Armet lay in his bed, the crickets outside chirping away, barely heard through the smooth, stone structure. Mr. N’s story was keeping him awake, making him wonder what the humans were like in their world. What kind of technology did they have? Apparently, humans were masters of the craft, if one of their mistakes could send Mr. N into Armet’s world. What would have happened if that ‘bomb,’ it was called, worked properly?
Or worse, what if it did, and Mr. N’s arrival into the Badlands was a mere fluke?
Yes, this was what kept Armet from drifting into the warm embrace of slumber. His bed while uncomfortably hard for ponies, was just perfect for a young griffon, and Armet found great comfort in his. And yet for all its snuggly warmth, the lad couldn’t find an ounce of exhaustion in his body.
So, he climbed out of bed and walked downstairs from his room into the kitchen. He opened the brand new refrigerator that his mother purchased to see what there was inside. Food, food and food. All of it delicious, none of it appetizing.
Sighing at his futile struggle to find a midnight snack, Armet went into the parlor to look out onto the cobbled street in front of his home. The newly commissioned streetlamps glowed with a soft yellow light, cast by a alchemical creation known as a sunrod, and its creators promised that they would last until just after dawn.
The rain came down in a light drizzle, and there was no thunder in this weather. This far west, and Yadrolev’s weather was just spinoff from the Sea of Ghosts, one of the few places on the planet that governed its own weather. Gilderheim’s climate was somewhat wet, but not too much so, and the odd thunderstorm swept through the relatively large city during the summer.
This train of thought reminded Armet of that one lesson that Mr. N taught the class when Allard Redhawk was asked him why the weather was so random in Gilderheim. What had followed were multiple headaches from the math, and something called the Omega Formula, or something like that. Mr. N said that it was what his people used to predict what the weather would be like for the next few days.
But they couldn’t have predicted what happened to him. Armet shook his head, clearing away these thoughts before he could delve too deeply. He turned his focus back outside at the rain, watching the minute drops spatter against the cobbled roads, listening to the light buzz from the storm. Armet was tempted to go outside and smell the rain as it fell, but didn’t want to risk getting in trouble for being up so late.
A few moments later, the rain seemed to increase in intensity, no longer the driz that it was. Now, the sky had broken out into a full on rain, and the wind picked up to the point of blowing a tumbleweed across the street. Armet briefly wondered where one of those came from, but the event was followed by a dull flash of light. The young griffon looked at the cloudy night sky as best he could from the window.
The air rumbled softly, thunder echoing across the sky. Armet squinted his soft blue eyes at the storm, watching intently for another strike of lightning. Within a few seconds, one does flash, outlining multiple silhouettes in the raking claws of the electricity on the blackened sky. At first, Armet assumed that they were bits of stuff on the window, but another flash shortly afterwards completely dismissed that idea.
And as if that weren’t enough, the blue-armored bat-ponies on the rooftops were.
Because of where he lived, Armet could see the school from his bedroom window, and because the ponies were going that way, he quickly darted to his room as quietly as he could. As soon as he reached the top step, he stumbled slightly, knocking a small glowstone onto the carpet with a tiny thud. He stood still, worried that it would have woken up his changeling caretaker, Gamarts.
Armet rushed to put the lightly glowing model of Mr. N’s homeworld, he called it “Terra,” back in its stand. The carefully carved glowstone was a Hearth’s Warming gift to Armet’s mother last year, as a show of appreciation for her own military service. Once it was as close to how Armet thought it was before, he carefully bolted to his room’s window to catch another glimpse of the ponies.
All four of them were a few rooftops away, and were definitely headed towards the school. Why they were here, Armet hadn’t the slightest clue, but he would find out. He threw on his two jackets, one a slightly tattered plaid green cotton and the other a blue on black windbreaker. He popped the grey hood of the cotton jacket over his grey-feathered head to keep the rain off of the feathers before carefully trotting back downstairs, his wings now through the special holes in the sides.
Armet opened the door after unlatching all the locks, then grabbed the key of the wall, stepped outside and locked the door behind him. Now out in the rain, Armet took flight, blinking rain out of his eyes as the drops landed on his skinny face. He was going to follow these ponies, and see why they were here.
The golden-brown furred griffon flew above the rooftops, and flew off towards the school through the rain.
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Armet landed next to the flagpole of the school, the flag taken down while nobody was there. The ponies had gone inside a few moments before he arrived, and Armet assumed that they broke in somewhere. He quickly ran to the front doors, and wrapped his claw around the pull bar. The door was still locked, and so he moved around to the outside doors of each classroom, starting with the second grade, going to the fifth. Each door was locked, but when he reached Mr. N’s classroom, lightning flashed and revealed his door leaning on its hinges.
Armet’s heart clenched in his chest, and his young mind started to panic. Just what do those darn ponies want with Mr. N?
He wanted desperately to run away now, but he told himself that he was already here. He just had to know what was going on! Maybe his mom would think he was really brave for standing up to the bad ponies, and Crystie would like him! The thought of that white and pink griffin gave him little flutters in his chest. She was a nice girl, smart, pretty, never said a bad thing to anyone…
That train of thought was interrupted when the thunder from the previous lightning bolt caught up to the flash, the rumble somewhat muted by the rain. Armet steeled himself. He was going to make Crystal Goldencrest notice him, and his mom proud! He took three steps forward, and immediately started hopping on his hind legs, trying to get an impossible piece of wood out of the scales of his left claw.
Ignoring the offensive piece of wood, he watched his step more carefully, a slight limp in his gait. Armet cautiously stepped over the threshold into the classroom, and saw one of the ponies behind the huge desk, sifting through Mr. N’s things, making a mess with his hooves. Armet’s breath got caught in his throat, stopping where he stood to see if the pony saw him.
Luckily, he hadn’t, because he let out a groan of frustration before going to one of the book-cases. Armet caught a glimpse of the pony’s wings, and thought, What an odd pegasus, when he noticed the lack of feathers. He tried his best to get behind the pony without him noticing. When Armet was standing right behind him, he paused and held his breath. When he was sure the pony still didn’t know he was there, he picked up a fairly hefty object and swung it at the intruder’s head.
The pony went down, he was a hero! He silently cheered at himself, pumping at the air with his fist before the pony groaned in quite femininely. Armet’s first thought was Oh, crap I just hit a girl! before he went into a small panic, thinking about what his mom would say. Obviously nothing good, but that still didn’t stop him from thinking about it.
And the final nail in the coffin chose that moment to walk in. “Hey Blossom, find anything?” another pony asked when he walked into the room at that time. The voice startled Armet into hiding under the desk and hoping he wouldn’t get caught. Some part of his brain started counting down the seconds until Blossom’s unconscious body was found by her friend…3...2...1…
“Blossom?!” the voice whispered in shock. He spoke louder, “Whoever is there, show yourselves!” Armet stayed put, scared out of his wits. When he heard the pony’s hoofsteps touch the floor with a muffled thud, he noticed that the rain was louder than it was earlier, and he could hear his own breathing.
He heard the pony bend down to his friend and presumably check her pulse, but Armet couldn’t be too sure, as he couldn’t see the two ponies, not that he wanted to. He just didn’t want to be here, or be responsible for hitting a girl!
Armet’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when the pony’s hooves were right in front of him, standing behind the desk while he looked for the griffon. Hot blood pounded in his ears, his pulse quickening in anticipation. Would he be found? Was he gonna die?! Armet didn’t want to die! He wanted to live, be an firefighter, or something cool like that!
Armet held his breath, trying to be as quiet as possible...the pony walked past the desk, leaving Armet under it.
Then his nostrils itched.
Before he could stop himself, he gasped, and let loose a resou--AH-CHOO! All was quiet once more, even more so this time. Only the storm outside gave noise to the situation indoors, thunder occasionally sounding over the white noise of the rain.
Armet was too afraid to move, but he hoped that the pony couldn’t find him, and then he could get away and go home, back to his warm bed on the second floor of his mom’s house, go back to sleep under the soft blankets, and dream of being a firefighter. Armet was so thoroughly regretting his decision to come here, he was wondering if the pony would find--“Gotcha, ya little twerp!”