The streets of Ponyville are quiet. I’d say they’re too quiet, but I’m not in the business of sticking a huge bullseye over my ass and daring God to take his best shot.
As our weird little trio walks along with the ponies in tow, I hear doors slamming and windows shuttering, as well as the hurried galloping of hooves. “Sounds like they’re taking cover from something,” I whisper to Chittery.
“And what do you suppose that something could be?” She whispers back.
“I dunno…maybe they got word of a Nightmare army heading this way?”
“Doofus, that was a rhetorical question,” she scoffs. “C’mon! What do you think they’re hiding from!?”
“Uhhhhh…based from what I’ve heard about this village…a stampede of bunnies?”
She rolls her eyes. “How about the trio of changelings, one of whom is obviously infused with a touch of the Nightmare, walking through town with three of their greatest heroes in tow?”
“Oh,” I reply, frowning. “OH! Yeah, this probably looks bad.”
“Nooooo, y’think!?” She rolls her eyes. “Gods above, how can someone so obviously smart act so damned stupid all the time!?”
“Hey! I don’t act stupid all the time!” I yell, whirling on her to meet her eye-to-eye. Of course, in doing so, I misjudge how far to come down and wind up bumping foreheads with her, painful enough with another human, but with Chittery and her big, sharp, knife-like horn, leaves me on the dirt road, clenching at my face with a big, ugly scrape running all down my forehead.
She just sighs and shakes her head sadly. “And the worst part? I still wanna crawl into those jeans, even now.”
“Ugh, whatever sister…God damn, I think you almost broke skin.”
A smile rises unbidden on her face, and I hear her stifle a chortle as she walks around me, towards the balloon-covered building in the center of town. I figure nopony’s home, but then I notice the rustle of curtains and a quick, racing shape darting away from the window. A light-blue shape. I smile and shake my head.
“Ponies really suck at keeping a low profile,” Chittery mutters, that little smile still on her face.
“Hey, you try and stay unnoticed when you’re the color of a rainbow as seen by a meth-head coming down from a three-day high,” I say, rapping gently on the door. There’s no answer.
“Oh, Mister and Missus Caaa-aaaake~!” Chittery calls, raising a hoof to her mouth to amplify her voice. “We have something for youuuu~!”
“G-go away!” The frightened ponies gasp inside. “W-we don’t want anything from you, changelings!”
“God, they sound worse than Cypher on a caffeine binge,” I grumble, stretching out my neck. I rear back and stand to the door’s side. “C’mon now, my little ponies, you can either open the door or I can bust it down. At least with one of those options, you still have an intact hearth and home. So, what’s it gonna be?”
Another few moments of pregnant silence, and then the door squeaks gently open a few inches. I bow and motion for Chittery to step through, offering my hand with my head low. She returns by pressing her hoof to her chest and tilting her head with a fake gasp of delight. “A gentleman!” She exclaims, laying her hoof in my hand and striding through with the ponies and Cypher in tow. Nodding back, I ease the door shut behind her, then in a flash, whip Shelly off my back, rack a fresh shell into the chamber, and blast her into the sky, the cacophonous boom echoing throughout the town. A few shutters quiver in the houses around me, but I just smile, nod, raise a salute, and strut into Sugarcube Corner.
Inside, Cypher has already nudged a few of the tables together while Chittery lays her prestigious pack of ponies across them, gathering up sugar packets to use as pillows. “Deezy? Could you look around for something we could use as a blanket?” She asks.
Nodding, I do a few quick rounds through the dining area, then check behind the counter before I realize we’re seriously lacking in bakers up front. I inhale, and then exhale slowly. “Hey, princess? I’m gonna see about settling in here, just in case. Gonna find us some proprietors we can cozy up to.”
“See if they’re open to a threesome!” She yells, keeping her voice low to avoid disturbing the ponies cuddled up on the table.
“Not that cozy!” I reply, striding past the front desk and towards the upstairs area, first making sure to reassume my human form. I tap the banister as I clomp up the stairs, making sure my presence is known. I even manage to gloss over a few pictures of the pretty pony family living here: a skinny-as-hell tan unicorn in an apron and the sort of paper hat you’d see on most street vendors back on Earth (sans yellowing grease stains, thankfully), a somewhat larger mare wearing a pink frilly apron and a hairdo straight out of an episode of Leave It To Beaver, a couple of foals, unicorn filly with a pegasus colt, and of course, the pink, sapient embodiment of hydrogen atoms herself, holding them all in her hooves with the biggest smile possible stretching her muzzle.
“Cute bunch,” I whisper, hoping that I won’t find any empty cradles or dust-covered books in my explorations, but then my eye catches the next photo over. My jaw drops. This photo is a lot like the one next to it, with one important addition: Sifty. He’s standing there next to the group, arms crossed over his chest, a sword hilt poking over his shoulder, with Pinkie leaning over just enough to wrap a hoof around his leg. And that’s not all: he’s got this big, cheesy smile on his face. Like an honest-to-god, “HI MOM LOOKIT ALL THE FUN I’M HAVING,” I-shit-you-not smile. I had seen many expressions on that face during our brief time together: surprise, shock, stoic glaring, battle-ecstasy, and of course, white-hot fury. But I’d never seen him look so…happy. Holy hell, he’s happy in this photo.
I recall what Rarity had mentioned in the woods, the way the ponies had sort of brushed ol’ Sifty off and set him aside. How did Rares put it? Like a toy they’d gotten tired of? “Oh, you poor bastard,” I mutter. “No wonder you’re always so angry.”
And still he came back. Either these ponies have him twisted around their little hooves, or he’s just that devoted. Judging by the way the three mares sleeping together downstairs acted, I’m going to guess that it’s the latter. And thanks to me, he’s currently spinning around in some void somewhere, possibly somewhere that’s never seen a pony or a human.
I run my fingers through my air. “You idiot,” I grumble to myself. “You impossible idiot.”
“Deez?” Chittery appears at the bottom of the steps, noticing my minor emotional breakdown. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just,” I moan, slumping against the wall. “I’m sorry, I just need a moment.”
“What’s the matter?”
“I’ve made some mistakes is all,” I sigh, my eyes never leaving the picture of something I thought I’d never see: a genuinely happy Sift. “This was a big one, though.”
“Look, it’ll be okay, alright?” She says, holding a hoof up at me. “I’m sorry, we can deal with this later, but…”
“I know, I know,” sliding back up the wall, I take to my feet and begin crawling up the stairs again.
Behind me, Chittery smiles wanly, setting her hoof back down. “I am sorry,” she whispers.
“I know,” I whisper back, tromping past the landing and through the upper-floor hallway. Once I’m out of sight, I slap myself a few times. There’s a time and a place for namby-pamby feels, and this is neither. I just signaled an entire town to the existence of a trio of changelings. Well, one Halfling, a princess, and a weird Nightmare hybrid, but still a big no-no as far as changeling culture goes. I need my shit together for what’s about to come.
I tiptoe along the hallway, a hand cupped around an ear stem as I pause in front of each closed door. Room One: Empty. Room Two: Empty. Room Three: constant shivering coupled with whispered demands to be quiet and hushed whimpers.
I take in a nice, long breath, then let it out slowly, closing my eyes and shaking my head. Seriously, ponies can’t be low-key even when they’re trying.
I quietly ease the door open and poke my head in, then immediately poke it back out again to dodge the rattle flying at my face. “D-don’t come any closer!” A shaky, unconvincing voice cries from inside. “I-I mean it! There’s a plenty more wh-where that came from!”
“Really? Well shoot, throw in a few diapers and a milk bottle, and I can start me up a family just right!” I roll my eyes despite knowing they won’t see it. “Look, we’ve been travelling a long time and I’m already sick of having to convince ponies I mean no harm, so why don’t you come on out and help us with Pinkie? She got a little bit tired and is downstairs with someone who’s liable to do unspeakable things to her unconscious body if we leave them alone for too long.”
A few more minutes of silence follow, which I occupy by counting grooves in the wood door. Finally, Mr. Cake comes out, his head and ears lowered. “D-don’t hurt her,” he says.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I say gently, leading him back down the stairs and into the main dining area. The three mares are still curled up on the table, with Chittery watching them, her chin in her hooves as she lays on her stomach. It’s funny though, the way she’s watching them. I remember my dad standing in the doorway with that same look on his face during the few times I was still awake and just pretending to sleep when he got back from work. Motherly, watching Pinkie in a way that said: “If anything ever hurt this mare, I would spend the rest of my life hunting it down and making it pay.” It’s a nice look for her, the way she has her head cocked and the silly little smile on her fangs.
Cypher, for his part, is currently raiding the area behind the counter, grabbing up cupcakes on the flats of his tendril-blades and shoving them down his throat as if he’d just been poisoned and the only cure was a ridiculous amount of sugar. I rub the bridge of my nose as Mr. Cake watches our Nightling pack down the carbs with a mixture of awe and horror.
“I-I’ve never seen anypony except Pinkie eat that many in one sitting,” he whispers.
“Yeah, sorry about him, he’s kinda new to a lot of stuff,” I grumble, still rubbing the bridge of my nose. “Listen, we’ll pay for what he eats as long as you let us start a tab here. Would that be possible?”
He nods, his jaw still hanging agape, until his gaze slides over the three mares on the table. His eyes widen. “D-don’t eat them!” He cries, galloping to the table and throwing his hooves protectively over the mares. “Th-they’re all we have left, please!”
Chittery stares dumbfounded, as if snapped out of a spell, while my nose-bridge rubbing intensifies. “We aren’t…this isn’t…ugh! We just wanted someplace to let them rest while they sorted some emotional shit out!”
“E-emotional…stuff?” He asks tentatively.
Chittery shakes her head and nods, fully awoken now. “It was about some guy, a ‘Siftstone’?”
At that, Mr. Cake’s shivering lessens considerably. “Ohhh, I see,” he sighs, crawling down off the table, but leaving a hoof up there against Pinkie’s mane. “Oh, Pinkie, when are you going to stop blaming yourself?”
“I take it this isn’t the first time she’s gotten a little emotional about Sifty?” I ask.
Mr. Cake just shakes his head as he nudges Pinkie’s shoulder. “Pinkie,” he whispers.
“Ngh…five mo’ minutes, mama,” she whispers back, batting at his hoof like a cat.
“Pinkie, you and your friends fell asleep on the tables again,” Mr. Cake whispers gently.
“Wh-wha?” Pinkie sits up at that, looking around bleary-eyed. Finally, her eyes fall on me. “Oh, hi Mr. Deez.”
She yawns, rubbing at one of her eyes while looking around at the tables.
“Yeah, sorry,” Chittery smiles. “We didn’t know where else to put you.”
“It’s okay, my room’s upstairs,” she says, her voice still low, still rubbing at her eye. She nudges the other mares beside her. “Girls, c’mon.”
Rarity and Rainbow stir, but Rarity is the only one who actually sits up. “I slept on a table?” She groans. “My mane…”
Pinkie snorts as she looks down at Dash, the pegasus’s hooves dancing in the air like a dog chasing a squirrel in a dream. “Dashie always is the heaviest sleeper,” she whispers as she drops to all fours, her attention focusing on Rarity. “C’mon, let’s check on Mrs. Cake and the twins.”
“Right behind you,” Rarity sings breathlessly, only a trace of sleepiness remaining in her voice. She promptly steps in line behind Pinkie, and the pair trot up the stairs, the tips of their tails whishing out of sight with a little flourish. We all stand there quietly, until Mr. Cake lets out a deep sigh.
“She always gets like this when someone even mentions Sifty,” he whispers, head bowing. “The missus and I have to be careful to avoid things that might even remind her of him.”
I nod. “I get it, man. Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be, you did the right thing bringing her back here.”
Another few moments of awkward silence follows, then Chittery speaks up. “Didja see the way Rares woke up? All graceful like that?” She huffs, fanning herself with a hoof. “No wonder that little dragon’s been trying so long to tap that! Whoo, took all my self-control not to make a go at her myself!”
Bridge of nose, meet hand. Oh, I see you’re already acquainted! “So not the time or the place, princess.”
“There’s always a time and a place for sexy times!”
“S-so,” Mr. Cake says, thankfully as eager as I am to change the subject to literally anything else. “H-how did Siftstone come up, anyway?”
I look up to the heavens, begging anybody listening to give me strength. “Long story.”
“I have time.”
I raise an eyebrow and look to the window, noting the clear blue skies. “And apparently, so do we,” I mutter, turning back to the yellow unicorn sitting at one of the tables in the dining area. I ease myself into the seat directly across from him, and at the same time Chittery sits down beside me. Even Cypher looks up from his sugar-fueled cupcake holocaust to pay attention. It takes me fifteen minutes to catch Mr. Cake up to where we are now, even counting in the obligatory “Thought you’d be taller” I’ve grown so used to at this point.
“So that brings us up to now,” I whisper. “Locked out of Canterlot with no way in except to find a way to sneak through without getting ripped apart by Nightmares so bad even thinking about them can drive a man insane. And even that’s moot because if we don’t find our friend, the one behind your counter over there, a super-powerful mage, he wouldn’t even survive long enough to see the castle.”
“I can see your problem,” Mr. Cake nods. “While it does sound like an awful mess you’re all in, I’m afraid I can’t do much except offer you a few hot meals and a warm place to stay for a little.”
I raise my hand. “That’s all we’re looking for,” I reply.
“Believe us, Mr. Cake, we didn’t come here expecting anything from you,” Chittery says. “We just didn’t want to leave those three off in the middle of the woods while they sorted out whatever emotional shit they need to work through, not with Canterlot and whatever those things are around it so close.”
“And…sorry for assuming you all meant harm just because you were changelings,” Mr. Cake grins sheepishly.
“That’s alright, I’ve gotten used to it,” I shrug, reaching up to pop a crick in my neck. I chance another look at the window, and still see clear-blue skies. I frown. “Although, if you’re really sorry, maybe you could tell us a little bit about Siftstone and the Elements. I take it from some of your pictures they were close?”
He appears to shrink a little, folding up in his chair. He lets out a long sigh. “First, let me get a little hot chocolate,” he mumbles, pushing away from the table and whipping up a small mug with whipped cream, sprinkles, and chocolate shavings.
“Must be pretty bad if he’s going for the sprinkles,” Chittery mutters. I quickly shush her.
He sits down again, letting out a few breaths as he sips from his mug. When he’s ready, his eyes open again, only now they look way older. I can swear there are wrinkles that weren’t there before, and a certain glint has most definitely faded away. It’s as if just the effort of making that one mug of hot cocoa had added ten years to his life. “Ponyville was always the sort of place where you left your doors unlocked at night,” he sighs, adjusting his hat. “That changed after Nightmare Moon, though.”
“Oh yeah, when mooncheeks lost her shit and decided the world would be better as a cold, eternally-dark wasteland,” Chittery mumbles. I elbow her in the ribs.
He glances in our direction, but doesn’t make any other indication he heard her in any way. “Nightmare Moon was just the beginning. Things kept happening around here: the parasprite invasion, Discord, Cerberus poking his heads in, even that one time all those apples became sapient and enslaved us all.”
That one catches my ear. “I’m sorry, did you just say…”
“Don’t question it,” Chittery says, raising a hoof. “Trust me, you’ll be better off.”
I blink, run a finger along the barrel of my weapon. “Ugh, fine. You were sayin’?”
Mr. Cake nods, folding his hooves neatly on the table again. “That was all crazy enough, and certainly dangerous in its own way, but still those were…worldly, I guess is the word? It doesn’t sound right, but…”
“No, I think I get it,” I reply. Those things all made sense in the context of Equestria, crazy as it sounds. “Those things all fit the tone, every threat you faced seemed of your world.”
“And then the Nightmare came along,” Chittery says, completing the thought as she leans forward in her chair.
Mr. Cake nods. “The Nightmare Infection was so wildly different from everything we’d ever seen before. The way it corrupted everything it touched, twisting it into things that were so barbaric, so cruel, almost as if their sole purpose in life was to destroy harmony, either by converting it, or by k-k-...killing it,” he finishes, only completing the word with some difficulty.
“Everything else at least held some respect for Harmony: you wouldn’t see Discord tearing families limb from limb, or stalking ponies at night just to r-rip them apart,” he whispers, shivering under his apron. “Changelings at least want ponies for food, even they aren’t that savage.”
“Uh…” I add.
“Oh, no offense to you or your kind, sir!” Mr. Cake adds nervously.
“None taken,” Chittery speaks up for me. “Those queen bitches be cray.”
He looks at her for a second: same kind of look you’d give a sentient talking apple screaming for global domination I’m guessing, then he continues. “For a while, things were desperate. The Nightmare wouldn’t be stomped out, was immune to almost all our spells, and every attempt to confront them just fed it more soldiers to be absorbed and indoctrinated. For the first months, it seemed the only thing to do was hang back and pray for a miracle.”
“And a miracle happened,” I grin.
Mr. Cake smiles, though not nearly as strongly as I do, and takes a few big gulps from the steaming mug in his hooves. “We thought he was one of the Nightmare at first. We’d seen Nightmares walking on two legs before. Even if he didn’t look as threatening as the rest of them, that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own danger. Turns out, he did, just not to us.
“Sifty was easily the greatest warrior in Equestria, perhaps ever. It didn’t matter what came his way: a pony hit squad from a noblestallion he’d snubbed, or an entire Nightmare army, or even the guardian of some ancient cursed treasure. We’d all just keep our heads down, and when we looked up again, Siftstone would be the only one left standing.”
I lean forward in my seat, keeping my elbows on the table. “He also got close to the Element Bearers.” A statement, not a question.
Mr. Cake nods. “Closer than friends. If they’d been the same species, I’d say there’d have been a chance for romance, even.”
“Not that interspecies relationships are anything to be wary of,” Chittery quickly puts in. I glare at her.
Mr. Cake blinks, his train of thought derailing so hard I could almost hear the twisting rail and exploding railcars from where I sat. “I-I suppose not, I mean, I’ve heard about that mare from Trottingham hitting it off with that Gryphon diplomat…”
I clear my throat, and he blinks again, shakes his head, and takes a few more sips at his mug. “Right, sorry,” he says with a sheepish grin. “You get what I’m saying, though: they were close. Miss Fluttershy especially, but they all had their place at his side. Twilight…sorry, Princess Twilight kept ‘im patched up, Rainbow Dash kept ‘im in shape, Applejack gave ‘im a close-knit family and honest work, Rares kept ‘im dressed for the few times he needed to put on an impression in Canterlot, Pinkie kept him fed and probably got the most genuine laughs I ever heard outta him, and most of all, Fluttershy taught him to love.”
“That close, huh?”
“If it weren’t for the species thing, I’m sure we’d be hearing wedding bells by now.”
“So, what happened?” I ask, finally throwing out the million-dollar question.
“Life,” Mr. Cake shrugged with another gulp out of his mug. “Twilight ascended and became a princess, Pinkie was needed more here when we started distributing to Manehattan and Canterlot, Applejack had to expand the farm to keep up with the demand for her cider, Rarity opened up another boutique in Canterlot, Rainbow started flyin’ full-time for the Wonderbolts, and Fluttershy got totally occupied with rehabbing the animals displaced by the Nightmare.”
“But the Nightmares…” Chittery put in. “Sifty must’ve still been needed!”
“He sorta was, but we didn’t know it at the time,” Mr. Cake sighed. “Right around the time the girls all started gettin’ busy with their own lives, the Nightmare attacks trickled t’nothing. Sift was lucky to get called out once or twice a week. We just didn’t need ‘im anymore, and without the girls supportin’ him, he just pulled himself up into this shell…”
“Yeah,” I match Mr. Cake’s sigh. “I know that shell pretty well.”
“Too bad we didn’t know the Nightmare wasn’t defeated, just waiting,” Mr. Cake snorts. “Just poolin’ its resources for one, big hit. I wouldn’t be surprised if they weren’t waiting for Sift to move on, ‘cause the attacks started up again not even two weeks after Sifty left for…wherever it was he went.”
“And that’s where you guys have been,” Chittery says. “Right back where it all started.”
Mr. Cake nods sadly as he finishes off the rest of his hot cocoa. “Just keeping our heads down and praying for another miracle, which apparently you were supposed to deliver.”
There’s no accusation in his voice, so I just nod sadly. “Yeah, yeah I was…”
“I’m sorry how things happened,” Mr. Cake adds quickly.
“Not as sorry as I am.”
“I-I’m sorry, I meant…”
“What’s that in the sky?” Chittery asks, interrupting the most Canadian conversation I’ve ever had.
I glance over to the window, and bolt upright at the tiny silhouette I catch in the corner of the sun’s light. “Typical,” I grumble. “Fuckin’ took her long enough!”
The pony, changeling, and nightmareling all look at me curiously. “Who?” Mr. Cake asks.
His question is answered when the window crashes in with a purple blur. In a flash, Twilight Sparkle herself is rearing up on the table next to us, horn glowing. “Let my friends go now, or face…” she starts, then notices Mr. Cake sitting across from me with a small mug in his hands.
Instead of freaking out like most business owners, Mr. Cake just shakes his head slowly. “It’s okay, Twilight, that’s why we have a ‘Rainbow Crash’ fund.”
The pretty purple pony princess looks around. She sees me sitting across from Mr. Cake, leaning back in my seat nonchalantly. She sees Cypher, an obvious Nightmare, waving cheerfully from behind the counter with cupcake batter dripping off his hooves. She turns just in time to catch Chittery drooling over her flank, then look dreamily into her eyes and ask if she was doing anything that night. Finally, she turns back to me and voices the only way anyone could possibly react to everything and anything around her:
“Wut?”
I grumble and faceplant on the table. “Somebody wanna explain it to her? This is the third time in twenty-four hours and I’m gettin’ real fuckin’ tired of it already.”
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Twenty minutes and a few mugs of hot cocoa later, we’re all sitting around with one alicorn princess now just grateful to be in the loop.
Twilight eyes me as she takes a sip of her cocoa. “I must say, sir, you’re not what I envisioned when Celestia described some of your past exploits to me,” she says.
“Let me guess,” I moan, crossing my legs as I sip my mug, getting a dot of whipped cream on my nose (but no chocolate shavings or sprinkles, because I’m baller like that). “You thought I would be taller, right?”
“Actually, I thought you’d be more the typical soldier-type. Big, meaty, probably a few scars,” she continues studying me with those wide, lavender eyes. “You strike me as a bit more intelligent than all that.”
I blink, sitting upright in my chair. Without warning, I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her, earning a frightened squeak as I squeeze like she’s a little plush. “Thank you,” I whisper before sitting back down in my chair and grinning over at Chittery. “See that? That’s how you treat a hero.”
“Really? Well, when one shows up, you let me know, okay?”
“Cold, bitch. Cold.”
“Anyway,” Twilight coughs uncomfortably, shifting in her seat. “I’m just glad to know Sifty returned…even if…well…”
I see her eyes begin to mist up and figure three emotionally-broken ponies are enough for one day. “Look, wherever he’s at, he’s gonna be fine. I know that much. He’s probably tearing apart the fabric of space-time itself with his bare hands just trying to get back here. We just hafta hold on a little bit in the meantime.”
“Y-yeah,” Twilight nods unconvincingly, wiping at her eyes with the tips of her wings. Her tears clear, and she smiles at the three of us. “Fortunately, it looks like we have help.”
“H-heck yeah!” Cypher announces, rearing up on his rear hooves on the cashier’s counter, only to fall back when his tendril-blades throw his balance off, sending him crashing into the pots and pans displayed behind the register. Her eyes going half-lidded, Twilight turns to me and Chittery.
“Hey, he’s a real nice lay once you get to know him,” Chittery says defensively.
“Er…don’t you mean a real nice ‘ling’?” Twilight asks.
“No,” I grumble, rubbing at my temple with the tips of my fingers. “No, she doesn’t.”
“O-kay…” Twilight shrugs, her wings rustling with the motion. “Anyway, coming up with a spell to preserve Cypher’s heartbeat will take some time, but it’s certainly doable. Less certain is the teleportation you need to reach Canterlot.”
“What!?” I moan. “But Sifty said you teleport all the time!”
“That was before our current crisis, when portals weren’t popping up everywhere and anywhere,” polishing off the rest of her hot chocolate, she sets to preening her wings. “Each portal continuously alters the magical topography of the region it’s around, making it difficult to teleport anywhere since the rules which govern the calculations required are changing all the time.”
I nod, sitting back and scratching at my chin as my eyes narrow in thought. “Wut?”
“Think of each portal as a volcanic eruption, only taking place on the magical plane, not the physical,” she explains, her wings settling as she launches into full-lecture mode. “As it ‘erupts’ it throws off errant bits of matter, in this case stray chunks of magic in place of molten rock. It alters the geography of the region around it as it carries on, spewing magic and forming a large crater that can completely change the layout of the land. So before, teleporting was like traveling through a well-known forest. Now, though, the forest is covered with ash and new mountain ranges that completely change the map.”
I nod along, my head spinning. She takes this as a cue to continue. “Usually, the portals aren’t such a big problem since a portal is a small ‘eruption’ compared to the sheer vastness of the magical plane. But…”
“…but if you throw in the hundreds of portals popping up around Canterlot every hour, those little eruptions add up,” Chittery finishes with a grimace, her fangs bared in frustration.
“Exactly,” Twilight nods. “The portals around Canterlot have turned the entire city into a magical minefield. Even a basic bit of teleportation, like hopping a few hundred feet down the street, could take hours of calculations to ensure the subject isn’t catapulted into space. And considering the distance we’ll have to be from the castle to perform the spell without being interrupted by a Nightmare attack…”
“Shit,” I grumble, scratching at my chin in earnest. “How long?”
“A few days at least. I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do.”
“Don’t be sorry,” I add, leaning back with my arms crossed over my chest. “Canterlot can wait a few days for us to deliver the news that their badass savior is gonna wind up being a nympho changeling and a heavily-repressed amnesiac.”
“Hey!” Chittery shouts, levelling an accusatory hoof my way. “That’s nympho changeling princess to you, pal!”
“Alright, my mistake.”
“I-in the meantime…” Twilight quickly interrupts. “You three can stay in Siftstone’s place. It’s his house from Earth, so it should be familiar, Kildeez.”
“Cool,” I smile and nod. “Might be nice to get a taste of Earth before we head off to face whatever the Nightmare has for us.”
“One thing, though,” Twilight holds up a hoof. “One of the locals, a stallion by the name of Peanut Brittle, went in there a few days ago to see if there was anything Sifty might have left behind we could use in the Nightmare attack. He hasn’t been back since.”
I bite my lip. “So it’s not exactly home sweet home?”
“We just don’t know, anypony powerful enough to check is too valuable to take off the front lines, so nopony’s been able to head in there,” she regards us over her mug with a worried expression. “Please understand, it’s not that you’re considered expendable, it’s just…”
“We hear you, princess,” Chittery quickly interrupts. “And thanks, really. For everything.”
“I…um…I didn’t really…”
“Just sitting here and listening is more than anypony has ever done for us changelings before,” a warm smile appears on Chittery’s face. “I think this bodes well for your future tenure, from one princess to another.”
Blushing, Twilight returns the warm smile. “Thank you, princess, that means a lot to me.”
“And hey, if you ever want to get to know each other better…” Chittery arches an eyebrow and cocks her head seductively, sidling up close to the young alicorn.
“Welp, we’ve got things to see, people to do, so…” I quickly interrupt, taking Twilight by the hoof and ushering her out the door with the urgency of a man guarding a young mare’s innocence.
“Th-thanks for everything!” Twilight manages to squeak out before I slam the door between us and the outside, ignoring the flickering lights outside which look suspiciously like a torch-bearing mob.
I still manage a sigh of relief before I turn to glare at the changeling princess. “Really? I mean, seriously? You couldn’t turn it down for a fellow royal?”
“You’re talking like ‘it’ can be turned down,” she scoffs, crossing her forehooves over her chest and turning away haughtily. “Another few minutes and I could’ve been walking her upstairs, getting ready to show her the night of her life.”
“Is sex seriously all you think about!?”
“Yes. Have we not established that?”
I grumble, plop against the door, and run my hand down my face. At the rate we’re going, this mare was either going to drive me into the nuthouse, or a wedding proposal. I’m honestly kinda fifty-fifty at that point. But then Cypher speaks up: “Look, a-are we going to ignore the fact that we just got volunteered for a stupid mission obviously m-meant to kill us all!?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Chittery scoffs, waving a hoof at him.
“Don’t be so…it’s obvious! Sh-she just told us one of their own vanished in the exact same place she’s sending us to!”
“All the more reason to head in there,” I reply, sitting cross-legged in front of the door. “It’s a Search and Rescue for a local pony. We pull him out, it can only earn us Brownie points with the locals. Which, in case you haven’t noticed, we kinda need.”
“I-it’s not that bad…”
“Oh, really?” I dart to my feet, turn, and twist the door open, revealing the large mob of angry, torch-bearing ponies gathered just beyond the doorstep. Cypher’s jaw drops, literally hitting the floor. A pitchfork sails through the gaping portal, burying itself tongs-first in the wood and wobbling there like a tuning fork. If there had been a basement, I’m sure Cypher’s jaw would have found a way into it.
“By all means, go right ahead and explain to the nice ponies we mean no harm,” I smirk before Chittery forces the door shut with her magic.
“Quit it,” she says warningly, striding right up to me. “He’s freaked out enough.”
“He should be,” I grumble, unholstering the shotgun and working the lever action. I pop the door open and head out, meeting the dozens of angry stares and growling ponies with a shotgun in my hands, which is probably the only way to deal with a torch-bearing mob.
Speaking of, what’s with the torches? It’s midday.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Kildeez!” Twilight says, galloping to the head of the crowd, her face twisted into the deepest, most concerned furrow I’ve ever seen on anyone, pony or human. Seriously, girl should be worried about wrinkles. “They wouldn’t listen to me!”
“Because they obviously have her under some sort of changeling spell!” Some random pony yells in the back, and the crowd roars in agreement. The angry yelling continues, though I notice nopony running forward to make the first hit. I grumble as I try to think.
There are people who think that the proper action here is a bit more passive. That to walk away is a true measure of strength, even as the pitchforks rise and the crowd closes in. That the path of pacifism here is the true mark of goodness and love, and that not reacting, even to the point of self-harm, is the way to go. And then there are people who think that shit is retarded and that if somebody wishes them harm, they better be prepared to lose a few teeth. Guess which group I’m a part of?
Grumbling to myself, I roll my eyes, then drop the shotgun to my side and unleash a deafening blast into the dirt. The boom echoes off into the distance, just as it had when I felt like summoning Twilight, as the shell digs a nice little grave for itself in the earth next to my feet. In a flash, I twirl the shotgun back up into my hands and rack up a fresh shell, sending the spent casing clattering to the ground, where it dings against a rock in the absolute silence.
I grin. That sound is threatening as all hell, no matter who or what is hearing it.
“Afternoon,” I call out to the crowd, the shotgun going to my shoulder. “The name’s Kildeez, and this is my crew, Cypher and Chittery of Chrysalide Hive. Maybe you’ve heard of me, and maybe you haven’t.”
Whispers pass through the crowd. Some of the torches and pitchforks lower, as if they were simply forgotten. One voice from the crowd speaks up, and I will wager money it’s mister voice-from-the-back from earlier: “Whatcha are is a Celestia-cursed changeling, working with the Nightmare to kill us all!”
The whispers start turning angry. A few of the pitchforks pick up again. I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Alright, so what if I am?”
That gets the crowd to shut up. Ponies look around, confused, wondering just what the hell I might be talking about. But I mean it. “I mean it,” see? “So what if I am? Have you any plans to stop me?”
The ponies all look nervously at one another. The torches and pitchforks are noticeably lower now. Some in the back take a few tentative steps away. I continue surveying the lot. “Listen: the point is, we’re not. If we were, the whole lot of you would be dead by now. All we want to do is head on over to a Mister Siftstone’s house and poke around. For all of you paying attention, this is the same house someone named nut tiddle...”
“Peanut Brittle,” Twilight hurriedly corrects.
“…Peanut Brittle vanished in just a few short days ago. Now I’m not making any promises, but I swear to you, we are gonna do what we can to get him back. Then we’re gonna crash there for a few days while we wait for a portal to Canterlot. I promise this all, and swear by it on my honor as both a human and a changeling, and if anypony thinks I’m lying, y’all can speak up now.”
Silence. For a little bit, at least, until I hear a loud “NO!” from behind me. Surprised, I turn to find an average-sized earth pony stallion with a tan coat and a little tuft of fur on his chin that might someday be a beard. I arch an eyebrow at him. He glares at me with all that old, stupid hatred I’ve grown only too used to in my brief time as a changeling ambassador.
“No!” He insists again with a stomp of his hooves. “For too long, we have languished here, waiting for somepony else to fix our problems! For too long, we have remained in one place, wishing and hoping! It’s about time we fought, especially against those who once sought to enslave us! Especially against these dark, wretched bugs that once tried to take our lands! Well, let me tell ya one thing, buddy, you can take our lands, but you’ll never take our FRAYDO-”
My shotgun stock glances off his jaw before he can trigger a copyright infringement suit, sending his head twisting to the side and causing him to rear up on his hind hooves for a glorious moment before he crashes back down to the earth, his jaw hanging loosely, obviously broken. The pony looks up with wide, dazed, and confused eyes, as I follow through the last of the golf swing I used to take him out.
“FORE!” I holler, and the ponies cringe back. I just shoulder my shotgun and smile sweetly. “Anyone else?”
Silence.
“Good,” I step off the stoop, the ponies in front of me clearing a way ever-so-politely. Cypher, looking around timidly and apologetically, steps off after me. Chittery trails after in a huff.
“You didn’t have to be so rough,” she hisses after me.
“Usually, I’d agree with you, princess,” I reply, holstering the shotgun back over my shoulders. “But right now, I’m in the middle of a shitstorm without a shred of blue sky anywhere. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m feeling weighed down by guilt. And the only safe harbor we know about is, knowing our luck, almost certainly filled with some strange and exotic nightmare we are woefully unprepared to face. And we haven’t even gotten to Canterlot yet. Pardon me for not wanting to waste even more time repeating my story to yet another crowd of angry ponies.”
After a few more minutes, I hear a sigh over on her end. “You make it supremely difficult to make me want to rip your clothes off, you know that?”
“Pardon me if I don’t lose much sleep over that, toots.”
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And a few miles away, in a small clearing of trees, pure evil himself smacked the side of his face as a short, cold bark of laughter escaped his lips.
“’Woefully unprepared to face’!” He cried, hammering his fist into the dead leaves as another bark burst from his chest. “Oh you fool. You poor, innocent, hopeless fool. If you only knew how right you were.”