  Any time you talk, I might be listening.  I am the shadow of justice, defiler.  I am everywhere."

He tried feebly to push her off.  "So... so do you want me to deliver a message to Stoneheart for you?  Because I will, if you want."

Cold Star shook her head.  "No.  I think Stoneheart knows where I stand.  This message is for ponies like you, who work for him.  Who hurt other ponies at his say-so."

The thug nodded.  "Okay.  Okay, what's the message?"

Cold Star kicked him in the side of the head.  He collapsed to the sidewalk, concussed and unconscious.  

She turned away from the fallen thug, and saw that the stallion whose leg she had broken had managed to sit himself upright.  She looked at him dead in the eyes as she walked past him.  

"You three are the message.  And you are only the beginning."

She slipped into the darkened alley across the street and paused.  There was something wrong, and it wasn't just the painful swelling around her eye.  There was an out-of-place noise coming from up near the roof.  She leapt up to the fire escape above her and then leapt up again, pumping her wings and sending herself towards the rooftop.  She pulled her wings back under her cape just as she came over the edge of the rooftop, and a flashbulb burst in front of her.  

As she blinked away the sunspots, she had just enough time to make out Daily Times grinning like a fox in the hen-house before he disappeared with a resounding "ther-clap".  The echo of the sound rang in her ears as she staggered over to where he had been standing.  She looked down and saw the three ponies she'd been fighting with arrayed below her.  It was the perfect place to watch from.  He'd probably gotten the whole fight on film, and in the commotion she hadn't noticed.  

As the ringing in her ears faded, she heard two more sounds.  One was police whistles, but they weren't the sound that sent her running.  That was the sound of the clock-tower striking midnight.

She was late for dinner.

* * * * *

Squall was getting worried.  He tried to tell himself that she was on patrol, and that that sort of thing didn't always run on a schedule.  But try as he might, he couldn't keep his mind from running down a list of the very worst things that could be delaying her.  

To keep his mind off it, he busied himself setting out the food he'd brought.  His mother had left him a pot of soup in the fridge, but he'd wanted to make something fresh.  After all, when they had first met Squall had suggested that they help Cold Star buy groceries, and now he could make good on that offer.  His mother had a recipe for spinach casserole that was one of Squall's favourite meals.  It stood to reason that if he really liked it, Cold Star might also.  He'd ducked out of the apartment shortly after his mother left for work to buy the groceries he'd need to make it.  

It had been eye-opening.  Just the things he needed to make a single small casserole had come out to almost twenty bits.  That was a month of his allowance, gone in a flash.  He'd never realized how expensive food was.  No wonder his mother worked so much - she fed them both three meals a day on just her salary. 

The casserole had come out alright (he hoped) and he'd put it in a picnic basket with two juice boxes, two plates, forks, a couple of cloth napkins and a small bakery box with a pair of cupcakes that he hadn't been able to resist at the grocery store.  It was better then lukewarm soup and cold zucchini sticks, at least.  

Or it would be, if Cold Star showed up to have some.

It was nearly one in the morning when Squall heard the sound of heavy wingbeats.  He hid himself by one of the pillars, and was surprised to see Cold Star swooping up from down near the waterline to land on the underbelly of the bridge nearby.  She let out a grunt as she landed, and her first few steps were tentative.  Squall moved away from the pillar and waved.

"Hey.  Over here.  You okay?"

Cold Star nodded, peeling off her hat and mask.  "I am all right.  Nothing a few minutes rest will not help to remedy."

A she stepped a little closer, he could see that one of her eyes was badly swollen.  Squall frowned.  "You don't look all right.  Did you get hit?"

Cold Star chuckled.  It wasn't a happy sound.  "In the words of my master, any fight where you walk away is a good fight.  This is not the worst black eye I have had, I assure you.  Though if you have anything cold I can put on it, I would be grateful."

Squall thought quickly.  "I don't, but I will.  Wait here."

Before she could tell him otherwise, he dropped off the bridge and wheeled towards the nearer shore, his wings pushing hard to drive him faster.  It didn't take long to find what he was looking for; all-night convenience stores were everywhere in Manehattan.  Two minutes and a couple of bits later, he was on his way back to the bridge.  

When he arrived, he landed at the end of the bridge and walked out, looking for signs that anypony might be around to see him before hopping over the railing and swooping down to where he'd left Cold Star.  She was stretching, obviously in some discomfort.  

"As requested."  He snagged one of the cloth napkins out of the picnic basket and handed it to her, along with the mega-sized drink cup full of just ice he'd bought at the store.  

She looked at the cup and sighed. "That was not necessary."  

Squall offered her a wry smile.  "You obviously haven't seen a mirror yet, or you wouldn't be saying that."

"I just mean that I... I do not like it when people spend money on things when I cannot repay them."

Squall looked away, busying himself with the picnic basket again and hoping she wouldn't ask where he'd gotten the food.  "Please, don't worry about it.  You would do the same, if you were me."  

Cold Star offered a small smile.  "Then thank you.  And thank you for whatever is in that basket.  It smells nice."

Squall realized his first mis-step right away - he hadn't brought a knife to portion the casserole.  Cold Star's solution was elegantly simple: they placed it in between them, and each started eating from opposite corners.  His second mis-step was discovered shortly after they started eating, which was that he didn't know how to season food very well.  The casserole, which was normally rich and tasty when his mother made it, had come out completely bland and just a little bit mushy.  

After fewer than a dozen bites, Squall but down his fork, his face burning.  "I'm sorry.  I... I guess I missed something in the recipe.  It's much better when my mother makes it."

Cold Star shook her head.  "You need not apologize.  I am enjoying it."

"That's nice of you, but you don't have to eat it."

Cold Star gave him the strangest look.  "Nonsense.  Why would anypony turn down a fresh, healthy meal like this?"  

"Because it's not very good?"

Cold Star shook her head, taking another forkful.  "It is good enough for me."

Squall took another bite.  It was the same as the last.  He put his fork back down.  "I should have tasted it before I brought it out here."

Cold Star fixed Squall with a stern look, her napkin full of ice still pressed to her head.  "Squall, please.  Do not apologize for the food.  I am not exaggerating when I say this is one of the best meals I've eaten in weeks.  I would like to enjoy it in your company, even if you decide you don't want to eat it yourself." 

Squall hung his head.  "Sorry.  I'm not helping you be restful, am I?"

"I will be fine.  Like I said, this is not bad as injuries go."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

She grunted.  "Stoneheart's gang has been active in a neighborhood near here, looking for new businesses to extort money from.  He has been sending around small groups of ponies to make demands - one to talk, and two for muscle.  I decided that I needed to start making an example of some of these ponies if I want to discourage such behaviour.

"Unfortunately, I made an error in my angle of attack when I chose a dive from the rooftop as my opening gambit.  My plan was to knock all of them prone, and then strike selectively from there.  They turned out to be more canny than expected.  One of the three jumped out of line before I landed on the other two.  He caught me with a kick.  I made short work of them after that, but the damage was already done."  

She sighed in irritation and leaned back against a pillar.  "That was the least of my mistakes, truthfully.  It turns out that Daily Times somehow managed to figure out where I was going to be, and may have taken some more pictures.  I expect tomorrow's Bulletin will be showcasing me again."

She ate some more casserole while Squall stood up and paced back and forth.  "Did he get anything... y'know... secret?"

Cold Star shook her head.  "I don't think so.  At most, he has a record of the fight.  That is a bit embarrassing, considering the mistakes I made, but hardly the end of Equestria.  He might have been after pictures of my wings, but I kept them mostly out of sight.  I doubt he got anything useful there."

"Why would he be after wing pictures?  Does he..." Squall trailed off as Cold Star nodded.

"He saw them.  But without evidence, he won't risk printing it."

"How did he seem them?  You're usually so careful."

"It is... complicated."

Squall scowled.  "That's the same excuse my mother gives when she doesn't want to talk about something."

Cold Star dropped some fresh ice in her napkin.  "Some things are complicated, Squall."

Squall looked away.  "Yeah.  My father was complicated, so she won't talk about him.  She won't even tell me his name.  She's complicated, so she doesn't like to talk about herself either.  You're complicated, so you won't tell me why you keep making excuses for that stupid reporter.  Jeepers, maybe I should be more complicated too.  It seems like asking simple questions is just the worst way to get a straight answer from anypony these days."

Cold Star took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.  "Misty gave me a hard time about this as well.  I am sorry, Squall.  Sometimes I try to hide the truth from other ponies, because I worry that sharing it will not improve matters.  But that is a slippery slope.  I should know better."

She sat up straighter, putting her ice down for a moment.  "I showed him my wings.  It was a sort of gesture of good faith.  I was hoping he would choose to side with us against Stoneheart.  That by showing him a part of my secret, he wouldn't feel the need to expose what he knows to everypony else in the process.  But I have no idea what effect it had on him.  Perhaps none.  Perhaps I handed him what he needs to expose me.  It seemed like a good chance to take at the time, but after tonight I'm less certain than ever."

Squall sat down again, stunned into a long silence.  When he sorted himself out, he smiled sadly.  "You're right.  I'm not sure the truth feels better.  But I would have been just as worried not knowing.  Thank you for telling me."

"I should not have been evasive.  You are a Crusaders, and I should treat you as such."

Squall nodded, grinning sheepishly.  "Well, it's not like I haven't said avoided talking to you about my worries before.  So we're even.  Now, do you want to give up on this mess and move on to desert?"

Cold Star smirked at him and shrugged.  "I ate my half.  I do not wish to be greedy."

It was true.  Her half of the casserole was gone.  Squall put the lid back on it and tucked it away to avoid having to eat any more himself.  Instead he pulled out the box with the cupcakes, and as soon as the box cleared the basket Cold Star's long ears perked up.  She stared at the box with rapt attention as he popped it open and held it out.  

Cold Star stared at the pastries within, her eyes shining with delight.  "In the glorious name of Princess Luna, are those what I think they are?"

Squall blinked.  "Um... do you think they're cupcakes?  Because... they're cupcakes."

She leaned over towards the box, her eyes closed and her nose gently twitching.  She had a look on her face like she was already eating them; blissfully happy.

Squall felt a rush of heat to his face.  For some reason, seeing Cold Star so excited made him feel strangely giddy himself.  "So... which one do you want?  I got chocolate and vanilla, just to cover both bases."

Cold Star's eye snapped open, and she looked at Squall with an utterly baffled look.  "I... have no idea.  I have never eaten one before."

Squall returned her baffled look with one of his own.  "You've never eaten a cupcake?"

Cold Star nodded.  "Sugar must be refined, so it is extremely rare in Tartarus.  As are things like milk and eggs, so we Bat Ponies do very little baking.  Ever since I came to the surface I have smelled things like this in passing, but I have never had the chance to eat any.   I never thought I would get the chance, in truth."

Squall remained puzzled.  "But, you've been on the surface for months now.  They sell cupcakes all over the place."

Cold Star smirked.  "I seem to recall you pointing out previously that shopping is not something I could easily do."

"Yeah, but... I mean, you must have someone helping you with it.  Don't you?"

"No.  I do not have any money, so there is no need to shop."

Squall blinked.  "I don't understand."

Cold Star looked away awkwardly, as if speaking about it made her uncomfortable.  "It is quite simple.  In Tartarus, a Crusader is granted a small stipend in honour of her service.  Up here... less so.  What little of value I had when I left home was bartered to a band of Zebras for the things I needed to make my costume."  

"Then... but..."  Squall's brain was running through dozens of urgent and confusing question, but the one that kept coming back to him was one of necessity:  "How do you buy food for yourself?"

Cold Star shook her head.  "I cannot."

"Then how do you eat?"

"I forage."

"Forage?  Like, in the woods?"

"Yes.  There are forests to the south and to the west where some foods grow wild.  And there are one or two places around town that I accept charity from now and again, like the diner where I got the zucchini sticks.  Other nights, I have to take what I can get.  Fortunately there are a great many food stores and restaurants around the city.  It is shocking to me how much perfectly good produce they discard on a daily..."

"You eat out of the garbage?"

Cold Star looked away again, but then she shrugged as if that were no big deal.  "I knew life would be difficult when I chose to come here.  It is not my preference, but there are times when my other options are limited.  Being hungry is not a safe way for a pony to be, when they are as physically active as I am.  So I do what I must, when the opportunity presents itself to do so safely."

She looked away from Squall's dumbstruck look and returned her attention to the cupcakes.  "But if it is all the same to you, I would rather not think about that right now.  I am about to eat a cupcake for the first time, and I would rather focus on enjoying that."

She turned the box around slowly, studying the two pastries, before finally shaking her head.  "I have no idea how to choose.  I should let you decide.  I will be perfectly content with..."

"Eat them both."

Squall didn't make a habit of interrupting people, but lately it seemed to be happening more and more.  

Cold Star gave him a funny look.  "That would not be fair."

Squall shook his head.  "Just since I've known Babs, I've eaten more different cupcakes than I can even name.  That you haven't eaten any... that's what's not fair.  You run around every night saving the ponies of this city and you're... you don't even get proper food.  And you get black eyes, and you're probably sore all the time, considering how much running around you do.  That deserves at least two cupcakes.  Honestly, I think it deserves a lot more, but this is what I've got."

"Squall, I think you are being a bit dramatic."

"I guess.  But I have never wanted a cupcake less than I want either of those.  I wouldn't be able to enjoy it anyways, and they won't keep.  So you'd better eat 'em."

Cold Star stared at him for a long moment, and he stared back.  Finally, she rolled her eyes.  "Alright.     Suit yourself.  But I plan to savour this, so if you change your mind half-way through I will not blame you."

Her hoof hovered over the box for a moment, and then she pulled out the vanilla cupcake - white cake with rich butter-cream icing.  Squall sat there watching her eating it - listening to her excited exclamations of how tasty it was and how even the smell was nothing compared to the taste - and he kept a small smile plastered on his face.  

This was a special moment for her, and by Celestia... by Luna, even, he wasn't going to ruin it by getting upset.  No matter how upset he was.

He managed to keep the smile on his face until she had eaten both cakes and they had said their farewells, watching as Cold Star disappeared into the night to resume her patrol.  He even managed to keep it in place while he packed up the basket and got ready to leave.  

It lasted right up until he was ready to take off for home, when he looked out over the water and found his view had gotten all blurry.  He pulled out the clean napkin and pressed it over his face, taking a few deep breaths.  When the first sob broke through, he dropped off the bridge and landed down near the water where the sound of the evening tide would drown it out.  

He had never been so ashamed of himself.  The bullying and the blank-flank were nothing compared to realizing that this situation was all his fault.  He had been the one to suggest the Crusaders could shop for Cold Star, but he had never followed it up.  He had just assumed she would ask, if she needed their help.

How could he have been so stupid?  Hadn't his talk with Zelest made it clear enough that Cold Star didn't ask for help, even when she needed it?  That she would fight on through injury or danger or eating out of the garbage just to do what she thought was right?  

It occurred to him then that he didn't know anything about her day to day life.  Where did she sleep?  Where did she shower in the morning, or wash her uniform?  She obviously had allies here and there, but did she ever spend time with any of them?  Did she have a roof over her head, or did she forage for shelter just as often as she foraged for food?  He found himself imagining Cold Star during the daytime, shivering in a drainage pipe in the chill of autumn while she waited for night to fall.  It was heartbreaking, and it was wrong.  

Squall wiped his face and flew back up to the bridge to collect his basket and head home.  As he winged his way through the darkness his brain was a jumble of unanswerable questions and sickening worries.  But one thought had fixed itself firmly amongst them - that somehow, some way, he was going to find a way to make this right.  If he didn't, he didn't deserve to be called a Crusader.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Their afternoon workout could not arrive fast enough for Squall, since it was the first chance he'd had to talk to the Crusaders in private.  

The new workouts were great.  Sure, they still had to run, but now they ran with a purpose.  They started out at Seed Cakes so that they could stash their saddlebags, and Babs could put on her weighted ones - a set of Poppy's old school-bags with a heavy bundle of sand in each pouch.  The extra weight had slowed Babs down considerably, especially near the end of the run, so Misty no longer had a hard time keeping pace with her and Squall, despite the slightly longer distances.

Their new route had left the park completely.  Now they ran on the roads and backstreets that connected their homes to one another.  They alternated from day to day which houses they ran between, and they always did their best to take different routes to see which were easier or faster.  Cold Star's logic in explaining their new assignment had been simple, but powerful.

Running is not only a matter of fitness.  If there is ever an emergency, being ready to run is essential.  And where are you more likely to run then to your family's aid, or the aid of your fellow Crusaders?  Think of that, when you grow tired - that one day, the safety of those you care for may rest on how fast you can get to them.  Let that determination drive your hooves, and help make you ready to answer that call.

After that, Misty's running had improved by leaps and bounds.  Part of it may have been her history with emergencies in Canterlot, but Squall suspected it was also the fact that the new routine helped distract her from being tired.  While they ran, Misty was supposed to pick up as much of the litter she passed as she could using her magic, and drop it into waste bins as they went.  She'd made a lot of disgusted sounds at first, but throughout the week they'd gotten fewer and farther between and the rate of litter clean-up had risen sharply.  

As for himself, he got the best job of all - he was the scout.  As they ran, he had to periodically zip up above the skyline to help the group navigate.  It was his job to steer them away from fences, gates, road construction and suspicious ponies.  His mental map had never felt more useful, and he found he was always updating it with new information - shortcuts and alleys that hadn't appeared on his original map now criss-crossed his mental one.  He also felt like he was contributing to the team in his own unique way.  While Babs was the brawn and Misty was the brains, he was becoming the eyes.  

At least, that's how it usually went.  Today he was running on a lot less sleep than usual and he was distracted by his worries.  He'd signalled a bad turn that had brought them to a dead-end, which had led to a chorus of ribbing from Babs and Misty.  He'd had to call for a couple of minutes rest while he flew up and figured out how to get them back on course.  By the time he came back down he'd also had enough time to muster up the courage to ask his friends for a favour.

He landed on the pavement with a little hop, and walked over to where they were stretching.

"Hey, Babs.  Can I ask you something?"

Babs gave him an inquisitive look.  "Sure, I guess.  What's up?"

"I was just kind of wondering... you get an allowance, right?"

She grinned.  "Well, kind of.  Mom says money for nothin' is a bad way to teach ponies how to respect the value of a bit.  There's a big list of chores down in the bakery every day.  If I want some pocket money, all I gotta do is go do somethin' on the list.  Once the work is done they pay me out.  Kind of like a freelance bakery assistant."

Squall looked over at Misty.  "What about you?"

Misty frowned.  "Why do you ask?"

"I'm kinda trying to put something together for... our other friend.  I was hoping maybe you two could chip in on it."

Misty pursed her lips.  "Well... the truth is I don't really get an allowance."

Squall blinked.  "Really?  I thought your family was pretty well off."  

"We are.  It's just that my parents don't really see the need.  When I want something, they'll usually just take me shopping for it, if they think it's within reason.  I could probably come up with a few bits for a good cause, though.  What were you thinking of putting together, exactly?"

Squall opened his mouth to explain, and he stopped.  Explaining would mean telling them about his dinners with Cold Star, and that felt like it was supposed to be private. He would also have to admit that she was living in what amounted to poverty.  He didn't want to make them feel as bad as he did about it, and more importantly he didn't want to overstep the boundary between his idea of propriety and Cold Star's.  She was a very proud pony, and having everypony know she needed a helping hoof would be awfully embarrassing for her.  

So instead he shrugged like it was no big deal, just the way Cold Star had done.  "Well, y'know... I remembered last night while I was eating that we agreed to pick up some groceries for her.  We still haven't made good on that.  Figured I'd bring it up before I forgot about it again.  That's all."

Babs and Misty looked at each other, and then Babs slowly nodded.  

"Yeah, we totally fuhgot about that.  It's a good thing you remembered."

Misty's face was a bit more thoughtful.  "Yes.  There is nothing more unseemly than being a debtor.  Perhaps we could buy her a whole meal, to make up for the delay."  She smiled.  "In fact, why not make an event of things?  We could invite Zelest down, and have a proper sit-down meal together."

Squall held up his hoof to speak, but Babs had already dived in.  "Yeah!  Misty can get some stuff from her mom to decorate, I can get some stuff from the bakery to cater with.  Why don't we do it this weekend?  The Runnin' of the Leaves is on Sunday, so she said we'd be takin' it easy this week anyways.  It's the perfect time.  We can eat a little good food, and run it all off the next mornin', yeah?"

Misty stamped her hooves excitedly.  "Oh, this is great.  It's just like we used to do.  Cutie Mark Crusaders: Party Planners!  Woo!"

Babs and Misty both cheered, bumping hooves excitedly and looking at Squall.  He wanted to interject that they were missing the point, and that one meal wasn't really what he'd had in mind, but the conversation had already run away from him so much that getting it back now would have meant explaining the problem.  So he just sighed an bumped hooves with them, putting his best face on it.

Obviously, this was a problem he was going to have to deal with himself.  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babs walked Misty home after their workout was over, and they chatted the whole way about the prospect of a party on the weekend.  Squall had taken off right at the end of the workout, which was a little weird - he'd flown back to pick up his bag and headed for home long before Misty and Babs had even made it back to Seed Cakes.  Still, the party had mostly been his idea, so she felt like he was there in spirit.  

Babs's walk back to the Seed Industries building was a lot more sombre.  The workout and the talk about the party had done wonders for taking her mind off of her own problems, but now that she was alone she could feel them creeping up on her again.  She decided to take a longer route home, down some narrow backstreets that Squall had scouted for them a couple of days earlier.  She wanted some time to think.

Squall had looked really beat today, but he wasn't the only one running on lousy sleep; her whole family was in the same boat.  Her parents had waited up for Poppy the night before.  She'd come home really late, and - from what her parents had said - smelling like a moonshine still.  The ensuing argument had been plenty loud enough to keep Babs awake.  Poppy had accused her parents of being 'sellouts' and 'money-grubbers', while her parents had called Poppy a 'layabout' and 'a selfish little so-and-so'.  Then Poppy had used some words that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap when she was a little filly, and things had really started to fly off the handle.  Babs had stuffed her head under her pillow, because hearing her family argue like that was hard.

So, it turned out, was jogging home while replaying bad memories in one's head.  Babs glanced around and realized she had no idea where she was.  She was very glad Squall wasn't there, after the needling she'd given him about getting them lost earlier.  There wasn't much to do but figure out where the sun was, and navigate from there.

She took a right, which she assumed would take her back to a larger street.  She was half-right; the street she wanted was a couple of blocks farther.  Instead she ended up at an intersection between two alleys, and found herself walking towards a group of a half-dozen angry-looking young ponies with wild hair and black clothes who were sniffing something out of a baggie they were passing between them.

It took a few moments for Babs to register that one of them was Poppy.

Poppy was sitting on a closed dumpster with her hood up, her head tipped back and her eyes closed.  It almost looked like she was sleeping, until her eyes suddenly opened and she started giggling.  The giggling got another filly next to her giggling too, and a moment later the alley was full of a bunch of mad laughter from the strung-out ponies.  

Babs didn't know what to do so she just stood there, staring at her sister in awestruck horror.  As if she could feel herself being watched, Poppy suddenly looked right at her.  Babs stepped back, startled by the strangeness she saw there, almost like there was someone different behind Poppy's eyes.

Poppy's giggling died, and she squinted at her sister.  "Babs?  What in Sunbutt's name are you doin' here?"

Babs gaped at her.  "Poppy, what're you doin' here?  Are you outta your mind?"

Poppy made a raspberry with her lips.  "I was a second ago.  Maybe you should check if you just got your Cutie Mark in being a buzzkill, runt.  Shouldn't you be at home?"  Another mare next to poppy started giggling, and passed the bag to another colt next to them.

Babs stalked over to the dumpster where they were lounging.  "Yeah, and so should you.  It's almost dinner time.  Let's go."

Poppy clicked her tongue.  "Who died and made you a Princess?"

"Nobody.  But... I don't like how this looks.  We should go."

Poppy leaned over.  "Why?  These are my friends.  And y'know, they look like me.  You sayin' you don't like how I look?"

The group of ponies passing the bag had started watching their exchange, but Babs ignored them and frowned back at Poppy.  "Not right now, I don't.  You're all messed up.  Mom and Dad are gonna..."

Poppy's hoof flashed out with startling speed, grabbing Babs by the back of her neck.  "Mom and Dad ain't gonna do nothin', because they ain't gonna know."

Babs batted Poppy's leg away.  "Fuhget about it.  You think I'd hush this up?  Poppy, these ponies are doin' drugs.  This ain't funny."

Poppy slid bonelessly down off of the dumpster.  "No.  What ain't funny is that you're bein' a big, fat hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me.  Astronomy club my plot.  You've been sneaking off to the Mosiac every weekend.  Hanging out around some Zebra's place.  Learnin' witchcraft and all, just like Bloom is doing in ponyville, I reckon."

Babs opened her mouth to try to deny it, but Poppy clapped a hoof over her mouth.  "Nuh-uh.  Save it, runt.  I got curious, so I tailed you one night.  Easy as pie, all three of you headin' down to Vanner Street.  So you tell me, Babs.  You mind that your cousin is the Element of Honesty, and you tell me you ain't been sneakin' and lyin', worse than me."

Babs gritted her teeth.  "Ain't nothin' I done that's worse than this."

"Maybe.  But I guess we'll find out.  'Cuz if you rat, I rat.   Let's just see who ends up gettin' the shorter end of the stick."

Babs stared at Poppy for a long moment, but her sister didn't budge.  Finally, she bowed her head.  

"Poppy... please come home with me.  Please.  We can fix this."

Poppy spat on the pavement.  "Nothin' here what needs fixin', except the fact that you're still here.  So scram, Babs.  Go home."

No knowing what else to do, she did.

When she got there she could hear her mother making dinner, and could see her father reading the newspaper at the dining room table.  She stood for a long moment in their front hall, trying to think of what to say that would get Poppy out of trouble without getting herself and her friends into it.  

She couldn't think of anything.  And worse, she realized that if her parents got the sheriffs involved, Poppy and Cold Star could both end up arrested.  Maybe even the Crusaders too.  There had to be another way of dealing with this, and it was up to her to figure out what it was.  

But that didn't keep her from ducking past her parents and into the shower, so she could have a good cry without anyone the wiser.  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

Misty came down from her bath to some unexpected news - her father has run into one of his old friends from Canterlot that afternoon, who had invited him out for supper.  He'd graciously accepted, so it would be just Misty and her mother at dinner tonight.

Dew Drop was a Canterlot Pony through and through: poised, impeccably fashionable, and extremely reserved in expressing herself.  She wore very smart clothing, even at dinner time and around the house, just in case important ponies happened to stop in.  Misty used to find it a bit pretentious but she had come to accept that it made her mother comfortable, in the same way her father preferred a house-coat and slippers.  Misty also looked very much like her, which led a lot of their family's acquaintances to assume that they were close.

They had been, once.  Before the attack.  Now, Misty didn't know what they were.  But for tonight, she hoped, they could simply be a mother and daughter sharing a meal.

Dinner turned out to be a hearty dish of tomatoes and pasta in a rose sause, and Misty was eager to dig into it.  It had been a long while since she'd had a meal that included cheese, and she treated herself by adding a pinch more salt then was strictly healthy to the plate.  It was heavenly.

Her mother ate with equal gusto, and between them they made short work of their plates.  As the maid was clearing the dishes she offered her daughter a small smile.  "You know, I've dropped a whole dress size since you started your healthy diet.  But I thought tonight we might bend the rules a little.  I'm glad to see you didn't mind."

Misty waved one hoof daintily.  "Well, the diet books I've read all talk about accepting that cheat-days are going to happen, now and again.  What is important is sticking to the program afterwards, and get back on track."

"So, are you on track, then?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you've been running for over a month now.  The Running of the Leaves is in a couple of days, and that was Babs's big goal, when you started out.  Are you planning to keep up with it afterwards, or will you be going on to a new goal?"

Misty shifted slightly in her chair.  "I think we'll probably keep up with it through the winter.  Now that she's starting to thin out a bit, I think Babs might be worried she'll pack it all back on if she doesn't run over Heaths-warming."

It sounded like a good explanation, and he mother nodded gamely.  "Oh, I completely understand.  Holiday snacks are the very worst for that, and the poor dear lives at a bakery.  It's wonderful to see somepony with a goal like that, isn't it?  It makes you feel like you could do anything you put your mind to."

Misty continued to smile, but she got the uncomfortable feeling this was going somewhere.  It seemed like a good time to change subjects.  "Honestly, I've been totally won over.  I didn't enjoy all the sweating and being out of breath at fist, but now I think I might miss it if I stopped.  I will probably need a track-suit if I'm going to run during the winter though.  Perhaps we should find some time to go shopping, so we can pick something out together."

"Perhaps we could.  I was thinking we could get you measured again, too.  You're a growing filly, and I'm betting you'll need some new outfits for spring.  With all the working out, I bet all the numbers have changed."

Misty's brain sounded more alarm bells.  "Measurements?  I suppose we could, but why not wait until spring?  If I'm running all winter, they're just going to change again."

Her mother smiled.  It was the same smile she gave to clients when she was about to tell them something they weren't going to like.  Misty braced herself.  "Well, you see, you father and I were having a bit of a chat, and I was thinking perhaps you might like to spend part of the winter break working with me.  You'd need a smart suit, if you're going to be my assistant."

Misty found her shoulders relaxing a little, but remained wary.  "Oh, goodness.  I haven't come to work with you in a very long time.  Are you sure it would be alright?"

Dew Drop continued to wear her professional smile.  "Well, actually I could really use your help.  You see, I landed the contract to design for Blueblood Preparatory Academy's New Year's party, and I don't usually do school parties for ponies your age.  I could really use your perspective on this one."

The alarm bells moved up to air-raid sirens.  Her mother never booked school parties.  They pay was lousy, and it meant working with volunteers instead of having a proper work crew.  Why would she do that?  Especially for Blueblood Prep?  It wasn't a big enough school to merit a really big party, because they only took...

Oh, for the love of Celestia.  Please, let me be wrong about this...

She smiled back at her mother.  It was a very similar sort of smile - all lips and teeth, no feeling.  "I'd love to help, but I really don't know if I can.  I mean, they're an all-unicorn school.  And an old-fashioned one at that.  They still wear uniforms and everything.  My school is so much different, I wouldn't know where to begin.  But I'm sure they have a planning committee for that kind of feedback.  I know our school does."  Misty found herself gritting her teeth at the mere mention of the Pack, but kept her smile fixed in place.

Her mother nodded.  "They do indeed.  In fact, I had hoped to use you as a sort of go-between.  You would have a much easier time chatting with them than I would.  They're all unicorns your age."

Misty continued to force her smile.  "That's nice of you to say, but I think we both know how much a group of popular girls enjoys talking with a blank-flank.  If I may be blunt, I'm looking forward to my winter break as a reprieve from teasing.  I'd much rather work behind the scenes with you, it it's all the same."

Her mother looked genuinely scandalized.  "Don't you think you're being a bit quick to judge?"

"I think I'm being practical.  Do you deny it?"

"I think you should keep an open mind, and see what they're like."

"You seem awfully willing to defend a group of ponies you don't know."

Her mother scowled.  "And you seem awfully willing to condemn them sight unseen.  What's gotten into you?"

"I think this is a very blatant deception, and I'm angry that you think I'd fall for it."

"I am trying to help you make some new friends.  How is that deceptive?"

"Mother, please don't treat me like I'm stupid.  I know what father thinks about Hightower.  And about the Crusaders.  You're going to try to turn this party into some kind of a debut for me at the school you want to move me to.  But I have no interest in changing school, thank you very much."

There was a pregnant pause, and Misty could practically hear her mother's gears turning.  When she spoke she no longer sounded upset.  "Okay.  Cards on the table, then.  Your father thinks your grades are slipping.  Are they?"

Misty shrugged.  "I'm never going to do as well as he wants me to."

"That's not an answer."

Misty gritted her teeth.  "I don't know.  I haven't been keeping track."

"You used to keep track.  You used to bring tests home and put them on the fridge."

"I used to be a little filly.  I outgrew it, so I stopped."

"You stopped when we moved to Manehattan.  When your scores stopped being ninety percents, and started being eighties and seventies."

"And also when I stopped getting smelly stickers that said 'good job'.  Perhaps that's the correlation you're looking for - my teachers are not giving me enough stickers."

"Misty, I'm trying to be serious."

"You're trying to move me to another school.  And I'm not interested."

"Young filly, you are not the one paying your tuition.  You don't make the choice.  We do."

Misty could only stare at her, her mouth hanging open in shock.  

Her mother's face softened.  "Misty, I'm sorry.  That came out wrong..."

"So, what?  That's it?  I'm to be fitted for a skirt and leggings, and being sent off to Blueblood?  To rid me of my loser friends?  Is that it?"  She felt tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

Dew Drop shook her head.  "It's not like that..."

"Yes it is!  That's exactly what father said.  They may not be the cream of the crop, but I don't care!"

Dew Drop's face fell.  "Ah.  So you heard all that."

Misty sniffled, wishing she were just faking.  "Yeah.  I heard.  He thinks they're holding me back."

"This isn't about them."

"So it's just about me?  What happened, mother?  I thought you were standing up for me."

"Misty, this isn't just about you, either."

"No, it isn't.  It's about you and father expecting me to be somepony I don't know how to be.  He thinks I'm a failure.  But I thought you cared!"

That was the lowest of blows.  It was manipulative, it was utterly uncalled for, and Misty regretted it the moment it came out of her mouth.  She tried to think of an apology, but the damage was already done.  She watched the emotion slowly fade out of her mother's face.  Dew Drop became still, and unreadable.  When she spoke, her voice was a cool monotone, completely detached from any emotion.

"Misty.  I'm sorry you feel that way.  The truth is, your tuition is very expensive.  Your father still hasn't found a job, I don't have steady work, and we don't have unlimited funds.  Blueblood is a good school, and the tuition is less than half of what we're currently paying.  If you're not making the most of your time at Hightower, we can't afford to keep sending you there.  That's the plain truth of the matter."

She stood up.  

"Now, please excuse me.  I'm probably going to have an episode, and I would like to be up in my room before it starts."

Misty slid out of her chair.  

"Mother... I'm so sorry.  I didn't mean it."

"I know.  Being hurt makes us lash out.  I forgive you.  Now, it's a nice night.  You should go for a walk."

Misty sniffled.  She wanted to go to her mother and hug her tightly, but she knew better than to try that right now.   Dew Drop had her Canterlot pride, and Misty respected that.  But she do too, so instead of going out she went to the front hallway and opened, then closed the door.  Upstairs, she heard her mother star to weep.  Loud, wracking sobs carried through her heavy doors and down to the landing where Misty stood.  Upstairs, Misty knew that her mother would be buried under a pile of pillow, fighting against a yawning emptiness that still threatened to consume her all these months later.  

At least she cried now.  It was better than the screaming.  But it didn't hurt any less to listen to.  

Misty stayed there listening for a few minutes, until she couldn't stand it any more.  Then she went into the library to curl up on her father's chair and have a good cry of her own.