//------------------------------// // 8: Introductions // Story: Chaotic Emergence // by Gambit Prawn //------------------------------// Taylor slumped on the cabin floor and tried his best not to gag. The rumbling in his stomach had been virtually nonstop since that morning, and he could feel critical mass was near. Powering through, he raised a hoof and slid one of his black checkers forward and to the left. While he acknowledged that he should be ecstatic that he had such dexterity despite lacking fingers, that high had worn off quickly and the reality remained that he was still an ugly midget horse. “Hey, it’s your move,” Taylor said. Dom slowly turned his head away from the TV, but the box soon recaptured his attention. Non-stop, rapid French flowed from the ancient, wood-framed unit. Taylor found his comprehension so lacking that he would have been embarrassed to admit to the two semesters of French he had been forced to take. La fille de Anthony Clearwater est venue en France avec ses amies. Ensuite, elles sont passeés par… “Hey, Dom Dom. It’s your move!” “Oh, sorry,” Dom said. “I thought that that report sounded suspicious.” “Well, if you don’t move quickly, I might miss your move, and we’ll have an idiot standoff,” Taylor said before he had to stifle an awkward hiccup that was probably the side effect of his bloated state. “I don’t know the term.” “You shouldn’t. I invented it in chess club to describe the awkward silence when both players are under the impression it’s the other’s move.” Taylor could have sworn he turned green for a brief moment as he stifled another gag and felt more rumbling in his apparently herbivore stomach. “I warned you about eating that bacon,” Dom chided. “Shut up. If you had tasted grass, you wouldn’t be eager to surrender meat yourself.” Dom gave an incredulous glance at the pony. “You tried eating grass?” Taylor froze. “Uhh....” He turned to the TV to look for a distraction, and he found one in spades. “Wait! I know that girl! She was at Disney Paris! Did something happen to her?” Taylor asked, hoping his urgency would distract the mafialing from his embarrassing unintended confession. It seemed to work. “Belinda Clearwater? She’s apparently been missing for a while. I’d normally not think twice, but her father is a powerful person. I was wondering if one of us had anything to do with it.” “Wait… you might have kidnapped her?” Taylor asked startedly. “You commit so many crimes that you can’t even keep track of them all?” Dom shook his head slowly as he lay back in the ancient, one-armed armchair. It was the most hideous shade of green and yellow, but Taylor then supposed he could no longer criticize the color coordination of anything ever again. “No, I meant ‘us’ as in the entire underworld. People like her don’t vanish for no reason.” “Well maybe she’s tripping over her own tail right now,” Taylor joked. “I don’t think that’s too likely,” Dom said. “Rich heiresses always have eyes on them. I don’t think that she could sprout a tail and not be seen.” Dom paused, putting his hand under his chin before pushing one of his red checkers forward. Taylor pounced, triple jumping to the other side of the board. “Queen me,” he said, figuring he now had a vested interest in feminist-enforced vernacular. For a moment he stared at his hoof and pondered all that it represented. Even if it could somehow function as a hand, as he had recently discovered, he still didn’t like the solid black mass any better. It belonged to an animal. “Huh…. I completely missed that,” Dom said, breaking the silence. “Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of genius or something?” Taylor asked with a raised brow. Dom turned away, somewhat bashful. “I never said that. I… I just know a lot about a few things. It—it took practice.” “So you’re not a genius. With masterful humility, you claim that it’s just that everybody around you considers you one—” Taylor couldn’t finish his sarcasm, however, as his gut’s rumbling started registering on the Richter scale as hot bile attempted to climb his esophagus. “Be back,” he squeaked, speeding out the door, as a cartoonish cyclone of dust trailed him. Eight minutes of retching later, Taylor came back up the weathered cabin steps. In what appeared to be a power play, the door had been shut and locked. With little patience, Taylor knocked hard on the door, recoil barely phasing him. If there was one thing hooves were better at that hands, it was, without a doubt, this. “Hello?” “You know damn well who it is. Just let me in!” “Not like that you’re not coming in.” Taylor looked down. His hooves and lower leg fur were covered in mud. That wasn’t all—apparently it was a bad idea to aim vomit down as a quadruped. “Fine,” Taylor grumbled. “I’ll go jump into the river.” “Wait!” Dom said, flinging open the door to run after the scurrying pony. “Use the faucet,” he said, pointing to the spigot. “If your fur flows downstream, someone might find us.” Taylor nodded weakly and Dom went back inside. The mare trotted to the spigot and turned it with newfound magical hoof power. It sputtered out, considerably cleaner this time than the last. Taylor awkwardly ducked under it and tried his best to get his body under it. Failing, he settled for one hoof at a time. When he got to the backsides of his front hooves, though, he discovered he could only wash that area by rotating his entire body around. Screw this! Taylor thought. I don’t care what he says; I’m bathing in the river. Not like anyone will think anything of black fur, and some dogs have orangish fur anyway.” He smiled at his small rebellion and stepped on the narrow, tree--lined path. It was a trail in name only, demarcated solely by the absence of growth. He walked along, crushing the leaves under his hooves. Taylor smiled at this sound, which was so much more human than the beat of hoofsteps. Taylor soon came to the shallow stream. Bending the closest thing he had to knees, he was able to submerge his entire body at once, save for his head. When he saw the dirt coming off him in clumps before flowing away, he knew he had made the right decision. It also helped that the water was the perfect temperature, not cold at all. He supposed this was one of the many benefits of having fur. Then again, drying off is going to be a bitch… However, while mentally reviewing how dogs shook themselves dry, an unusual color flashed by in his peripheral vision. Though the water was perfectly clear, he saw a patch of much darker blue. He dismissed it as a trick of the light, but then a lighter, bluish strand flowed by.   Is that seaweed? He shook his head. No, that’s stupid. A flicker of an idea started to form when a red strand of hair floated by, instantly confirming his suspicion. Something dormant within Taylor sprung to life, energizing his legs as he jumped from the stream. Other ponies! And he eagerly galloped upstream. “Come on, Warm! The water is great!” “No!” “Indeed, Milady. The waters wash away the aches of a long journey. It is sublime—clean enough to drink even!” Storm proclaimed. “I’m fine. I don’t want that my fur gets wet.” Lynne lifted her head and her soaked mane slapped the surface of the water. “Come on! It feels so good to get all the dirt off. I didn’t know how dirty I was until I got in. “I don’t care!” Xavier whined. “This is not my body, so I don’t have to clean it.” Lynne and Storm exchanged a glance and nodded. “Well, we have to smell you...” Lynne said. “I cannot bear to allow you to neglect your hygiene, Lady Warm.” The two ponies stepped out of the river and circled behind Xavier. “What are you doing.” Two muzzles started pushing on Xavier’s rump. “Stop!” The red pony pressed his hooves to the ground, putting up as much resistance as he could muster. Nonetheless, hooves scraping the ground, he was pushed to the edge and tumbled into the river. “Merda!” Xavier swore, glaring at the two smiling, soggy ponies overlooking him on the riverbank. Xavier had some harsher words for them, but with his voice how it was at the moment, getting angry would probably just make a fool out of him, so he just slunk into the water. It felt very nice, but he could never admit it to them. Xavier heard a pair of splashes as they joined him in the stream. Defeated, he sank his head mostly below the surface of the water. One nice thing about being a pony, he noted, was that he could do this without getting water in his ears. Not worth it. He thought to himself. It was too shallow to swim—not that he would want to try with his body as it was—so he walked around a bit on the layer of rocks at the bottom. His eyes closed, his ears registered the rustling of foliage . Maybe we can use a bush or something to dry off. It’s about time for me to get out too. In a few minutes that is… He heard rustling. “What was that? Did you hear that?” Lynne asked, surprised. “”I did,” the pegasus said. “It isn’t you?” Xavier asked, opening his eyes. This time he saw movement behind a thorny plant, and a small branch was oscillating as if pushed. For the briefest moment he could have sworn he saw a pair of otherworldly eyes meet his own. “Who’s there! Show yourself!” Storm said, flapping his wings. He pulled a foot out of the water but quickly fell back into the water with a splash. It seemed that going straight from water to air was a feat impossible even for the emerald-coated braggart. Embarrassment crept into Storm’s concerned expression and he stepped out of the water and dramatically shook his wings dry. At about the same time, a tiny black and orange mare snuck shyly out of her hiding place. She had neither Storm’s wings, nor the horns of the others. Like them, she was completely soaked. Her coat and mane were completely straight and were packed closely together. On a second look, Storm didn’t fare much better. The two ponies both looked comically small with wet fur, undermining Storm’s look of determination and highlighting the unknown mare’s shyness. “Umm… hi,” she said. Lynne and Xavier exchanged a quick glance, as if both realized at the same time the significance of another pony showing up. Storm’s fighting stance gave way to bewilderment. The stallion looked for the first time as if he was stumped. Probably trying to wrap his delusion around this new development. Lynne thought to herself. Xavier found a piece of the riverbank that was sloped downward and started pulling himself out with his front hooves. Lynne, meanwhile had apparently found an easier way as she was already closer to the new pony than any of them. “Hello. We weren’t expecting any other ponies here.  My name is—” Xavier pulled himself out of the water and raised a hoof to his mouth, then pointing at Storm. Although her head was turned, thanks to becoming a prey animal, her improved peripheral vision allowed her to see him. “Ocean Breeze. My name is Ocean Breeze. Nice to meet you.” “Why hello, Beautiful!” Storm said, stepping deep into the newcomer’s personal space. “What’s a pretty mare like yourself doing way out here?” Why am I not surprised, Xavier thought, shaking his head. Taylor’s heart was drumming in his barrel. What was already awkward had become intolerably embarrassing as his train of thought crashed and burst into an inferno for good measure. To make matters worse there was something about his male presence that was not entirely unwelcome. “Ms?” Taylor looked up. “Huh? What?” “I asked if there is a settlement of ponies nearby.” What a stupid question, Taylor thought. “Uhh… no, It’s just me and one other ‘pony,’” Taylor said sarcastically. “Where did you come from!?” the red horned pony ordered. “How did you find us?” She was trying her best to sound firm, but her mouse-like voice completely undermined her. Taylor wiped some water from his muzzle. “I saw fur drifting downstream, and I figured there must be others like me.” Taylor felt dumb. He got it into his head that he wanted to meet these other ponies, but he had nothing to say once he got there. They were complete strangers; and the fact that they were all ponies did nothing to make his sudden appearance any less gauche. The stallion scratched his chin with a wing(!). “Of course, quite an oversight on my part…” The second horned pony, the blue one, approached Taylor conspiratorily while the green pony was muttering to himself. “You’re soaked too. Why don’t we dry off together?” She asked, winking. “Okay,” Taylor said, not fully understanding. “An excellent idea,” the male among said as Taylor and the others grouped together. “Allow me to help you, milady.” The blue mare pursed her lips, unsure. The red one, however, seemed to say what the other was too afraid to say: “Girls only! Dry off on your own.” Taylor didn’t understand what the point was since they were all already naked, but he had no  reason to be selective when it came to excuses to flee the playboy wannabe. They walked about a hundred yards together before stopping. The blue one then whispered, “You’re not from Equestria, are you?” Taylor cocked his head. “Equestria? You mean the place in that book? Isn’t that just fiction?” “Good,” the third mare said, “we’re not the crazies here.” “What do you mean,” Taylor said. “Well, let’s start from the beginning: My real name is Lynne—I used to be a regular girl. I was traveling with some friends when I suddenly started to turn into this. Long story short, we were kidnapped, and Storm Chaser over there saved us. We’ve been on the run ever since.” “Wow, that must have been rough,” Taylor said. Storm Chaser? What kind of name is that? “I was human too, and I also took a... loopy path to get here,” he said. “But why are we whispering?” “He’s louco,” Not-Lynne said. “He says that he came from Equestria and he’s a real pony. Honestly, we’re scared. We don’t know what he wants or what he’ll do.” Taylor took a cautious glance at the stallion, who waved goofily at him. Lynne continued, “We’ve stuck with him for protection, but he’s convinced we’re pony royalty that he’s come to save. We don’t know what he’ll do if he finds out otherwise.” “Well, what can I do?” Taylor asked. “Were you telling the truth about there being another pony?” Taylor shook his head slightly. “Yes and no. He’s not exactly a pony, and worse, we’re not exactly friends.” “Oh,” Lynne, slumping only briefly. “But he knows about us ponies?” Taylor nodded. “And you have shelter?” Taylor nodded again, adding, “It’s his cabin, so I can’t guarantee he’ll let you stay.” Lynne took pause. “I guess that’s fine. Can he keep us safe?” “That’s his part of the bargain,” Taylor said. “And I’m sure my check’s in the mail, arriving any day now.” Lynne turned to the other pony. “What do you think, Xavier?” “It’s better than staying alone with him,” she replied. “Okay,” Taylor said, surprised at himself. He didn’t know what he was getting into by going over Dom’s head with this matter, but he felt so safe around the others that this seemed like a trifling concern by comparison. “Do we make a break for it?” “No,” Xavier said, “he will fly and get us.” Taylor opened his mouth a little in disbelief. “Wait, those tiny wings actually work?” He asked rhetorically. “Besides,” Lynne said, “he hasn’t done anything wrong per se; we just want safety in numbers.” After informing Storm Chaser of their plans, the four of them made their way back to the cabin. Storm was just as bombastic as promised and did his best to impress Taylor with his regaling of past successes. To make it worse, the stallion was getting far too close and clearly coming onto him at times. Taylor wondered if he had been female long enough to have the right to slap him. Then again, doing so might just lock in his femininity for good. Come to think of it, Taylor thought, in romantic comedies the girl that’s clearly not interested and hostile towards the male lead almost always ends up with him. This is something straight out of fiction, so it’s a bad idea to play hard to get. “And the antlions came in droves, covering the landscape like a blanket of chitin…” Well what can I do? If I’m too nice to him, it’ll only encourage him. Hmm… I guess my best strategy is to be polite and somewhat distant. If I land in the friend zone, I’m home free!” “So, how many antlions were there,” Taylor asked feigning interest. Lynne and Xavier shot him looks of sympathy as they slowly returned along the forest path. Dom drummed his fingers on the arm of the ancient lawnchair. It was actually meant for the beach or sporting events, but it’s collapsible nature made it convenient to store when not in use. He wondered where that pony was. It would be a risk for him to be away for too long. Anything that could draw attention to their location was a risk not to be taken lightly. True, the enemy was not likely looking for them, but Dom was not one to trust “likely” unless he had no choice. Just before he set out to look for him on his own, the pony poked his muzzle out of the forest and bashfully trotted towards him. “Where were you?” Dom demanded. “You went to the stream, didn’t you? Even though I told you not to. And what the hell took you so long?” “Well,” Taylor said, grinning nervously, “I brought back a surprise for you.” As if on cue, three ponies—one male and two females—followed Taylor out of the forest. They looked friendly, but very nervous. Great, Dom thought, now I’m stuck with an entire herd of them to take care of. All things considered, Dom had taken it well. Lynne had somehow convinced Storm to let Taylor conduct the diplomacy after he expressed mild prejudice towards the “minotaur ape.” The man conducted himself calmly, while occasionally glaring at Taylor for his indiscretion. Taylor had pointed out that if captured, the other ponies may attract attention to the cabin. Added to the pony guests’ pledge to make themselves useful, Dom had agreed to let them stay temporarily on the condition that they provide him with whatever information on their new species they had.   Relieved, Taylor walked Lynne into the guest room. It was too crowded so they jumped up on the bed. Lynne took two tries to get up. “Wow. You’re pretty good to be able to make it up in one hop,” Lynne remarked. Taylor swished his til into his view and glared at it. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you had seen me earlier.” “So, what’s your name?” Lynne asked. “Our meeting was unusual to say the least.” “It’s Taylor,” he said. “Taylor Goldstein.” “Taylor—that’s a pretty name,” Lynne said with a smile. Taylor sighed deeply. Might as well get this out of the way now. “Actually, I was a guy before,” Taylor confessed, blushing bright red. “You too?” Lynne asked non-plussed. “You don’t mean that the stallion was...?” “No. No. No,” Lynne said waving her hooves. “I’m talking about Xavier. Although… it’s not that I know Storm’s prior gender.” Lynne put a hoof to her chin. “Of course,” she added as a formality, “that’s assuming he’s not telling the truth about being an Equestrian pony. I can scarcely have breakfast without a dozen impossible things happening, so who knows?” That’s a depressing thought, Taylor thought. He was suddenly overcome by a surprising urge to hum Weird Al’s “Everything you Know is Wrong.” Shaking it off, he asked, “So Xavier was a man before?” Doubt I got that pronunciation right. “Yeah, he has kids even.” Taylor somewhat appreciated his fortune. Can’t imagine having a family to provide for and then going pony. “It must have been tough on him,” Lynne mused. “Yeah, speaking from experience, It has been dramatically different. I want to say I have tons of new insight on sexism, but the only thing I’ve really changed my perspective on is boobs. Having to carry my own near my rear is a pain. I’ve almost forgotten what exactly appeals to guys. Lynne self-consciously glanced beneath Taylor. “Hmm… yours are bigger than mine.” She said absently. Taylor huffed. “Figures. He gets wings, you get the cool looking horns, and I end up with the pony boobs.” Lynne was too polite to mention magic. Come to think of it, she didn’t know much about the third tribe at all. Taylor continued, “Meanwhile, I’m stuck looking like this. Seriously, this poofy mane and color scheme make me look like a four-legged troll doll.” Lynne put an ‘arm’ around Taylor, and he leaned into it. “It doesn’t look that bad. You’re pretty in your own way.” “That’s not what I meant,” Taylor backpedaled. It certainly wasn’t what he was worried about. It’s not like becoming female meant he cared about such things. “It’s the color scheme, it makes me feel… I dunno, tacky?” “I don’t think you look tacky at all. In fact you look like one of my favorite stuffed animals: Dusty the Porcupine. He was special to me,” Lynne said before looking away guiltily. “I remind you of a stuffed porcupine? I’m not sure that makes me feel better” “No, he was really cute—really. His spines were so soft, and he was so huggable despite the exterior.” Lynne realized she was still holding Taylor and blushed. “Sorry.” “No, it’s fine. The fur actually makes hugs very nice.” “I know, right!?” Lynne agreed. The moment hung frozen in time. Both of them seemed content to just stay still, enjoying the experience too much to risk uttering a sound and popping the pleasant bubble. Finally the silence became intolerable. “So how did you get here?” Taylor asked, subtly moving away. “Well,” Lynne said, “I was on vacation with some friends, traveling.” Hmm that sounds familiar, Taylor thought. “That must be nice to travel with friends. I never had the money to do so.” Or the friends. “It was actually a new experience for me,” Lynne confessed. “For a long time, I had trouble making friends. By the time I figured out the complicated system of cliques at my secondary school, I was already shut out of them. Nobody wanted to approach me, and whenever I tried to connect with people, they seemed to want to keep their distance.” “It’s good to know that even girls have a hard time figuring out that complicated bullshit,” Taylor said, sighing. “I don’t suppose you could give me a crash course now that… you know,” Lynne laughed weakly. “I’m not sure I’m the best to ask.” She traced a hoof in circles on the comforter, thinking. “It was only at university when I started to meet people—people were much different than those at an all-girls school. Maybe it’s that I can’t believe it, but I’m constantly doubting whether they’re really my friends or if they just want the benefits of being friends with a—well, a rich girl.” She’s got money too, Taylor thought. So she’d be out of my league even if I wasn’t a girl horse at the moment. Good to know. Lynne continued, “So when the tail started growing, I was so worried they would reject me if they found out. The tail was one thing, but the ears became hard to hide at Disneyland.” Lynne tilted her head to the side in thought. “Wait,” Taylor interrupted. “You were at Euro Disney when you started changing?” Instantly the solution came together as effortlessly as solving a four-piece jigsaw puzzle. “Are you Belinda Clearwater?” “Yes,” Lynne admitted. “I prefer to go by Lynne though. I’ve never liked how the ‘Bel’ meant beautiful. It just seems presumptuous to me.” She adjusted her body on the bed. “I usually don’t like people to know, since my father is such an icon. Naturally, some of that spills over to me and my mother—why, I’ve even heard that there are bets on the books about me turning out like Paris Hilton.” “Ouch,” Taylor winced. A moment later, he had to turn away to hide a smile. I’m gonna rub this one in Dom Dom’s smug little face all night long. That’s Pony: 1 Mafia Whelp: 0. Actually I was totally winning at checkers so make that 2-0. Lynne blushed a tiny bit. “I’m not quite sure why I’m telling you all of this. I just met you.” “Isn’t this kind of heart-to-heart what girls do?” “Maybe. I’m exactly the best to ask. I’m not like most girls.” Taylor snickered. “You’re not like other girls, huh? You and every other female lead. Though I’m pretty sure being a pony lands you firmly in that category before anything else. Heck, even I can use that line now. Actually, I think I want to try it. Taylor stood up on the bed, straightened his posture and put on his most dramatic expression. “I’m not like other girls,” he whispered seductively. Lynne gave a cute little giggle, which she tried to stifle. She only succeeded in making it higher pitched and more erratic. It was as if she was embarrassed to laugh. A moment later she sprawled out on the bed and groaned. “I had almost forgotten I was still in heat,” Lynne mumbled. “Thanks for helping me keep my mind off it.” Taylor did a double-take and flinched back. “Wait, we have heat?!” Taylor gasped. “Like a dog?!” Lynne nodded. “Or a horse.” Taylor nearly fainted as he let his body hit the pillows. “Great… the joys of femininity just keep coming.” The conversation stopped for a while as Lynne tried and failed to make Taylor feel better. She wasn’t successful, but she did provide him with advice of what had worked for her as she repeated—slightly disingenuously—that it wasn’t that bad. Realizing she was only making the matter worse, she segued into more discussion about how they became ponies. Speculation ranged from a freak genetic abnormality, to an alien parasite, to an ancient disease that most others were immune to; however, none seemed remotely plausible to either of them. Lynne was horrified when Taylor told her about his ill-advised attempt to stop the transformation and gasped as he described the shootout. Lynne wasn’t to be entirely upstaged, though, as she relayed the tale of her narrow escape from the hotel and her subsequent capture. When she got to the part about Storm’s dramatic rescue, the conversation changed course towards the elephant in the room. “So he claims to be a pony? A historical pony who has been dead for centuries….” “Yes,” Lynne said, shaking her head. “The strange part is that you’d think he’s completely bonkers, yet we wouldn’t have survived in the wilderness without him. He’s surprisingly resourceful and kind—if a little overbearing. It’s not that I don’t like him; it’s just that—well, Xavier said it best: his unpredictability has me worried.” Taylor wasn’t sure he liked the fact that said pony was currently patrolling the other bedroom—his lecherous advances certainly didn’t help that matter—but kicking out a mentally unstable person-turned-pony didn’t sit well with him either. The door then opened as the other unicorn stepped inside. “You’re up, Lynne,” he said. The cyan pony nodded and hopped off the bed. Taylor felt a quiet emptiness as she left, as her spot on the bed was still warm. Xavier and Lynne said nothing else, as Domenico wanted to question each of them separately to ensure their stories matched up. Taylor was sure there was no way the Mafioso would normally have agreed to house them, but fortunately, the additional data on the pony condition they possessed was far too valuable to ignore. Xavier hopped up on the bed, taking up a spot near the edge of the bed and attempting to go to sleep. Taylor made a few weak attempts to start a conversation with the bright-colored mare, but his attempts were met with one word answers if not ignored entirely. It then occurred to Taylor that he was secretly wishing to cuddle with a forty year-old man. The desire abated.   Domenico thanked the grey and green stallion, who gave a gregarious bow and trotted towards the kitchen. The Sicilian slumped into his rocking chair, scratching his nose. The interviews had been interesting, but ultimately disappointing. Sure, their stories had confirmed the existence of magic beyond a shadow of a doubt; when coupled with his experience with Taylor’s book, it was impossible to deny. Still he had hoped for something that would help explain why people were turning into these colorful ponies. The only common thread was that it started with the growth of a tail, and a day or two later, they were completely transformed into miniature equines. That was what he got from the mares, anyway; the stallion was more… unique would be the polite term. Was there something I missed? Domenico thought. He reviewed the possibilities: although Xavier and Taylor were alone when they transformed, Belinda had the near-constant presence of her friends. Domenico couldn’t even postulate what had caused the gender change of the two mares. The so-called Storm Chaser had adamantly refused the idea that he was a human turned pony, denying he even knew what a human was. In fact, It had taken ten tedious minutes to even convince him he wasn’t going to capture “Fair Ocean” and “Intrepid Spirits” to return them to his “nefarious biped cohorts.” He retrieved his concealed pistol and placed it in an old oak chest at the base of the television. Still, the others had reluctantly vouched for him. Perhaps, he considered, he should be more skeptical of their claims; after all, they were unknown lifeforms that could be capable of anything. The fact remained, though that their stories were consistent with what he knew. Father always seemed to know exactly who to trust. I was always amazed by it. Dad, if you can hear me, lend me your strength. He took one last look at the gun, and, his heart hesitating, closed the chest. Despite his commitment to let his gut decide matters for once, reason ultimately dominated his final decision. His prevailing concern right now was recruiting the powerful stallion to his cause. Even if the claims of lightning were tall tales, a compact aerial scout would easily be worth his weight in gold. If I’ve read him right, his most important priority is protecting the two “mares.” I can’t carry a gun around and expect him to feel safe around me. For the first time in five minutes, he heard the sound of a hoof rapping on the door. Sighing, he rose to his feet and opened the heavy door. The small, cyan unicorn was waiting outside the door, sitting on her haunches. As he looked down at her she seemed to shrink as she looked away. She had been permitted to go out and use the bathroom so long as she waited outside until he was finished with the remaining interview. “You can go in,” he stated bluntly. “Okay,” Belinda squeaked walking, treading cautiously over the den’s disintegrating carpet before sitting down in the same submissive position. “If you want, you can get the others. I’m done.” “Yes, mister. I’d be happy to.” This one’s even more afraid than Taylor was, Domenico thought. The moment I said I was with the mafia, she did a 360 and became completely cagey. She poked her nose in the door of Taylor’s room and said, “he’s done.” And wasting no time, she jumped up on the bed and squeezed herself in between the two other ponies. Taylor basked in the moment, resting his head on her withers. Xavier, on the other hand, immediately jolted up. “I can help with dinner,” he chirped, catching sight of Domenico. Hopping off the bed, he approached him. “What do you have to eat around here.” “Mostly fruit, vegetables and some basic meat. Why?” He shook his pony head. “What did you think you could make with that?” “Eat it plain, I guess?” Dom confessed. “Oh well,” the pony said, perking up. “I’ll manage somehow.” With that he trotted to the kitchen. Curious, Domenico followed the maroon pony and watched as he rummaged through the cupboards with hooves. Wiping cobwebs aside, the unicorn found some long-forgotten spices and set them on the counter. He then combined the cabinet’s small collection with that from Storm’s backpack. His tools assembled, he pulled out a cooking pan and started to cautiously chop at the assorted vegetables Domenico had left on the counter. The peeling yellow wallpaper and worn-down appliances gave a poor impression despite Domenico’s best job at cleaning. He was tempted to apologize for it, but the pony seemed to pay it no mind. Dom watched him work. It was still a marvel that ponies could do so much without fingers. Taylor’s newfound dexterity was easily the biggest discovery of the last twenty-four hours. Then again, who knew how soon it would be trumped by something new. For Xavier’s part, it looked as if he was merely sticking things to his hooves. Further observation revealed this to be accurate, as Xavier brought down his knife slowly and deliberately to make up for an apparently awkward grip. He wondered if this was a difference unique to the horned ponies, or if Taylor was simply a faster learner? “Is something bothering you?” Xavier asked. “Huh?” “You keep staring at me. I know I look strange, but I don’t like it.” “Just watching how you use your hooves. It’s amazing that you can use them like that.” “These things?” Xavier said perturbed. “They aren’t good for nothing. With hands I cut ten times faster.” “Oh.” Xavier turned his muzzle and continued to cut, letting the moment sit for a moment before saying, “If that’s all, I don’t want you watching me. So if you have nothing to say, leave me.” Dom turned to leave, taking a single step away, but then realized he was letting the pony order him around. He was not normally one to pick fights over such things, but the situation demanded he stay in charge. “It’s my house. I’ll do whatever the hell I want.” Without waiting a second Xavier quipped, “When I cook, it’s my kitchen, so leave.” Domenico knew he should probably press the point, but his curiosity won out and he asked, “Compared with the others, you are less afraid of me. Why is that? Don’t you know who I am?” “Yes, yes,” Xavier replied, unperturbed, “You are son of mafia boss. But to me, I see a child. I’m older than the others, and a mere boy can’t scare me so easily.” “I’m older than I look,” Dom protested. “I still have tens years more at least,” Xavier said, apparently struggling for words. Picking up on this, the young man asked, “¿Preferiría Castellano? “Joder, hacia tiempo que no podía hablar una idioma que conociese bien.” With the conversation now in Spanish, the pony seemed much happier to talk with him. “About your question—why I’m not afraid of you. There’s actually another reason,” Xavier said wistfully. “My grandfather was a union pistolero. He would kill wealthy factory owners at the behest of runions. Although, he didn’t seem to regret his actions, he never let his work define him either. Family was most important to him. Xavier paused before finishing. “And I’ve never met a gentler man in my life.” He turned to face the young mafia heir. “If a killer like him can be such a compassionate father and grandfather, then it seems natural to let your own actions speak for you.” “I guess,” Dom said, blown away. “Thanks.” It was strangely disarming to hear the pony see through him like this. He should be worried that his facade had crumbled so easily before him. If the others picked up on the fact that he was just putting on airs, it could be very bad for him. At the same time, he felt a certain relief. He listened to the clattering of Xavier’s cooking for a few minutes in silence before chiming in again. “You are Catalan you said? My grandmother was as well.” “Really?” Xavier asked. He sounded interested but didn’t take his eyes off his work. “Yes, my grandfather met her while traveling and loved her dearly. She was the one who came up with the name of our group—Sagrada Famiglia. Like Gaudi’s grand vision, he hoped to build something that would take many generations to complete. From there, Domenico really hit it off with the high-voiced pony. Once they had discovered both of them were Barcelona fans, Xavier nearly burned their dinner due to their rapid chatter. Thank god he didn’t, however, because his vegetable soup was one of the most delicious things Dom had ever tasted. He was extra grateful for the fact that the ponies apparently had smaller stomachs, as he was able to help himself to a lion’s share of the fantastic meal. Compliments came readily from around the table while Xavier insisted that it was the most basic of things that even an untrained bartender like him could make. The main focus of the dinner conversation, however, was Taylor thoroughly rubbing it that he had been right about Belinda, and Dom was thoroughly wrong. From there, they split off into distinct groups: Taylor and Lynne went back to his bedroom to talk more, Dom and Xavier continued to talk about sports, while Storm Chaser kept to himself. However, when night came, an unresolved issue reared its ugly head. “I can sleep on a cloud,” Storm insisted. “The ladies can share a room and you keep the master bedroom. Everybody wins.” “No, that won’t work,” Dom protested. “What if someone sees you? It’s too risky. You ponies are small enough to all share a bed. I’ll give up the master bedroom and switch rooms with Taylor. It’s the best arrangement.” “Just because I’m suddenly a female pony doesn’t mean I’m suddenly okay with sleeping with a stallion.” Taylor said firmly. Lynne and Xavier both seemed to nod in agreement while Storm had no comment. “I think,” Xavier said, “that we should sort with gender from before. Domenico lays in between Storm and us, and Lynne gets a room alone.” “I can agree to that,” Taylor said, smiling at Lynne. “No, wait!” The pony in question said. “That’s not fair. I shouldn’t get special treatment. I want to share with someone.” Taylor cocked his head, puzzled. “But everyone else here is male—presumably. Don’t you want your own?” “Actually, I wouldn’t mind sharing with you,” Lynne said shyly. “Fine,” Dom said. “I’ll let Taylor sleep at the foot of my bed. That work for everybody?” “No. I don’t want to sleep with you either,” Taylor said, clearly not amused with the simplistic innuendo. “You’re welcome to sleep on the floor,” Dom replied coldly. “I’m still human dammit!” Taylor asserted. “None of us are going to sleep on the floor like pets.” “I’ll share with you,” Xavier offered. “But that will put Storm with us,” Taylor objected. And so, the debate raged for many a minute more. Fuck, Dom thought. I really am losing control here. How did I lose that one. I can’t believe I’m sharing a bed with a pony. Despite the roominess of the bed, he felt snorting on his cheek followed by the texture of fur. Snoring loudly, Storm Chaser rolled over onto Dom, placing his muzzle across the young man’s body. Annoyed, he rolled over and out of bed. Rather than surrendering territory to the pony, he figured he could climb in the other side of the bed where the stallion had been. There. That solves that. However… “Mmm marshmallow,” the stallion muttered in his sleep, rolling on top of Dom and wrapping his front legs around him. Damn it all! This is your fault, Taylor !