How To Train Your Batpony

by peter

Chapter 3 [edited]

“No! Out of the question!” the fiery-eyed nocturne mare shouted as she snapped at her mate, the slight swell of her belly doing nothing to handicap her efforts to take a chunk out of his flank.

“I’m sorry. There is no choice,” Pumpernickel told his mate, and the soon to be the mother of his foal, as he danced backward slightly to prevent her from breaking a tooth on his armor during the inevitable second follow-up bite. Thank the stars he had put on his armor before having this talk with her. His voice was calm and even, unfortunately, he knew that did nothing to sooth Laminia’s temper. Almost as much as he was angry at Gilda for putting Sunny at risk, he was angry at her for forcing the current argument on him.

“Damn it, Lumpy, there is always a choice. Send somepony else.”

“I’m their Wingmaster, if I delegate my duties to a regular pony it will only make an attempted attack more likely. Griffons just don’t respect anything that they’re not at least a little afraid of. You know that. I’d be asking for a revolt, and the first move of any rebellion would be to arrange for Sunny to have an accident. It already happened to Gilda’s older sister, when Duke Plummets made his power grab, and not a single one of her inbred relatives squawked in protest then.”

“I don’t care!” Laminia snarled in obvious frustration that she couldn't argue against his point. Prevented from taking her anger out on him due to the distance he was maintaining, she settled for kicking an obviously guilty pillow across the room and flouncing down on the couch with an exasperated growl. Pumpernickel took a step to one side, just in case. Ever since Laminia had become pregnant, she had an annoying habit of kicking her support shoes off when she was angry, and she had gotten far too accurate with them for his comfort.

“You know you don’t mean that. You’re as fond of her as I am,” he said in a cajoling tone.

Laminia took several deep breaths and then turned to the other pony who was in the room with them and was watching their argument like a spectator at a tennis match.

“Tell him he can’t go, Princess,” she said in a pleading tone.

Princess Luna put down the letter from Twilight she had supposedly been trying to read and gave a sigh. “I understand all too well your distress, Laminia, but I fear our Optio is correct in his assessment of the situation, surprising as that may seem.”

“He hasn’t recovered fully from the last time yet. He’s behaving even more brain-damaged than usual. How else can you explain this stupid idea.”

“Save for some unsightly scars, most of which could be removed cosmetically now that his wounds have fully healed, if only he would allow it, he is as hale as ever he was,” Luna replied.

“The foal will be here in two months; I want you with me,” Laminia said to Pumpernickel, pulling out the big guns.

“And I will be. Twilight Sparkle is sure that Fluttershy can have Gilda flying in less than a month. Griffons are incredibly tough, and while she does not acknowledge it, Fluttershy has strong natural healing abilities. If not for her handicaps she could have been one of the finest doctors in Equestria.” Pumpernickel gave a laugh, “I’d like to see one of the Royal Doctors splint a baby mouse’s leg, and have it take.”

“She is also not the only one in the household with magic,” Luna said thoughtfully.

The heavily-built stallion looked at his Princess in surprise.“You’re talking about little Curry Comb? But, didn’t you say that her magic was touch based and only effective on a subconscious level? She’d have to be in physical contact with Gilda for an extended period to have any effect on her. I can’t see Fluttershy allowing that. She might not let her own fears prevent her from treating Gilda, but there is no way she’s going to allow her brand new shiny daughter anywhere near a wounded and cranky griffon.”

Laminia glared at him. Having been married to her just under a year, Pumpernickel could tell that she had abandoned her current avenue of attack and was about to try and flank him. “Fine, if you’re insane enough to go back to that hellhole, I’m coming with you.”

“Thou art not, Hoof-maiden,” Luna said in a stern voice before Pumpernickel could put his hoof down, and possibly ending up sleeping on the couch till his next anniversary.

Laminia looked like she wanted to bite her Sovereign, but after a long, deep breath, she pulled her lips back down over her sharp teeth and growled, “I can’t just do nothing, I’ll go mad,” acknowledging with her words that she had conceded that she just wasn’t going to win this fight, with reservations. After all, Lumpy had dragged Luna in on his side, and that was cheating.

“There may be some service that I might assign to you that will be beneficial to us both,” said Luna, sounding so calm and reassuring that Pumpernickel knew something he was not going to like was going to be said in the next few moments.

“My Princess?” Pumpernickel said with a touch of panic in his eyes.

“Anything. If it will help keep Lumpy from getting any lumpier,” Laminia said, overriding her mate.

Luna paused as if to gather her thoughts, or merely for the dramatic effect. Luna did have a tendency toward the theatrical at times. “Gilda must be guarded. The future of her aerie and the relations between the Misty Mountain Kingdom and the Crystal Empire could well hang on her survival. Though I truly do not think Princess Gilda is in any great danger where she is, the consequences of any power struggle in the near vicinity to the Crystal Kingdom are dire enough that all possible precautions must be taken. Princess Sunny must reach maturity and take command from her aunt. That will never happen if Gilda does not survive her present convalescence.”

Pumpernickel hastily explained the strategy he had come up with and had not yet got around to mentioning, wanting very much to head the princess off from where he was afraid she was going, “I intend to spread the story that Gilda is personally teaching griffin culture to Prince Jake. I’m taking along a few pictures from before you reduced his age. I think they should impress the more warlike members of the aerie, particularly since they respect power so much and he made the Royal Guards in that one photo look like little colts. He was bigger than Gilda’s father, and he was the biggest griffon I have ever seen.

“I’ve also left Shadow Dash behind to watch over them,” he said almost as an afterthought.

Immediately Laminia replied, “Fluttershy will not allow him in the house. Stars, he scares the horseshoes off of Royal Guards on weekdays, just for fun, and you think meek little Fluttershy will just open her door to him? She knows me, and I'm fairly certain she trusts me more than she would any stranger.

“Thy gravid condition will be an asset in your plea. As one so recently come to a form of motherhood herself, I am certain that Fluttershy will offer you a roof over your head while thy husband galivants in dark and dangerous parts.”

“Say what, now?” Applejack exclaimed as she trotted toward the cowshed. The dozen cows who made it their home were all milling around outside. The normally placid ruminants were raising a ruckus, all of them talking at once.

“What’s up, Buttercup?” she asked the brown cow closest to her.

“There you are, Applejack. You just gotta fix this, don’t you know. It’s terrible. The Cowshed is haunted.”

That set the farm pony back on her heels and she cast a glance at the neatly painted shed as it stood there in the early morning sun looking just like it had every morning for as long as she could remember.

This particular herd of cows had been renting the shed from Sweet Apple Acres for longer than she’d been alive. For the most part, they’d been good tenants, their milk more than covering the upkeep of themselves and the shed, but they were prone to sudden excitement over the silliest thing, so Applejack took the idea the shed was haunted with a grain of salt.

“I’ll just go check it out,” Applejack offered while wondering if she was going to have to ask Fluttershy over to clear out whatever critter had taken up residence in the rafters yet again.

Trailed by the much bigger Buttercup, who threatened to tread on her heels, Applejack marched into the cowshed with her eyes lifted to check out the rafters, that being the most likely hiding spot for intrusive critters. With winter coming on it wasn’t unusual for a few opportunistic animals to seek out a warm place with lots of food to winter over. Applejack and the cows didn’t really have a problem with that, as long as they paid for their keep doing chores. It was the out and out freeloaders who only took without giving that burned her britches.

“See, it’s the strangest thing, don’t you know,” Buttercup said.

Applejack brought her head down from looking up into the roof to stare over at Buttercup, but as soon as she lowered her line of sight she was struck by an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. The woodwork in the barn was mostly unfinished, but given that limitation, it was in pretty much the same condition as the farmhouse kitchen the day before, glossy with polishing and the gleam of wax. The floors had been swept clean and then scrubbed till they were nearly white, and then on top of that, a coat of wax had been applied. No, on closer examination, it had to be two coats of wax. At this rate, the bees were going to have to work double shifts just to keep up. The walls and railings had likewise been cleaned and scrubbed. The only area of the shed that was not spic and span were the stalls the cows slept in.

“It was the same as always when we went to sleep, don’t you know. But when we woke up this morning it was like this,” Buttercup said with a quaver in her voice as she looked around with wide eyes. “Downright spooky it is."

Applejack heaved a sigh, caught between admiration and annoyance, with maybe just a little touch of jealousy if she was being honest with herself; and she always was.

“You needn’t fret, Buttercup. You don’t got a ghost problem, just a…” Applejack trailed off as she thought about how the prone to hysterics cows might react to the information that a nocturne Pony had spent the night cleaning the shed, at the time only a few hooves away from them.

“What’s that, Applejack?”

“Just a rogue maid looking for something to keep herself busy. I’ll have a word with her and she won’t bother you again.”

“Well now, Applejack,” Buttercup said, giving the inside of the shed a good look, “Could be that we wouldn’t mind her stopping by now and then. If she’d be willing to wear a cowbell, don’t you know. Just to let us know she’s around.”

“I swear, I expect to find the pigpen varnished next,” Applejack complained halfheartedly to Big Mac.

“Good worker,” Big Mac replied in a distracted tone as he watched Jake trotting down the lane with Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara as they headed out for another day at school.

“She’s making me feel guilty,” Applejack admitted grudgingly, and only because she knew that Big Mac was already aware of her feelings. “She's supposed to be a guest, she shouldn’t be doing nothing more than maybe helping clear the table, or giving Granny a hoof with the cooking. Instead, she’s doing things I’ve let slide for too long.”

“Can’t do everything. Got to decide what’s most important,” Big Mac said in his usual matter of fact way. Which might have been of more help if Applejack’s feelings were in any way based on rational objections and not on the instinctive reaction she felt toward a young, pretty mare moving in on her turf and showing her up. She wondered if Berry Punch and Cloudkicker had to deal with these sort of feelings in regard to Sneak Peek. Lyra and Bon Bon, who didn’t so much share Sweets, as folded him into their own relationship, were likely better able to deal with that situation.

“Well, it is only for a little while,” Applejack said in resignation. “I reckon I can deal with it for bit longer.”

There was nothing like the tired ache of well-used muscles, Goose thought as she sleepily stuck her muzzle into the large mug of hot chocolate Granny Smith had made for her. She’d been going soft working in the castle for the Princess, she conceded to herself. The last few days were the first time in weeks she’d worked up a good heavy sweat.

She flushed a little bit as the warm cocoa flowed into her belly. The rich chocolate flavor reminded her of celebrations from a much younger and much more carefree time. Of course, she’d been hiding under the kitchen table back then, less her ‘male’ relatives discovered her and shooed her away.

Her brothers, and some of her younger uncles, often exchanged tales around the dining table of how they had shadowed this, or that, norm. It was a bit of a contest between them to see who could get the closest, for the longest time.

Ponies in the street counted for little. They were so sense dead that even another norm could have shadowed them. But, a Royal Guard on sentry duty! That brought in the big points.

If you actually managed to use a magic marker to write a disparaging remark on the back of his helmet, that was worth a whole night of free drinks at the local guard hangout, with the tagged sentry paying.

They’d made it sound like so much fun that Goose had not been able to resist indulging herself a bit the night before. It had a been a bit scary working in the cowshed while the huge ruminants slumbered close enough for her to touch if she’d wanted to.

Goose had never seen a cow before coming to the farm, and found them frightening, especially when they loomed so high above her rather short stature.

Despite the fear, or maybe because of it, the experience had been the most exhilarating night she’d had since she was six. No wonder her male relatives found it so much fun. And, who knew all her practice at not being noticed while she cleaned around the nose-in-the-air crowd at the palace would come in so useful. Maybe one day she’d be as good as her big brother, Shadow Dash, who had once tagged the commander of the day watch, in his office, in the middle of the day.

“Hello baby sister,” a familiar quiet voice said from just behind her left ear.

Granny blinked her eyes and looked up at where Goose was clinging to the rafters with all four legs. “What in tarnation are you doing up there girl? You git down here. Y’all are getting hoofmarks on the nice clean ceiling you just scrubbed last night.”

As Goose fluttered down to the floor, Granny Smith turned her attention to the Nocturne stallion standing at parade rest in the middle of her kitchen and gave him a wide smile. “Well, ain’t you just as fine as frog hair. Makes me wish I was fifty years younger. Get you a cup of tea?”

“What’s the matter, Curry?” Jake asked. He stretched out his neck and nibbled on a loose strand of her hair, earning himself a swat across the nose, to which he reacted to by tossing up his head and snorting snot at Curry. For her part, she sidestepped the nasal bombardment with the ease of long practice.

“Yeah, you look as down as a scared turtle,” Apple Bloom remarked.

Diamond Tiara, who had retreated beyond splatter range, gave Jake a wide berth as she edged around him and came up beside Curry. “You know that you can tell me, anything,” she said in a sympathetic voice, which didn’t quite hide the burning curiosity behind her words.

“Ah, it ain’t nothing. Mom has this really wicked cool patient, but she wouldn’t let me stay at home to help look after it,” Curry said. She gave an innocent clump of dirt a sharp kick, sending a bit of grit pattering against the nearby bushes.

“Hey, watch where you're throwing that stuff. Who knows where it’s been,” a familiar, cranky, voice called out.

Di shied back on her hind legs, while Apple Bloom simply twitched an ear and Curry all but ran toward the talking bush and gave it a big hug, upon which it faded away revealing a chestnut brown Unicorn with a battered, and much patched, fedora on his head. “Stinky!” the small girl cried out in pleasure, her former cloudy expression clearing up. “Where you been hiding?”

The chestnut unicorn took off his hat and slapped it against his flank a few times to shake out the dirt before putting it back on his head. Curry couldn’t help but think his usual grumpy expression lacked a certain amount of authenticity as he said,” Been on my honeymoon, haven’t I? Think I got nothing better to do than hanging around a bunch of runny-nosed foals?”

“Keep away from him, Curry. You might catch something,” Di said, turning up her nose as she looked at the pony, who despite a neatly groomed coat, mane, and tail, still managed to look like he’d just crawled out of a cardboard box in some dirty alley.

“Oh, Stinky’s cool,” Curry reassured her. “And what have I told you about being polite?”

Di gritted her teeth, the sound of them grinding together audible for several strides and plastering a big tooth-baring smile on her face, said,” Pardon me, Mr. Stinky.”

“You don’t happen to have an assignment for us, Private… I mean Sneak Peek. Or ain’t you a private detective no more?” Apple Bloom said, starting out excited, and then becoming less so as she finished.

“Well, as it happens. I could use a hoof from you and a few of your friends. Some press ponies from Canterlot are scheduled to show up on the train just after lunch. I was wondering if the foals on the school paper might be interested in meeting them?”

“Press from Canterlot?” Di asked, her head and ears coming up while her eyes glistened with excitement.

“I don’t know,” Apple Bloom said uncertainly. “We’d still be in class. And even if we didn’t have school, what would we ask them?”

“Oh, I might be able to come up with a few questions for you if it came to that. Or maybe we’ll do something else with them. I’m still making up my mind. Whatever happens. I can promise that one way or another It will be a real education. Do you think Miss Cheerilee might let you out early for it? I could have Berry Punch ask her if you think it would do any good.”

“A field trip you mean?” Apple Bloom asked, now showing almost as much interest as Di.

“I don’t work on the school newspaper. Could I come anyway?” Curry asked, she didn’t have any interest in asking a bunch of strange ponies questions unless they were ‘strange’ ponies, but a field trip was a field trip.

“Oh, you have to be there,” Stinky said, his voice gleeful. “I just wouldn’t be as much fun without you. I’m sure Featherweight would be only too happy to make you a reporter.”

Her heartbeat still racing, but with all four hooves back on the floor, Goose started to introduce her brother, “This is my oldest brother, S--”

“Shadow, just Shadow. Very pleased to meet you, Granny Smith.”

“Likewise I’m sure, young feller my lad. I take it yer come to take young Goose off to that fur-en-er tent that they went and filled up the old fairground with?”

“You take it right, Granny Smith.”

“Now then, no need to be so formal. I told Goose, and as you’re her brother, I’ll tell you, it’s just, Granny.”

“I am honored, Granny,” Shadow Dash said, in his best lady-killer tone. Much to Goose’s embarrassment he gave the elderly earth pony a bow, and then took her left front hoof and gave it a brushing kiss.

“Oh, my, you are a bad one, ain’t you. You ought to save your wiles for someone who can appreciate it,” Granny chided him, blushing a little bit despite her words.

“I only offer what is due you for taking such good care of my baby sister,” Shadow said, his voice losing its flirtatious edge and turning serious.

Turning his attention to Goose, he told her, “Pack your things, Goose and you can show me this monstrosity we’ll be living in till Princess Luna gets bored with it.” A sudden rumble from his tummy broke the serious mode, and Goose caught his eyes flicking toward the frying pan sitting on the stove, still giving off the odor of freshly cooked pancakes.

“Now, jest you hold on, young feller. Goose has put in a hard day’s… night’s work. She might not be wanting to say so, but she’s plumb tuckered, and I reckon you likely are as well. Happens we’uns got a freshly made up room in the attic, even has its own entrance for pegasus folks. You’re more than welcome to it for the day.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” Shadow protested, but Goose could see the signs of weariness around his eyes even as he said it.

Letting out a huge yawn that seemed to go on and on, Goose blinked her eyes to bring a bit of wetness to them as she looked blearily at her big brother. “I am a little bit tired,” she said in a tone contrived to indicate she was about to fall over right where she stood, but that she’d struggle to stay awake if that was what her big brother wanted.

Her brother gave Goose a suspicious look that taxed her ability to maintain the facade, even though she really was bone weary, but before his knowing look could break down her resistance Granny Smith horned in with her own two bits.

“That’s settled then. Goose, you show your brother up to his room. You know the way. I’d be taking him up myself,” she said, giving Shadow an appreciative look that caused Goose’s cheeks to heat. “But, I reckon my hips ain't up to the job.” Creakily getting out her chair, she walked stiff-legged over to the stove. “While you’re doing that, I’ll cook him up a mess of vittles. Come straight back down once you’ve dropped off your kit, Shadow. You do got a kit around somewhere? Never knew a soldier pony to be without one.”

When it looked like Shadow would continue protesting, she turned and gave him a glare. “None of that from you, youngster. You listen to Granny, or I’ll be having you cutting a whole hooffull of willow switches. you see if I won’t. Get on with you. Have a good meal, a good sleep, and you can have supper with us before you head out come nightfall. Let Goose make a proper goodbye of it to everypony before you and her leave.”

Goose watched in amazement as her indomitable brother who had forged unnumbered Royal Guards out of Cadets using a combination of profanity and direct threats, folded like a cheap suit and surrendered without another word. “I have no choice it would seem. To tell the truth, I spent the entire night in a tree with no company but some amorous bats. Show me the way to my room, Kite. I can already taste Granny’s pancakes.”

Goose smiled as her brother used the nickname coined by her youngest, older brothers. By doing so he was indicating he was off duty, and more importantly, in a place, he considered a proper sanctuary where he could let his guard down.

“Now children, I expect written reports on your experience and what you learn from it. Remember this is a school assignment and not simply an afternoon off,” Miss Cheerilee said in a loud firm voice that competed with the constant loud whispering of excited colts and fillies making plans for their unscheduled, unsupervised, field trip.

Because it had seemed unfair to only allow those foals associated with the school newspaper time off, Miss Cheerilee had quickly divided the rest of the class into groups and given them assignments to complete. Twist would be in charge of a group touring several bakeries and her aunt’s candy shop, other older foals would be in charge of other groups that would visit businesses in Ponyville to ask questions of the adults who ran them.

There was some overlap, every group insisted that the ice cream parlor, Lickity Split, be included in their list of businesses to visit. In order to prevent a war, Miss Cheerilee decreed that all the groups would gather at Lickity Split at the end of the day to compare notes, and indulge sweet tooths. She herself would be spending the afternoon there, grading papers and making sure that the students didn’t rush through their assignments and spend the bulk of the afternoon spoiling their appetites.

The fact that her sister, Berry Punch had invited her to get together this afternoon and gossip about her new husband and honeymoon had nothing to do with her decision to send the entire school off on a mostly unsupervised field trip. Really.

“Sure you don’t want to come along with my group?” Curry asked Jake.

“Nuh, huh, Twist is going to take me and Pipsqueak and some other ponies to see how Bon Bon makes candy. And we’ll be able to visit with Sweets too,” Jake replied with a shake of his head.

“Well. Okay, but don't make a nuisance of yourself. And don’t eat too much candy.”

“Can’t. Never enough candy,” Jake said, exchanging low hooves with Pipsqueak.

“Someone is getting too big for his britches, I see,” Curry said as she fought to keep a stern look on her face.

Jake just blew her a raspberry and said, “You just wish you was with us,” before turning and trotting off with his group.

“They grow up so fast,” Curry said, wiping a mock tear from her eyes. She looked up to where Featherweight was hovering in the sky. “Stinky had just better be ready to spring for ice-cream to make up for us missing out on the candy shop.”

Curry had to swallow to keep from drooling. Lickity Split was almost her most favorite store in Ponyville. Unlike Bon Bon, who had quickly started making human-sized confections, Lickety continued to serve Curry pony sized ice-cream cones and sundaes. She always ended up with more than she could eat, not that she let something like that stop her from ordering large sizes, as there was always at least one young pony nearby who was more than eager to take care of her leftovers.

“Noo zeen. Whar is yo' yo'ngsters gahn this mornin?" a strangely familiar voice asked in a badly garbled speech that seemed to contain at least six different and distinct accents.

“Huh?” The entire group of foals turned as one and stared at the apparition that had popped out of nowhere to address them. A dirty, literally, gray pony stood there wearing bib-overalls and sporting a straw hat draped limply over his head that looked like he’d recently gotten hungry and taken several bites out of it. A large hay-seed cutie mark decorated his flank. He had one hoof stuck through his suspenders while he idly scratched an itch on his chest. A strand of straw nearly long enough to reach the ground dangled through a gap in his hugely prominent buck teeth, that was accompanied by a set of choppers that would have looked large on a fully grown Jake and that seemed to be trying to overflow this pony’s mouth.

As one, ever foal there took one step backward, the pegasi flapping a few strokes higher.

“Do you know him?” Curry whispered out of the corner of her mouth at Di.

“Do I look like the sort of pony who would, like, associate with something like that? Ask Apple Bloom. He’s likely a relative.”

“I ain’t never seed, I mean, seen, him before,” Apple Bloom said nervously, ignoring Diamond Tiara’s insult as she stared at the weird pony in front of them.

A flash of light announced that Featherweight had snapped a picture. “I’ll give this to the Sheriff. Maybe the poor pony escaped from a home for the nutty,” he said.

“Maybe Pinkie Pie would know him,” Sweetie Belle suggested. When that caused all her friends to stare at her, she retorted defensively. “Oh, sure, like you weren’t all thinking the same thing.”

“I em hoort und deesmeyed thet nune-a ooff yuoo ungreteffool sprets recugneeze-a me-a.”

Looking left and right, and up in the air, Curry was sort of pleased to see that every other pony seemed as uncomprehending as she was.

“Pardon me,” Sweetie Belle said, from safely behind Apple Blossom. “Do you speak Equestrian.”

“Of course ah speak it. I’ve been speakin' it puffickly clearly all this hyar time. Is yo' deef.”

Curry thought she could almost make out what he was saying. Maybe it was those huge over-sized teeth that filled his mouth to overflowing that was the problem. “Anyone here speak Dentist?” she asked jokingly.

“I speak gibberish-- I mean dentist,” the surprising answer came from the back of the crowd. The foals parted and revealed an earth pony mare with a plum-colored coat and a raspberry shaded mane. Her flank was decorated with a cutie mark consisting of a bunch of grapes and a strawberry. She was a familiar and welcome sight.

“Berry Punch,” Curry said happily. “You can understand what he’s saying?”

“Why sure. No problem,” the mare answered in a stilted voice, lifting a hoof halfway through her sentence to look at a piece of paper stuck to the bottom of it.

“Wait a second. I know you,” Di exclaimed, pointing a hoof at the weird pony. “You’re that disgusting private detective, you married the town---”

Recognizing the direction Di was going, if not the specific destination, Curry gave her trainee a sharp kick in the ankle to derail her rant, before she said something really bad.

The small girl, and every foal with her turned toward the grey pony, looking at him with varying degrees of suspicion.

“Dang. Stinky. How’d I miss that?” A chagrined Curry said after a moment. She looked sideways at Di and said, “Good eyes, Diamond Tiara.”

“It is my talent, after all,” The rich pony preened. “Accessorizing. Everything about him is just screaming wrong, wrong, wrong. The old hat he usually wears might be filthy and disgusting, but it’s perfect for him, unlike that straw monstrosity he’s wearing now.”

“Why the disguise, Sneak Peek?” Scootaloo asked. “Are you on the trail of an international crime syndicate?”

The pony lifted a hoof and extracted the overly-large pair of false teeth from his mouth. “Oh, something far more vile and evil than that,” he said. “Like I told some of you this morning, the Canterlot Press Corps is coming to town,” Looking over at Berry Punch, he smiled. “Tell Colgate that her prop teeth worked a treat. I owe her.”

“I don’t understand,” Featherweight called from overhead, snapping a picture of Sneaky with the false teeth floating in front of him. “You’re a press pony. Aren’t they the same as you?”

“Exactly,” Sneak Peek said with a feral grin that caused several foals who were not familiar with him to step back even further than when they had merely thought he was a strange, stranger.

“So what do you want us to do?” Scootaloo asked, her wings vibrating slightly in excitement. Curry smiled, the Pegasus and her had a lot in common. She had no idea what Stinky was up to, or why he was doing it, but it was bound to be a lot of fun, so she was in.

“No way, no how, no ever,” Curry said empathically as Stinky held up the abomination in front of her. She shrank back from the ball gown Rarity had made for her like it was a cross and she was a vampire. “I don’t know how you got your hooves on that, but I am never, ever, wearing it again. It makes me look like a wedding cake.”

“It makes you look like a princess,” Diamond Tiara disagreed, looking at the glittering jewel bestrewn dress with sparkling eyes.

“You are a princess. You need to look like one,” Sweetie Belle said at the same time in a firm voice.

The two feminine fillies exchanged startled looks from their position on either side of Curry, as they shoulder shoved her toward Sneaky and the dress. Blank flank almost touching cutie marked flank. Both realized at the same time that they had unconsciously been worked cooperatively together to herd Curry toward Sneak Peek.

A silent message passed from one set of eyes to the other, “Just this once, for the sake of fashion.”

“Look, short and noisy, these ‘colleagues’ of mine are coming to Ponyville for one reason, to get some sort of a hook on your little brother that they can spin into a front-page headline.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Scootaloo asked. “He’ll be famous.”

Stinky’s response was to make an expansive move with a hoof in the direction of Scootaloo, while saying, “All they need is a picture of you and Rainbow and the headline would be 'Flightless Blank Flank Stalks Element of Loyalty.' Would you want your friend to have to live through that, Gabby Gums?"

“What? I’m not a stalker. I just think Rainbow Dash is the coolest pony in Equestria. She’s even my honorary big sister.”

Stinky looked at Curry while gesturing at the flustered Scootaloo. “Trust me, undersized. Cute and cuddly doesn’t sell. Not as far as these ponies are concerned. They think the nastier and more cynical they act, the more it proves how hard-core they are.”

“But you’re not like that. How can you be sure they are,” Curry pointed out.

“Awww, our iddle dickens is just so cuuute and innocent,” Sneaky said, gently chucking her under the chin with a hoof. “Filly, I’m what they want to be when they grow up. Just be glad I think being on your side is more fun than the alternative.”

“No need to get nasty,” Curry scowled at him as she swatted at his hoof. “Okay. I’ll do it. But only for Jake, and not because it’s a Princess dress and all girls are supposed to love princess dresses because I don’t.”

“That’s the Snipe I love and adore. Now, let's discuss how you go about gelding a press corp. Trust me. It’ll be fun.”

Turning to the rest of the foal, Stinky addressed them. “Now some of you have worked with me before, so you know the drill. The rest of you just play along.” He pulled out some notes and handed them to the Cutie Mark Crusaders.”

“What about me?” Diamond Tiara demanded.

“You’re Princess Moonlight Dancing on Water’s hoofmaiden, of course. Only the second most important pony in her kingdom. Your job is to look down your nose at any pony who tries to get too close to her. Treat them like something you’d wipe off your hooves before going inside. They’ll lap it up.”

“Well, I suppose I could manage to play that part,” Diamond Tiara said with faux modesty, causing every foal in hearing range to choke back their laughter, except for the ones who didn’t bother to try.

There are newsponies in Equestria who will travel to the farthest reaches of the known world to find stories and bring them back to their loyal readers. Reporters like Lotus Lane, Ploughboy, Miss Quote, whose stories educate and inform.

Reporters who will crouch behind debris while a stride away from them the Elements of Harmony combat Changelings in a life or death struggle.

Reporters who will live among the griffons for a year to learn about their culture so they can give a more accurate report on their likely behavior in regard to policies created by Princess Celestia.

Reporters who actually fought with others like them to have the privilege of attending Princess Luna’s first press conference after returning to Equestria, rather than taking shelter in the nearest basement bar till the expected apocalypse was over.

Reporters who consider interviewing a five-year-old prince a puff piece of no interest at all.

Then, there are the unicorn newsponies currently riding the train to Ponyville.

Who considered investigative journalism to consist of hanging out in low bars listening to disgruntled ponies complaining about their employers.

Who regarded anything more than a half-hour trot from their particular press-room as being in the hinterlands, and not worthy of a true newsponies attention.

Who consider speculating about Princess Cadence’s possible Baby Bump the most significant news story of the decade, if not the eon, matched only by those who had a pool going in regards to which lucky, or unlucky as the case might be, stallion first had a tryst with Princess Luna.

The pool also had a few side bets regarding the likely fate of said stallion, ranging from being treated to a lifetime of luxury, to getting himself devoured for poor performance, maybe even for a good performance if Luna was feeling particularly peckish after such strenuous activity.

Who reacted to the idea of interviewing a five-year-old prince with zero experience with the press the same way sharks behave with fresh chum in the water.

Quick Quotes looked up from where he was forging an extra zero to his expense account receipts, silently cursing the motion of the train and the low probability of getting back to Canterlot before happy hour at his favorite bar. He would have much rather pieced together his article from a combination of other reporter's pieces and the official news release, after adding a few salacious tidbits and at least one "Some ponies say that..." but his editor had marched him down to the train station, forced a ticket into his mouth, and watched the train car to make sure he didn't escape before it began the horribly long trip to rustic Ponyville. The muddy white, unicorn with splashes of black decorating his hide shifted restlessly on the lounge that barely contained him. “Why do you suppose Sun Butt is hiding him all the way out in here in podunk land?” Quick Quote asked his rival, and sometimes drinking companion, Poison Pen.

“I heard she’s doesn’t want him becoming the figurehead and rallying point of some rival political faction,” the shiny, bilious green unicorn answered. His sly voice nearly as poisonous in tone as his hide in appearance.

“Word is that old Blustery is trying to start something up like that,” Headline, a yellow pony with a washed out red mane and tail, remarked.

“I hear Blustery is in Chrysanthemum’s saddle bag. Bought and paid for.” Another pony named Clipart said from across the aisle.

Poison Pen smirked. “I hear that Chrysanthemum has his eyes on the throne, also that he used to have a sister who would have inherited the title. Disappeared out of her crib when he was only four.”

“I hadn’t heard that one,” a purplish unicorn with a plum-colored mane named, Prose, said. “Is it new?”

“Got any documentation?” White Out, a grossly overweight unicorn pony with a pasty white hide and a black streaked mane asked from where he threatened to overflow his lounge. His voice was a bit raspy as his lungs protested the effort to inflate under the layers of fat marbling his sides.

There was silence for a moment, and then the entire car of ponies burst into laughter.

“Good one,” Headline said, wiping a tear from his eye.

“The family clearly covered it up, bribed the hospital staff where she was born and destroyed all documentation,” Conspiracy said from where he sat in a corner, huddled under his floor-length black duster.

“Well, obviously,’ several ponies echoed each other while passing a bottle back and forth.

“Think this prince will survive?” Quick Quote asked. “Word is, he was an adult, and her Scaredyness turned him into a colt, wiped his memory.”

“Where’d he come from, anyway?” Prose asked.

Headline shrugged. “No pony knows.”

“So, could be anywhere. Maybe even the moon,” White Out suggested.

“Maybe he’s the son of Darkness’ demon lover?” Poison Pen suggested.

“Anyone know if he has bat wings? Might be a freak Nocturne.”

“Oh, that would be good! But nah. Rosey on the Society beat said he had normal pegasus wings.”

“Too bad. What about the horn. Heard that there was some big pegasus running around with a fake horn a few weeks back.”

“Surgical implant?” somepony tossed out.

“Oh. I like that one. Have to get some quotes from some doctors who do horn enhancement surgery, see if it could be done.”

“Think he might be a plant, to stir things up, give Chrysanthemum some leverage? Or draw him out, if Sun Butt is behind it.”

“The Baron’s not stupid. He knows there is no way he or any of his cronies could ever sit on the throne. Getting control of the pony who might would the next best thing, however.”

“An alicorn patsy, in his pocket. Could have possibilities.”

“Sun Butt has been around a long time. Might be encouraged to let some fresh blood have a shot.”

“The black bitch is no threat; the entire country would revolt if she tried to rule on her own.”

“Don’t know. Hear her numbers are climbing.”

“That would stop if they found out she’s been working her way through the Night Guard.”

“Won’t work. They’re stupid loyal to the crown, you’ll never find one willing to front a tell-all story like that.”

“Think she might be doing it? For real I mean? Seeing as how they’re so loyal and all.”

“She’s got that big honking tent set up outside of this hick town. Love-nest maybe?”

“Who’s staffing it? Lots of buff Stallions by any chance?”

“Don’t know. Maybe, if it’s not too far from the train station we could give it a look see.”

“What about the pet?”

“What pet?”

“The weird looking thing dressed like a cake that came to the reception with the new prince. Sun Butt introduced her as a Princess Passing Water or something like that.”

“Oh, that thing. Got to be one of her jokes. Likely just some clever animal that can mimic pony speech.”

“Like Griffons,” Poison Pen snarked, causing another eruption of mean laughter.
The train car jolted slightly, causing the ponies inside to glance out the windows. “Look’s like we’re arriving. First thing I’m going to do is find myself a bar. Can’t believe they don’t serve anything hard on this tinker-toy,” Quick Quotes said.

Wooshter flapped his wings and half walked, half flew, over to the train window and peeked out the top pane at the busy platform outside as if it were filled with pegasus-eating sharks instead of disembarking reporters. Admittedly, the distinction was fairly thin. “I say, looks like we’re here,” the gangly brown Pegasus said in a morose tone. “You’re sure she’ll refuse me?” he asked Fancy Pants, for about the hundredth time.

That dapper gentlepony made a check mark on the racing form he had been perusing before looking out the window at the train platform they had pulled up to, and then over at his awkward companion. Despite his first impression, Fancy Pants had taken a bit of a shine to the colt, although he still was not quite willing to put in the years worth of work that could turn Wooshter into a gentlestallion. Or perhaps decades. There was a good heart under that gormless exterior, but the same could be said for a golden retriever, that didn’t mean you let it run loose in at a high society party.

"I say, the odds of you maintaining your treasured bachelor status are quite high, young colt. Trust me on this. She'll say no. She might even be nice about it. But, that I can’t promise.”

“I don’t mind if she’s not nice, just so long as she says no. I say it was awfully swell of you to come along with me. Moral support and all that, what,” Wooshter said.

“Not at all, dear chap. Think nothing of it. I’m at loose ends at the moment and I have a couple of friends in town I’m looking forward to seeing in more relaxed surroundings. No need to thank me. We just happened to be going in the same direction.”

“I suppose we might as well get ready to leave,” Wooshter said, looking around the train car in a vague way. “Now where did I put my bag?” he muttered.

“In the overhead rack,” Fancy Pants said, using his horn as a pointer. “No need to rush. The train will be laying over for at least a half-hour to unload. Give the crush time to subside.” As he talked, Fancy Pant twisted an ear in the direction of the car ahead of him, from which loud nasty laughter had emerged all through the train trip.

It wasn’t a concern for himself that had him delaying his exit till the reporters had cleared the platform. He personally had no fear of the Filth estate: his personal term for the segment of the press riding in the car in front of theirs. They knew to step warily around him ever since he shut the doors on the Equestrian World News by simply remarking in passing that he had cured his pet bird’s diarrhea by no longer using that particular publication to cover the bottom of the poor thing’s cage. Readership had fallen off a cliff. Not that there weren’t plenty of others of the same ilk ready to take up the slack.

No, he had nothing to personally fear from the gutter press, but he would not be responsible for focusing their attention on either Twilight or Rarity or for that matter, Princess Moonlight, by allowing them to be aware of his visit.

The business area of the train platform contained a large picture window, and Curry had glanced in it, or more correctly, at it, while waiting for her cue to advance out onto the platform. The image she saw reflecting back at her was wonderful. She looked like Cinderella in her ball gown. She lifted a hand to her thoroughly brushed mane, wishing she had a tiara to complete the picture. The gesture reminded her that Stinky had made her take off her headband with the big fake ears. Her head felt bare without it, and even normal noises seemed just slightly quieter with Rarity’s magical accessory removed. She reminded herself that it would be a bad idea to get too used to relying on magical tools, but she missed the fine degree of hearing she enjoyed with the headband. At least she wasn’t at home and needing its help understanding the household critters. Without it, she couldn’t even hear a mousse chitter, let alone try to figure out if he was hungry, or complaining that the badger had stepped on his tail.

“Be off with you Knave!” Diamond Tiara, who was standing alongside Curry, said quietly with a scornful sniff. “No, no, needs to be haughtier,” she muttered. “How dare you! Be off with you! Does that sound right to you, Curry?”

“Sounds perfectly natural to me,” Apple Bloom said from behind them.

From somewhere Sneaky had produced some second-hoof fedoras, one of which, with a scribbled press pass stuck in the hat band was perched on Apple Bloom’s head. It was a bit large and she had to keep using a hoof to push it back on her head each time it slid forward over her eyes.

“Why, thank you…” Di started to say in a pleased voice, only to narrow her eyes as she twisted her head around to glare at her temporary roommate. “Just what is that suppose to mean?”

“Oh yeah, you got the snotty high-falutin noble thing down perfectly,” Scootaloo said. Along with Sweetie Belle, she was wearing an identical, if slightly better fitting, fedora to the one Apple Bloom had on her head.

“Sure does come naturally to you,” Sweetie Belle agreed, nodding her head, something her horn allowed her to do with impunity as the very tip of it was sticking through a hole in her hat brim and helped keep it from sliding off her head.

“Why you little---”

“Focus Di,” Curry growled, reaching over and digging her fingers into Di’s mane. as much to steady her own nerves as to stop the bad-tempered pony from lunging at the press.

Stinky had talked up how wicked and evil these reporters were so much that she was actually feeling a bit nervous about this whole thing. All she had for backup, after all, were a bunch of foals her own age, against wicked bad adult ponies. In her mind's eye, she could see them looming over her, as tall as Jake had been, bulging with muscles and eyes gleaming like Nazgul’s steeds.

“Curry?” Di said. “Curry. That’s the signal,” Di repeated, this time sticking her head in the small of Curry’s back and shoving her around the corner of the train office and out onto the platform. Directly in the path of the Canterlot press ponies. Curry froze in place, they froze in place, and they all stared at each other in various degrees of surprise.

Pathetic Curry couldn’t think of any other word to use. Fat, scrawny, blown, swaybacked, mangy... She was looking at the biggest collection of glue factory candidates she’d seen since she arrived in Equestria. Every last bit of her nervousness disappeared, and she wasn’t acting in the least little bit when she gave them a look of total disdain. Back home she would have reported their owners to the ASPCA, but this pathetic bunch of ponies had done this to themselves. What a bunch of losers.

The Canterlot press ponies came to a messy halt as they were confronted by a bizarre apparition totally outside their experience. It looked like an upside down ice-cream cone, as broad as a pony’s stance at the base, tapering to a small brown nut of a face that glared at them from the top of the frothy confection that was its dress.

The press ponies being one and all avowed cynics of the highest order were, of course, aware of the cost of everything, and the value of nothing. Bloodshot and jaundiced eyes ran over the unique fashion creation in front of them, assessing the stitching, the diamond chip highlights, the jewel-encrusted hem, and collar. The frothy lace sleeves. They had no idea if the outfit was stylish, or of any artistic merit, but one and all, they came to the same conclusion: expensive, very, very expensive. An original creation of the finest workponyship. Easily worth their yearly salary plus their padded expense account.

While none of the newsponies had been on the allowed list for the recent reception that had introduced Prince Jake Apple and Princess Moonlight Dancing On Water, to the public, they had read the news report on it. They knew that the little creature had to be the mysterious Princess Moonlight. Carefully they looked around and failed to spot any guards who might step in, not to mention step ‘on’, if they got to close. As far as they could tell, she was wide-open.

With that realization, everypony of them mutually decided, that this, whatever-it-was, was opportunity knocking. Notebooks came out, pencils were licked, and a mental Rolodex of intrusive questions was leafed through.

Before any of the headline-hungry hoard could yell out a question, a flashbulb went off and a small pegasus colt zoomed into the scene, swooping around the creature and taking picture after picture. At the same time, a whole herd of foals stampeded onto the platform, swarming all around the press ponies’ hooves before spilling out to form a solid barrier between them and the gown-clad freak.

Confronted with a hoard of foals at play, the normal reaction of the newsponies would have been to sneer at the cheerful good-natured play, and if there were no witnesses, of an adult nature, present, they very likely would have taken great pleasure in disrupting the foal’s fun. This situation being what it was, they had a very strong inclination to wade into the hoard of foals, shoving and kicking them out of the way to get to their target.

Several things stopped them from taking such actions. One: just because they couldn’t see a guard, didn’t mean there wasn’t one. Some of them knew that from very painful experience. Two: the act of shoving the foals out of their way might scare off their big score. Three: Foals had a nasty habit of biting when you tried to bully them and there were a lot of them here.

Milling around the scrum of foals that separated them from Princess Moonlight, they contemplated their individual options. It never occurred to them to cooperate in any way, shape, or form, to achieve a mutually beneficial result.

Before they could come up with anything, questions began to pepper their target.

“Princess Moonlight, Princess Moonlight, Princess Moonlight,” the three fillies with press passes stuck in the brims of their hats shouted.

“How did your meeting with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna go?”

“Are you serious about insisting Ponyville is your ancestral home, and all ponies living here must become your slaves, or leave within twenty-four hours.”

“Did you agree to let the Alicorn prince free? Or are you still holding him captive in your castle.”

The large crowd of foals in back of the first three all shouted out variations of their questions.

Each and everypony of the newsponies experienced a sudden epiphany. Princess Moonlight was a curiosity. A surefire headline on a slow-news-day, and likely an ongoing source for speculative stories, but an interview, or tell-all story about an Alicorn stallion, even if only a colt. That was front page all the way.

They started to pay attention much more closely, waiting to see if they’d be able to divine the location of Prince Jake from the way Princess Moonlight answered the questions being tossed her way.

“Begone with you!” a magenta colored foal yelled as she stepped out from behind the princess. “My mistress has no time for such uncouth rabble. You don’t even have your cutie marks yet,” she said as she turned slightly and displayed the Tiara cutie mark on her flank.

“Does your mistress really think she can continue to hold the prince captive?” a foal with a yellow coat and a red mane demanded as she pushed forward till she was nose to nose with the Tiara foal.

“You have no idea how powerful my mistress is. Not even Princess Celestia or her powerful sister can penetrate the magic she has cast around her domicile. If they ever wish to see their beloved prince again they will treat with her, or suffer the consequences.”

“Treat? Does someone have treats?” came a question from the main scrum of ponies. The speaker was quickly shushed by his companions.

Quick Quote took advantage of the sudden disruption of the foal’s game to call out in what he imagined was a good-humored manner befitting an adult indulging a bunch of snot-nosed foals, “Oh, mighty Princess Moonlight, where is your domicile?”

The entire group of foals went silent and the newspony found himself the target of numerous eyes that were looking at him with varying degrees of derision.

“What a loser,” came a voice from inside the herd.

It was followed by another voice yelling out, “Let’s go someplace else.”

“Yeah, where there are no weird fat ponies.”

As one the entire herd of foals and the princess turned and fled from the platform. The princess was bracketed by the magenta foal and a blank flank filly with a light gray coat and a mulberry mane. She had her paws resting in the middle of the fillies’ backs and was using that support to help herself make long high strides as they ran away at a pace the newsponies could not hope to match.

Racing after the foals, though a more proper term, might have been limping, or staggering, not to mention wheezing, the newsponies got to the corner or the platform just in time to see the herd of foals dispersing in all directions. Of the distinctive form of the princess, there was no sign.

With no plan and no cooperation, the newsponies split up, each one taking off after one of the dispersing foals, hoping that their target would lead them to the Princess, and then the Prince.

Curry looked over the edge of the railway office roof as the spavined ponies waddled and limped down Manestreet. “Coast is clear,” she hissed down to where Diamond Tiara was huddled inside a barrel laying on its side, along with Curry’s ball gown. The rich little pony’s mane was disarrayed and her coat smudged with dirt, but she looked up at Curry with eyes that gleamed from excitement, and there was a smile on her face that actually looked genuine. She eased herself out of the barrel, carefully pulling Curry’s dress along and trying to avoid smudging it more than necessary, even if that meant her own coat picked up even more dust.

Once again the quick release feature Curry had insisted Rarity build into the dress had come in handy. It had been the work of moments to skin out of it, step on Di and Sweetie Belle’s backs and jump to the roof of the station.

You would have thought that in a world with Pegasi, the stupid jerks chasing them might have glanced upward at least once when they couldn’t see her in the street, she thought in disdain.

Rolling herself up the slope of the roof, in order to keep a low profile, Curry slid down the other side and eased herself over the edge. She hung from her hands for a moment before dropping to the platform with a small grunt. Feeling very satisfied with herself she stood up while brushing herself off, and came face to muzzle with a gangly brown pegasus who was looking at her with a startled expression, his eyes bulging slightly.

Before Curry could react, the pony dropped to his front knees in front of her, while muttering something under his breath. She thought she picked up ‘hope’ and ‘right’, but could not be sure. She fumbled in one of the little pouches built into her skirt for her headband, but before she could slip it over her head the pegasus blurted out, “Princess Moonlight, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Halfway down the platform, Fancy Pants slapped a hoof to his forehead in exasperation. So much for arranging an appointment and calmly and clearly explaining the situation to the princess and her mother.

Well, at least there was no worry about the young Snipe accepting the proposal. He listened for the princess’ reply, the silence growing longer and longer, till at last, she spoke.

“Sure. Why not?”

A startled Fancy Pants lurched forward, and his front hoof skidded out from under him as he performed his first face plant since his early teenage growth spurt had left him uncoordinated and clumsy. Stars floated around his head as his chin slammed into the platform.

Curry grinned in satisfaction as the Pegasus’ face fell and a look of total disbelief and shock filled his eyes. That would teach him to play such a stupid joke on her.

“Well, let me know when the wedding is. Right now there’s an ice-cream sundae with my name on it waiting. I got to git there before it melts.” With a casual wave, she darted off the platform, after taking a quick look to make sure none of the glue-factory rejects were hanging around.

“Afternoon, Granny. Goose Down still sleeping?” Applejack said as she glanced into the kitchen.

“Yep,” Granny Smith looked at the clock, “But I were about to wake her up.”

“Don’t bother, I’ll see to it,” Applejack said, turning and heading for the stairs.

Granny lifted a hoof to forestall her granddaughter but paused as a mischievous expression crossed her face, and she allowed Applejack to carry on without speaking up.

Granny chuckled softly to herself as Applejack disappeared up the stairs. She’d been neglecting her duties for too long, she thought. As Matriarch of the Apple clan, it was her duty to make sure the family’s good strong bloodline continued. She’d been letting things slide, hoping Applejack would meet a nice strong feller on her own, but Applejack was almost twenty-two now, another year and she’d be an old maid on the shelf, past her best before date. Time for Granny to put her hoof down and make a few pre-emptive arrangements.

Goose was a good hard worker and her big brother looked like he was cut from the same mold. Watching the way he acted around Goose, Granny could tell he was a steady dependable pony who was good with foals and young’uns. He was likely more than ready to settle down and raise up some of his own. A sudden frown crossed her face. Unless he already had? She considered that for a moment, and then gave a shrug. She’d cross that bridge when she came to it. All she could do for now was to start throwing a few stallions Applejack’s way. Not just Applejack either. Past time Big Mac stopped dilly-dallying. Especially as he had a heck of a lot more options than his sister. She started running down the list of her Granddaughter’s friends in her mind, considering which one of them might make a good match for Big Mac.

City folk who thought farmers were uncomplicated, even simple, never really stopped to consider the amount of time a farm pony had to think without interruption. Or if they did, it was likely with the attitude that the farmers had to be, by definition, brainless to do such work, and therefore didn’t do a lot of thinking, even if they did have lots of time to do it.

Applejack had been tending the fields and orchards of Sweet Apple Acres from the moment she could walk, more or less. The everyday tasks that filled her days were ingrained into her muscles and required only minor supervision from her conscious mind, leaving the rest of her intellect free to think about whatever might currently be on her mind. This could be a good or bad thing. Bad when her thoughts were filled with how empty their bank account was, good when it gave her time to straighten out her attitude toward her current house guest.

While it was certainly true that the farmhouse and cowshed had never looked so good, that was not an indictment against Applejack. She’d learned the hard way that she couldn’t do it all on her own. There just wasn’t enough time in the day to both look after the house and get all her other chores done. Goose wasn’t doing farm work on top of all the housecleaning she did so well. Of course, she was getting stuff done that Applejack had let slide.

Thinking about Goose had led Applejack’s thoughts down another path. Where Applejack had ‘really’ gone wrong, she had been forced to concede, was to not ask for outside help from some of her kin-folks when it started to become obvious the farm was too much for them to handle on their own, galling as that might be. Granny Smith needed help in the house, and an extra hoof or two in the fields might be the difference between success and failure in the next few years. It was time and past time to sit down and crunch some numbers. Would a hired-hoof contribute enough to the bottom line to cover the cost of his, or her, hire? What other options did she have? Well, there was one, Applejack thought with a grimace. Marriage. Foals. A husband to share life’s burdens with, to help her create a new generation of Apples.

The stubborn mare hated to admit it but could be that Granny had a point all this time. Applejack, and Big Mac, but mostly Applejack, as she was the heir, had a duty to the farm that went way past simply doing chores. Duty meant making sure there was another generation of Apples to take over one day.

Not really any different, when you thought about it, from what they were doing out at the old north orchard. Tearing out the old trees and planting new ones so that they would have a productive orchard in ten or fifteen years was just good farm management. Making sure the family continued was the same thing. Applejack paused on the stairs, a scowl on her face. That sounded so cold, hooking up with a stallion just so she’d have foals to carry on the family name by the time she was too worn out to handle it on her own.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested in stallions, despite Rarity’s teasing. It was just that she wanted there to be ‘something’ there. Something special. Her mind flashed to Twilight and the glow the unicorn seemed to give off every now and then since she and the princess had spent that night alone in a tent. It usually happened when Twilight didn’t think anypony was looking. She’d get a dreamy expression on her face and lose all awareness of her surroundings until something, or somepony jolted her out of it.

Applejack didn’t see the attraction herself, but she wasn’t about to deny that there was ‘something’ real between her friend and Princess Luna. She’d never admit it to any of her friends, or family, but she’d really like to have some of that there ‘something’ her own self. She gave a sigh. She blamed Big Mac. There wasn’t a stallion who could come close to meeting the standard her big brother set. Not even Jake when he’d had his full size because he’d lacked the maturity to go with it.

The sound of hooves on the stairs woke Shadow Dash from a deep sleep to a semi-conscious state as he luxuriated in one of the nicest beds he’d ever slept in. The cessation of those hoof steps as the climber hesitated and stopped brought him to full wakefulness. Was someone trying to sneak up on him? His first thought was that Goose was looking for a little sisterly payback. That was dismissed as soon as it was considered, his sister hadn’t been that noisy since she was seven. An attacker? Unlikely in the extreme. He wasn’t out on a campaign or sleeping in the non-commissioned officer quarters, both hotbeds of daylight raids.

One of the house’s residents, most likely. Not the big stallion, the steps were too light. Not the little filly, steps were too heavy. He already knew that Granny couldn’t handle the stairs. Had to be Applejack, the Element of Honesty, the steps were just right.

Now the hesitation made sense. A fine looking filly like that, understandable she’d be a bit reluctant visiting a grizzled old non-com like him in his temporary quarters. After all, he was a soldier and a Night Guard and both of those had a certain reputation in regards to mares. Not entirely undeserved in a lot of cases he had to admit. He frowned slightly. Maybe that was why she was creeping up the stairs? If so, she was going to be disappointed. He hadn’t done that sort of thing in years, and it hadn’t been from lack of offers or opportunities.

Shadow considered getting out of bed and saving the mare a bit of embarrassment by meeting her at the door on his way out, but his seldom expressed sense of humor choose that moment to rear its head and so he stayed where he was, the blankets pulled up over his entire body.

A soft knock sounded on the door, and a few seconds later he heard it open and a soft voice call out, “Goose? You awake Sugarcube?”

Ahhh, so that was how it was. The cute filly thought he was Goose. For a moment he felt slightly disappointed, which he immediately chastised himself for. Had he really thought she might be sneaking up to his room for a bit of afternoon-delight? She was young enough to be his daughter, literally. He really needed to start acting his age.

Despite this self-castigating, he remained silent as he listened to her hoof-steps coming closer.

Applejack reached out to give Goose Down a little poke through her covering of blankets and hesitated. Nocturne were in general considered more feral than normal ponies. Maybe suddenly waking one from a deep sleep wasn’t a very good idea? She raised her voice slightly and called out, “Rise and shine, snowpea. Time to get those lazy bones out and about.” A soft indistinct mumble came from under the blanket, reassuring Applejack with how much it resembled Big Mac’s protest when she tried to wake him up after a late evening hoedown, and too much Sweet Apple Select.

Settling herself onto the mattress between the edge of the bed and the lump that was Goose, Applejack tried to get her thoughts in line. “I ain’t been a very good host,” she said.

The lump made a protesting sound.

“Oh, it’s true. I just sort of shoveled you into the house and forgot about you. I was busy, but that twernt no excuse. Could have been a mite more friendly, chatted a bit in the evening.” She gave a big sigh. “You’ve done right by us. Ain’t seen the first floor looking so nice and shiny in a coon's age. And the cowshed,” she gave a little laugh, “Tell you what, The cows think it’s supernatural, how clean you got it.

“Well, anyway. There ain’t any getting around that I got chores coming out of my as… ears, but I think I can get myself and Big Mac free this weekend. Pinkie Pie is throwing a big street party with dancing. Be pleased as punch if you’ll come along and enjoy yourself, my treat.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, little filly?” A very not-feminine voice asked as the covers slipped down and a handsome middle-aged nocturne stallion stuck his head out to look at her with eyes that seemed to bore right inside her.

Granny, Goose Down, and Big Mac looked up as Applejack walked into the kitchen, her face shading toward scarlet. Applejack’s eyes sought out her elder, and she rather plaintively asked, “How could you let me go and make such a plum fool of myself, Granny?”

“I didn’t think you were foolish at all,” Shadow said softly as he came into the kitchen behind Applejack on soundless hooves. The currently high-strung filly gave a startled whinny and crow-hopped to the side, the flush on her face spreading down her neck. She looked like steam was about ready to come out her ears.

“I thought it was a very thoughtful invitation, and if it is still open, Goose and I would be delighted to accompany you into Ponyville this weekend.”

“S...sure thing. We’ll have a lot of fun… I mean, not lots, some fun. Yeah. Some fun, not too much fun, just some... Oh darn. Jest remembered. Forgot to turn off the water in the barn. I’ll go do that right away.” With that, a furiously flushing Applejack galloped out of the house.

"She seems nice,” Shadow said to a befuddled Goose who was staring after Applejack with wide startled eyes. He settled in at the table and smiled at Granny, who returned his grin with one just as wide. “Good to meet you,” he greeted Big Mac, extending a hoof across the table. The big red farm pony absently bumped hooves with him, as he, like Goose, stared in the direction his sister had disappeared.

“Now I have you,” The bilious green pony snarled at Diamond Tiara, in between the panting and the wheezing.

The usually elegant filly was far from being at her best. Dripping with sweat, and breathing a bit heavily herself. She was still in far better shape than her opponent and had easily been outrunning him, pausing now and then when he fell too far behind, but she’d taken a wrong turn and gotten herself trapped against a fence.

Up to that point, she’d been having a surprising amount of fun, but now her heart was fluttering from fear as she stared up into the bloodshot eyes of her pursuer. This was not some indulgent stallion she could wrap around her hoof with an innocent dewy-eyed expression. This was the sort of stallion her daddy had always told her to stay away from if she should ever meet them. She didn’t know what the angry male might do to her, but that didn’t stop her from being terrified at the idea that he would do ‘things.’

The sudden buzzing sound of furiously flapping pinions filled the alley and even drowned out the poisonous green pony’s wheezing.

Looking through her captors legs Diamond Tiara felt her frantically beating heart give a leap at the sight of Scootaloo, helmet firmly on her lowered head, hooves planted firmly on her scooter base and handle, bearing down on the reporter from behind. Scootaloo reared back at just the right time, lifting the nose of her scooter to just the correct height, and hit.

The adult pony who a moment before had looked so huge as he loomed over her gave out a strangled high pitched squeak, and slowly toppled forward as he curled into a ball, his legs protectively clutching himself.

Buzzing around the hunched-over stallion, and not giving him a second look, Scootaloo skidded to a stop parallel to Diamond Tiara. Somewhere the little blank flank had acquired a pair of darkly shaded goggles, and a lollipop; the stem of which was sticking out of the side of her mouth.

The suddenly very cool looking filly extended a hoof to Di, and mumbled around her sweet, “Come with me, if you want to get there before your ice-cream melts.”

Stunned, Di extended a hoof and was swung around onto the back of Scootaloo’s scooter. She wrapped her forelegs around the small pegasus and buried her face into Scoot’s short mane as they accelerated furiously out of the dead-end alley.