//------------------------------// // Chapter 5 [edited] // Story: How To Train Your Batpony // by peter //------------------------------// How to Train Your Batpony chapter 5 *** Twilight, the Terrible, Terror of the Seas, ran her gaze over the smooth quivering flanks of the unfortunate mare that had fallen into her clutches. “Not so high and mighty are you now, my fair Princess Luna. Do you wish to surrender? Or, do I have to convince you that you have no choice in the matter?” the Terrible Terror asked in a gloating tone while running the flat side of her crop over the silky smooth hide of the princess' flank. “I imagine you can guess which answer I prefer to hear.” Drawing back, while staying out of the poor mare’s line of sight, she laughed lightly, and said, “But, before we begin, why don’t I slip into something a bit more comfortable. There’s a little spell I’ve just been dying to try out. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, if not as much as I will. Bwahaha---” *** “Twilight, Twilight! Come on, wake up. You’re starting to freak me out here.” “Huh, wha?” Twilight muttered around a tongue that seemed to be stuck to the bottom of her parched mouth. The sleep befuddled unicorn blinked blearily to clear the crud out of her eyes till the blur in front of her resolved into Spike’s concerned face. Confusion slowed her mental process, until the memory of her daydream flooded into her mind, turning her face scarlet and lifting her body up and onto her hooves in a flash. “Sorry, sorry. I dozed off for a moment.” Seeing incipient alarm in Spike’s eyes, Twilight focused on slowing her racing heart. Adopting a nonchalant air, she stretched and yawned, while inwardly she tried to shove her most recent memories under a metaphorical mental mattress, much like a teenage colt reading a copy of Play-Mare, whose mother has just knocked on his bedroom door to ask if his sheets needed to be washed. And just like that teenager, totally failing to pull the wool over the eyes of her interrogator. “What can I do for you, Spike?” Twilight asked, not meeting her number one assistant's eyes as she made a show of straightening out the papers on her desk. Keeping a wary eye on Twilight, Spike said, “I just wanted to let you know that Bulk Biceps brought back that weight training book Curry was asking about.” He tilted his head slightly to the side as he gave her a quizzical look. “Have you been playing pirates with Pipsqueak and Jake?” he asked out of the blue. “What? No. Why do you ask?” Twilight blurted out in a flustered voice while an image of herself in a fancy frock coat and wearing a broad-brimmed hat with a long plume, rose up to the top of her mental picture gallery. “Well, you sort of sounded like them. While you were talking in your sleep. What with all the Yar har, my pretty, and the diabolical laugh just before I woke you up.” “Oh, that was just a silly dream. The truth is, I was reading one of the storybooks Pipsqueak requested. Just to make sure they were age appropriate,” she added hastily as she pointed at a stack of books on her desk. “Oh, were they?” “Were they what?” “Geez, Twilight. Listen more closely. Were they age appropriate?” “Oh, well, the ones from the foal section were, but there were a lot of romance novels with pirates on the cover mixed in with them. Some of those are really not suitable for young foals. Especially a foal with an imagination like Pipsqueak. I think it best that they be out of sight and out of reach, so I’ll move all of them up to the top shelves, just in case,” Twilight said, flushing slightly in memory of some of the steamier scenes the book she had just reviewed had contained, and which had no doubt been responsible for her recent naughty daydream. “So, I’ll just set aside that book for Curry, then?” “What? NO! She’s much too young!” Twilight shouted, causing Spike to lean back slightly from the force. “I meant the fitness book, Twilight,” he said in exasperation. He then gave her a considering look, and after looking around to make sure there were no ponies hiding behind the inkwell, he leaned in and whispered, “Say Twilight. It’s not? You know? That time of the month?” Twilight looked at Spike blankly for a moment, before turning scarlet. *** The front door of the Ponyville Golden Oak library slammed open and Spike came flying out to a soft, more or less, landing in the gardenia bushes. Digging himself out, he brushed himself off and glared at the closed library door, which showed the bright purple aura of a locking spell. With a shake of his head, and deciding, waste not, want not, Spike gathered up some of the scattered flowers and made them up into a bouquet before trotting off in the direction of Rarity’s boutique while muttering to himself. "We have got to get Twilight a coltfriend.” *** Riding around town in Scootaloo’s wagon along with Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle was one thing, Twist thought to herself as she hung on for dear life. The crazy pegasus had to use at least a little bit of common sense when she was coping with the weight of three fillies. Riding behind the pegasus out in the country when she was Scoot’s only passenger was a very different kettle of corn. After the second time Scoot grabbed some major wicked air, Twist had shut her eyes tight, braced all four hooves against the side of the wagon, and promised herself that she would never, ever, under any circumstances, ride with the insane filly again. Or at least not until tomorrow, when she had to go back home. *** “You can get out now. I gotta swing by and pick up Curry, ” Scootaloo said impatiently. Twist, realizing that the only thing still moving was her stomach, opened her eyes and saw the by now familiar sight of Princess Luna’s tent rearing up above her. The wagon-sick filly tumbled off of the fiendish device and gave the ground a big hearty smack with her lips before rolling over on her back with all four legs sticking up in the air. “Ewwww, earth ponies are so weird,” Scootaloo said in disgust. She swung onto her scooter and took off like a batpony out of Tartarus. Twist just knew that if she tried to get to her feet she was going to end up running for the bushes. Even laying quietly on her back she could feel her abused stomach threatening revolt. Taking a few deep breaths to settle her tummy, the filly twisted her head around to look at the tent. “Can you hear me?” she asked politely. The section of the tent nearest her rippled, a wave in the fabric traveling from the ground up the wall and then back down again. It might have just been a breeze, but Twist knew better. “Oh, that’th good,” the nearsighted earth pony said in relief, laying her head back down on the nice safe, stable, ground. “Could you please set up the haunted house? Just like my friends and I were planning for Nightmare Night,” she asked politely. It was hard to describe, and she had tried to do it numerous times, so she knew, but Twist always sensed something whenever she talked to the Tent, a feeling that it really did hear her, and was doing as she asked, not just because it was some sort of magical thing that had to listen to her, but because it wanted to. This time she experienced an added element, a sensation that she choose to interpret as indicating that the tent was pleased with the request and was looking forward to playing with them. Twilight Sparkle said she was anthro-po-morph-ize-ing the tent. Projecting a personality and motive onto what was no more than a very well designed artifact. Twilight Sparkle was wrong. Almost from the very beginning, Twist had known, in her heart, that the tent was much more than just a bunch of fabric that a whole lot of unicorns had spelled a really long time ago. And, deep down she had been absolutely certain that It liked her. She just hadn’t been sure, why. Then, a few weeks ago at Jake’s palace reception, she had found out one very possible reason. Despite nausea in her belly, Twist smiled a secret little smile. *** Twist had been startled when the guard had picked her out of the crowd of foals gathered around the ice-cream sundae buffet and told her that somepony wanted to talk to her. But, not nearly as startled as when they arrived at their destination and she found out who it was that wanted to talk to her. Walking into a small room and finding Princess Celestia waiting for her, with a pot of tea and a carafe of cocoa had been so startling that she’d almost wet herself. Fortunately the much more familiar, and a lot less frightening, Princess Luna had joined them before anything requiring soap and water had occurred. It had turned out that Princess Celestia had caused her to be brought to her because she had heard about Twist’s ability to command Luna’s tent. Not that Twist thought of what she did in those terms. She ‘asked’, she didn’t order. In any case, Princess Celestia had done a little research, and it was to inform Twist of the results that she had been summoned. It had been a revelation to discover that her many-times-great-grandfather had been a Saddle Arabian prince who had come to Equestria to propose to Princess Celestia. As proof of his sincerity, he had brought the Royal Tent as a gift. If Princess Celestia had said yes to his request, all would have been well for him. Seeing as she had declined, he had ended up in a bit of a pickle. Saddle Arabian Princes, as it turned out, competed for the position of the heir by assembling a worthy harem that was capable of running the country under their supervision. The Stallion with the most talented harem became the heir. Marrying Princess Celestia would have made the prince’s chances of becoming the next ruler a certainty, no matter what the quality of the rest of his mares. Unfortunately for him, Princess Celestia had said no, and it had come out that he hadn’t actually gotten permission to give her the Royal Tent, or even to take it out of the country. A message had arrived hard on the hooves of the prince, from the then current sultan, demanding the return of his tent, as well as those parts of his son which made him ‘a’ son. Celestia was free to keep the leftovers, the rather impolite letter had finished. Princess Celestia had not appreciated the tone of the ‘request.’ Besides that, she had become fond of the prince, even if not so much so that she would consider marrying him. Unlike the arrogant princes who had come to woo her in times past; every few generations some prince would ‘discover’ the same brilliant idea, the current supplicant actually had some skills beyond looking handsome and a sense of entitlement. As it happened, the prince who had brought the tent turned out to be a first-class baker, which also helped explain why he was good deal plumper than was considered standard for Saddle Arabian princes. Royalty was supposed to be tall, lean and dour, not short, stout and cheerful. At least when he wasn’t worried about losing important bits and pieces of himself. Princess Luna had interrupted at that point and remarked that the prince should have tried to bribe her sister with baked goods instead of an oversized chunk of fabric, particularly since Celestia's closets were overflowing with dresses she had never worn. On the other hoof, Tia, as Luna called her sister, never seemed able to keep a good piece of pastry around for more than a few seconds. Seeing Princess Celestia casually pick up a pillow with her magic and swat Princess Luna with it had gone a long way toward relieving any lingering trepidation Twist had felt about being so close to the Ruler of the Sun. In the end, Princess Celestia had granted the prince sanctuary. He had gone on to start up his own business, and a family, and descendants, and eventually all of that had resulted in Twist being born. “I think that the Tent recognizes you as a descendant of its last owner, and that is why it does as you ask,” Princess Celestia had said at the completion of her tale. “I think it was lonely and just wanted somepony to play with,” Twist had argued without thinking. Realizing her slip of the tongue too late to stop it, Twist had hunched her shoulders a bit in expectation of derision at best, a lighting bolt of royal displeasure at worst. After a few moments of nothing but silence, Twist had glanced up to see the two princesses looking at each other intently. “I was not here when the Saddle Arabians created it, Tia. Is it possible? Did they have the skill?” Princess Luna asked. “Honestly, Luna. I’m not sure. But, it is a very old, very powerful, artifact. It is possible that it has acquired self-awareness on its own.” “If there is any chance of that at all, we have to err on the side of caution,” Luna said, her expression grim. “We can not simply pack it away in the dark for several hundred more years.” “You did mention that you were interested in spending more time outside of Canterlot. This would provide an excuse,” Princess Celestia had muttered while looking thoughtful. “I shall let it be known that it will be my weekend retreat. That should buy us some time,” Princess Luna said in a happy tone of voice. Princess Celestia narrowed her eyes slightly and stared at Princess Luna in the same way that aunt Bon Bon sometimes stared at aunt Lyra when she said she was just going out for a ‘little’ walk. “What are you up to, Luna?” she asked. Which was also what aunt Bon Bon usually said, though of course she said, Lyra, not Luna. “Why nothing, Sister. You really should try to reign in your unfounded suspicion of the younger generation. It is most unbecoming in a thoughtful ruler.” “This is not over, Luna,” Celestia had said with a glower that the young filly had been very glad was not directed toward her. Turning to Twist Princess Celestia said, “We would appreciate it if you would keep your new friend company as much as possible. Bring your friends from town to play and explore the tent’s capabilities. See if you can get it to listen to them.” “Is that wise, Tia? There are some parts of the tent that are-- Luna blushed ever so slightly and swished her tail-- not proper for younger ponies. Not until they are twenty-one, at least." Twist’s head had been ping-ponging back and forth between the sisters as she tried to understand what they were talking about. Princess Luna’s last comment cleared that up, sort of. “There are placeth the tent won’t let me go,” Twist said. “No matter how nicely I athk,” she added, a little bit of frustration in her tone. “Twilight thparkle thays it’th thome thort of pre-programmed default parental control.” Princess Celestia had seemed a bit relieved at that. “I’m pleased to hear that. As to the other matter, I take it you have no problem spending time at the tent?” “No, Printhethth Thelethtia.” *** “No, way,” Spike gasped, the flowers in his claws drooping like they’d been hit by his breath after a meal of arsenic garnished garnets. He stared in shock as Rarity trotted down the street toward him. The reason for his dismay was the perfectly turned out and immaculately stylish stallion walking beside her, with whom she was exchanging cheerful, nay, flirtatious, conversation. Spike’s eyes narrowed, and a feeling of total loathing for the stallion filled his breast. Twilight had warned him to be on the lookout for fortune hunters from Canterlot once the existence of Jake and Curry became public. She had been talking about ponies aiming at causing problems for the snipe and new alicorn, not ponies targeting town ponies. That didn’t matter. Spike had never seen a more obvious villain than the smarmy smooth talker trying to charm Rarity. That pretentious monocle, the neat, super cool, little mustache, the perfectly pressed suit, and tie, the carefully trimmed and combed mane. What honest pony had the time to devote that much attention to their clothing and appearance? No honest pony, that’s who. He even came with a scuzzy idiot sidekick, Spike thought, taking in the scrawny brown pegasus walking a few steps behind the gigolo and Rarity, yet clearly with them. Spike’s chest swelled, and his spines stiffened. It was up to him to reveal the truth of this cad to poor innocent, perfect, Rarity. “Spike, please come and meet my friend from Canterlot,” Rarity called out, cutting through the fog of determination that was clouding Spike’s mind. “He’s going to be staying at my parent’s place while he’s in town.” The con-pony had the nerve to act reluctant as he said, “Really, this is not necessary, my dear Rarity. As I told you. I can make my own arrangements. I really do not wish to impose on your good nature any more than I already have.” “Please, my dear, Fancy Pants. It is no imposition at all. Remember what I told you. My friend Fluttershy is a delicate creature. It will take some time to break the ice with her. A day, maybe days, possibly even weeks. I could not stand the thought of you sleeping in some cold impersonal boarding room bed when I have an entire house just sitting empty. My parents are off on one of their frequent ‘culturally’ uplifting trips. They just adore visiting the significant ‘cultural’ high points of Equestria. Culture, culture, culture. They simply can not get enough of culture. "With my little sister staying with me, their house is just gathering dust. It will do it good to be aired out. Trust ‘me’ you are doing ‘me’ a favor by accepting ‘my’ offer." Rarity’s words shot through Spike’s chest like arrows, letting him stay in ‘her’ family home? Doing ‘her' a favor? Was he too late? Had the dastard gotten his claws into her heart already? The young dragon’s emotional fall was suddenly arrested as his hand was grasped firmly by Fancy Pants’ hoof and shaken enthusiastically. “Spike! Forgive me. I did not connect the dots right away. This is wonderful. You are ‘the’ Spike, are you not?” “Huh. 'The' Spike? I guess. I mean, I don’t know of any other Spikes,” the young dragon stammered, unable to cope with this sudden bout of good will. He hadn’t been this enthusiastically welcomed since the first time he’d met Fluttershy. “This is such an honor. To meet the hero of the Crystal Empire.” “Spike’s a hero?” Rarity blurted out. “What? Hero?” Spike’s reaction was even more startled than that of the beautiful unicorn. Still holding Spike’s hand, Fancy Pants looked at Rarity. “That’s right, you must not have known yet. I visited the Crystal Empire last month. It’s a must-see for anypony who is anypony in Canterlot. Spike here is famous there as the hero who saved the Crystal Heart.” “He is?” “I am?” “What ho, a real hero.” The gangly pegasus who had been loitering in the background exclaimed as he ambled over and looked down at Spike. “Always figured heroes would be a bit bigger,” said in a cheerful voice with not the least hint of derision in it as he held a hoof just above Spike’s head. “Now, now, Wooshter. You know what they say. You can’t judge a book by its cover.” “Wouldn’t know. Not much of a one for books, don’t you see. As for judging. I’m usually the one on the other side. Being judged that is. What, what? Not about to toss any ruddy stones.” He held out a hoof to Spike. “Pleased to meetcha.” “Ah, okay. Yeah, nice to meet you too,” Spike said in a flustered voice, while inwardly he was crying out, what the heck! I can’t like the stallion who’s making Rarity act like a school filly. It’s not fair. He’s not supposed to be nice. He’s supposed to be a total jerk like Blueblood. *** While Twist had been lost in a daydream of sharing tea and cocoa with Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, the tent had not been idle. The brilliant hues of its fabric had dulled until they were the dank brown shade of rotten canvas. Scabrous patterns appeared, giving the illusion of mold and mildew. The pennants dangling from the peaks tattered till they looked like rags flapping in the breeze. The entire structure took on a dilapidated look, appearing as if it was on the verge of falling in on itself. “That ith tho cool,” Twist said in awe. “I didn’t know you could do that.” She and her friends had whiled away a recent lazy afternoon discussing how they could use the tent’s talents to create the best Nightmare Night haunted house ‘ever’. All the effects they had planned had been centered around the artifact’s ability to rearrange its interior walls and decor seemingly at will. They had never imagined anything this awesome, however, and had planned on supplying their own fake spider-webs and paste on glowing eyes as well as all the other accessories that went toward making a super awesome haunted house. “Thith is going to work even better than we planned. You are the best tent in the whole world,” she praised the fabric construct. It might have only been her imagination or a reflection from the sun which was starting to set, but Twist was sure that for a moment the moldy appearance of the tent took on a slightly rosy hue. “Ki-yi-yi-yi-yi-yi…!” A sudden staccato screaming interrupted Twist’s thoughts. The sound grew louder and Scootaloo burst from the brush that edged the fairgrounds and headed straight toward Twist at full speed, leaving a rooster-tail of dust and leaves in her wake. Right behind the flightless pegasus, in the wagon holding on for dear life, was Curry. Anger and concern filled Twist as she took in the way the small snipe was being tossed back and forth with each bump Scootaloo took. The candy stick maker was just warming up to give the Pegasus a piece of her mind when Curry’s yips started to resolve themselves into somewhat coherent words. “Yippee-Ki-Yi-yah you bleeper.* That. The. Fastest. You. Can. Go. My. Grandmother. Can. Go. Faster.” *Curry had only ever seen the censored version of Die Hard. As Twist watched in horror, Scootaloo lowered her head and the buzz of her wings went up several octaves. Curry disappeared into the cloud of dust stirred up by the tremendous draft the filly was generating with her wings as she headed straight for the tent, and Twist. Coughing came from inside the cloud of dust, followed by Curry’s choked out, “You won’t shut me up that easy, Slowpoke.” Just as Twist was sure she was about to be run over, Scootaloo slewed to the side, her right rear hoof digging into the ground as she pivoted in place, flinging the wagon around in a circle. The centrifugal force proved too much for Curry’s fingers and she was flung in a high screaming, ‘literally,’ arc that ended with a muffled, ‘whoomph’, as she impacted the side of the tent which gave under the impact and dropped her, laughing helplessly onto the ground. Giggling, Curry said, “Again,” and then broke into renewed laughter for some reason. “That. Is So. Freaking. Awesome,” Scootaloo cried out, looking up at the tent. “Well, I wouldn't go that far,” Curry said. When she saw that the Pegasus was not looking at her, she turned and stared, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, man. Twist. That is. I mean. How the heck? Oh, this is going to be so sweet.” Flushing slightly, Twist said, “It wathn’t me. I just athked the tent to thet up our Nightmare Night haunted housth inside. It did the outthide all by itthelf.” “Bet it wouldn’t have done it, if any other pony than you had asked,” Curry said, giving Twist’s curly mane an affectionate tussling. Just then cries of, “Wicked,” and, “Amazing,” drew everypony’s attention and they turned to see Apple Bloom and Diamond Tiara coming toward them from one side of the clearing, and Sweetie Belle, staggering under a pair of overloaded saddle bags, from the other. Diamond Tiara was the one pony not shouting, and trying to look like she was not staring in amazement. Flying over top of Sweetie Belle came Featherweight, who flew in to hover just over the group. “They’re coming,” he gasped. “About five minutes.” He paused a bit in thought and corrected himself. “They’re pretty slow. Might be as much as fifteen minutes.” “Oh, yeah. Looks like it’s showtime!” Scootaloo said with glee, mimicking her hero as she rubbed her forehooves together in gleeful anticipation. Not one of the foals stopped for one moment to consider that no matter how awesome the appearance of the tent was, it in no way matched the back-story that Sneaky had filled them in on before sending them on their way earlier in the day. *** Shadow stared out through the bushes he was standing behind and snorted in derision. “So this is the fabulous ‘tent’ I’ve been hearing about? Just what you’d expect after sticking one of those canvas torture devices in a basement for a few hundred years.” Standing beside him, wearing her dome-shaped blinder hat, Goose Down started to lift her head at her brother’s words, and paused for a moment, wanting to lift it high enough to see the tent and find out what her brother was talking about, but at the same time afraid of exposing herself to the sight of the late-afternoon sky. She let out a frustrated sound of anger and frustration and resumed her motion. She tilted her head back slowly until she could make out the tent across the field. but not the sky over it. Goose had meant to snap her head back down as soon as she saw the tent, but she was so surprised by its appearance that she kept tilting her head back, for once ignoring the sight of the open sky past the edges of the fabric structure. Something that would have been impossible for her a few weeks before. “I don’t understand,” Goose all but wailed. “It wasn’t like this before. I've only been away from it for a few days, and now look at it! I've failed Princess Luna!” Shadow hastily comforted his little sister “Hush, Kite. That’s what the evil bastards do to you. They fool you into thinking they’ll keep the weather and rain off of you, and then they let themselves get blown over in the wind, or collapse under a load of snow. Never forget, they are instruments of Tartarus, designed to give ponies a taste of what awaits them if they don’t live an honest and straightforward life. What you should be more interested in are those foals.” Still focused on the tent and not the rapidly darkening sky, Goose glanced at the fillies in question just as Featherweight came fluttering in to join his friends. “Oh, that’s Twist and her friends. They have permission to play in the tent whenever they like.” Goose looked more closely and added, “And Princess Moonlight is with them as well. I wonder if they are planning on spending the night?” The older pony took a look at the dilapidated tent and shuddered at the thought of it being filled with rambunctious foals. He was very glad he was going to be spending the night perched in Fluttershy’s tree with the bats. He had only intended to drop his and Goose’s kit off in the tent before they both headed out to do over-watch guard duty, but he supposed he had best check out the situation here first. “I guess we should make sure they don’t get in any trouble,” Shadow said in a resigned tone of voice, but while he had been wrestling with his conscience, and his disinclination to get anywhere near the monstrosity he was supposed to spend his days in for the foreseeable future, Goose had already started trotting across the field, her wings held slightly out to lighten her steps over the somewhat rutted field. *** “Oh, no. This’ll spoil everything,” Apple Bloom moaned as she spotted Goose Down galloping across the field toward them, followed at some distance by her big brother. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” she said while bonking her head with a forehoof. “I knew Goose was only staying at our place until some more ponies came to keep her company here. I didn’t even think when I met her big brother and Applejack said they were leaving, they’d be coming here.” The young nocturne mare’s expression was full of concern when she reached them. She stared at the tent as she asked Twist, in a voice laced with worry. “What happened? Is it something we did?” “We’ll tell you inside,” Curry answered for Twist, who had already vanished through the decaying entrance way. When the rest of the foals charged after her, Goose was left with little choice but to follow. She spared a glance back toward her brother and was pleased to see that he would reach them in a few seconds. *** Goose had seen many incredible things since she had started working at the palace. The incident that would live on in her mind forever as number one, was, of course, her first ever face to face meeting with Princess Luna; even if it had consisted of her cowering on the floor. The second most incredible event had been meeting Princess Luna for the second time, and, eventually, managing to get words to come out of her mouth. The third had been walking into the palace for the first time and realizing that it wasn’t a dream. She had really gotten a job in the same place where her beloved Princess Luna lived. That last one had now been bumped down to fourth. Her new third most incredible experience was watching her normally stoic, big brother shoving a hoof in his mouth to muffle his laughter while tears streamed down his cheeks. “Does that mean you’re going to let us pull pranks on them?” Apple Bloom asked hesitantly. “Let you? I want a front row seat,” Shadow said, tears still running from his eyes. He turned to Goose and snapped out, “Trainee Goose! Pay attention!” Goose was startled, but she hadn’t played ‘Royal Guard’ with her youngest older brothers for so many years for nothing. Snapping to attention she looked straight ahead and said, “Yes, Drill Sergeant!” “These are your orders. You will keep eyes on the main enemy forces at all time! You will not allow them to see you! Do you understand these orders, trainee?” “Yes Drill Sergeant!” “Then follow me, Trainee,” Shadow said. Spreading his wings, he gave a leisurely flap and floated up into the shadows that were gathered above the entrance way. Swallowing nervously, Goose looked around and shifted her body so she was standing dead center in the entrance lobby. She allowed her wings to fully unfurl, earning a gasp from both Scootaloo and Featherweight as the tips reached out, and out and out, till they brushed either side of the room. For the first time, the little ponies caught a glimpse of Goose's cutie mark, three curved white lines that looked like soaring birds in a V formation. With the smallest of downward strokes, Goose caught air and propelled herself up the fifteen feet needed to join her big brother in the shadows. The more difficult task was swinging herself to the side so her hooves could find purchase on the stiff fabric and then slowly easing herself up and across the ceiling till she hung upside down over the floor-bound foals. *** “Oh, that is so freaking cool!” Curry hissed as she exhaled the breath she had been holding while staring upward at Goose. One of the very first things Curry had noticed after her arrival in magic pony land was that Equestrian ponies, and Jake now that he was here, were far more subtle and flexible than horses on earth. Goose and Shadow’s movements took that to a whole new level. There was a sinuosity in the way they moved that only reinforced Curry’s very first impression of them. They really were dragon ponies. “Rainbow Dash could have done it better,” Scootaloo said loyally, but in a voice with just a hint of uncertainty to it. “No she couldn’t,” Diamond Tiara said flatly, and for once, in a totally honest, no put-down intended way, as she looked wide-eyed up into the shadows with the other fillies. Tellingly, Scootaloo didn’t argue with her. *** Excitement coursed through Goose, seasoned with a touch of mischief. If she was doing this right, then the only thing the foals should be able to see were her eyes. Looking down at Diamond Tiara and the other little ponies she deliberately gave a long slow blink and felt thrilled when several of the watching foals visibly shuddered. “Can you see me?” she asked, blinking her eyes closed again. A flashbulb went off, the light penetrating her closed eyelids. “Yes,” said Featherweight from where he was hovering a few feet away to the side. “You jerk. Now I can’t see anything at all,” Scootaloo complained, rubbing her eyes to clear away the flash-induced tears. “Quiet now. They are coming. You foals take your places,” her brother’s calm voice said from the shadows. Even with her superior night vision, all Goose could make out was a faint outline of his body only a step away from her. *** “Oh, this is just as creepy as all get out,” Curry muttered admiringly as she took in the doorway that had suddenly opened up in the side of the front entrance way. The edges highlighted by green glowing lace spiderwebs. She let her fingers brush against them, half expecting to feel a slimy texture, as she walked through the door. The rest of the foals followed after her, several of them taking looks back over their shoulders to see if they could spot the two Nocturne up in the ceiling. *** Soft as owl feathers, her brother’s voice reached Goose’s ears. “Remember, stillness, silence, keep to the shadows.” Goose felt a touch of annoyance. She wasn’t six anymore. Despite that, there was no denying how thrilled she was at hearing his instruction. Finally, after waiting so long for it, she was being officially trained, and not just indulged, by her big brother. *** “What in Tartarus?” Sneaky swore as he walked out onto the fairgrounds, dropping out of his hick character from surprise upon seeing what had happened to the brightly festooned and colorful tent he had been expecting to see. Fortunately for his ongoing deception, the news ponies were too exhausted and grateful at reaching their destination after spending two hours being led around by their noses in circles to pay much attention to what their idiot guide was saying. That was the only positive part of the whole situation. He had no idea how the Crusaders had disguised the tent. All he knew was that the foals had gone seriously off script. How was Berry Punch going to ‘translate’ his gibberish, when the words she was supposed to use in no way matched what was in front of them. Calling the thing in front of them Princess Luna’s secret romantic getaway just wasn’t going to cut it. He doubted even this lot would buy into the idea that the former Nightmare Moon found something that looked like that, homey. Confirming Sneaky’s supposition, Poison Pen pointing across the field at the tent, as if his companions might have somehow missed seeing the bedraggled monstrosity, and demanded, “By Celestia’s bouncy flanks, what the hay is that?” While Sneaky struggled to come up with a new storyline and figuring out how to let Berry Punch know what it was, she proved once again that he wasn’t the only pony here who could think on their hooves. “Old circus tent. Couldn’t make payroll. The owner just walked away, along with all the acts.” Then, Berry Punch demonstrated why he had come to love her so much, by adding, “Well, most of the acts. Some of the clowns stuck around until they vanished one day. No pony knows what happened to them.” “Clowns?” Quick Quote squeaked, his voice sounding as high pitched as air escaping from a balloon. Not a bad comparison considering how his over-inflated body seemed to be sagging even as Sneaky watched. Berry Punch was really getting into her ad-libbing, despite Sneaky’s efforts to signal her to keep it simple. “Oh yeah. Mayor had to ban them from town. They were scaring all the foals and driving down property values. Haven’t seen tail or hoof of them since. They either left or… Well, you know.” Berry finished with a shrug and a ghoulish expression. Sneaky resisted the urge to smack himself in the forehead, That one line about property values, and scaring the foals, was straight out of an article he had been working on about some nouveau-riche ponies in Canterlot who were trying to get their Nocturne neighbors evicted from the neighborhood. Never mind that the Night ponies had been living in that area for several generations before it went upscale. “I’m not surprised,” Quick Quotes said with a shudder. “Those big painted smiles, those creepy eyes. Gives me the willies just thinking about them.” He took a look at the tattered tent, his expression showing that he half expected a clown to stick its bewigged head out the entranceway and leer at him. “They belong to Celestia’s secret spy force, you know,” Conspiracy said in a tone of voice that suggested that anyone who didn’t agree with him was lacking in intelligence. Nopony paid any attention to him. “Are you sure the prince is in there?” Poison Pen asked, his voice quivering. He looked around nervously. Besides the collapsing tent in the middle of the clearing, there were all those huge plants surrounding them. Surely they were unnatural, those tree things. Plants just didn’t grow that big. “Oh, sure. He and his little friends play there all the time. No other pony will come near the place. They could be getting up to anything.” A sly smile quirked the ends of her mouth, and she continued in a conspiratorial tone, “Shameful if you think about it. Some of those fillies and colts already have their cutie marks. They’re getting far too old to be playing alone and unsupervised like that. Wouldn’t surprise me if some of the fillies’ parents weren’t hoping they’ll come home with a little royal present. If you know what I mean. Sneaky wanted to cheer as he saw the tired ponies’ eyes light up like pinball machines that had just registered a high-score. Berry Punch deserved a very special bonus for her quick thinking. He made a mental note to borrow a pair of Cloud Kicker’s feathers, Cloud Kicker still attached by preference and some chocolate syrup from Sugar Cube Corner. *** “What is with this thing?” White Out hissed in frustration. True to form, he and his fellows had totally ignored the tattered and torn opening that marked the tent’s entrance and had gone around the side to try and slip under the back wall. Sneaky couldn’t really fault them for that. He was a little frontdooraphobic too. However, to the dismay of the press ponies, the tent was not cooperating in the least. No matter how hard they tried they could not lift the fabric away from the ground, or in fact, detect any sort of demarcation where fabric turned into dirt. “Looks like yo' juntleponies is a-gonna hafta use th' front intrance.” “Oh, damn. I think I understood that” Purple Prose, a plum-colored unicorn said. “We’ve been here too long. This is a waste of time. There isn’t anypony here, and even if there is, it sure as Tartarus ain’t no bucking prince.” Very faint giggling snorting laughter drifted through the night air, followed by the same ghostly voice saying, "He said bucking." Even knowing the source, Sneaky felt the night breeze evaporate sweat off the back of his neck and a row of goose-pimple begin to crawl up his flanks. “You hear that?” Poison Pen asked, his voice shrill. “Clowns! They're waiting for us. We have to get out of here now!“ White Out took hold of the frantic Poison Pen by the collar to stop him from fleeing and gave him a hard hoof slap across the muzzle. “Pull yourself together, pony. Are you a stallion or a mouse? “It’s just those damn foals. Laughing up their noses at us. Again.” Turning to the other ponies who were huddled together, he snarled, “Buck this, I don’t give a damn for tradition. I’m going in the front door.” *** Goose peered down from the darkness in barely restrained excitement as, finally, the intruders crept in through the entrance. She shifted slightly and drew a quelling look from Shadow that had her flushing in embarrassment. Freezing in place, she watched the press ponies through eyes drawn into narrow slits so that no tell-tail gleam would escape to give away her position. The journalists were fairly easy to pick up. Her brother hadn’t described them individually, had only told her to watch for the ones who looked like the last good exercise they had gotten was before Princess Luna created the Nocturne. The first half-dozen ponies through the door matched that description perfectly, The two ponies who trailed after them were very different. The stallion tickled at her mind. There was something about him that was familiar. But, he was so distinctive in appearance that Goose was sure if she had ever seen him before she would not have forgotten. The look of disdain the mulberry-colored mare was directing toward the members of the press seemed to indicate that while she was with them, she was not ‘with’ them. As Goose watched, the strangely familiar pony who looked like he had just stepped right out of a storybook, the type that featured a brave noble unicorn, and that almost always included a comedy relief, idiot earth pony sidekick, nudged the mare toward one of the walls, being careful not to draw the attention of the ponies in front of them. Goose barely suppressed a cry of surprise when the wall next to the two ponies opened up just long enough for them to step sideways through the gap, and then closed instantly once they had. “Okay,” a fat unicorn said, a look of grim determination on his face. “Now that we’re here, let's find those foals. I have a few bottoms I want to spank. I’ll teach those inbred country hicks to respect their superiors.” A slight shiver ran through the canvas under Goose’s hooves, and a cold chill ran down her spine as a cool breeze from nowhere caused the walls to flutter. She gripped harder so she wouldn’t fall while looking around for some sign of what might have caused the effects. Detecting nothing, she frowned and returned her attention to what was going on below her. “So, how do we get to the prince?” the bilious green unicorn asked. Getting no answer he looked back over his shoulder. Thanks to her superior night vision Goose could see the whites of his eyes grow larger when he saw that the two ponies who had stepped through the wall were no longer present. “Where’s that con-artist barmare? And the idiot?” he called out, drawing the attention of his fellows. Much babbling ensued until one of them noticed that something else was missing. “Buck them. Where’s the exit?” The big fat white unicorn asked in a frantic voice. Following his line of sight, Goose could see that the entrance to the tent was no longer present. Only dirty canvas marked its previous location. There was a rush as the ponies stampeded back the way they had come and frantically pawed at the heavy material looking for a seam or flap. “There isn’t anything here. It’s vanished!” a muddy white unicorn cried out in fear. “It has to be here! You’re just not looking hard enough, Quick Quote,” The extra fat white unicorn said. “Buck you, White Out! I tell you, it isn’t here.” Three of the ponies started chewing on the fabric in an effort to make a hole, but all action came to a stop as light tinkling, derisive, laughter floated through the air. Even knowing there was nothing supernatural about it, Goose still felt a twitching at the back of her neck. “Do you see what I see, Poison Pen?” the one called Quick Quote said in a quavering voice as he pointed down a hallway that hadn’t been there a second before. Almost lost in the shadows were two small figures. Tattered cloth draped their bodies and their heads were topped by huge poofy manes that were three times as big as their heads. “No, not that. Not clowns.” the bilious green unicorn said as he turned even greener than before. High-pitched giggling and snorting laughter wafted toward them as the two small figures turned so they were facing the news ponies. One turned its head slightly toward its companion and asked, “Say, A.B. Do you know how many reporters it takes to light a candle?” “Why, no, Di. I don’t reckon I do. How many Reporters does it take to light a candle?” “None! They don’t dare get near an open flame.” Her companion gave a loud snort of approval and stomped her hooves in delight. “Make it stop,” Poison Pen whimpered, his ears flattening against his head. The other shadowy figure then asked a question. “Hey, Di. What does a Canterlot Times reporter do if a fact slips into his story?” “Oh, please. Ask me a hard one. He issues a, like, retraction. Everypony knows that pshaw.” Groans of dismay erupted from their captive audience, some of whom tried to shove hooves in their ears to drown out the mocking laughter. The shadowy figures turned their backs on the reporters and started to walk away while arguing. “You stole my line?” “Oh, please, I made it work, jerk.” “Wait,” a dull brown Unicorn wearing a duster that dragged on the ground, called out. The two foals only hurried more quickly away, but their shadows on the walls grew till they filled all available space and turned toward the newsponies. Shadow mouths opened in huge smiles, revealing serrated fangs as they lunged toward the pursuer. Goose was impressed and wondered how the foals had pulled the effect off. “Stop, Conspiracy. They’ll suck out your soul,” Poison Pen said in a gibbering voice as he restrained his companion, who shrugged him off and went galloping off after the figures just as they turned a corner and vanished from sight. The rest of the reporters, except for Poison Pen, charged after them. Finding himself left alone, he whimpered and followed, his tail tucked between his legs. A feather-light touch against her shoulder drew Goose’s attention to Shadow. He gave a nod after the retreating reporters and began to slither along the ceiling after them. Goose followed, not as smoothly, or as quietly, but any noise she might have made was drowned out by the arguing going on at the end of the hallway. “They’re gone, I knew it! They’re evil incarnate. We have to get out of here before they eat our souls!” “You idiot. This is clearly some trick by the government to scare us off. They don’t want us finding out the truth about the so-called Alicorn Prince,” Conspiracy snarled, giving Poison Pen a slap across the muzzle to stop his hysterics. “Idiots. It’s those foals from the train platform. They’re playing us for fools I tell you,” White Out wheezed, his sides heaving from the exertion of galloping twenty feet. “If they’re foals, how did they just disappear like that? Or, make their shadows do what they did?” Poison Pen asked in a quivering tone while gesturing at the empty corridor that by all rights should have contained two small funnily dressed figures. “Don’t be an idiot! It’s all staging. There’s a slit in the fabric they slipped through. We just have to find it and we’ll turn the tables on the brats.” Matching action to words, White Out began running his hoof over the wall as he walked down the corridor. “One of you idiots take the other side. And make sure you don’t miss anything.” *** “I think they’re on to us,” Apple Bloom gasped as she rushed into the room they were using for staging, quivering from mingled nervousness and excitement. “If they are, it’s because of your pathetic acting,” Diamond Tiara snarked as she gave her head a habitual toss. Instead of this gracefully flipping her mane to the side, as usual, her motion only caused the massive mound of puffed up and hair-sprayed-to-death mane to wobble back and forth like a jello mold. Like Apple Bloom, she was wearing various scraps of brightly colored fabric that had been pinned together to form a covering that in the shadows could be mistaken for the tattered remains of a clown outfit. “This was just the opening act. We’re so lucky we heard them talking about clowns when they tried to get in through the side.” Sweetie Belle said from where she was standing next to Curry. The small snipe was in the process of fluffing up the unicorn's mane and tail into two round balls of hair, while Berry Punch was using some makeup to draw dark circles around her eyes and on her cheeks, making them look sunken and hollow. Scootaloo was receiving similar help from Twist, and Sneak Peek, who was surprisingly adept with a makeup brush. “I don’t thee why I can’t be a clown too,” Twist complained. “Yeah, me either. Every other pony gets to have fun. Even you and Berry Punch,” Curry said, directing a glare at Sneak Peek. “I thought I was supposed to be the one running them in circles. “We went over this. You’re both too distinctive. There is only one snipe in Equestria, and they already know what you look like from the train platform. The old plan counted on that. Now that you foals tossed it in the dumper, we’re left with ghost clowns.” Sneaky said in a querulous tone. Looking at Curry, he added, “It’s not like putting a little makeup and some scraps of fabric on you can make you look like a pony. Even those idiots would be able to figure out who you were, no matter how we dressed you up, and Twist’s voice is unmistakable. We can’t be sure they didn’t hear her talking while they loitered outside the ice-cream parlor.” “We’re lucky you packed all this stuff, Sweetie Belle,” Featherweight complimented the little unicorn as he snapped a picture of her in full un-dead clown regalia. “It wasn’t me,” Sweetie Belle mumbled, keeping her mouth shut so as to not smear Berry Punch’s efforts. “Rarity just shoved everything she could into my saddlebags before pushing me out the door. There was a fancy stallion waiting to talk to her, so she wasn’t paying much attention.” Berry Punch’s eyebrows went up. “Your sister had a gentlestallion caller? Tell me more.” “No time,” Sneak Peek said. “Twist, are we ready?” Twist cocked her head to one side. “Yeth, I think thhe’th finithhed thhifting the corridorth.” “She?” Curry questioned. Twist looked embarrassed, but said in a determined voice, “Thhe hath to be thomething. Thheth not an it.” “Time, foals, time,” Sneaky said in exasperation. “Scootaloo, Sweetie Belle, you need to get out there.” *** Curry watched her friends rush off for another session of baiting the bad guys with a feeling of frustration. It wasn’t fair. She was the princess after all. She should be front and center. A moment later her sense of fairness asserted herself. She’d gotten to play a fun role at the train platform. Her friends deserved their turn. Turning back to Sweetie Belle’s saddlebags, which looked like they’d thrown up, she started pawing through the contents, assembling scraps of bright fabric. Her fingers hit something hard, and she tugged out a small parcel. The wrapping was ripped and underneath she could make out an old book. Curious, she removed the torn wrapping and looked at her find before flipping it open at random, she squinted her eyes from the effort as she read the faint hand, or she guessed, mouth wrote, words there. A spell for memory. Warm a kettle of green tea Add Ginseng, two teaspoons. Rosemary, one teaspoon Rhodiola Rosea, three teaspoons. Using a standard infusion spell, mingle the herbs and tea. Steep in a clear jar exposed to the full moon for an entire evening. Must be a clear sky. Intermittent cloud cover can disrupt proper steeping. Use Phylium’s, universal distilent spell to reduce the liquids to a thick syrup. The results should cling to your spoon and only drip after being held above the container for not less than twenty seconds and not more than forty. Seal until needed. Mix one teaspoon per cup of hot water to be drunk while studying. Do not exceed more than two cups per hour. “Oh, my goodness. It’s a spell-book,” Curry said in low voiced excitement. She darted a hasty look at Sneak Peek and Berry Punch. Sneaky was cool, but he was still a grownup. He was likely to take the book away, telling her she was too young. Well, the heck with that. This was her chance to learn some for real magic of her very own. Curry tucked the book back into Sweetie Belle’s saddle bags. She’d have to ask her friend about it when there were no adults around. Truthfully, Curry wouldn’t be surprised if Sweetie Belle had no idea where it came from. Magic books were like that. They showed up when they were needed, and kids who were smart enough could have a lot of fun, as long as they didn’t let the grownups find out. *** “No! No! No! This can’t be happening,” Poison Pen’s frantic voice came from behind the pack of ponies who were trying to find out where the foals had slipped through the walls. “What now?” White Out said in exasperation as he looked around to see Poison Pen desperately running his hooves over the canvas that made up the end of the corridor. “What are you doing?” “The hallway, it’s closed off behind us. We’re trapped,” Poison Pen said without ceasing his efforts to find the vanished section of the hall. “Idiot. You just got turned around,” White Out said, pointing back the other way, where the hallway ran until the end vanished in shadow. A sudden buzzing, like a million flies trapped in a back alley dumpster, filled the air. “No, not again,” Poison Pen cried out, his face paling. He fell to the ground and curled into a protective ball around his vulnerable undercarriage. Two figures, even more, horrendous than the previous two faded into view, as a chill breeze wafted over the ponies, drying the sweat on their bodies and sending a cold shiver down their spines. “Hey, S.B. how many Inquisitor reporters does it take to find a story?" “I don’t know, Scoot. How many?” "We don’t know. None of them have ever found one.” “You little Punks! Do you think you’re funny? Do you? You just wait till I get my hooves on you. I’ll stick my hoof so far up your butts you’ll taste the polish,” White Out howled. He tried to stretch out his magic to snatch at them, but it had been far too many years since he had lifted anything heavier than an extra large pitcher of beer. The distance and size of his targets made getting a good hold on them impossible. The shadows leering and gibbering at him from the walls didn’t help matters either. Despite his hard-held belief that this was all a scam, he couldn’t stop a shiver from running down his spine. “Hey, Scooter. Did you hear about the Changelings who snuck into the press room at the inquisitor?” “Why, no, S.B. I can’t say I had.” “Poor things starved to death.” “That’s not true!” Quick Quote yelled. “They only passed out from hunger.” A moment later he flushed in anger as he replayed his incriminating words in his mind. “I didn’t mean that. I meant none of it is true. Hey, come back here and listen to my retraction,” he called out as the two figures turned and faded back into the shadows just like the previous set. And, just like before, their shadows seemed to take on a life of their own, turning and leering at Quick Quotes with fang be-studded mouths, before both the spooky clowns and they, faded from sight. Overcoming his hesitation, Quick Quote charged after their tormentors, shrugging off the efforts of his fellow ponies to stop him. This time he advanced alone as he charged, turning right, and then left, before coming out into a long hall, only to find it empty ahead of him. “Come on, we can catch them if we hurry,” he called out, looking over his shoulder, only to find that there was now a solid wall just inches from his hindquarters. “No, this is just a trick! You can't fool me. I’m smarter than you. I know It’s all done with mirrors.” he yelled as he pawed at the fabric. The rustle of fabric snatched his attention from the wall he was trying to kick through, and he looked around and saw to his horror that the walls and ceiling were closing in around him. “No. No! Ahhhhhhh,” he cried out as the hall he was in disappeared and took him with it. *** With White Out leading the way, the rest of the press ponies cautiously crept along the hallway, turning right, and then right again. A long hallway opened up in front of them, with no sign of their companion, or the phantom clowns he had been chasing. “Quick Quote!” Purple Prose yelled out. His own voice echoed back to him, but no response to his cry could be heard. "Can't run. Clowns will get me! Can't hide, clowns will get me!" Poison Pen whimpered as he tried to crowd into the middle of his fellow stallions so as to have a good thick meat shield between him and any threat. *** “Good job,” Sneaky said to Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle. “Is Featherweight ready?” “Just about. Having a hard time getting his horn to stay straight,” Berry Punch said as she tried to secure Pipsqueak’s pirate sword; left behind from a previous playday to Featherweight’s head while avoiding crushing down his puffed up mane. He already had a pin cushion, sans pins, attached to his muzzle with an elastic strap around the back of his head as a stand-in for the standard clown nose. “Don’t worry about it. He's supposed to be a clown so a crooked horn is fine. How about the wing extensions?” “Done,” Curry said from where she had just finished securing some stiffened fabric to the end of Featherweight’s wings. “Only, he’d better not flap too hard or they’ll come off.” Twist, using the pins taken from Featherweight’s pin-cushion nose, was busy hanging all the dark colored cloth they could scavenge from Sweetie Belle’s saddlebags around the colt’s body. *** “Prose? Prose? Quick Quote? Conspiracy?” Poison Pen shouted as he turned around and around, but no matter how hard he shouted, or in which direction he looked, the only one still with him was White Out. They had totally abandoned any attempt to find, or catch, the clowns, and had instead simply run as hard as they could, forgetting to stay together, only thinking about themselves. But every time they went around a corner, the pony who was furthest ahead, or had lagged the farthest behind, vanished. Poison Pen huddled as close to White Out as he could, hoping the overweight pony would either shelter him or be the more tempting target. *** Goose hung overhead, looking down on the two ponies under her. Any inclination she might have had toward sympathy for their plight had been long since eliminated by the dire threats the fat unicorn had shouted at the foals she considered to be under her protection. “Come out, you brats!” White Out bellowed in a voice that was more and more verging on hysteria, and less laced with anger. Movement in the air directed Goose’s attention away from White Out, to where five foals had just slipped through an opening in the wall that closed behind them as quickly as it had opened. As Goose watched, the small pegasus clown, who had to be Featherweight, rose up into the air with gentle flaps of his wings, the extensions attached to them made them more than double their usual size. The outer edges of his fake wings were frayed and tattered, looking diseased in the shadowy light. dark cloth fluttered all around his body, hiding his true size, while at the same time imparting a certain zombie-like appearance that went well with the tattered looking wings and the twisted horn that she could see was merely a wooden stick stuck somehow to his forehead. Even knowing who it was, Goose had to admit she got a shiver just looking at him. It was really easy to imagine that he’d just crawled out of his final resting place. Being able to clearly see Featherweight and the other four foals, Goose still had a hard time believing deep down that the press ponies could not do the same. She reminded herself that understanding the limitations and abilities of day-ponies was critical when it came to stalking and remaining unseen, something her big brother had often told her other brothers. She shut her eyes till she was peering through her lashes and the contingent of foals almost vanished in the shadows. Was this what the press ponies saw? How could she tell? It was frustrating. She needed to get help from somepony with whom she could compare what she saw, against what they could see. Right now, lacking any true knowledge of their limitations, she was acting on the assumption that the ponies standing under her could see as well as she could. That meant she was relying on the maximum amount of stealth and silence she could manage. Combining that effort with clinging to the ceiling for so long, meant that she was starting to feel the strain. It was hard, harder than it would be if she really understood what she could get away with. The physical effort and intense mental focus were starting to tell on her. She could feel her legs trembling and her hide was damp with sweat. Her brother, on the other hoof, looked as relaxed and rested as if he were laying in front of the fire back home. She really hoped this was going to be over soon before she shamed herself by falling onto one of the ponies under her. *** “Princess Luna, Princess Luna, Princess Luna, Princess Luna” faint voices floated through the air from the four shadowy clowns who were standing on the ground. White Out flinched, and then spun to look down the hallway, his eyes squinted as he tried to penetrate the gloom. “Tell us, Princess Luna. Is Nightmare Moon returning?” “Of course, her return is nigh. Her loyal subjects gather, and the unbelievers will be driven from her dwelling,” the flying clown declaimed in a high pitched eerie voice. Shadow suddenly stiffened, and Goose looked down just in time to see a wall of fabric shift across the hallway, trapping Poison Pen on one side, and White Out on this side. This was the most blatant move yet on the part of the tent. She supposed that made sense, with that one out of the way, there was only the one left. The need for sneaky was past. Not even noticing he was all alone, White Out, yelled, “I have had it! You brats are going to pay.” He staggered toward the four foals, who for once didn’t fade back into the darkness. An expression of triumph appeared on his face, only to vanish like a snuffed out candle as he came to a sudden crashing stop nose to nose with a full grown nocturne stallion. Goose goggled, and couldn't stop herself from glancing over at where her brother had been perched just seconds before. He was gone, of course. Somehow, without her even seeing him move, he had shifted from the ceiling to between the foals and the angry fat unicorn in the blink of an eye. "Hello, I’m from the Church of Luna, and I was wondering if you had a few moments to sit down with me and discuss the doctrine of Eternal Night?" Shadow asked White Out in a friendly calm voice while exposing his very sharp teeth in a broad predatory smile. White Out’s eyes rolled back up into his head, and the fat pony keeled over in a dead faint as ‘all’ his muscles went limp. “Oh, ewwww,” Goose squealed, closing her eyes and turning her head away while wishing she could close her nose as easily. “Yuck. Bet Goose doesn’t mind that the tent is self-cleaning now,” she heard Scootaloo say. *** It was a shattered and dispirited group of newsponies who were marched onto the Ponyville train platform the next morning by the town sheriff. Looking wane and hung-over, their bluster and sneering condescension were nowhere in evidence. Their eyes darted here and there like scared rabbits, staring at each pool of shadow, no matter how tiny, as if something horrible was about to step out of it. The single consolation they were taking away, was that nopony in Canterlot would ever know how they’d been made fools of by a barmare, a hick, and a bunch of foals. “Well, well, well, what do we have here. This sure does bring back memories,” a horribly familiar voice spoke up, just as a flashbulb went off. White Out and his fellows looked around frantically, their eyes drawn to the hick hayseed they had grown far too familiar with. Hovering over him was a small pegasus foal, holding the camera that had just been used to take their pictures. As they watched an aura of magic formed around the hick’s hat, and with a wet plop his oversized teeth popped out of his mouth. He worked his jaw a few moments and then directed a smile toward the newsponies. “Sneak Peek,” Purple Prose gasped. “Been a few months, fellows. How’s life treating you? Sorry, I don’t have a lot of time to chat. Have a story I need to send off to Canterlot. Won’t waste your valuable time telling you about it. You’ll be able to read all about it in the papers tomorrow.” He gave them a cheery wave and trotted down the platform toward the mail-car. “I hear they’re hiring in Manehatten,” Conspiracy said, quicker on the uptake than his fellows. The rest of his fellows exchanged looks. “I’ve been meaning to take a vacation for a bit,” Poison Pen said. “Could do a little job hunting while we’re at it,” White Out added. *** Teaser for Chapter Six: Big Mac watched in amused silence as Jake and Apple Bloom bounced around the barn like the excited foals they were. Apple Bloom had burst in a few minutes before, nearly exploding with the need to tell Jake, or anypony really, the great news. Apple Bloom’s excitement had proven to be contagious and Jake had joined her in her enthusiastic dance of joy. Given the mutual enthusiasm and the seemingly endless supply of energy that foals possessed, it took a little while for the hyper younguns to calm down, but once they did, and Jake caught his breath, a puzzled frown creased the colt’s forehead. “Apple Bloom?” he asked. “Yeah, Jake.” “Who’s Cousin Babs?”