//------------------------------// // Chapter Four: A Friend of Mine // Story: The Wayfarers // by TheFictionAddiction //------------------------------// The sun was nearly hidden under the horizon when the trio finally exited the jailhouse and trotted into an empty street. As the door closed behind Midnight, the sheriff could be seen in his office lighting up a fresh cigar. Alabaster had only made it a few steps out the door before Whisper was at his side. “Not out here,” he said suddenly, before the mare had a chance to say anything. Troubled thoughts amassed in Whisper’s head like storm clouds, and he knew it. In all honesty, the encounter with the sheriff left him feeling none too different. Despite that, he did his best to give Whisper a reassuring smile. “We’ll talk at the inn, all right?” Little Whisper nodded and smiled back. Even though the street seemed void of other life, Alabaster wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing the matter at hand without being behind a nice, locked door. But first things first, he reminded himself, turning to face Midnight as he trotted up. Even though the dark stallion had actually been decent company, Alabaster knew that this moment had been coming all day. Amnesia or no, having him around was a variable that none of them could risk. Better do it now and get over with quickly. “So… Midnight…” he started awkwardly. “We need to talk real quickly.” Subtly didn’t suit Alabaster at all. Midnight Dreary knew very well what was coming next. The thought of their departure had not been far from his thoughts for most of the day. Now, in the heat of the moment, Midnight found himself feeling quite indifferent to the matter. It was an inevitability, he had reasoned. However, he knew that this would put him right back to square one. Which was nowhere. Midnight Dreary wasn’t the only one who read Alabaster’s intentions. Whisper’s eyes widened and her heart vaulted for her throat. “Look,” Alabaster continued, “I think it’s time-” The words turned into a loud grunt as Whisper shoved her shoulder into his side and sent him over a couple steps. “Give us just a moment, Midnight!” Whisper called to a confused looking Midnight as she pushed Alabaster out of earshot. “The hell’s your deal!” The words came out as a hiss as Alabaster glared down at her. “You hit me right where you left those freaking bruises!” “Look, Al,” Whisper began, thinking carefully about what she would say, “I know what you’re about to do, but I have something to say first.” His brow furrowed and his eyes flickered over her suspiciously, yet he held his peace. She hoped that was a sign that he would listen. Maybe… Biting the tip of her tongue, Whisper couldn’t quite find a good way to word what she needed to say. So, she quickly settled with the direct approach. Perhaps it would even catch Alabaster off guard. “I think we should invite Midnight to travel with us,” she dropped the bomb as gently as she could. The look on Alabaster’s face was that of a person who had just succumbed to a stroke. Whisper was just about to check his pulse when he exploded. “Are you serious?” he half whispered, half shouted. “Because you can’t possibly be serious! You must be having some kind of reaction to all that cigar smoke or something!” “No, you have to listen to me, Al. Just for a- quit it!” Alabaster’s hooves had begun poking and prodding around the braids of her mane, feeling to see if her head had a soft spot. “I’m perfectly fine, Al! Will you just hear me out?” He dropped back to all fours and stared confoundedly at her. “Fine,” he grunted, “but I hope you start making sense pretty quickly, Wisp, and I do mean really quickly.” “Okay.” The mare grudgingly adjusted her tangled braids as she spoke. “I know that it must sound crazy, but we can’t just leave that poor stallion all on his own.” “Why not?” Alabaster asked curtly. Those green eyes began to burn into him like a spotlight. “You heard his story. He doesn’t even know who he is! Could you possibly imagine what that’s like, to be lost in a country with no idea who you are or who to trust? At least we have each other, Al. He doesn’t have a thing in the world except for the saddlebag on his back.” She took a breath for dramatic effect. “If we leave him now, it would be just like leaving a little foal alone to fend for himself.” “Yeah, I don’t think that guy is a foal, Wisp-” He was silenced by the look on Whisper’s face, which clearly said ‘stick a hoof in it!’ Somehow the tables had been turned, and now it was Alabaster’s turn to be the prey. “L-look here, Wisp,” he stammered, wondering when and how Whisper had become the aggressor. “Y-you don’t even know this guy. For all we know, that tale about amnesia and junk was a bucket full of shit.” “It wasn’t.” The tone in Whisper voice was definite and firm. “He’s lost, Al. I can take one look at him and see it.” Alabaster dared a squint at her. “You were doing that 'creeping' thing again, weren’t you? I told you not to do that crap! It freaks me out…” Whisper sighed and rolled her eyes. “That’s not the point! The point is that I refuse to let us abandon him, not when he has nowhere else to go. It. Isn’t. Right!” “All right then… but why him? Of all the strays we’ve been in the mix with in the past, why are you pulling to take in this one?” Whisper couldn’t quite put into words what it was she felt whenever she looked at Midnight. Most people were an open book to her and Midnight was no different. However, when she looked at his pages, she saw a story not too much unlike her own; she saw sorrow and confusion. Even when he smiled and conversed with them earlier, she noticed it still, like a dark cloud looming above his head. “I guess because, when I look at him, I see myself… back when I still lived in the swamplands…” Oh, damn. Though discussion of Whisper’s time in the swamplands was never brought up much, Alabaster knew well that it was a dark time for her. She had spent most of her childhood clinging to life in that dark and horrendous place, searching for the hive that had long left her to die. Mainly it was Alabaster who wouldn’t hear any talk about it. The thought of his only friend being marooned in that hellhole was too much for him. “You really think he’s that bad off?” Whisper nodded earnestly. Alabaster ran a hoof through his mane and ground his teeth in frustration. It had been a long time since he had seen his friend so persistent about something. Can’t believe I’m even considering this… “Fine,” he sighed, his will caving like a house of straw. “If you really think his situation is so dire and if he wants to tag along, I guess I’m fine with it… for now.” Whisper’s smile almost threatened to split her face in half. “You mean it?” she blurted, no longer trying to maintain any level of subtlety. Alabaster nodded reluctantly. “Oh, thank you, Al!” she squealed, pulling Alabaster into a neck-breaking bear hug. “I promise, you won’t regret this!” We’ll see about that… “Just remember,” he wheezed as Whisper’s embrace crushed his windpipe, “he’s your responsibility. That means clean newspapers and fresh water every day.” Whisper laughed as she released Alabaster and turned to head back to Midnight, almost skipping along as she went. Though the sight of Whisper’s joy pleased Alabaster more than he cared to admit, he couldn’t help but feel troubled as he watched after her. His thoughts churned in his head like a restless ocean and his stomach felt tight and cramped. Damn her, he thought. What exactly did she see in him that would make her act like this? The idea that she might not be telling him everything popped up, and Alabaster felt a twinge of shame when he did not immediately dismiss it. Whisper knows what’s at stake, he concluded. For now, I’ll just let her have this and trust that she knows what she’s doing. The pale stallion took a moment to scrounge up a smile that could just pass as sincere before following his overjoyed companion. *** Midnight watched listlessly as a grinning Whisper bounded to him with a not-quite-so-happy Alabaster in tow. Though the two had spoken in whispers from a distance, it had made little difference for the quiet stallion. The shadows spoke to him softly, and they spoke in the hushed voices of Little Whisper and Alabaster. Truthfully, he had never intended to listen. Midnight screwed his eyes shut and tried to push the invading voices from his mind. However, the shadows proved to be as persistent as the gnats and flies that had pursued him all day. “Midnight, we have something we’d like to ask you,” Whisper beamed, wasting no time at all. “Something Whisper would like to ask you,” Alabaster corrected, his smile faltering for a moment. Midnight could tell that he was forcing his enthusiasm. “Whatever,” she giggled, barely able to contain herself. “Anyway, we talked it over for a bit and decided that we’d like you travel with us for a bit longer. That’s if you want to, of course! We just thought that with your… condition, you might feel safer staying in a group for a while.” Little Whisper was almost bubbling over with excitement as she spoke. For a moment, Midnight had no idea how to respond. If it wasn’t for the damnable shadows he might have actually been surprised. Almost timidly, Midnight looked to Alabaster and asked, “You both will have me?” “Of course!” Alabaster answered hastily. “Leaving behind a guy who doesn’t even know who he is or anyone else would be like… abandoning a foal!” That was not the tone you were singing a moment ago, Midnight thought glumly. He didn’t blame Alabaster in the least bit for that. The hotheaded stallion was simply looking out for his friend and himself. It took only seconds for him to come to a decision. Midnight had only a meager amount of bits in his saddlebag and no one to turn to for help once that was gone. If he struck out on his own, then he would be no better than a tumbling leaf trapped in a rainstorm. “Then yes,” he answered at last. “I would very much like to remain with the two of you… For as long as you’ll have me, at least-” A squeal of delight cut him short just as two powerful legs pulled him into a neck-breaking embrace that left him gasping for air like a beached fish. “Yeah, she’s kind of clingy today,” Alabaster quipped. “Yo Whisper, I think he’s trying to say ‘uncle’! It wouldn’t do at all if you killed him before he realized what kind of mistake he’s made.” “Oh!” Whisper exclaimed, her cheeks turning a light shade of crimson. “I’m so sorry! Guess I just got a little carried away…” “It’s fine,” Midnight croaked, rubbing his throat. “You just caught me off guard is all.” This time the smile that Alabaster wore was genuine, as was his laughter. “Oh, you two are just precious! But if you’re done strangling everyone, Wisp, I’d like to try going into the inn again before anyone else decides that they have business with us.” The blooming blossoms on Whisper’s face deepened and her gaze grew sharp on her old friend, but she decided to remain silent as she fell in behind him. Midnight did the same, though he felt a little awkward doing so. He had been at their side all day, enduring the bitterness of the desert right along with them, but now he felt something that he had not before. He felt almost hopeful. *** When you’ve seen one inn, you’ve pretty much seen them all. Or at least, that was Alabaster’s opinion. As it turns out, the Happy Apple Inn was no different. The front door lead to a quaint little parlor that was nearly empty except for a dusty sofa propped up against the leftmost wall and a worn-out rug laid limp like a dead animal on the hardwood floor. Heavy drapes drooped over dirty windows, blotting out any light that would chance its way inside. Yep, Alabaster concluded. I’ve still seen them all. Go figure. At the reception counter sat a portly little stallion that was nose deep in a magazine. A fat hoof scratched at his receded mane-line as his glazed eyes slowly scanned the magazine’s colorful pages, never once looking up to acknowledge the newly arrived ponies. As the party approached the counter, Alabaster glanced at the magazine and was just able to make out numerous images of a stocking clad mare that lounged seductively on a heart shaped bed. Good to see innkeepers don’t change that much either. “Hey pal,” Alabaster said when the stallion failed to notice them. “We’d like a room, please.” The innkeeper looked up with a start, his brown eyes wide. “W-what!? C-can I do something for ya, son?” Alabaster blinked, slightly taken back by his response. “We’d like a room,” he repeated sharply. “Oh, right! I do that, don’t I?” The question actually sounded sincere and it earned a raised eyebrow from Alabaster. “Yeah buddy, you do… So, how much?” The fat pony studied him quizzically for a moment or two, almost as if Alabaster had just spoken in another language. Finally the question seemed to click. “Oh! Well, that depends of what yer lookin for.” “All right then… We just want the cheapest room you have with a bed and bath.” “How long ya lookin at stayin?” “Three nights.” The innkeeper nodded slowly as he tried to figure up the numbers in his head. “That’ll be… uh… Fifteen bits? Yeah, fifteen bits.” Alabaster eyed him suspiciously. He wasn’t sure if he should trust this pony with his money or not. “You sure it’s fifteen bits?” He asked. The innkeeper nodded again, this time quicker. Alabaster shrugged and pulled out the proper coinage from his saddlebag. It took the innkeeper a minute or two to count the pile of coins, but eventually he scooped them up and gave Alabaster a wide grin. “Thanks fer chosen the Happy Apple, sir! Give me just a moment to grab the key.” He swung around in his chair and started shifting through a tangled group of keys that all hung from a single metal hook. “Pleasure’s mine,” the pegasus said quietly, watching the innkeeper with a mixture of fascination and confusion. Then he remembered something. “One more thing, pal, do you know anyplace that sells cheap food?” The innkeeper spun back around, key in hoof, and stared blankly at Alabaster before answering. “Oh, cheap food? Well, you could try goin’ to see old Sour Apple!” He then pointed somewhere off to Alabaster’s right. “She runs a little kitchen in the back of this place. Usually she just cooks fer ranchers who come in durin’ lunch, but I’m sure she won’t mind cookin’ fer you folk too.” Alabaster followed his fat hoof and found an old wooden door that lead further into the bowels of the inn. Well, that’s mighty convenient. He was rather relieved that they wouldn’t have to risk venturing the streets again. “How late does she keep the kitchen open?” Alabaster pocketed the key as he spoke. “Probably won’t be closin’ fer another hour or so… I think… Today’s Saturday, right?” “Er… No, it’s Monday.” “Oh that’s right! Then yeah, she’ll be closin in about an hour and a half.” “Right… Well, thanks a lot, pal.” The innkeeper nodded just before diving back into the magazine once more. I hope everyone else in this town isn’t like this guy. Otherwise, stroking out in the desert may not be that bad of an alternative. “Well,” Whisper said once Alabaster had rejoined the group. “That was… something else.” Midnight nodded, his deep blue eyes watching the oblivious innkeeper cautiously. “You’re probably headed off to get some food, right?” Alabaster opened his mouth to answer her, but was cut off by a loud grumbling from his stomach. It sounded more like a growling bear. Whisper giggled. “All right, I hear you! Just leave me the key before you go, please.” “Sure thing, Wisp.” The keyring that Alabaster handed her had a white tag attached to it, the letter ‘eight’ scrawled upon it in large hoof-print. Midnight watched her begin to ascend the stairs with concern in his eyes. “You’re not coming with us? Aren't you hungry?” Whisper froze in her tracks, hoof dangling inches from the next step. Her eyes went wide and fearful as she struggled to think of an alibi of some kind. However, the panic only lasted for the measure of a heartbeat. When she turned to Midnight, she did so with cool confidence. “I am, but the heat has done quite a number on me –Woo!” She raised a hoof to her head and feigned faintness. “I just need to go up and lay down for a bit before I eat something. Besides, Al knows what I like. Isn’t that right?” “That’s right,” Alabaster said in beat, smiling innocently. Midnight didn’t seem convinced though. “Truly, I’ll be fine,” Whisper insisted as she shooed them away with a dainty hoof. “You two go on ahead.” With that, Whisper continued her climb until her rump finally vanished from view. Alabaster nudged Midnight along when he noticed the dark stallion wasn’t moving. “Come on, Midnight, Let’s go get some eats.” Then he gave the innkeeper a furtive glance. “And let us pray she isn’t as sodden headed as that poor bastard.” Midnight allowed himself to fall in line behind Alabaster, but not before casting one last glance at the stairs, solemnly. *** Sour Apple’s little ‘make shift’ restaurant was scarcely bigger than the inn’s lobby. Five round tables were crammed into the room, all were empty save for one. The table in the far off corner seated three weary looking stallions who chatted away idly as they nibbled at their food. “You two just gonna loaf around all evenin’, or are ya wantin’ some grub?” Toward the back of the room was a small service window that opened up to a hidden kitchen. Sticking out of the window was the head of a disgruntled mare that could easily have been three times Alabaster’s age. I take it that’s Sour Apple. Drawing closer to the shouting mare, Alabaster put on a polite smile that quickly became a lopsided cringe of disgust. The old mare’s apple red mane and coat had long faded a few shades lighter. However, what had startled him was the fact that the mare had more wrinkles than a broken egg had cracks, each crease of her papery skin appearing as if it had been painted on by a heavy hoof. Good grief, the bags under her eyes look larger than my saddlebags! “Ugh… hey…” Alabaster fought to stay focused, but the pure ugliness of the haggard mare distracted him like a light being shone in his eyes. “I’ll have-” Sour Apple’s raspy voice cut in, “You’ll have whatever I’m cookin’, how’s about that? Just tell me how much ya want.” Alabaster found himself lost for words. Like a dying fish thrown from water, his mouth hung open and closed repeatedly. Before he could respond, Sour Apple’s bloodshot eyes moved to the stallion hiding behind Alabaster. Her lips parted and revealed a toothy grin. “Hey there, cutie,” she said flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes. “Maybe I ought to be servin’ you up instead, as sweet as you look. Nay, I should just take ya home and keep ya all to myself. Why, I’d make a three course dinner out of ya! What do ya think about that?” Midnight’s flesh began to crawl under the mare’s hungry gaze while Alabaster was trying to resist the urge to gag. The horrific images that flooded the pale stallion’s mind were not ones he ever wanted to revisit. Ever. “I-I think we’ll j-just take three of whatever you’re cooking, m-ma’am.” Sour Apple looked back to Alabaster and gave a disappointed tsk. “Today’s special is grilled cheese sandwiches, sonny. Ya still want three?” He nodded timidly. “All righty, then that’ll be three bits.” Well, the food is cheap at least. Alabaster deposited the bits and Sour Apple swiped them up with greedy hooves, as if expecting the traveler to change his mind. With coin in hoof, the old mare vanished behind the window, but not before giving a sly wink to Midnight. It was then Alabaster’s turn to squirm. There was the loud clatter of cookware as Sour Apple set out to fill the traveler’s order. Seconds later, the hissing of a frying pan filled the air with the promises of food. Alabaster’s stomach rumbled and growled at the wonderful sound, demanding that it receive sustenance immediately. Shifting impatiently from hoof to hoof, he prayed that it wouldn’t take too long for the sandwiches to cook. A stallion’s ravenousness could only be contained for so long. A few minutes had passed when he heard a loud click. The hissing ceased and Apple Sour returned to the window seconds later with a small takeout bag clutched between her teeth. Alabaster took a whiff of it and was greeted by the scent that could only have been described as celestial. A couple of times before in the past he had tried a few cheese sandwiches, but none had come close to smelling as good as the ones that Sour Apple had made. Then again, he was one really hungry pony. “Here ya go,” she struggled to say, the bag almost slurring her speech. Well, damn it. With a stiff upper lip, Alabaster did his best to take the bag without making contact with the prune-y mare. With the bag merely inches under his nose, the delicious fumes radiating from the sandwiches made his head swim. “Before ya go, sonny,” Sour Apple brushed back a few stray locks of mane seductively. “Tell that friend of yers not to be a stranger, ya hear? Sour Apple may be old, but she knows fixins to keep a young stallion satisfied.” Alabaster couldn’t bring himself to respond, not without possibly killing his appetite. With a brisk nod, he turned around and discovered that his companion had traded his place in line for a seat at a table that nearly hugged the wall opposite of Alabaster. Can’t really say that I blame him. He trotted over and placed the bag in the middle of the table. “Well buddy, time to eat up,” he said, sitting down in a rather rickety chair. “And as awkward as that was, I hope these damn things are worth it.” Inside the bag, the sandwiches were individually wrapped in large paper napkins that had become stained with hot butter and melted cheese. They each took one and tore into it. Although, Alabaster did most of the “tearing”. To both of their relief, the sandwiches were well worth the uncomfortable encounter with Sour Apple. “Just so you know,” Alabaster said between mouthfuls, pausing to savor the taste of the gooey sharp cheddar. “If you’re going to be rolling with us, you’re going to have to pull your share of the weight. That’ll mean working whatever kind of job gets thrown our way.” “Don’t worry, I am prepared to.” Midnight’s gaze remained down on his sandwich as he spoke. Alabaster studied him for moment, watching as Midnight took modest, almost dainty, bites from the corner of his sandwich. “That’s good,” He said, nodding. “Because an extra set of hooves could really help us earn some extra bits. We’ll definitely need it with the extra mouth to feed.” Midnight stopped mid-bite and raised his head to look at Alabaster with unexpressive blue eyes. “Are you worried that I won’t do my part in the group, Alabaster? Because I can assure you that I intend to do everything I possible can.” Alabaster shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s not that I’m worried about you freeloading. We can just kick you to the road if it comes to that.” For some reason, that didn’t sound too comforting to Midnight. “It has more to do with the fact that our little motley crew now has a plus one. This may come as a bit of a shocker, but we don't exactly make new friends everyday, let alone have someone new join up with us. Heck, take what happened in Dodge Junction for example… Anyway, it was just something I felt needed to be said, so I said it.” Unknowing of how to respond, Midnight resigned himself to return to nibbling at the sandwich. The cheese was already beginning to cool, becoming thicker and chewier than it had been a few moments ago. If he didn’t want a cold sandwich on his hooves, he would have to up his pace. In truth, Midnight couldn’t blame Alabaster for being cautious. The world weary traveler was simply playing the protector, no doubt a role that he had become quite accustomed to. But there was something else too, something that was going unsaid. Midnight saw it in the quick glances that Alabaster and Little Whisper shared, a secret that flickered like a flash of a lit candle across their eyes. However, if Midnight’s suspicions were correct, then why did Little Whisper try so hard to persuade Alabaster to let him continue traveling with them? If there was an answer to this, Midnight could not see it. For now, though, he was content with knowing that he had found a small place for himself in this strange country, despite how risky it might turn out to be. As the Midnight brooded, Alabaster’s ears prickled. The silence that followed their conversation amplified the heated words of the ranchers from across the room. “I’m tellin ya, it was bandits,” he heard one of the ranchers say through a mouthful of grilled cheese. “How else would ya explain two wagons full of cherries being turned over and burned up?” “And I’m tellin ya, yer stupid,” the other second rancher hissed back, scowling as he leaned forward. “I hate to say it, but Jubilee’s boys are pullin’ the wool over her eyes if they sayin they were attacked!” “That’s just it, they can’t find any of the fellers that were pullin’ the coaches! Four workin’ ponies just vanished, like a fart in the wind, and all that’s been found were those burnt wagons!” The second rancher’s expression turned wary. “Then what the hay happened to the cherries? Jubilee’s wagons carries over a hundred thousand of them suckers. You can’t tell me them disappeared like a fart too!” His friend nodded vigorously. “But they did! Nopony found as much as a cherry stem when they scrounged through the wreckage!” “I hope yer just messin around,” the second rancher said dryly, sinking back into his seat. “It’s bad times when a farmer can’t even sell his own crops without havin’ to look over his shoulder.” That was when the third rancher, a much older pony with snowy beard, decided to speak up. “Boy, you don’t know bad times. But give it a little while, and we all will.” The second rancher squinted at him. “The hay you talkin about?” “What I’m talkin about, youngin, is the trouble brewin up north that's spillin' down here. Yer sayin’ that Jubilee’s wagons couldn’t have been robbed, yet there’s plenty of wagons gettin’ knocked over up there around the Crystal Empire. Ya’ll would be surprised how plentiful robbers will become when ponies are put out of job and home. And them cities won’t hold ‘em forever, I tell ya, if ya could even say their doin' so now. Give it time, and we’re going to have more ter worry about than our wagons been knocked over.” The second rancher scoffed. “Yer growing senile. Even if a lick of that were true, the Guard wouldn’t let that happen!” “And yer growin’ deaf,” the elder shot back. “Don’t you ever pay attention to the news? There hardly is no more Guard left! Them and those Scholars have all had their wages cut to the point where most of them just straight up deserted. I don’t blame them either. Why risk a dagger in yer every day when it don’t even pay enough to put bread in yer family's stomachs?” The two younger ranchers remained quiet for a long while after that, their expressions growing slightly gloomier the longer they sat. Convinced that the conversation was over, Alabaster turned his attention back to his sandwich. The cheese was cold and the bread had become chewy, but he barely noticed it. Well, it seems like Equestria just keeps getting more interesting by the minute. *** Little Whisper had put up quite the performance. In fact, she had even managed to fool herself for a while. But now, within the confines of the tiny hotel room, she could no longer hold the act together. Whisper writhed on the bed in agony as the pain of an old hunger twisted her innards into tight knots. Her eyes were screwed shut, and her limbs clung tightly to the one person she daring share her torment with. The lifeless body of Mr. Smiles was pressed tightly to Whisper’s chest as he tried in vain ease her suffering. Get ahold of yourself, Whisper! She clutched to her thoughts as tightly as she clutched to Mr. Smiles, afraid that the throbbing pain would drown them away. You can’t let them see you like this. You can’t! You’ve pushed through the hunger before and you’ll push through now! The image of Midnight and Alabaster walking into the room and seeing her like this, convulsing and twisted up in the sheets, popped into her mind. Their eyes would be wide with shock and they would scream her name. Midnight wouldn’t understand, he wouldn’t understand at all. And Alabaster would… He would make me feed. Whisper despaired at the thought, even though she knew it was inevitable. Slowly, she managed to regain steadiness over her shaking limbs. That was something, at least. From there, Whisper fought to push the pain aside. Even though it was something she had practiced many times, very rarely did the act get any easier. Just as Midnight and Alabaster were finishing up their sandwiches, the last few throbs of pain melted away from her sore stomach. Relief washed over her like a cool shower, and with it came exhaustion. The hunger always left her feeling tired and ravaged. Her grip on Mr. Smiles grew softer as she gradually fell into a light doze. *** Room eight of the Happy Apple Inn remained relatively quiet as the trio of travelers allowed themselves to unwind and relax. Little Whisper lay curled up with Mr. Smiles on the feather bed, her eyes drooping lower every second that passed. Across the room, Midnight lounged in an uncomfortable wingback chair, which felt as if it was more for decoration than actual use, and stared absently at the darkness that pressed itself against the room’s dusty window. Off to his left was a wooden door that led to a tiny bathroom. Behind the closed door, a dreary-eyed Alabaster waded neck deep in the still waters of a steamy bath. The heat of the bathwater purged away the day’s punishment from not only his coat, but his aching muscles as well. Very little had been said on Alabaster’s and Midnight’s return from dinner; the travelers were too tired to summon up any kind of lengthy conversation. Probably the most interesting thing that transpired was when Midnight Dreary dragged himself to the bathroom and Alabaster scarfed down the remaining grilled cheese sandwich before he could return. When he did, Whisper had smiled and joked that she must have been hungrier than she thought. To their knowledge, poor Midnight had never even given Whisper’s lie a second thought. Though some might have found their quiet lounging a bit boring, Midnight was actually rather grateful for it. The cruel desert air had run its nasty claws over his throat, making small talk quite a painful inconvenience. So instead, he reserved himself for his thoughts, and his thoughts were primarily about the sleeping arrangement. From the very moment he entered the room, the timid stallion had not been happy with the odds stacked before them. Three ponies, one bed? he thought anxiously as he studied the rickety bed. How was this going to work? When he had raised this concern with Alabaster, the pale stallion simply shrugged. “You two take it,” Alabaster said causally. “I’m perfectly fine with the floor for tonight, so long as I can get a blanket.” When Midnight asked if he was sure, Little Whisper couldn’t help but cut in. “Don’t worry, Midnight,” she giggled. “I don’t kick in my sleep or anything.” Alabaster got a chuckle out of that as well. “Yeah, she’s a pretty even sleeper, never tosses or turns.” Unfortunately, that didn’t make Midnight feel any better. Thus he brooded on it, staring at the bed as if it was some slumbering beast lying in wait. This is until a stretched out Whisper happened to catch his lingering gaze, which appearing to be on fixed more on her instead of the bed. Midnight’s eyes shot to the window, where they remained. It was because of this hasty trepidation that he never noticed the budding roses on her cheeks. That was probably for the best, truth be told. Eventually though, these thoughts, and all others, began to slip further and further from his mind. The day behind him had been long and trying. The silence that held the room captive was enticing and seductive. Strange, Midnight’s thoughts became fuzzy, as if his head had been packed with wool. I don’t hear any of those voices. It must have been the lamp that sat on the nightstand by the bed. The cheap little thing did a well enough job at pushing back the shadows, restraining them to the farthest corners of the room. Midnight was thankful for that. It felt to the tired stallion as if the chair was absorbing him, his slumping form slowly sinking deeper into the chair’s cushioned embrace. His half lidded eyes fought vigorously to remain open and he began to nod lightly, his neck no longer able support his drooping head. It was a struggle that would only go in vain. Within seconds, Midnight was snubbed out like a dying candle. *** Little Whisper watched Midnight’s descent with a knowing smile. He had been too tired to notice her gaze weighing upon him. She too was not far off from the same fate. However, every time she came close to finally finding sleep, her stomach would give a sharp twinge. Though her hunger pains had left her earlier, it seemed that Whisper had to be reminded that she couldn’t go on for too much longer. Today just doesn’t want to end, does it? she asked herself morosely. Sometime later, a series of loud gurgles marked the end of Alabaster’s “little” soak. A few minutes later, the stallion himself appeared in the doorway, a wall of steam bellowing out around him. His coat gave off a surprisingly healthy sheen in the lamplight. Amazing what some t.l.c. will do, even for a stallion as rough and rugged as Al. “Good grief, Al, I didn’t think they’re running a sauna here.” Alabaster shrugged off her jest and glanced over at the sleeping sack of pony in the wingback chair. “Well, looks like someone couldn’t wait till he at least got into bed. Though, I guess I know how that goes. If you’re tired, then you’re tired.” “Should we wake him up?” “Nope. You snooze, you lose… literally. Now scooch over.” Whisper moved out of the way just in time for Alabaster to come flopping down on the bed. He was caught by a soft, feathery, cloud of bliss. “Holy hell,” he groaned, his face buried in a pillow. “When was the last time we slept in a bed, Wisp? I can’t even remember.” “There were those cots on the ship,” she answered with a yawn. “Those don’t count. The floor was more comfortable than those damn things. Smelt better too.” Even though the bed was already heavenly, it felt even more so when Alabaster crawled under the covers. The sheets were nice and cool, and smelt faintly of lilac. The room went quiet again, aside from the rhythmic sounds of Midnight’s breathing. Whisper was well on her way to nodding off again when Alabaster spoke her name. Midnight shifted at the sound of his voice, but went still soon after. “What is it, Al?” Whisper yawned again. Lifting her head, she found Alabaster staring at her, his eyes shimmering like molten gold in the lamplight. “Nothing,” he sighed after a long pause. “We can talk about it tomorrow.” He then bid her goodnight and curled up underneath the covers, a light snore arising from beneath only minutes later. She watched over his sleeping form for quite some time after that, her muddled mind racing. He knows, she thought, almost in a panic. He knows, and he is going to make me feed. The idea nearly made her sick. Granted, Whisper was ravenous. However, it never sat well with her when Alabaster forced her to feed. It took a few minutes, but she eventually managed to calm herself down. She was honestly too tired to worry about it. Besides, maybe he just wants to talk more about Midnight. That seemed likely enough, so she sheepishly allowed herself to believe that. With at least some sense of ease, she began to relax again. The pain still stabbed at her, but in the end, exhaustion won out and she was out in seconds. *** The mid-morning sun peeked into room eight, casting long shadows across the wall as rays of light veined in. Whisper’s eyelids fluttered open, but closed quickly when the sunshine stung her still sensitive eyes. It was beyond her why the renovators of the room didn’t install curtains to go along with the window. After repeatedly trying, and failing, to fall back asleep, Whisper decided that it must have been time for her to get up. However, as she stirred, she found that her legs were refusing to move. Wait, wha- Her mind was still drunk with sleep, and it took a few moments for all of her sense to return in full. Once they did, Whisper discovered a two pairs of white legs wrapped around her. She was being held hostage. “Not again,” she sighed, realization sitting in. As if in response, Alabaster snored lightly as he nuzzled the back of Whisper’s mane. At least that explained why she felt so warm. Some ponies toss and turn in their sleep, while others kick or hog the covers. Alabaster, however, was extremely clingy. Whisper usually took great care to distance herself from him whenever they bedded down. She must have been so tired the night before that it slipped her mind completely. For a minute or two, she struggled to pry her way from the pegasus’s grasp without waking him. Whisper loathed waking Alabaster, especially when he was sleeping well. From the way he kept nuzzling her, he must have been sleeping very well. Sadly, Whisper’s efforts went in vain. In fact, the more she squirmed, the tighter his grip became! Oh, I really need to get up, she thought as tiny needles pricked her restless limbs. I’m sorry, Al, but I got to do this. “Al, wake up!” There was no response, so she tried again. “Come on, Al, can you hear me?” She was answered with a muffled yawn. Whisper bit her tongue and restraining a shiver as his breath ran pleasurably down the back of her neck. Yep, going to forget that happened. “Five more minutes,” the stallion then muttered, drifting off again immediately. Dang it, Al! Whisper decided to change tactics. Though she really didn’t want to, it was time to bring out the big guns. “Hey, Al, it’s last call down at the tavern!” It was an old trick, but its success rate spoke for itself. Alabaster jolted awake, sleep instantly ripped away. His eyes opening to see a tangled mess of Whisper’s braids strewn across his face. “Oh,” he groaned. “Guess I did it again, huh?” Whisper only nodded. Alabaster untangled himself from Whisper and hastily began to make his way out of bed, a tint of red splashed across his cheeks. “Damn shame… Haven’t slept like that in a while.” He twisted his neck, giving it a good pop, while also trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his wings. Whisper made to rise out of bed too, but froze when she reached a seated position. “Al,” she said with more than a hint of panic. “Where’s Midnight?” Glancing over, Alabaster saw that the wingback chair stood barren and dejected… save for a tiny butt imprint. “Hmmm.” Alabaster mused himself quietly as he went to check the bathroom. With a flick of the light switch, the bathroom revealed itself to be as empty as the chair. “Yeah, he’s not in here.” That sent Whisper to her hooves and to Alabaster’s side in an instant. “You don’t think he just up and left, do you? Oh, maybe we should go out and see if he’s still around! It’s absolutely dangerous for a guy with amnesia to be striking out on his own, right? What if he’s having some kind of episode, Al? Just like one of those weird, smelly stallions that sat in the back of taverns and augured about rutabagas!” Her voice grew shriller the faster she spoke. If Alabaster hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought that Whisper had lost a puppy or something. Little Whisper was like a bolt of lightning as she darted for the door, but was quickly halted as Alabaster grabbed hold of her tail with his teeth. “Just hold on a second, Wisp!” He shouted through a mouthful of hair. “This is no reason to panic. Besides, I know he’ll show back up after a little while.” Once he was confident that the fevered mare wouldn’t bolt again, Alabaster released her tail and spat out the few stray hairs tangled around his tongue. “And how’s that?” Whisper gave him a look that echoed her tone of disbelief. Alabaster smiled wildly as he answered, “Because, I feel like we really connected at dinner last night, you know? Yep, me and ol’ Midnight got pretty chummy!” The mare’s mouth dropped, but he continued on before she could question him. “You would’ve been proud, Wisp! We chatted about old loves, lost friends, shit he couldn’t remember, and-- good grief, Wisp, he couldn’t have gone far. He left his crap over there!” Alabaster jabbed a hoof to the far corner where Midnight’s dusty saddlebag laid. “Oh…” Whisper blinked. “How did I miss that?” “Yeah,” Alabaster yawned, trudging wearily over to the window. “How indeed.” The stallion’s jesting demeanor melted away, leaving him sleep drunk once again. The sunlight made him draw back for a moment, his unadjusted eyes aching, but soon enough he was able to gaze out without having to squint. “Do you think it’ll be fine for him to just be wandering around?” The look of concern on Whisper’s face when she asked that made Alabaster cringe. It seemed petty, but it was difficult seeing her so worried about someone other than him. “I’m sure he’ll be okay. Besides, it’s not like I can fault the guy. In fact, I’m about to go see what’s what in this place as well.” Whisper bristled at that. “That wouldn’t happen to include the inside of a saloon, would it, Al? I thought we settled this yesterday.” “Easy there, Wisp,” Alabaster defended himself, turning from the window to give the besmirched mare a disarming smile. “I’m just going to hit up some stores and see what I can get for cheap. We still need to replace our canteens, just in case we happen to find ourselves thrown out of town again-” “But that’s not going to happen, is it?” She asked, her venomous words promising a world of pain. Alabaster shrugged and continued, “Plus… it’ll give me a chance to keep an eye on that Midnight guy.” Whisper rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to worry about him, Al. If he seems strange, it’s just because he’s confused. I can understand that feeling better than most.” Heat rose to her cheeks when Alabaster laughed at her. “I don’t doubt your judge of character, Wisp. Really, I don’t! But… I’m just saying that we didn’t make it this far by being careless, you know?” “True,” Whisper conceded with a scowl. “But I wouldn’t exactly say we played everything safe, either, especially considering trouble just happens to find its way to you.” Alabaster’s mouth opened to shoot back a retort, but his voice died somewhere in his throat. “Well… damn. That’s not a bad point, I guess.” When he noticed the devious glint in Whisper’s eyes, he added, “But that doesn’t change a thing! I haven’t figured out how I feel about this guy yet, and I’ll keep watch over him until I do!” I guess that’s fair enough, Whisper thought. She wished that she could find a better way to explain to Alabaster why she was so drawn to the quiet stallion. He was lost and he needed someone to help guide him through the uncertainty he was facing. It hurts how much he reminds me of myself… When Whisper didn’t say anything more, Alabaster returned his attention back to the window. Though Alabaster didn’t see it, Whisper gave him a small, endearing smile. “Well, I think the hot water has finally managed to build back up from your little bath last night,” she said, trying to sound upbeat. “So I think I’ll go get one for myself.” She had only made it to the doorway of the bathroom when Alabaster spoke again. “Not so fast. There’s one last thing I need to talk to you about.” Change had fallen over the stallion again, and this time just as sudden. He looked at her with eyes that spoke only of sadness, his frown stretched paper thin. Whisper’s stomach dropped as she realized what was about to come. Alabaster struggled to find his words for a few seconds, but eventually said, “Look, I know you don’t want to hear this, but… it’s been a good couple of weeks since you last... you know… fed…” Whisper was quick to try and interject, but her friend wasn’t having any of it. “Please, just stop it, Wisp,” he groaned. “We can’t keep fighting each other on this shit. For years now I’ve had to force feed you like a damn child, and frankly, I’m just sick of it… No. More.” He punctuated the last two words with a stomp of his hoof. “Al, please, I’m fine! Truly, I-” “No! We’re not in the Dragon Lands anymore. What happened at Dodge Junction is proof that things can go wrong at the drop of a hat. I need you full so that you’re able to deal with whatever this damn place throws at us.” “Please, I-” The words left her as her throat began to tighten up. Deep down, she knew he was right. Whisper needed to start feeding more. But what would the cost be? Every time he made her feed, it always put her friend through such great misery. Alabaster had to avert his eyes when he noticed her rubbing away a few strays tears. “If not for yourself, do it because it would put me at ease. Okay? Please?” Whisper grinded her teeth, wishing she could say something to sway him, but allowed herself to nod stiffly. “Good,” he sighed, feeling no small amount of triumph. Convincing Whisper to come to sense about this always felt like he was pulling teeth. He walked past her at the door and added, “I think it’s best if we get this over with as soon as possible, yeah?” There was a sudden click as he switched on the deadbolt. “Wait- what!” Whisper spun around in a panic, her voice raising an octane or two. “You don’t mean right now, do you?” Alabaster stared back at her flatly. “You want Midnight to travel with us, right? With a plus one hanging around, that means you have to take every opportunity you can to feed. Every opportunity. If you can’t manage that, than we should just kick him to the curb right now.” Using Midnight as leverage against his best friend made Alabaster feel absolutely rotten, but it was just what he needed to insure that Whisper would stop fighting with him so much. “That’s not necessary,” she said swiftly, Alabaster’s comment wounding her. “You’ve made your point… let’s just do this quickly…” “Exactly what I’ve been trying to say,” Alabaster muttered, not even trying to be subtle anymore. Whisper shook her head as she crawled back into bed. It took her a few minutes to make herself comfortable. Glancing to her side, she noticed Mr. Smiles beaming up at her. There was a stab of shame as she pushed him under one of the pillows. She never allowed Mr. Smiles to play witness when she fed, perhaps out of the fear that he would lose what little innocence that remained in Whisper’s life. Alabaster lingered at the foot of the bed, his eyes glued to the floor. With a heavy sigh, Whisper cleared everything from her mind. A moment later, a sickly green light illuminated the room as she began to change. Luckily, she had enough energy left in her to perform the transformation, though not without any difficulty. The hunger pains from the night before returned with a vengeance, raking at with claws of icy steel. The transformation lasted only seconds, but the difference in her appearance was unbelievable. Her dark blue coat had become the color of a fiery blaze, while her cutie mark was replaced with what appeared to be freshly fallen rose petals. The long braids of her mane receded until they ended just above the nape of her neck and became a light pink. Once finished, the horrid wrenching in her gut slowly ebbed away. “A-all right,” she said shakily, her voice sounding lower than it did a moment before. “I’m done.” When Alabaster found the courage to look up, a shiver crept ran its icy talons down his spin. The pony lying before was no longer Little Whisper, but a ghost from a life long lost. Swallowing the lump in his throat, the quivering pegasus carefully pushed himself onto the bed. He inched his way to her, his gaze never once leaving her’s. There was no worse feeling imaginable than what Whisper felt when she saw the mixture of love and grief that clouded Alabaster’s eyes. Though it hurt her more than she’s ever let on, she masked it with a comforting smile. Once Alabaster was only a breath away, Whisper gingerly wrapped her forelegs around his neck and pulled him closer. Though tears began to brim on the corner of his eyes, he gladly allowed himself to fall into her tender embrace. They laid like that for some time; Whisper on her back and running a loving hoof through his mane, Alabaster nuzzling up to her chest and clinging tighter than a nursing foal. Just do it, Wisp, she urged herself. Drink deep and be done with it. Whisper’s eyes started to glow an iridescent green as she opened her mind to Alabaster’s emotions. The first and most dominant emotion she noticed was, of course, love. It washed over her like a crimson flood, making her mouth water and her stomach grumble with hunger. She only just managed to resist the primal urge to just jump right in and begin devouring the delicious feast before her. It definitely wouldn’t be hard for her to lose herself to that lust for love. But even if Alabaster did carry an overabundance of love, Whisper refused to treat him with anything less than the utmost care and attentiveness. The second emotion she sense was anger. She couldn’t help but shudder at the quiet whirlwind of fury that was germinating beneath all that love. In truth, Whisper knew that no pony alive should be able to carry that much rage in their heart. Yet, Alabaster had shouldered it for years as if it was just another saddlebag. To say that this worried her was an understatement. However, there was nothing that could be done about it, not when Alabaster always refused to acknowledge it. Not now, I neeeeed to feed! The first trickle of love was almost orgasmic, and it nearly brought Whisper to the verge of moaning as it seized her senses. Her eyes rolled back as pleasant rivulets of warmth swam to her extremities. Alabaster tightened his hold on her as she burrowed deeper into his heart. “Rosemary-” he whispered, almost sobbingly. “I’m so sorry… so, so sorry.” A warm tear streamed down the corner of his eye, but was wiped away as he nuzzled her soft, red fur. Whisper was too enraptured by the banquet of love to notice his delirious mumblings. Later on, after the feeding session had concluded, Little Whisper would hate herself for being so glutinous. For many years, she struggled to deny that damned thirst for love. Sadly though, the lust ran deep, even deeper than blood. It scared her to think that, just maybe, the Changeling’s hunger ran down to her very soul.