For creatures that are not particularly strong or clever, changelings are unusual in that they have no known natural predators: for example, manticores, which are known to eat other species of large insects, will not approach a changeling. This is due to the fact that underlying the changeling’s chitinous exoskeleton is a poisonous flesh awash with a veritable sea of toxic alkaloids and neurotoxins. Even the basilisk, feared for its ability to turn creatures to stone with a single glance, will avoid a changeling; this is because the changeling brain lacks the proper neural structure upon which the basilisk’s petrifying gaze acts. In this sense, changelings are not only inedible, but also quite literally too stupid to die.
~Excerpt from The Audubon Guide to Equestrian Fauna
Hauntingly lilting in the warm, Everfree air, a night bird's song trilled out for all to hear. The bird sat nestled amidst a cluster of leaves on a low branch, barely hidden from view. A chorus of chirps rose up to join it along with a swarm of fireflies that danced under the canopy. All in all, it was as picturesque a setting as one could expect to find in the Everfree Forest in the darkness before dawn.
A smooth, round stone rocketed out of the darkness and struck the bird broadside; it dropped from its perch and fell to the ground in a heap, dazed by the attack.
A pair of heavily-built changelings strode forth from the murky shadows that concealed their observation post and stood over the felled creature. “Buzz you, noisy-ass bird,” one of the changelings, the larger of the two, grumbled, spitting contemptuously to the side.
“Nice throw, Glarzk.” The other changeling snickered into his hoof. “I think you killed it.” With one last glance at the bird, which had wisely chosen to feign unconsciousness for the moment, they ambled back into their hiding place in the shadows, taking care to avoid stepping into a roughly dug hole. The hole appeared as an aperture into the void, so dark was its interior. A soft rumbling echoed up from the hole’s depths.
“Chrysalis almighty, these woods give me the creeps,” said the rock-thrower, leaning up against a tree. “I mean, there could be anything out here.”
His fellow eyed the canopy. “At least there’s not griffons, thank the Queen.” A shudder shook his frame.
“Shut your jellyhole, Bazoop. I’m being serious.” Glarzk rolled his eyes, then ripped a hunk of bark from the tree’s trunk. “And this bark isn’t actually terrible, by the way.”
“That’s Corporal Bazoop, Specialist,” Bazoop snapped, “and I am being serious. Griffons won’t come near this place.” Leaning in and sniffing at the bark, he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “No room to spread their wings, what with all the branches.”
Glarzk loudly swallowed a mouthful. “Seriously, Bazoop, we were in the same basic training company,” he said with a scowl. “Don’t pull this corporal shit on me. And what, like this festering shithole full of basilisks and hydras and whatever the hell else isn’t bad enough that you’ve got to start bringing imaginary critters into it?”
“I—” Bazoop paused, head cocked. “What?”
“Bug,” Glarzk said slowly, “you know griffons aren’t real, don’t you?”
“Are you serious?” Bazoop said with a wooden expression.
Glarzk barked a laugh and slapped his knee. “Hah! Oh shit, you’re a grown-ass guard and you actually believe in griffons.”
“Are you for buzzin’ serious?” Bazoop snapped, wings flaring. “You don’t think griffons are real?”
The other changeling paid the question little heed. “I’m gonna go call the promotion board when I get back,” he said through a chuckle. “Tell ‘em, ‘Hey, your newly minted corporal believes in griffons!’”
“Dude, did you not pay any attention at all in basic?” Bazoop asked. He folded his wings back up and breathed deeply. “If I remember right, you spent damn near all of grub phase doing pushups for being a dumbass.”
“Bug, shut up.” Glarzk ripped off another hunk of bark. “Don’t change the subject. Everyone knows there’s no such things as griffons. I don’t even know why you’d think such a thing.”
Bazoop rolled his eyes. “We had training on what to do for griffon bites, you retard. Like, how can you not remember this?” He waved a forehoof for emphasis. “They’re dangerous as all hell—can snap a changeling in half with their tentacles!”
“Yeah,” Glarzk said with another guffaw, “their big, scary, imaginary tentacles.”
“Dude, whatever,” Bazoop said, glancing skyward as though expecting a horde of tentacled monstrosities to swoop down at any moment. “They’re huge! They got these big, snapping beaks, and tentacles like the size of your head, and they can change color to blend in with their surroundings, and they hate changelings, just like hate us worse than ponies!” His breaths came in short, fast puffs.
Glarzk paused for a long moment before his eyes lit up. “Bazoop— for real,” he said in a voice dripping with barely contained glee, “are you scared?”
“Hell yes, I’m scared of griffons!” Bazoop shouted. He immediately slapped a hoof over his mouth, then continued in a much softer voice. “Anyone with half a brain’s gonna be scared of something like that!”
“Oh my buzzing hell, this is hilarious.” Glarzk chewed up another piece of bark.
“Bug, what other big, imaginary monsters are you scared of? Don’t say buffalo—I’ll buzzing shit myself and die if you say buffalo.”
“Fine, I’ll buzzing prove it, you shitheap.” Bazoop stomped to the hole and crouched down over it. “Hey, Sergeant. Sergeant!”
The soft rumbling, identifiable with some difficulty as a snore, spiked with a sharp snort that ripped through the otherwise peaceful Everfree night. When the snores quieted again, Bazoop glanced at Glarzk, who only shrugged.
Bazoop stuck his head as far into the hole as he could without actually falling and took a deep, deep breath. “Sergeant!” he barked.
The snores abruptly cut off. “Whuzzafbbf?” grumbled someone from the darkness of the hole. A bird, startled into wakefulness, flew away in a flurry of feathers. “Whuh?”
“Sergeant, wake up,” Bazoop said, backing away cautiously.
The ground suddenly thrummed with a deep buzzing, one that the two guards could feel in their gut, and a monstrous changeling slowly rose out of the hole. He hovered there for a moment, scanning the perimeter for threats. Finding none, his wings ceased to flap and the deafening buzz ceased. A resounding thud issued forth as he lit heavily upon the forest floor, his hooves sinking into the soft soil. The sergeant eyed the other two changelings up with a critical eye. “Corporal,” he said in a soft voice laced with irritation, “are we under attack?”
Bazoop swallowed heavily and stood at attention. “No, Sergeant.”
“Then go back to”—The sergeant’s gaze flicked over Glarzk, who gnawed listlessly on a nearby tree—“go back to mentoring him, before the poor nymph hurts himself.” He turned back towards the hole, but paused when he noticed that Bazoop had not moved. “Is there something else, Corporal?”
“Ah, yes, Sergeant,” Bazoop said, licking his dry lips. “We need you to settle a dispute.”
The sergeant sighed. “And you felt the need to wake me up for this,” he said dryly. “Very well—tell me about this dispute.”
“He,” Bazoop said as he whipped an accusing hoof Glarzk’s way, “doesn’t believe in griffons.”
The sergeant frowned and cocked his head. “What?”
“Yeah, Sarge,” Bazoop said. “He was giving me a ration of shit, said they’re imaginary animals.”
“That’s—” the sergeant began.
“Yeah, I know, right?” Bazoop interrupted, rolling his eyes. “I told him about the tentacles and everything!”
“Tentacles?” the sergeant said. His frown deepened.
Glarzk snorted loudly. “Sergeant, you can stop playing,” he scoffed. “I know there’s no such thing as griffons, so there’s no sense in trying to fool me.”
“See how stupid you look when one comes thundering out of the underbrush!” Bazoop flailed his forehooves to accentuate his point. “You know, tentacles all grabbing and smashing everything it sees!”
Glarzk’s mouth was open to reply, but the sergeant apparently had had enough. “Okay,” he snapped, rubbing his forehead, “both of you dipshits shut up. You make my brain hurt.” He strode over and jabbed Glarzk in the chest. “You—idiot number one. You’re wrong. Griffons are extinct, not imaginary. And before you ask, no, that’s not the same thing at all.”
“Told you—” Bazoop began, but before he could finish, the sergeant wheeled on him, furiously knifing the air inches from the startled corporal’s muzzle with his hoof.
“And you—idiot number two, stop being a little sissy grub,” he said in a hushed growl. “Besides the fact that hive operations hasn’t reported a griffon-sighting in a thousand moons, everyone with half a brain knows they didn’t have tentacles. They were big, scaly motherbuzzers that breathed fire and would cook you alive in your shell as soon as look at you.” He paused to take a deep, wearied breath. “Are there any further questions, you pair of numbnuts?”
Glarzk lilted. “No, Sergeant—” Suddenly, his ears perked up and twisted. “Hey, did either of you hear that?” A faint cry warbled through the air.
“It’s just a bird,” the sergeant said, still glaring at his subordinates. “Now, if there’s nothing else—”
“I don’t think that’s a bird,” Glarzk cut in. The cries slowly, steadily grew louder, soon accompanied by a series of intermittent crashes.
Bazoop’s eyes widened. “It’s a griffon!” He ran in circles, ears laid flat against his head. “You two just had to say they weren’t real, didn’t you?!”
“They aren’t real!” Glarzk said.
“No, they’re extinct!” the sergeant snapped. However, as the screams and crashing grew almost deafening, he shrank back. “Although there’s no shame in being careful. Into the hole, troops!”
The three changelings dove into the hole and poked their heads out just in time to see the monster go careening through the clearing. Its two wooden wheels bounced and crashed over the uneven ground, and long vines and strands of ivy clung to its fuschia body and flailed like party streamers behind it. Two mares rode on top, hooting and screaming as they rocketed past.
Within seconds, it had vanished, leaving only treadmarks in the grass to tell of its passing.
After a long moment of silence, Glarzk finally mustered the strength to speak. “So, Sergeant,” he said slowly, “should we investigate that…?”
“Queen told us to stand by until we received our order,” the sergeant said. He dropped back down to the bottom of the hole. “and I’m making a command decision to file this one under ‘Someone Else’s Problem’, boys.”
“Yes, Sergeant!” Glarzk said, saluting sharply. “Bazoop, what do you think that thing was?”
“I-I-I d-don’t kn-know,” he said through chattering teeth, body completely rigid. Glarzk chuckled as he climbed out and reached down to retrieve his fear-stricken comrade.
The sergeant’s snores once more echoed from below.
Already disguised as Princess Twilight’s friends, Drax and Slisk barrelled through the undergrowth on the back of their borrowed cart, fighting to keep from losing their seat and tumbling off. As Slisk shifted his weight, the cart turned, narrowly bypassing yet another tree.
“Dude,” he shouted, turning the cart again, “I coulda swore I saw changelings back there in that hole!”
Drax whooped and pumped a hoof into the air. “Brah, I knew I was right about this kidnapping thing, yo! Oh hells yes, she’s even got guards out here to, like, keep an eye on the scene and report and shit!”
“Dude,” Slisk said as they both ducked to avoid a low tree branch, “but, like, why wouldn’t they just, like, y’know, do it themselves?”
“Huh. That’s a good question, yo.” Despite the chaotic conditions, he managed to put a hoof to his chin and adopt a contemplative expression. “Like, I bet it’s one of those things where they’re not allowed, like, ‘Friends and families are exploded from this special offer’ kinda deals, brah.”
Turning the cart to dodge through a cluster of bushes, Slisk nodded. “Oh yeah, dude, cuz they’d have, like, advantages and shit.” Slisk pondered for a moment. “Hah—though, dude, like, we’re all family kinda, y’know, cuz of the queen and shit.”
Drax shuddered. “Brah, don’t even joke like that, cuz otherwise when you and Charlene from B-comb were swappin’ spit, it’d be, like, in-sext, yo.”
“Dude, but what’s wrong with being insects?” Slisk said.
“Brah, I’m not even gonna— “
The wagon ramped off of a mound of dirt, almost reaching three feet before landing and nearly unseating its passengers.
“Yo, this cart isn’t as shitty as it looked,” Drax shouted. “Those brothers know their shit, brah.”
“They spelled ‘science’ wrong on the bag, though.” Slisk lifted a burlap sack and passed it to Drax, who managed to unfold it. Crudely written in black marker was the word, “syntz”.
“Brah, like, how’s it supposed to be spelled?”
“Like, the q is silent, or some shit like that,” Slisk said.
Suddenly, the cart topped the crest of a particularly steep hill and took flight, soaring majestically over a golden field of wheat, bathed in the striking oranges and purples of dawn’s first light. For the two disguised changelings, time seemed to stop.
“Whoa,” Slisk said slowly, eyes wide. “Dude, like, whoa.”
Drax sniffled. “Shit’s pretty as hell, yo.”
Unfortunately, time had not actually stopped, and within seconds the cart slammed down into the field, throwing its occupants off before itself flipping upside down. Then, all was still, silent save the whine of the cart’s still-spinning wheels.
Surrounded by stalks of wheat, Drax groaned and rolled over. “Slisk, brah,” he said, rubbing his backside, “you still alive?”
“Never again, dude,” came Slisk’s voice. The stalks parted as Slisk pushed through, knees shaking, but otherwise seemingly uninjured. “Never again.”
Drax groaned again as he forced himself to his hooves. His fine amber mane fell across his face and into his mouth. “Brah, I hate this stupid hair,” he said, spitting it out. “All gettin’ in my mouth, and shit. Quit buzzin’ around, yo, and help me find the cart.”
“It’s right over there, doggie,” Slisk said. He pronked happily as he led Drax through the wheat and into a small clearing, in the middle of which sat their fallen cart. One of the wheels seemed marginally more wobbly, but other than that, it had come through the crash no worse for the wear. The burlap sack lay on the ground beside it.
“Brah,” Drax moaned, “why you suddenly gotta be all hopping everywhere, yo? That shit’s, like, tiring just to watch.”
Slisk shrugged helplessly. “Dude, I dunno. Just kinda, like, happened I guess.”
Together, the two changelings managed to flip their cart upright. The sun had risen over the wheat and beamed down, stinging their eyes.
“Yo, when we were airborned-ed, I’m pretty sure I seen Ponyville over that way.” Drax said, pointing in the town’s direction. “We should get going—” He paused when Slisk picked up the sack and the sound of glass clinking on glass rang out. “Brah, what’s in the bag?”
Slisk cocked his head. “The science shit, dude.” He opened the bag up to look inside. “You know, beakers and stuff.”
“Nah, brah, I said we ain’t need that,” Drax said. He moved between the cart’s stays and began to pull it towards Ponyville. Its bearings creaked loudly in the otherwise quiet morning air. “Ditch that shit somewhere and let’s go.”
“No way, yo.” Slisk shook his head vehemently. “Flim and Flam said we gotta give all this stuff back or else I’ll lose my reposit, dude.”
“Just get it out of the sack before we get there,” Drax replied as he muscled his way through the wheat and out of sight.
Slisk considered the bag. “Where can I put it?” he mused, then realized that he stood in the clearing alone. “Dude, wait up!”
Brushing the poofy mane from his face, he took off after his friend.
High over Ponyville, a trio of pegasi sat on a cloud and kept close watch over the Ponyville Library. One of them began to drift into unconsciousness, but the largest slapped him on the backside of the head.
“Minion Phillip, you will remain vigilant or else I will have you brought up on charges,” Zubzuk, disguised as the large pegasus, said haughtily.
Phillip scowled. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever been a part of,” he snarled. “And I’ve been part of a lot of stupid things.” His reward was another slap.
“Silence!
“Are either of you hungry?” the third “pegasus” said. He reached back to scratch his flank. “I could use something to eat.”
“There will be time for rations later,” Zubzuk said, returning his gaze to the library below.
“Why don’t you ever hit him?” Phillip grumbled. He barely managed to roll aside and dodge a third slap.
“Because I like Minion Blizzik more than you.” Suddenly, Zubzuk’s eyes widened. “Look! Someone approaches the princess’s abode!”
Lazily glancing down, Phillip could see a pair of mares with a small, two-wheeled cart had indeed stopped in front of the library’s door. “So what? That could be anyone.”
So focused was he, Zubzuk didn’t even think to smack his subordinate. “Call it instinct,” he murmured. “Let us watch and see.”
“And then we can eat,” Blizzik said, too softly for either of them to hear.
Lapsing into silence, they waited for the show to begin.
“Dude, this mare really does live in a tree, yo,” Slisk-Pinkie said, prodding Drax-Applejack in the ribs.
Before them loomed the Ponyville Library in all of its leafy glory, windows dark and shuttered, door firmly barred against the outside world. Even in the bright morning sunlight, a pall of gloom seemed to loom heavily about the place. At least a dozen ponies had passed by in the time Pinkie and Applejack stood outside, but each took care not to venture too close, almost as though going out of their way to avoid it.
The decrepit cart slouched beside them, bag laid out inside.
Applejack scowled and rubbed her side. “I told you that shit already, brah,” she said. “And stop jabbing me.”
“Dude, like, won’t she be asleep?” Pinkie asked. Bouncing in place, she craned her neck to try to get a view through one of the upper windows.
“Nah, doggie,” Applejack said knowingly. “Ponies all wake up early n’ shit. They, like, sing songs at each other I think, or something.” She glanced over at at her friend, and her scowl deepened. “Brah, I told you to cut it out with all that bouncing n’ shit.”
With more effort than should have been necessary, Pinkie stuck her hooves to the ground. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Feels good, is all.”
“Brah.” Applejack grabbed the cart’s stays and pulled it right up to the library’s door. “I’m gonna knock, brah. I’m doing it, yo—cuz I’m knocking. Right now.” Her hoof hovered inches away from the thick oaken door as Pinkie peered over her shoulder.
“Dude, did you knock?”
‘Does it look like I buzzin’ knocked, yo?” Applejack snapped, “No, cuz I didn’t. I gotta think of some classy shit to say to her, brah.” She cleared her throat, then took a deep breath. “Alright, yo. Now I’m gonna knock. I got some real cleverness here.”
“You okay, dude? Cuz ponies are starting to, like, look.” Pinkie waved a hoof behind them, where a couple ponies had stopped to watch in curiousity.
“Brah, they’re starting to look cuz you keep asking me shit, yo,” Applejack said. She turned a glare Pinkie’s way. “Y’all be, like, making them look at me, all standing here being a dumbass with all these questions and shit.”
Pinkie shrugged. “Okey-dokey-lokey, yo.”
“Slisk. Yo.”
“What, dude?”
Applejack shook her head helplessly. “Whatever. Alright. Go time.” Reaching out, she smartly rapped the door twice.
The two waited for a minute, but nobody appeared, and no sounds could be heard from inside. “Maybe she’s not home?” Pinkie suggested. Her legs began to bend and unbend unconsciously.
“She’s gotta be home. yo!” Applejack said. She reached out and knocked again, this time with even more force. “Like, where else she gonna be, brah? This is where all the books are, right? In the library?” She repeatedly laid powerful blows down upon the door, hard enough to shake it in its frame. Suddenly, the door flew open. Applejack nearly fell forward when her hoof hit only air.
As she regained her balance, she found herself looking down at a pony’s hooves. Her gaze slowly travelled up a leg, then the chest, and finally the neck before she found herself gazing right into the face of an extremely nonplussed Princess Twilight Sparkle.
“Can I help you? Princess Twilight said in an acidic tone. Applejack opened her mouth, but a cold fear stole down her spine, only allowing her to make strangled noises.
Fortunately, “Pinkie Pie” hopped forward, bag slung over her shoulder and a grin plastered across her face. “Hiya, Twilight!” she chirped. “Whatcha doooo-in’?”
The overly cheerful greeting set Twilight back. “I was sleeping,” she said slowly. “Look, if you two don’t mind—”
“Nope!” Pinkie said. She grabbed Applejack’s leg and pulled her forward, past Twilight and into the library. “Don’t mind at all!”
“Wait! I didn’t invite you—” Twilight growled. “Look. This isn’t the best time, uh”—She stared hard at Pinkie for a long
moment—"uh, you. Porky Pig. I’m still sleeping off last night’s—”
“I have something super-duper fun for us to do!” Pinkie interrupted. She nudged Applejack in the ribs. “Right, Applejack?”
“Brah, I told you to stop doing that,” Applejack muttered, then turned to face Twilight. “Th-that’s r-r-r—” Terror threatened to rip control away from her. “That’s right, u-uh— Poker Face.”
Groaning loudly, Twilight ran a hoof down her face, then gave them a strained smile. “Very well, Poker. Show me this fun thing of yours.”
“Why don’t you explain it to her, Applejack?” Pinkie said, once again nudging Applejack.
“Brah!” Applejack snapped, rounding on her friend. “If you do that one more time—” She suddenly remembered where she was and cleared her throat. “Y’all. Uh, r-right. W-we have this, um—th-this bag of—of ssss—”
“A crazy amazing bag of science!” Pinkie stepped in to cover for Applejack’s inability to speak. “Doesn’t it make you wanna have a look? Doesn’t it?”
“Nope,” Twilight said, smile fading. “Can I go back to sleep, now?”
This possibility had never entered into their calculations. “Aw, c’mon, Twilight,” Pinkie goaded. A bead of sweat appeared on her forehead. “We brought it here, extra specially just for you! Won’t you just take an eentsy-weentsy peeky-week?”
“Nope,” Twilight said again. She pushed them both towards the door, which still stood wide open. “I think we’re done here.”
“Applejack, say something!” Pinkie said as she dug his hooves into the ground.
“Y’all,” Applejack croaked miserably, “Dag-nabbit. Yee-haw.”
“Applejack sounds like she’s having a stroke,” Twilight said, unable to budge Pinkie further. “You should take her to the hospital.”
“Ah’m Applehat, yo!” Applejack added in a daze.
Suddenly, Pinkie spun out of Twilight’s grasp and hopped around her. “Both Applejack and I got to look in the science bag!” she said. “And neither of us even really know any sciences!”
“Then go learn some,” Twilight said with a scowl. “Just so long as you don’t do it here.”
“Darn-tootin’? I loooove me some apples!”
“Just oooooone second, Twilight,” Pinkie said, pulling Applejack to the side. She whispered, “C’mon, dude, pull yourself together! I can’t do this by myself!”
Applejack’s breathing came in ragged puffs. “Sorry, brah. It’s—this is freaking me out n’ shit, yo.” She gritted her teeth, then took a deep breath. “Okay, I got this.” They turned back to Twilight.
“Sorry about that!” Pinkie said, patting her friend on the back reassuringly. “Applejack’s feeling much better, now! Aren’t you?”
“Look in the bag!” a wide-eyed Applejack said loudly.
Twilight stared at the dubious bag, still slung over Pinkie’s back. “Is ‘science’ normally spelled that way?” she asked in a skeptical voice.
“What,” Applejack said, “y’all too good to look in the science bag? Gotta be questionin’ the spelling?”
“Is that true, Twilight?” Pinkie shot in. “It’s me, Pinkie Pie! Don’t you trust me?”
“Yeah, like, can’t you trust me—Applepants—yo?” Applejack sat down and crossed her forehooves. “Well, alllll-righty then. Ah guess y’all ain’t gonna get to do y’all’s favorite thing to do, ever. Which is look at science, yo.” When Twilight didn’t respond, she added, “Ah reckon Ah’m gonna have ta tell the main princess that y’all hate learnin’ and shit, now.”
Twilight considered the bag and the two cheerful ponies that stood before her. “If I look in the bag, will you two leave me alone?” she asked slowly.
“Absolutely-positootley!” cheered Pinkie.
“Well, too bad.” Twilight scowled. “Piss up a rope.”
“But—” Applejack began.
Twilight’s eyes blazed. “I said no!” she snapped. “Now, get out!
Applejack’s pupils shrank to the size of neutrons as something in her mind, already strained to the breaking point, failed catastrophically.
“Hey, what are you looking at—” Twilight started to say, but a blood-curdling war-cry cut her off. Applejack lept wildly into the air, bringing down an elbow with sledgehammer-like force on the base of her skull. The princess crumpled to the ground like a sack of science. Breathing heavily, Applejack loomed over her.
Pinkie slowly walked over and gazed down upon the fallen Twilight. Finally, she found her voice. “Oh, shit, yo!” she shouted, grabbing Applejack by the shoulders. “Dude, shit! What the shit, dude, you just clocked her!”
“Brah, I know, right?” Applejack said as she stared disbelievingly at the guilty hoof.
“Like, right on the head, dude!” Pinkie went on. “Like, you just hit a princess!”
“Brah! I know!”
Pinkie gripped herself on the cheeks. “Dude! You knocked out a—”
“Shut up and lemme think, brah!” Applejack snapped. “I’m trippin’ the buzz out, here!”
“Why’d you do it, yo?” Pinkie asked in softer tones. “What happened to treatin’ ladies right, n’ shit?”
“I-I dunno!” Applejack paced back and forth, eyes wide. “It just—it just, like, happened, yo! One moment she was saying, ‘no, I don’t wanna look in your stupid bag,’ and the next, I, like, smashed her square on the dome!”
The silence hung heavily in the air. A breeze blew in through the open door. “So, like, uh,” Pinkie said, nudging Twilight, “dude, are we gonna do this thing?”
“What?” Applejack said as she halted her pacing. Then, realization hit. “Oh, yeah, brah. Hells yeah! Let’s haul her out and get her on the wagon.”
Working together, they managed to lift Twilight and carry her to the door. “Dude, she’s heavier than she looks,” Pinkie said, holding her hind legs.
“Yeah, I know, brah, that’s why I wanted to like get her in the bag on the wagon, yo,” Applejack huffed, “Too late for that now, though, like, water over the bridge and shit. You wanna put her in the bag first?”
She looked to Pinkie for an answer, but her friend’s mouth only gaped open, eyes fixed on something outside. Applejack craned her neck to see what it was.
“Brah, what are you—” She, too, lapsed into silence. Standing outside, keeping a distance from the library, was a crowd of over a dozen ponies. Each bore a shocked expression. “Slisk,” Applejack muttered, “brah, get ready. We’re gonna have to straight book it.”
“Dude, there’s, like, a hundred of them,” Pinkie said in a shaky voice. Before she could say anything further, however, a clap cut through the air.
At the front of the crowd, a filly applauded, her hooves ringing out clearly. After a moment, another pony joined her, then another. Soon the entire crowd was stomping and cheering.
“Dude, what—” Pinkie started.
Appplejack sharply hushed her. “Just keep walking, brah. Smile.” Smiling widely, the two carried Twilight to the cart.
The applause petered out. “It’s about time somepony did something about her!” one of the ponies cried.
“She peed all over my carrots!” shouted another.
A third added, “Please tell us you’re taking her to a rehab clinic.”
“Uh—” Applejack cleared her throat. “Yeah, y’all. Daaaaaarn-tootin, yo.”
“We’re using science, everypony!” Pinkie said through a giggle.
In an undertone, Applejack said, “Brah, help me get her in the bag and let’s go, yo!” She maneuvered Twilight as Pinkie held the bag open. “And stop that giggling and shit, brah, it’s freaky.”
“Sorry.” After a few seconds, they managed to get the bag around Twilight’s upper half. “Good enough,” Pinkie muttered. Lifting the burden to her shoulder, she grunted, then lobbed the sack into the back of the cart. “Now let’s—”
From the sack came the clear, unmistakable sound of shattering glass.
“Aw nuts, Draxie, my deprofit—” Pinkie began, but Applejack slapped her on the back of her head.
“Shut up—we’re going,” she hissed, grabbing the wagon’s stays. To the crowd, she said loudly, “See y’all later! Don’t forget to eat yer apples, yo!”
One wheel squeaking furiously, the cart rolled away from the library and the dumbstruck ponies arrayed by its entrance. Pinkie glanced around and cocked an eyebrow. "Draxie, are you sure this is the right way?"
"Brah, whatever way is the right way, yo," Applejack whispered. "We gotta ditch outta here before these yokels figure out we ain't really ponies, and shit!" He hitched the stays and upped his pace.
They traveled without conversation, although Pinkie hummed a jaunty tune the entire time. Finally, they cleared the town's outskirts and wheeled the cart to the side of the road, along which ran a long wooden fence. Applejack took a deep breath, then spun on her friend.
“Brah!” she snapped at Pinkie, who cowered beneath the verbal assault. “I told you to, like, get that glass shit out of the bag, yo!”
“Awww, don’t be a grumpypants, Drax! Lookie what weee’ve goooot!” Pinkie sing-songed, poking Twilight’s flank.
“What’s going on with—” The color drained from Applejack’s face. “Oh, brah, no. No. You didn’t.”
“Hee hee!” Pinkie bounced circles around the cart, then hopped on and dropped to her stomach beside the half-bagged Twilight. “I want cupcakes!”
“Brah,” Applejack said slowly, “you went full pony, didn’t you?”
Pinkie giggled. “Didn’t have a choice, Draxie! You were”—She paused to blow a raspberry—”turr-ah-bullllll.”
“Oh no, no no no. You never go full pony, yo.” Applejack pulled the cart just inside the forest where nobody could see them. “Brah, I’ma change back real quick. Hang on.” As she shut her eyes, a green flash revealed shiny chitin where before there had been a pony’s coat. Wings popped from her back, and her pupils vanished. By the time he finished the transformation, all of the color had left his friend’s face.
“Tee hee,” Pinkie said weakly, rolling onto her side. “Oh, dude, I’m gonna be sick.”
Drax helped her prop herself over the edge of the cart. “Brah, you're just real change-sick is all. Get it all up, yo.” He patted her quivering back reassuringly. “Eat some grass or some shit. Get all that nasty ‘ol pony out your bod’, brah.”
A rictus grin covered Pinkie’s green-tinged face. “Come on everypony, smile-smile-smbleeeeuuuuraaaagh!” She convulsed, vomiting up a pink, sparkling slurry.
On the cart, Twilight groaned and shifted, movement accompanied by crackling glass. “Oh, I know your bitch-ass ain’t waking up!” Drax shouted as he held Pinkie’s poofy mane up and out of her face.
“From these happy friends of miii—” Pinkie paused mid-note to expel another bolus of the foul-smelling glittery sludge. “D-dude, I ain’t never going pony again.”
Before Drax could respond, a shadow loomed over him from behind. “Who’s th—” Something slammed down onto the top of his head. He fought to stay on his hooves, but a second blow from the attacker laid him out. Pinkie groaned, unable to so much as lift her head.
Right before the darkness took him, Drax heard someone laugh cruelly. “And that, minion Phillip, is how you run a military campaign.”