Pumpkin Cake walked through the city streets of Mareicopa, vehicles and other ponies passing her by. Her legs ached and her joints creaked, not used to this much strain being put on them after months of idle days. Sweat dripped from her mane as she wiped her brow with her hoof once again. Even at night, the city was sweltering, a jarring change from the cool underground room.
She had already ditched Trixie’s white laboratory coat in a trash can on the side of the road, not wanting to look suspicious. Before throwing it away, she had rummaged through the pockets first, keeping anything of value that Trixie had. She found a wallet with two hundred Second Kingdom bits and Trixie’s identification badge. There were some keys, too, but to which lock she didn’t know.
As for her mane and coat, she turned them burgundy and white, respectively. She didn’t want to appear as herself, in case the laboratory had started a marehunt for her. And she definitely couldn’t go by the name “Pumpkin Cake” now, so she would have to assume an alias.
Of course, Pumpkin didn’t have to take a fake name or appearance at all if she just escaped from the Second Kingdom. But where would she go? Trixie had mentioned that Pound Cake was still alive, but was that just a lie? Even if he was alive, where would he be? Appleloosa had been lost, after all. Did he move back to Cloudsdale? Did he stay with the Apples? But then where would they be now? So while Pumpkin was still in Mareicopa figuring out her plan, she needed a pseudonym.
Maybe I should go by Red Velvet, she thought. The name certainly matched her new white and burgundy coloring. Or was that too obvious? Good pseudonyms should be totally unrelated to the original name, if the Detective Cold Case novels were anything to go by. Both “Pumpkin” and “Red Velvet” were types of cakes. She’d have to ruminate on it. And now, she had made herself hungry. Why’d she have to be named after food, anyway?
Pumpkin started looking around downtown Mareicopa for a place to eat. She was in the business district at the moment, and there were nothing but office buildings with their lights off for the evening. One odd thing that she noticed about Mareicopa was that hardly anypony was walking around downtown at all. There might have been one or two ponies walking on each block. Perhaps it was later on in the evening than she had thought, or perhaps many ponies were just teleporting from place to place rather than walking. She did see quite a few teleport flashes from unicorns around.
After rounding another corner, her mouth watered as she saw a wooden sign for a restaurant down the street: “The Coffee Cup Cafe.” She disappeared in a flash of light and appeared at the cafe. She reached over to open the wooden door, but then discovered that the windows were busted out, and homeless ponies sleept inside of the booths. A paper sign hung on the door.
“Dear loyal customers: After thirty years in business, we regrettably have to shut down due to the food shortages and famines of the Second Kingdom. Thank you for your patronage, and we hope that someday, the Coffee Cup Cafe can serve the community once again. Sincerely, MGMT.”
Pumpkin Cake scoffed. Thanks to the Second Kingdom’s unicorns-only farming policy, they had put a small cafe out of business. Who knew how many other small businesses in this city were suffering under their rule. She sighed. Perhaps there were other restaurants that were still open further down the street. So, she continued to walk.
Then, suddenly, she heard the sound of an engine behind her, with bright headlights shining on the street in front of her. She glanced behind and saw a truck covered with canvas. Four unicorns with guns jumped out from it, hollering. In anticipation, she charged her horn, but stopped when she realized that they weren’t after her. Instead, they aimed their rifles through the windows of the Coffee Cup Cafe.
“This is the police! All you bums get out right now! Hooves where we can see them!” a stallion commanded.
Six homeless ponies shuffled out of the Coffee Cup Cafe. They were disheveled, their manes and tails ratty, severe body odor wafting off of them.
“You two,” said one of the police, pointing to the unicorns. “No trespassing on private property.”
“But it’s closed down anyway!” one of them implored. “We need someplace to sleep—”
“You’ve been warned. Move along, citizens,” said the policestallion, shooing them off with his rifle. They both ran along the street, past Pumpkin Cake.
“Now, the rest of you inferiors, get in the truck,” said the policestallion. The two pegasi and earth ponies looked around confusedly.
“Where are you taking us?” a mare asked.
“Someplace where you won’t be a nuisance anymore. Now come along. I won’t ask again,” he said.
The pegasi and earth ponies reluctantly climbed into the back of the truck, not having much of a choice. The police piled into the cab and onto the sides, and started down the street.
Pumpkin Cake shook her head. There were only two reasons why the Second Kingdom would be rounding up earth ponies and pegasi in particular. Reason one, they were deporting them as they did the non-unicorns who used to live in Canterlot. Or reason two, they were planning something far, far more sinister.
“Help us! Somepony—”
The voice from the back of the van was silenced almost as soon as it had spoken. The van drove by Pumpkin Cake, as she briefly considered trying to help. But after thinking a few seconds, she shook her head.
She’d had enough of putting herself in danger for today. Actually, she’d had enough danger for her whole life. All of her life, she had been sucked into the black hole of other ponies’ concerns, whether it was Trixie and her research, or the ponies in Appleloosa that she thanklessly helped defend. Pumpkin had suffered enough.
So no. Those ponies could escape on their own. If Pumpkin could escape from a tailor-made underground cell, then surely they could jump out of a van. She was going to get dinner.
Pumpkin Cake’s belly rumbled and growled as she stood in line at the first restaurant that she had found. It hadn’t been easy to find, since she had to walk down seven blocks until seeing an open restaurant. But once she did, it was impossible to miss, since it had a giant neon sign saying “RESTAURANT” and a line stretching around the block. The line had about 50% unicorns standing in it, and about 25% earth pony and 25% pegasi.
Her thoughts alternated between what she had just witnessed on the street about ten minutes ago, and what food she was going to eat. After all, she hadn’t eaten since that morning when she was still captive, and it had been oatmeal yet again. For the last three nights in a row for dinner: baked beans. She couldn’t wait for some variety. Pizza, macaroni and cheese, daffodil burgers, anything different. She didn’t want to wait, so she wanted to have her order ready for when she got inside… but come to think of it, she didn’t know what sort of food this place served.
An emerald unicorn stallion stood in line ahead of her. Perhaps he would know.
“What does this restaurant serve?”
The stallion turned his head towards her and shrugged. “Dunno. It’s food; that’s all that matters to me.”
Pumpkin giggled. “That’s my attitude,” she said.
Suddenly, it hit her that she was actually having a conversation with a pony for the first time in months: not as a subject for study, but as an equal. It was almost a foreign concept.
“So, uh, are you from Mareicopa originally?” she asked.
“Lived here all my life. I can tell you’re not from here, or you’d just call it Copa. Also, I can tell by your accent,” he said.
Between her years spent in Ponyville, with Zecora, and in Appleloosa, all of which had radically different accents, Pumpkin Cake had picked up an odd accent that mixed all three and was neither here nor there. Pound had an odd accent too, though with different influences.
“You’re right, I’m a… um, a tourist,” said Pumpkin.
The stallion chuckled. “I’m guessing that you’re not visiting Copa for the food.”
She chuckled back. “How ever did you guess?”
They both laughed.
“So you came here for magic, then?” he asked.
She thought back to her time in captivity being studied for her magic, and then shrugged. “I guess you could say that.”
He nodded. “You know, it’s amazing how magically illiterate that we all were before the Second Kingdom came to the city. Most unicorns didn’t even know how to teleport, or how to use telepathy, or dowsing, or anything more than levitation. Those who did practice magic couldn’t use every spell, since there were the bans on dark magic and other powerful spells under the princesses. But now, we can cast whatever spells that we want. It’s great!”
Pumpkin Cake raised an eyebrow. Perhaps ‘Copa’ wasn’t under as much of an iron hoof as she had imagined it to be.
“But what about the famines?” she asked.
The stallion shrugged. “Either we’re free to use magic and starving under Blueblood, or well fed and magically restricted under Twilight. I guess there’s no other choices.”
“What about the earth ponies and pegasi in town?” she asked.
The stallion shrugged. “What about them?”
She lowered her voice and leaned in, muttering so nopony in line but him would hear, “You know, being rounded up off the streets?”
He sighed. “There’s nothing anypony can do. Best not to think about it.”
Those were the last words that he spoke to her, turning back to face directly in front of himself as the line snaked forwards. He was right, she figured.
Finally, Pumpkin Cake got inside. Other than the separate seating areas for unicorns and the other two races, it was a typical diner, and she ordered a daffodil burger with hay fries and ketchup. It was the cheapest item on the menu but still expensive, costing about fifty of her two hundred SK bits. The price was well worth it: the burger was cooked to perfection, and each bite was savory and zesty. The fries were salty and crunchy. It was the best meal that she had ever had.
Pumpkin Cake spent the rest of the evening walking around the city rather aimlessly, her thoughts wandering back to her months and months in captivity. She kept expecting to wake up soon, to still be under Trixie and Doctor Stekton’s watchful eyes, but it never happened. Instead, she grew weary from all of her walking.
Oh, right, she thought. I need a place to sleep.
She looked in the direction of the Coffee Cup Cafe and chuckled. The Second Kingdom didn’t seem to look kindly on vagrancy or trespassing. As she walked, she started looking for hotels, but then wondered how expensive they were, and if they required identification to check in.
At the very least, checking in would leave a record of her being there, not something that she wanted to risk in case there was a marehunt for her. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but she thought that even going under a fake name might arouse suspicion, at least until she got an ID proving that she was who she said she was. Her only ID was that of Trixie’s, and she certainly couldn’t use that.
She glanced down at the ID. There was Trixie’s smiling face on it.
Trixie Lulamoon, Department of Magical Research Director, Office 105.
Home Address: 75 Saguaro Drive, Mareicopa, Aridia Oblast, SK.
Then, Pumpkin Cake grinned as she got an idea.
Trixie’s house in Mareicopa was two stories and had a mesa exterior, a long driveway, and trimmed shrubs outside. Unlike most of the houses on the street which had rock lawns, it had a watered and well-maintained lawn of green and luscious grass. There was also a giant statue of Trixie herself, right in the middle of her lawn, just in case there was any confusion over whose house it was. The homeowners’ association must have had a fit over it.
At first, Pumpkin wondered if Trixie had any family, because why else would she need a two story house? But then, Pumpkin remembered that Trixie was the meanest, most arrogant pony that she had ever met, and would’ve been vain enough to get a huge house even if she lived all alone. It would’ve been a miracle if any stallion wanted to be with Trixie (or any mare, if Trixie had swung that way). Pumpkin Cake figured that if anypony was indeed inside, it was only because Trixie had been paying them to be there, like a housemaid, not because they had any affinity towards her.
If anypony was inside, Pumpkin Cake planned on simply teleporting away before they could tell anypony, and then just renting a hotel room. But why waste money and take the risk of getting caught if there was a vacant house?
And by now, Pumpkin was sure that Trixie was dead. Earlier, she had spied on the road outside the Magical Research Department just to be sure. Sure enough, two mortician earth ponies had been loading a corpse covered in a black tarp into a hearse. They must have finally sawed her out of that tank.
Pumpkin Cake stood on the sidewalk outside, strolling casually along. She didn’t want to be seen walking up to the house by any of Trixie’s neighbors, in case they just so happened to be watching at that moment. So, instead, she simply teleported from the street straight inside, past the front door and into the foyer.
The first thing she noticed in Trixie’s house was how much cooler it was than outside. It was pitch dark inside, so she illuminated her horn. Trixie’s house was the nicest house that Pumpkin had ever seen. There were hardwood and tile floors, nice pictures hanging on the walls, and gorgeous furniture. A grandfather clock on the wall read a quarter past midnight.
It’s that late? No wonder I could barely find a diner open. And no wonder I’m so tired.
Pumpkin Cake’s most pressing concern was ensuring that there was nopony else in the house. She walked from room to room, cautiously peering her head around corners. She walked slowly enough as to not make any unnecessary noise, but not too slowly, because she didn’t want any of the neighbors seeing the light of her horn through the windows. She used her telekinesis to close the blinds wherever they were still open.
Finally, after clearing every room, she reached the upstairs of the house, where a set of french doors stood to what Pumpkin could only assume was the master bedroom, since she had checked all the others. If there was anypony else in the house, such as Trixie’s significant other, this would be the room.
Pumpkin would have to sneak inside and ensure that any potential threat was neutralized. She didn’t plan on harming anypony if she did find them, but she would have to ensure that they didn’t have a gun or something. So she figured that it was best to go into the room while intangible, and resolidify if the coast was clear.
After she passed through the door, the light from her ethereal body illuminated the room as she saw that there was nopony in the bed, bathroom, or anywhere else in the room. The bed was a single, confirming Pumpkin’s suspicions about Trixie’s lack of a love life. After checking under the bed, she resolidified.
Though there weren’t any other ponies in the house, she wasn’t entirely alone.
On the bed sat a black cat, which stood up from the bed and hissed at Pumpkin. She rolled her eyes, picked up the cat in her magic, and dropped it through the wall and into the backyard outside.
Confident the house was clear, she walked over to the guest bedroom, locked the bedroom door, and placed a dresser in front of it so nopony could break it down quickly while she was sleeping. Then, with her last ounce of strength, she climbed into bed and drifted off to sleep.
The Superior Court of Tall Tale: September 2025
Inside of the courtroom, a panel of seven black-robed judges sat behind the bench. Zarek was at the plaintiff's table with Zecora. They both wore solid charcoal-grey suits, a color that went well with their stripes. At the state’s table, the attorney general of Equestria sat, who was brown-coated, with slicked-back blond hair. He wore a navy blue suit. A small audience of reporters and spectators sat in the courtroom.
The Superior Court of Tall Tale was the second-highest court with original jurisdiction in the northwest district, below the Supreme Court of Equestria in Manehattan. Whichever side lost the ruling in Tall Tale that day could appeal it to the Supreme Court, though there was no guarantee it would hear the case, and even if they did, they rarely overturned lower courts. Whatever the outcome of Zecora’s case in Tall Tale, it was likely to stand either way.
The chief justice spoke, “Today, the Superior Court of Tall Tale will be hearing the arguments of the state and the plaintiff in the case Zecora vs. Equestria. Each side will have thirty minutes: five to make an oral argument, and then twenty-five to answer clarification questions from the justices. The plaintiff shall begin first. You may stand.”
“Thank you, your honor,” said Zarek. He walked over to a podium to address the judges, cleared his throat, and began.
“Your Honors, and members of the audience and press, I am Zarek, son of Zorinth, and I represent Zecora, daughter of Zyreko. Today’s case is about the civil rights of Equestrian citizens who are zebras, who have been oppressed by the military authorities. Before I begin my legal arguments, though, I would like to start by telling the story of Zecora, my client.
“Many years ago, Zecora emigrated to Equestria from the Zebra Empire. She sought a new life free of the religious persecution of Emperor Zaporizhia. She settled in the small town of Ponyville, learned our language, and sought acceptance from the townsfolk. It wasn't easy, but soon she made a number of friends in her new hometown.
“A few years later, war engulfed our country, and Equestria soon found itself fighting the very Zebra Empire that Zecora crossed oceans to avoid. Princess Twilight, a long time trusted friend of Zecora, asked her to assassinate Zaporizhia. Zecora, of course, being a patriotic Equestrian citizen, agreed. Sadly for my client, she was detained en route by a group of soldiers who were suspicious of her merely due to her race, as evidenced by their repeated use of the offensive racial slur ‘zeeb’ towards her. She spent the next few months in captivity at an internment camp. This is where I also spent many months, despite being a respected attorney and second-generation immigrant who was born and raised in Equestria.
“If both myself and my client, loyal Equestrian citizens of many years, can end up in one of these camps without a trial and without having committed a crime, any zebra potentially could. In fact, your Honors, if you will check the evidence that has been submitted, you will see many cases of elderly, infirm, and even children locked in these camps. Thousands of zebras are in these camps, with more thrown in every day.
“The Equestrian Article of Rights guarantees all citizens of Equestria the right to a fair trial and habeus corpus. These internment camps are very clearly denying this fundamental right. There may be a small threat from zebra saboteurs in Tall Tale and Vanhoover, but this threat has been over-exaggerated, and does not justify the suspension of habeas corpus against Equestrian citizens, even in wartime.
“In the case of Zecora v. Equestria, I request that your Honors order these internment camps to be disbanded, and for all of their occupants to be released, unless there is compelling evidence that they are truly saboteurs. In that case, formal criminal charges and a formal indictment should be brought against them, rather than their current state of legal limbo.
"I can certainly understand as well as any pony why there is a drive to secure our country from invaders. The zebra immigrants in Equestria above all else understand this danger, because many of them fled here to escape religious or political persecution. They, above all else, know the true terrors of the self-proclaimed god Emperor Zaporizhia and his priests, and why Tall Tale must not fall to the Zebra Empire.
“The Zebrist theocracy of the Zebra Empire persecutes non-believers, forces attendance of halls of worship, and the priests publicly flail or execute any zebra on the spot who defies religious edicts. The theocracy suppresses freedom of the press and rights of the people to peaceably assemble against the regime. They claim a mandate from God himself to imprison any zebras for any alleged offense, and do not provide habeus corpus or the right to a fair and objective trial in a secular court, instead using religious courts.
“This is why it is imperative that Equestria preserve our own civil liberties. If we do not, we are no better than the very empire from which my client and other zebras fled. Preserving our rights is true patriotism and adherence to Equestrian values. But instead, the military has launched a misguided and xenophobic quest to imprison every zebra on the west coast of Equestria merely because of their race. Such behavior is the antithesis of patriotism.
"Let us not be fooled by the false talk of patriotism coming from the likes of General Spitfire; most of the internments against zebras have been solely due to their race. This is also against the Equestrian Articles of Rights, which stipulates that unless there is a reasonable distinction to be made in the natural abilities of the races of sentient beings, there can be no unequal treatment under the law.
“So even though flight restrictions, for instance, disproportionately affect pegasi, these laws are constitutional because there is a real difference between the flight abilities of pegasi and the lack of same in the other races. The same defense can be made for the laws restricting the magical abilities of unicorns, or laws regarding water rights for earth pony farming. All have been ruled constitutional despite legal challenges, but in the case of the zebra detention, there is not a reasonable distinction between fundamental characteristics of zebras versus ponies that can justify such unlawful detentions. The only apparent distinctions are fear, prejudice, and bigotry against individuals who happen to have striped coats.
“In conclusion, though the threats posed by the Zebra Empire against Equestria are dire, they do not justify the destruction of our rights as Equestrian citizens, the very thing that our army is supposed to be fighting to preserve. The internment has no basis in legality and must be overturned. Thank you, your Honors.”
The next twenty-five minutes were a series of questions from various Justices regarding finer points of Equestrian law, along with Zarek’s answers to them. He felt that he performed quite well on the spot, and sat down with a smile on his face at the end of it.
“Thank you, Zarek,” said the chief justice. “Next, the state of Equestria will have the final say in the matter. Five minute argument, twenty-five minutes for questions and answers.”
The lawyer for Equestria stood out of his chair.
“Thank you, your honors. I do appreciate everything that Mister Zarek has to say, and sympathize with his client, but the internment of partisan suspects in Equestria is a sound and lawful policy.
“In the documents submitted to the court, your Honors will note that over the past year, there have been approximately two dozen partisan attacks by saboteurs and fanatics in the city of Tall Tale. They have destroyed bridges and railroads critical to the war, and burned down a pony church, in which five ponies died. These attacks are in addition to the Zebra Empire navy’s assault on Tall Tale. Given this, the Equestrian military generals took reasonable precautions to prevent further partisan attacks and the capture of Tall Tale, Vanhoover, Applewood, or other west coast cities.”
As if to accentuate his point, a mortar exploded off in the distance, rumbling the floor. Hardly anypony in the courtroom batted an eye, since the residents of Tall Tale had gotten used to the constant shelling.
He continued, “Equestrian law gives broad powers to the military during a state of emergency or wartime situation. Under the formal Royal Declaration of War with the Second Kingdom and the Zebra Empire, the military is allowed to take, quote, ‘any actions deemed necessary to protect the territorial integrity of Equestria’, unquote.
“The generals felt that the best way to secure Tall Tale was to detain those who are suspected of partisan activity, and hold them for the duration of the war. Now, the threshold for suspicion during wartime is, by matter of practicality, lower than during peacetime. The peacetime standard is ‘guilt beyond a reasonable doubt,’ but the wartime standard is an expedited ‘reasonable suspicion.’ In a state of war, normal rights enjoyed by Equestrian citizens may be suspended for the good of preserving the state.
“Please recall the precedent set by the Supreme Court of Equestria in the year 2012, during the changeling attack on Equestria’s then-capital of Canterlot. Before the attack, the Equestrian intelligence service, RISK, uncovered an imminent threat to the royal wedding. To take security measures against an attack, Princess Celestia declared a state of emergency and briefly suspended certain rights in Canterlot.
“A protective force field was placed over Canterlot, and individuals were not allowed to enter without specific permission or a search. Normally, the right to travel freely and not be subjected to warrantless search is guaranteed in Equestria, but the emergency situation called for temporary suspension of these rights. The Supreme Court of Equestria upheld the legality of these actions.
“True, the state of wartime with the Zebra Empire has been longer than the brief skirmish with the changelings thirteen years ago, and that ruling did not address suspension of habeus corpus directly. However, there is no reason why the prior court ruling couldn’t be expanded both in time and scope for this case.
“No one truly wants this situation, but it is born of necessity, and once peace returns, so will the full rights and privileges of Equestria's citizens. However, the premature ending of the internment will only heighten the risk of a takeover of the west coast. As Mister Zarek mentioned, Zaporizhia places terrible restrictions on the civil liberties of his subjects. I hope this court will agree with the military that it is better to endure a temporary restriction of rights for a limited time, than to do nothing and potentially have Tall Tale fall under Zaporizhia’s theocracy.
“Princess Twilight has taken Zecora’s story to heart, and has made changes to ensure that no more innocent suspects are unfairly detained. For instance, detaining a suspect now requires two military witnesses instead of just one. The conditions at the camps have been improved, with certain detainees being allowed visits from relatives if they demonstrate good behavior. Additionally, any individual currently in detention may request a military trial without bail if he can prove that he is an Equestrian citizen.
“However, this brings up a major sticking point in regards to the detention: many of the zebra detainees do not speak Equish, have no documents, and no legal residence in Equestria. Three quarters of the zebra detainees are not legal residents of Equestria. Rather, they or their parents were brought over as illegal immigrants by so-called ‘sea turtle’ maritime traffickers. That, or they are actually Zebra Empire troops who snuck into the city under cover of an assault, and removed their uniforms, blending in with the civilian population and waiting to strike. With no documents, it is impossible to tell who is who.
“The regular course of action during peacetime is to deport illegal zebra aliens back to the Zebra Empire, but this is impossible due to the war. For now, they are trapped in legal limbo. Thus, they must remain interned for the war’s duration, as there is nowhere else for them to go.
“To address Mister Zarek’s point about the detention being unfairly racist towards zebras, I have two retorts. Retort one: look at Manehattan. Of the six million Manehattan residents, 100,000 are zebras. One would think that if the Equestrian government was racist or suspicious of minorities, some zebra Manehattanites would have been detained, but no. Not a single zebra in Manehattan has been detained for sabotage. This is because Manehattan is on the east coast of Equestria, thousands of miles away from Zaporizhia’s naval fleet. He is not targeting that city, therefore he has not sent saboteurs there. But in west coast cities like Tall Tale that he aims to capture, thousands of his agents and sympathizers have flooded in, necessitating the internment.
“Retort two is that, when we catch any pony saboteurs, they are subject to the same internment policies. Such is the case with Second Kingdom sympathizers in Equestria. In fact, we have recently detained a gang of unicorn skinheads in Baltimare. The criteria for being detained in Equestria is not race or the color of one’s coat as Mister Zarek asserts. Rather, we detain all those who seek to undermine a united Equestria, regardless of race.
“In conclusion, the military has taken reasonable steps to protect the territorial integrity of Equestria. These steps are temporary, and akin to similar, constitutional steps in the past, and taken so that everypony may continue to enjoy these very same rights in the future. We don’t want Tall Tale to fall to the Zebra Empire, and with our continued emergency powers to detain suspects—for any anti-Equestrian activity, regardless of the race of the suspect—Tall Tale will remain in Equestria. Thank you, your Honors.”
As with Zarek, the next twenty-five minutes were reserved for the justices’ questions, which ran right until the end of the time limit. Finally, both sides had spoken.
The judges all whispered quietly to each other, about to adjourn. The chief justice turned to the two attorneys and asked if they had any final words to say.
“No, your honor,” both attorneys said.
"Very well," said the justice. “This Court will adjourn and deliberate. The ruling will be released in early 2026, six months from now at the latest.”
Justice in Equestria was normally slow, particularly when it came to such high-profile cases of national importance. After all, Tall Tale was a large city with three million residents: three quarters of them ponies, one quarter zebras.
While the arguments of Zecora vs. Equestria were being given, huge crowds picketed outside of the courthouse in Tall Tale. Ponies and zebras stood on either side of the steps, holding signs that read various things. On one side stood a crowd of about three hundred people: half of them zebras, and the other half ponies. They held signs and shouted things like,
“Give us our civil rights!”
“We all deserve fair trials!”
“Tall Tale is for everyBODY, not just everyPONY.”
On the other side was a slightly smaller crowd of roughly two hundred people, all of them ponies. They held signs and shouted things like,
“Zebras go back to the zebra Empire!”
“Intern all the zeebs now!”
“Death to the false prophet Zaporizhia!”
The two crowds were separated by a line of riot police, holding metal shields and wearing helmets. They stood behind metal barricades set up in front of the courthouse steps, leaving room so that ponies could enter on official court business.
More and more ponies and zebras joined the protest and counter-protest as the hour dragged on, passing through the streets of onlookers. The crowds swelled to the thousands as various groups all arrived to voice their opinions. Even though the court had adjourned, the crowds still continued to grow into the thousands after five o’clock as ponies and zebras got off of work.
Around six thirty, Berry Punch stepped onto the scene, an entourage of about three hundred zebras following behind her. Berry Punch was a purple earth pony with a darker purple mane, and a cutie mark of a bundle of purple grapes. Due to her coloring, she was easy to spot among the crowds of dozens of black and white zebras who walked behind her, like a grape in a bowl of rice. The zebras following her were sweaty and covered in dirt, and wore wide straw hats on their heads, carrying signs in their hooves and mouths which said things like
“We built this city!”
“Zebra workers unite!”
“Zebras do the jobs ponies won’t do.”
With their arrival, the anti-internment ranks swelled to over five thousand, now double the numbers of the pro-internment crowd. Berry Punch turned and addressed the crowd through a megaphone that she normally used to direct work flow.
“The Equestrian government has gone too far! First, they make it nearly impossible for me to do business with their high taxes and restrictive labor laws… then they start arresting the workers at my vineyards! But you do the back-breaking manual labor jobs that they refuse to do. You built the railroads, the houses, the streets. Let’s see what happens to Tall Tale when all of the hard-working zebra immigrants are behind bars. This city’s economy will crumble. Grapes will go unharvested in the fields! Wine will go unfermented in the vats! Cargo will go unloaded in the docks! End the internment!”
The crowd of zebra vineyard laborers cheered, and chanted.
“We built Tall Tale!
We built Tall Tale!
We built Tall Tale!”
But then, the pro-internment side started jeering and chanting their own chant.
“Tax cheats go home!
Tax cheats go home!
Tax cheats go home!”
It was an open secret that Berry Punch had broken Equestrian labor laws by using illegal zebra immigrants as labor in her fields and not paying employment taxes on their wages. The Tall Tale Times had run several expose pieces on it, and her tax evasion case was still pending in court.
The dueling chants continued, until a stallion from the pro-internment side burst through the police line and shouted, “Quit taking Equestrian jobs, you greedy whore!”
Berry Punch was hit in the stomach by a full bottle of her own Berry Punch brand of wine that the stallion had thrown. The bottle burst apart with a loud splash, and she fell to the ground and stars filled her vision as the purple liquid--along with her own blood--splashed out onto the sidewalk. A couple of her zebra workers ran over to her to ensure that she was okay.
After a few moments, she returned to the ground, breathing heavily and labored, as the hit had knocked the wind out of her. She had a cut and a giant bruise, but could still stand. She stood up, putting one of her hooves in the air and smiling to show she was okay. The crowd cheered.
What an idiot, she thought. She was ‘taking’ jobs from nopony. None of the zebras who worked for her would even have a job if she didn’t have a vineyard! In what logic was her providing jobs to hundreds of zebras somehow ‘taking’ jobs from ponies? She didn’t get it.
“Keep it civil!” one of the riot police spoke through a police megaphone. The riot police readied their batons and shields, preparing to break up the opposing rallies if they got unruly. The crowds quieted down momentarily.
It this wasn’t to last. Five minutes later, a large crowd of two hundred zebra churchgoers of all ages and both genders marched down the street in front of the courthouse. They were led by a white-robed zebra cleric, his mane balding and splotchy in places.
“Repent! Repent! Repent!” the crowd shouted.
“Death to false gods!” the anti-internment crowd chanted back.
The cleric shouted, his voice so loud that he didn’t even need a megaphone, “Zaporizhia’s army is coming to free this city and his chosen striped people from the oppression of the solids: the ponies who throw us behind bars, and their allies, the griffon predators who prey on our children, snatching them from their yards in the savannah and shredding their flesh with their fangs! All shall burn for eternity, lest they repent for their wickedness!”
“Amen!” the churchgoers shouted back.
“As foretold in the prophecy, the incarnation of god Zaporizhia will unite the zebra nation as one, and all of his children shall live under him in harmony. Repent, ponies and zebras alike! Cleanse yourself of the evil in your hearts, or you will perish! Scripture foretells that the end is near for the heathen city of Tall Tale. Zodalakai 19:12, ‘For the unfaithful stood tall in their arrogance, living haughtily in their sinful ways, but were cut down by the chosen ones whom they so despised!’ Death to Tall Tale!”
“Death to Tall Tale!
Death to Tall Tale!
Death to Tall Tale!” the churchgoers chanted.
At this point, the lines of riot police started walking towards the churchgoers, shouting at the cleric to get down on the ground.
“You’re under arrest for sedition!” one of the officers shouted. The cleric sat on the ground, putting his hooves behind his head.
“Stay back,” Berry Punch ordered her workers, but they had already started walking over to the street to confront the officers.
The officers soon found themselves overwhelmed by a crowd of angry ponies from the pro-internment side, who rushed past the police line and assaulted the churchgoers, tackling them to the ground and beating them up. Only the children were spared, running away and shrieking in terror as their pious parents were pummeled behind them, crying out to Zaporizhia to save them. The police did nothing to intervene, merely standing back and watching.
About a hundred of Berry Punch’s day laborers rushed over to help the churchgoers, attacking the pro-internment crowd with shovels and pitchforks. One pony fell to the ground, crying out in agony as a shovel blade whistled through the air, hitting one of his hooves. The pro-internment crowd responded by stealing the riot shields and batons from the police, who by this point were retreating down the street.
Berry Punch shook her head. The situation was quickly deteriorating, and she had to get out as soon as she could. She and her remaining workers who hadn’t joined the melee ran away from the downtown area as the brawl in the street continued, angry shouts filling the air behind them.
After a few minutes of running, she glanced back for just a moment. The largest zebra church in downtown was on fire, and acrid black smoke poured out. Dozens of shop windows were broken all around, shattering with crashes, and zebras and ponies alike were running around looting anything that they could get their hooves on. The police were nowhere to be seen. Nor were any firefighters. Gunfire rang out in the distance.
When Berry Punch and her workers arrived back to her vineyards a few miles away, on the outskirts of town, she discovered that a large fire had been set in one of her fields. Sweet-smelling white smoke poured the air, mixed with the scent of gasoline. This was during harvest time, and she could lose hundreds of thousands of bits if the bundles of grapes burned up in the fields!
“Open up the irrigation full blast!” she called through the megaphone. “Save as many cartons of grapes as you can!”
Her workers fought the blaze into the night, using irrigation lines as makeshift firehoses, and quickly harvesting anything near the fire’s edge so that it wouldn’t be lost. Berry Punch had never in all of her life seen anyone work that hard. The only time any zebra took a break from firefighting was to go stand guard with shovels on the property line and the streets to stop any more rioters from spreading the fire through her vineyards any further.
The city firefighters would not come help, though she called them on the phone. Neither would the police. They all just told Berry Punch that they were ‘too busy stopping riots to come help out a tax cheat.’ But she had seen with her own eyes that they were letting zebra shops burn, and letting zebras be assaulted. The only time the police had taken any action during the whole day was to try to arrest that cleric. The police hadn’t even arrested the pony who assaulted her with a wine bottle.
The cops in this city are racist against zebras, and ponies who hire them, she thought.
As for the taxes, Berry Punch had actually been paying all the local taxes that went to things like the fire, police, and school district. The only taxes she had cheated were the federal ones on her employees that merely went to government benefits that they would never receive anyway since they were in the country illegally. Why pay for something they would never get? That money could just go to her employees or into her pocket. She wasn’t a rich mare, and she struggled every year just to break even. It was particularly bad with all of these unpredictable freezes since nearby Las Pegasus seceded and took most of the pegasi weather teams on the west coast.
There was a difference between local and federal taxes, but those ignorant cops were too stupid to know it, she thought. Maybe she would cheat on her local taxes now, too. Why should she suffer financially for nothing in return? Her name wasn’t “Charity Punch.” Why pay for terrible local services like nonresponsive racist police and fire, or schools that taught children nothing but propaganda?
As the blaze engulfed another row of grapes, she decided that from now on, she wouldn’t.
Pumpkin Cake sat in the guest bedroom of Trixie’s house, tossing and turning in the bed. She was incredibly tired, and wanted desperately to slip off to sleep, but it just wasn’t happening. It wasn’t for lack of trying, since she’d tried everything: counting sheep, breathing deeply, reading a book, drinking some warm milk mixed with vodka from Trixie’s kitchen. She’d even used her levitation magic to rock herself back and forth like a baby, but sleep wouldn’t come.
It had been nearly a week since she had escaped from the Magical Research Department. At first, she had spent most of her time walking around Mareicopa, wandering the streets in her new “Red Velvet” disguise, just happy to be seeing some new scenery and stretching her legs.
She couldn’t get to sleep because her mind kept racing, focusing on everything. She thought of how the earth ponies and pegasi were being rounded up off the street like cattle, herded to who knew what fate, and that she was seemingly powerless to stop it. Maybe she could, but she really didn’t want to. She’d just gained her freedom and she didn’t want to lose it again! She thought of how terribly she’d been treated in captivity, and all of the tortures. How she’d only just barely escaped, and was probably being hunted by the authorities that very moment.
And, even though she didn’t want to, she kept thinking of how she had killed another pony a week ago and was now living in her house. Pumpkin felt little sympathy for Trixie, but she’d certainly given her a death that almost nopony deserved: suffocating to death in a small little tank. Why didn’t Pumpkin just rip out Trixie’s heart quickly and painlessly and be done with it? Was she some sort of sadistical monster who had wanted to see Trixie suffer?
Pumpkin couldn’t even say why she did what she did to Trixie; she had just done it, seemingly out of impulse. Did Trixie really deserve to die like that? Even if Trixie did deserve to die in agony like she did, who was Pumpkin Cake to decide that she did? A teenage high school dropout who knew a few magic tricks? Seriously?
In addition to lingering doubts about her actions, Pumpkin Cake also couldn’t sleep because every so often, she had to compulsively open her eyes and check over towards the door, just to make sure nopony was standing in the room, about to subdue her with another paralytic dart or knockout gas canister. And every time that she checked, she couldn’t resist looking at the clock on the wall in dismay at how many sleepless hours had now passed.
Pumpkin had placed a giant dresser in front of the door and nailed the windows shut so that only she could easily get in and out, and so she would have warning if anypony tried to bust in the room, but even that was little reassurance given who she had been dealing with. What happened when a pony in the Second Kingdom died with no heirs? Did it go to the state, and were they coming to repossess Trixie’s house right now?
Don’t be silly, Pumpkin Cake, it’s the middle of the night; they’d at least wait until morning, she thought.
Of course, that was little consolation, since the sun was now coming up, and the room grew gradually lighter as the morning sun shone through the window. She checked the clock for the umpteenth time, and her heart sank when she saw that she had been lying in bed for five hours without a single moment’s rest.
Another half hour passed. Then another. Finally, Pumpkin couldn’t stand it anymore, and got up out of bed, walked through the dresser and out the door, and into the hallway. If she couldn’t sleep, then at the very least, she would try to keep her mind occupied with something else. Maybe she would start by searching through the contents of Trixie’s house to see if there was anything valuable or interesting there. She’d been avoiding most of Trixie’s house for the past week, but figured that if she was living there, she might as well see what was there.
She looked around through the master bedroom first. A few books, magazines, vases on the shelves, pictures on the wall, clothes in the dresser, a jewelry box, other personal items. In the closet, there were a bunch of white lab coats hanging up. Downstairs was the library. The bookshelves were full of all sorts of dusty tomes, thick encyclopedias, and novels. Pumpkin didn't know that Trixie was such a well read pony. That, or perhaps she just kept the books around so that she could look smart when other ponies came to visit.
While Pumpkin was going through Trixie’s books, she found a copy of the self-help magic book that Fritz Blueblood had written before becoming King of the Second Kingdom, called “Useful Magic Made Simple,” along with its sequel volumes. She paged through the books, seeing hundreds of pages of instructions for dozens of low to mid-level spells, a few of of which she knew, but some of which she hadn’t even heard of before. There was even a sleeping spell in there, and she would have to try it later. She took note of every spell, and resolved to read and learn every single one. Never again would she be defenseless.
While going through the rest of Trixie’s books, she found an old newspaper. It was a few months-old copy of the Canterlot Cornucopia. The headline screamed “Equestrian pegasi commit genocide-by-starvation against unicorns.” The main picture was of grain in the fields which were dying of salt poisoning. Curious, Pumpkin Cake picked up the paper and read it. It told her all about the salt poisoning of the crops, led by a group of pegasi.
She turned the page to continue reading the article. Her heart jumped in her chest. On the second page was a picture of a cream-colored pegasus, smiling widely, his tousled brown mane all over the place. There was no mistaking him. The caption even said, “Pound Cake: The pegasus leader.”
The paper dropped as tears of joy came to her eyes. Trixie hadn’t been lying. Pound was still alive.
Horseshoe Bay, October 2025
“Well, that don’t prove nothin’ conclusive, Pound Cake. I can’t go to Twilight with just this.”
Pound Cake frowned. “What do you mean, it doesn’t prove anything conclusive? You yourself said that it was a map as clear as day, marking the Second Kingdom as part of their territory!”
Applejack sat forward in her chair and sighed. “It was clear to me, but I still ain’t gonna go tell Twilight until I have more convincin’ proof. I snapped a picture of the map, but that ain’t enough evidence to get her to arrest somepony. The Oranges could just argue that it was a misprint or some sorta mistake. I do believe they’re traitors to Equestria, but that’s just my gut, and the map. I just need some more proof to convince Twilight.”
“She’d believe you. You were her best friend for years, right? And you were even the Element of Honesty, you told me. You have to go tell her,” said Pound Cake.
Applejack nodded. “That’s right. But part of bein’ honest is buildin’ up a good case before you go makin’ accusations. Your word is only as good as what you have to prove it. Without evidence, words are just that: words.”
Pound Cake sighed. “You know, I guess… I guess that you’re right. Maybe telling Twilight would be a bad idea for now.”
“Exactly. You really need to stop goin’ headfirst into things without thinkin’ through ‘em, Pound Cake,” said Applejack. “Rashness and stubbornness only gets you into trouble. But part of that is bein’ a teenager. You’ll grow out of it in time.”
He shrugged.
After a few moments, Applejack asked, “So how are the crops goin’? You killed ‘em all, yet?”
Pound said, “Pretty close. We’re just doing mop-up work at this point, making sure that every section is salted enough to die, making sure we didn’t miss any spots. The harvest is coming up soon, and already the crops are rotting in the fields. It’s just a matter of time until the Second Kingdom surrenders and begs to be part of Equestria again, just so they won’t starve.”
Applejack chuckled. “With any luck, my Aunt and Uncle won’t get in the way of that. But for some reason, they want you dead, most likely to protect their property in the Second Kingdom. But I’ll keep spyin’ on ‘em, and tell you what I find.”
Pound nodded. He and Applejack gave each other a hug, and he walked towards the door of her office. He opened it, and zipped out into the warm, rainy air.
The heavy rain pelted his coat in sheets and stung his skin as he zipped over the orange orchards of Horseshoe Bay. Applejack was busy with harvest season, and didn’t have time to go to Manehattan or Cloudsdale to meet Pound Cake, so instead, he had gone to Horseshoe Bay to meet her. But since he could fly so fast, it wasn’t an issue.
Pound Cake landed, exhausted, at the entrance of the hotel in Cloudsdale where he was staying at. He smiled at the bellhop and at Bulky Biceps, who stood by the door with an assault rifle slung over his back.
“There you are, Pound Cake,” said Biceps, crossing his hooves. “Why didn’t you tell me you were gone?”
Pound Cake blushed. “Oh, well, you know, it was kind of an unscheduled trip. And I was only gone for a few hours. I wore my bulletproof vest and everything. No assassin could have gotten me unless he was like, psychic or something.”
“Some unicorns are psychic,” Biceps scoffed.
“Look, I’m really sorry, and I won’t let it happen again,” said Pound Cake.
Biceps shrugged. “Don’t say sorry to me. It’s your life.”
Pound glanced towards the floor.
“Oh, and you have a visitor in your room,” said Biceps.
Pound raised an eyebrow. “You let a visitor in my room? Who?”
“Your sister.”
Pound’s jaw dropped. “Really? Are you sure? And I thought I said no visitors! Now who’s being lax about security?”
“I had her show me that phasing spell you said that only she could do, so yeah, it’s her,” said Biceps. “So I just let her into your room. Not that I could have stopped her, anyway.”
“Heh heh, good thing only she knows that spell, or else your security would be useless,” said Pound Cake.
“No, it’s useless anyway, if you keep running off without telling--”
Pound Cake was gone before Biceps could finish his sentence. He fumbled with his keys as he opened the door. Pumpkin Cake was sitting on the bed, reading a book.
“Pumpkin Cake!” Pound called out.
She glanced up from her book and smiled. “About time you got back. I’ve been looking all over Equestria for you for two weeks!”
They embraced each other in a hug that lasted for several minutes.
“How did you get here?” asked Pound.
“A cloud-walking spell. It was in this magic book written by Fritz Blueblood, of all ponies. It wasn’t that hard to cast, but it wears off pretty quickly,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“No, I meant how… like, how are you alive? How did you escape?” Pound clarified.
“I could ask you the same, but the cloud-walking spell is about to wear off. We should probably get back to the ground,” said Pumpkin Cake. “I’ll tell you on the way.”
“Hey, you wanna go someplace cool?” asked Pound Cake. “It’s a few hours from here, but we aren’t doing any salting this weekend, so I have tomorrow and Sunday off. I could use a vacation.”
Pumpkin nodded. “Me too.”
They walked out through the lobby.
“Hey Biceps, I’m going to Stirrup,” said Pound.
Biceps raised an eyebrow. “Stirrup? That’s thousands of miles away! You know I can’t fly that far on these stubby wings.”
He flapped his stubby wings to demonstrate. They creaked in struggle to lift his heavy body off the ground.
Pound shrugged. “You don’t have to come, because I’m already taking the best protection ever: Pumpkin Cake!”
Bulky Biceps narrowed his eyes for a few moments until he smiled. “Oh, I get it. Cause of that spell! And the bullets, they’d just...”
He made a whizzing motion with his hoof.
Pound nodded. “You got it. Take the rest of the weekend off, Biceps.”
Biceps grinned. “YEEEEAAAAHHHH! Time to hit the gym!”
Pound grabbed his sister in his arms and they flew off out the door and off towards the continent of Stirrup. On the flight of several hours, they talked and caught up on their lives.
It was dusk by the time the twins were sitting at a table outside of a cafe in a little town in Prance. It was a nation a lot like Equestria, with ponies of all three races living there, except that they spoke a different language. The streets were paved with cobblestone, vines crawled up the sides of buildings, and there was a gorgeous fountain in the town square.
“You can drink at fifteen here, too,” said Pound Cake, who ordered them each a glass of wine.
“You know, it’s kind of stupid to have a set age for things,” said Pumpkin Cake. “Some ponies mature faster than others. Some, like Trixie, never grow up. Some, like us, grow up early.”
“Well,” said Pound Cake, “Applejack said that I was too rash, and that was part of being a teenager.”
The waiter arrived with their wine.
“I mean, rash. Can you imagine?” asked Pound. “I’m not rash. Like, come on, when was the last time I did something on a whim?”
“This trip,” said Pumpkin Cake, taking a small sip of her wine. Her face puckered up at its taste.
“Well, okay, this was a fun impulse, though. Besides that,” said Pound, practically gulping his wine down.
“When you gave that interview to the Tall Tale Times with no plan on how you would destroy those crops,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“But that worked out for the best in the end, didn’t it?” asked Pound Cake.
Pumpkin Cake shrugged. “Well, now they’re rounding up earth ponies and pegasi in Copa to negotiate as hostages to save their kingdom, so you tell me.”
Pound Cake spat out his wine. “They’re doing what?”
“They’re going onto the streets, and when they see an earth pony or pegasus, they put him in a van and ship him off to Chupacabra Stadium. Usually they take homeless ponies, but sometimes they take regular ponies walking around.”
“So you saw this when you were there, over a week ago,” Pound Cake clarified.
Pumpkin nodded.
“And you didn’t stop it?” he demanded.
Pumpkin laughed. “What was I supposed to do? Put myself in danger to go on some crusade? I thought you said you didn’t like those.”
“I don’t like crusades when they’re causeless, but saving hundreds of thousands of ponies sounds like a pretty good cause to me. As to what you should do… oh, I don’t know, maybe you should use your magic!” said Pound Cake, pointing accusingly towards her horn.
“So just because I have a horn, I’m obligated to help? Is that how that works? There’s half a million other unicorns in Mareicopa; so where are they? Why does it always have to be me?”
“Because you’re powerful. You have a gift, just like I do. You have to stand up and do the right thing,” said Pound. He motioned for the waiter to bring two more glasses of win.
“Yes, I’m powerful, and if I could just wish the internment all away like that, of course I would do that. But I’m not a one-mare army, Pound Cake. No unicorn is. Not even the alicorns are. I can’t just take out dozens of armed ponies by myself. You have your team of friends to help you do your salting, right? Well I don’t have a team in Mareicopa. It’s only me.”
“Then you should make a team,” said Pound Cake. “Go back there and gather some like-minded friends to your cause, like I did in Cloudsdale. Then you could do it.”
“Okay, but for what?” asked Pumpkin Cake, finishing her first glass of wine and starting on the second.
“For… to… you’re so dense! What do you mean ‘for what?’ To save those ponies!” said Pound Cake. “You know, if I’m too rash, then you’re too cowardly. You aren’t willing to do the right thing because it’s too hard, or too scary, even if other ponies might be killed if you don’t act.”
“Killed? Who said they would be killed? I’ll bet they’re just bargaining chips for making a truce,” said Pumpkin Cake.
“We don’t want a truce. We want a surrender,” said Pound Cake.
“No, you want a surrender. I just want to be left alone. I just spent the last five months locked in a cell underground, Pound Cake. From now on, I’m living my life for me, and nopony else. I already have tremors, panic attacks, and I have to use a sleep spell just to fall asleep at night. I’m in no mood to go put my life in danger again to do some thankless thing.”
“You were willing to do that in Appleloosa, though,” said Pound Cake.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” said Pound Cake. “You wanted to stay behind and, what were your words again? Fight them there, so you wouldn’t have to fight them someplace else?”
Pumpkin begrudgingly nodded. “Something like that.”
“Okay, so same idea here. Today, they’re just rounding up earth ponies and pegasi. Big deal; you’re a unicorn, so it doesn’t affect you. But they have to be stopped now, because the list of ponies who they imprison and who they kill will keep growing longer. What happens when they start rounding up anypony for anything?”
“Oh, you mean like Equestria does with the zebras?” Pumpkin Cake sneered. “Yeah, let’s bring Mareicopa back into Equestria, where they can be oppressed in all new ways!”
Pound Cake sighed. “Yeah, and that’s a problem, I admit. But what if it didn’t have to be like that? What if Equestria could be made into a fair country worth joining, instead of full of corruption, and hatred, and greed? Would you help stop the genocide and take down the Second Kingdom in Mareicopa, then?”
Pumpkin Cake said, “I might consider it, but how are you going to change Equestria? Sounds impossible.”
Pound Cake smiled. “I’ve been working on it with Applejack. She was best friends with the princess at one point. Even if that doesn’t work, I have some clout of my own, now that I’m famous. I’m sure I could lead a thousand ponies to peacefully march on Manehattan if I needed to. I hope it doesn’t come to that, but I will do it if that’s what it takes. So how about it?”
Pumpkin Cake finished her second glass of wine, setting it down on the table with her magic. “Sounds like a scheme that could go wrong, but okay; I’ll agree just because I want to see you try to ‘change Equestria.’ I’ll stop the roundup in Mareicopa, and try to take over the city from the Second Kingdom, but I won’t just rush into it like you would. Instead, I’ll plan every step carefully. Then you do whatever you’re up to in Equestria. We’ll meet in the middle.”
“Okay, you stop the genocide, and I’ll reform Equestria. Deal,” said Pound Cake. “I still have another bone to pick, though.”
Pumpkin raised her eyebrow. “Why?”
“Because, you seem… off. I don’t know if it’s the alcohol talking, or what, but you just seem different from normal. I want to know that I can count on you to do your part of this plan.”
“Off?” asked Pumpkin, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah, off. Like, you keep shifting around in your seat, you keep glancing off in every direction. You know that we’re in Prance, right? Like, thousands of miles away from the Second Kingdom? Why are you so jittery? I’m the one with threats on my life.”
“Oh, well I was only under constant watch and locked in a cell for five months, so forgive me if I’m on the edge,” she scoffed, crossing her arms.
“That was then, this is now. You have to live in the moment, Pumpkin. All of that is in the past. Enjoy the present for what it is,” said Pound.
She shook her head. “My mind keeps going back to it. I can’t.”
Pound Cake laughed. “Of course you can. You can do whatever you set your mind to, Pumpkin. You learned that cloudwalking spell in what, a few days?”
“A few hours, actually,” she corrected.
“That proves my point even more, then,” said Pound Cake. “You’re telling me that you can do all sorts of magic that needs a lot of focus, but you can’t just focus on the present? I don’t buy it.”
“But that’s different!” said Pumpkin.
“I don’t buy it,” said Pound Cake. “Sorry.”
“You’re being dense,” she said.
“No, you’re being dense,” he said, leaning in to her across the table. “You know, you are willing to make every single self-serving excuse that you can to get out of helping other ponies escape those camps, but—”
“I already said that I would help, Pou—”
“I’m not done! You made every excuse, but then when it comes time to actually look out for yourself like you claim to want to do, you won’t even do that! Why? Are you just, like, a fan of misery? Are you a void that sucks everything in like a black ho—”
“No!” Pumpkin exclaimed, slamming her hoof against the table, making Pound blink. He noticed her eyes were misty, though she didn’t cry. Pound let a few seconds pass before he spoke again.
“Then show it,” said Pound Cake, in a softer tone. “I don’t have to leave to go to Equestria until sunday afternoon. But until then, there’s loads of cool sights and neat things to do around Stirrup. I plan on having a fun vacation... and I want you to have fun, too. Or at least, make an honest try.”
He leaned in closer towards her, patted her on the shoulder, and smiled. “Will you do it? Will you have fun, Pumpkin Cake? Just for me? Actually, not for just me, but for you?”
Pumpkin Cake nodded.
“Good,” he said.
The next two days were quite literally a whirlwind tour across Stirrup, as they only had a brief time before Pound needed to return to his pegasus posse of poisoning. But he was fast enough to get them to all of the major tourist destinations in Stirrup. They flew to towering marble arches, grand coliseums, mountaintops that broke into the edge of the horizon. They saw grand old towers and bridges and abandoned castles made of old stone.
They stopped to see the breathtaking cathedrals with stained glass windows of every color, with ceilings painted in lifelike detail. Of course, they didn’t have time to wait in line to get inside, so Pumpkin Cake just phased them through the side wall and they flew in. It was certainly large enough to fly around in, and they got to look at it up close.
Pumpkin did indeed had fun, for the first time in many months. Granted, not as much fun as she had back when she and Pound took vacations with their parents, and it took every bit of mental discipline for her to keep her mind from dwelling on her tortures even half as often, which was still every few minutes. But she found that if she focused on the grand scenes in front of her as if they were magic spells she was intently trying to cast, that helped.
After a weekend full of activities, she smiled on the flight home.
“You know what, Pound Cake? I think I’m going to be okay.”
He grinned back at her, then returned his eyes to the western horizon over the vast ocean.
She’d be alright. Maybe not today, or tomorrow. Maybe it would take months, possibly years for her to fully recover from what had happened to her. She didn’t know. But she would get fully better. When she got back to Mareicopa, she would fight to free all of those ponies, and that would help.
She was driven partly because of her deal with Pound, and partly out of just needing something to do to keep her mind occupied. But more and more as she soared through the air in Pound’s grasp, she was driven by the thought that there were now thousands of ponies, all imprisoned, scared and fearing for their lives, just like she had been. The thought of it truly disturbed her, as she knew that demon firsthoof. If freeing those ponies could help her sleep better at night, then she would do it just for that.
What had happened to her had already happened, and despite Pound’s talking-up of her magic skills, she didn’t have the power to undo the past or remove its memory.
But she did have the power to stop it from happening again.