//------------------------------//
// Chapter 9: Rivalry and Kinship 
// Story: Contest of Champions 
// by thatguyvex 
//------------------------------//


Chapter 9: Rivalry and Kinship 


The wind had picked up significantly the next day, buffeting the Isle of the Fallen heavily and causing an almost constant whistle of noise across the forests and fields. Princess Luna didn’t mind the faint sense of an incoming storm, as it fit her mood rather snuggly. The morning had been rather... trying. Talking to her sister with the overhanging realization that any courtesy that existed between them was shadowed by Celestia’s ongoing obsession with taking Equestria under her ‘protective’ rule once more was absolutely exhausting.

It hadn’t even been a long conversation. Luna had simply needed to remind her sister to keep Luna’s ruse of being the one to raise the sun, because that morning Celestia had started to get a little ostentatious with her magic when actually raising the sun. Luna had needed to teleport out to her sister’s ark just as her sister’s glow of golden light had started to shine a bit too brightly for comfort’s sake.  She’d asked Celestia to keep such displays to a minimum while she actually raised the sun and Luna put on a light show for the benefit of her subjects.

Celestia had not liked that suggestion. Luna felt, in part, it was simply because Celestia hadn’t realized how brightly her magic had been glowing as she’d raised the sun and was covering her embarrassment. Luna was still surprised that her sister had even considered conceding, but it seemed to Luna that Celestia was far more distracted by other matters to argue over who got credit for raising the sun that morning.

”They shall all know who commands the sun, soon enough, dear sister, and who is their one true guardian. Play your tricks this morning, Luna, if you must, as long as you never forget to whom the sun belongs.”

And that was about as polite as Celestia had been thus far, though some part of Luna was almost happy that her sister was here. No matter what illness plagued her sister’s mind, Luna missed Celestia. Even the difficult conversations they had now, with the promise of conflict in the future, had to be better than absolute silence. It was a deep fear twisting at the center of Luna’s heart that she’d be, in the end, forced to see her sister banished once more... or worse...

But not this day, or any day during the Contest, of that much she felt certain. Others might express doubts but Luna knew her sister well enough to believe Celestia’s intentions on the island were not harmful to Equestria. Even after hearing what the Element Bearers had told her the previous night concerning the labyrinthine seer Greysight’s ominous warning Luna felt confident that Celestia wasn’t the source of the threat. Connected, perhaps, but not the source. She had her Shadowbolts trailing Celestia’s servants as they traipsed about the island, just in case, but so far they’d only confirmed what Celestia had already claimed, that she was here to ensure nothing interfered with the imprisoning spell that kept Rengoku sealed away from outside contact.

Standing at the peak of the cliff that harbored the monastery, enjoying a moment of quiet before she’d be called upon to join the formal breakfast the monks were putting on for the visiting dignitaries, herself included, Luna couldn’t help but cast an uneasy glance towards the distant fortress.

Rengoku loomed like the shadow of an old nightmare, only half forgotten. If only she and her sister had the power to destroy it, rather than just place a barrier around it. 

With a somewhat self deprecating snort she shook her head, “Follow your own advice for once, Luna, and focus on the Contest.”

This was a time to be both filled with joy and pride, despite all the threats that might cloud the horizon. Her dearest student and her cherished friends were doing well, and the Contest of Champions had only just begun. They were already forming kinships among the other champions, and in some cases, budding rivalries. Both could form strong bonds, and if Luna was to believe in her optimistic better thoughts, then only good could stem from the trials to come. 

Luna had seen ponies go through many changes over the course of their short lives, and never ceased to warm her to see ponies grow. The Element Bearers had begun a great journey of change the day they’d first defeated her sister, but Luna was seeing even more change in recent months as those humble (and in some cases perhaps not so humble) mares grow into their roles as knights, and indeed, as champions. It was such a difficult to define title, at times, champion. As nebulous as the word ‘hero’. What made one a champion could be different depending on a hundred factors, from culture to individual deeds, but the unifying element, Luna always thought, was that champions showed the absolute best of what they could be, inspiring others to become better themselves.

In that regard, she thought the mares she’d put her faith in were starting to shine with a light that would not dull anytime soon, and may well leave them all changed by the time all was said and done.

---------- 

Breakfast had been somewhat awkward for Trixie. Suspicions now of who might possibly represent the mysterious threat she’d been warned of floated across her mind as she carefully watched the various national delegates and her fellow champions during the morning meal. Not everyone was present for breakfast, as there wasn’t actually any obligation for all attendees to be there, and more than a few champions or delegates had their own notions of how to spend the morning. This included some of Trixie’s friends, as Ditzy had gotten up early and left to meet with, of all individuals, Grimwald. Raindrops had volunteered to go with her, just to keep an eye on things, and Trixie was thankful for that. Grimwald all but oozed an aura of untrustworthiness and Trixie couldn’t comprehend why Ditzy was seemingly adamant about... befriending the griffon? 

Cheerilee was also absent, though she’d been at breakfast just long enough to snatch some food and jet off, saying she had a friend to meet up with. She hadn’t said who. 

That left Trixie, Lyra, and Carrot Top to socialize and mingle with the other dignitaries. Trixie was keeping close track of her friends, seeing Lyra two tables down talking with Wodan, and apparently whatever she was saying was getting the moose to rumble with laughter that carried over the din of conversation like a peal of thunder. Carrot Top was trapped between a trio of nobles, one the Cavallian knight from the other day, Trixie thought his name was Silverwreath, another being Prince Frederick who was wearing a guarded look as the third noble of the group seemed to hedge both him and Carrot Top in with just a few looks and gestures. Vicereine Puissance had that kind of presence. Trixie couldn’t hear what was being said, but the look on Carrot Top’s face suggested she wanted to be somewhere else.

Good luck, Carrot Top, but that’s a bramble patch I’m not sticking my hoof in. Just don’t make the Vicereine more prickly than she already is, thought Trixie, taking a drink from a goblet of wine, and nearly choking on it as she turned to find herself staring at a face full of Dao Ming.

“Come with me, if it pleases you, Dame Trixie,” Dao Ming said, voice polite, but strained, and silver eyes shifting about, looking for the Empress, Trixie suspected. Coughing slightly to keep the wine going down the right pipe, Trixie affected an air of nonplussed aloofness.

“Is it okay for you to be out of bed, yet? Last I’d heard you were under lock and key by the order of your Empress.”

Dao Ming didn’t quite look well, that was for certain. There were faint circles of fatigue under her eyes and the normally immaculate appearance of the Shouma heir apparent seemed frayed in a few places, one or two strands of golden mane out of place, a few rumples among the otherwise smooth green and gold embroidered dress she wore. Still, she managed to maintain a stance of high headed pride as strongly as ever, while somehow seeming more deflated, or at least... nervous?

“At great length I have convinced my-” there was just a tick of hesitation, or perhaps not hesitation, but uneasy satisfaction, in Dao Ming’s voice, “-mother that I am more than well enough to walk on my own four hooves. She has only agreed to this as long as I remain within the monastery for today, however, so I am stuck... obligated to remain here, resting for the most part.”

“I see,” said Trixie, “So what then do you want with me? You made all the impression you possibly could have yesterday.”

It was hard not to keep a sharpness out of her voice. Kenkuro could assure all he wanted that Dao Ming was regretful for what had happened, and Trixie as well knew she didn’t want to carry a grudge, but... well being faced with Dao Ming so soon after nearly being killed by her was quite a different matter. Dao Ming seemed to understand this as well, because it was hard not to see the look of heated shame that crossed her features, however briefly.

“I know that what I did was beyond, well beyond, what was called for. I was... angry, with you,” Dao Ming said, and her eyes cast about, again with a shifty nervousness she was trying hard to hide, “I do not make requests often, Dame Trixie, but please, can we speak elsewhere? Somewhere private? I... I cannot do this in public.”

It was so, so tempting to say no, just to see Dao Ming fidget more. Trixie knew she could leave Dao Ming hanging high and dry, unable to say whatever it was she wanted to say, unless she wanted a good portion of the room to hear of it by the end of the day. Already the two mares standing together were drawing looks. There was just the start of sweat beading on Dao Ming’s forehead before Trixie relented and said, “Very well, let us get some fresh air.”

“But I cannot leave the monastery,” Dao Ming protested, but Trixie held up a placating hoof.

“We’re not leaving, just going to the threshold. It's quiet enough there, and you can say whatever it is you have to say without worrying about being overheard. I’ll make sure of it.”

Dao Ming looked concerned still, but held her head high and followed Trixie just the same as they trotted out of the dining hall and towards the vast stone columns that marked the opening of the monastery, where its large stone steps led out to the fields beyond the cliff. Trixie let out a small sigh at the sight of the pleasant day outside, though in her mind the view was somewhat marred by Corona’s golden ark, floating in a slow, drifting circle in the sky. 

Once Trixie was sure nopony was nearby, and using one of the columns to easily hide from the line of sight of anypony in the dining hall, Trixie used a quick spell to erect a barrier against eavesdropping. Dao Ming looked about at the flicker of the transparent bubble with a grudgingly appreciative eye.

“That shall do,” she said, then looked at Trixie with her face twitching through a series of emotions that Dao Ming seemed trying hard to hide behind a mask of formality. “Dame Trixie Lulamoon, I... have done you and your fellow knights a disservice. I am bound by my loyalty to my mother to... not apologize for any of it. Yet I must do something. Honor is a razor’s edge, cutting me as I try to tread it, barring me from saying what must be said yet I cannot ignore my actions as if they hadn’t happened.”

“I’ve already gone over this with your tengu friend,” Trixie said, “He has, in his own way, apologized on your behalf. I also understand that your Empress is saving face by keeping things quiet.”

Trixie stared hard into Dao Ming’s eyes, wanting to have the kirin’s undivided attention, and made sure her next words came through crystal clear, “I am not going to easily forget what you tried to do, accident or not, to me and my friends. Forgive, perhaps, but not forget. You could have killed us with that stunt, and for what, because you felt angry? Power like yours can’t be used frivolously due to emotion, and I swear to you now that if you ever put my friends in danger like that again not even your Empress will be able to sweep under the rug what I will do.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and smiling, not exactly in her most pleasant way, but not exactly baring her teeth either, “Now, that being said; apology accepted. I do hope you’re ready to have your flanked kicked in the next event, because Dame Trixie Lulamoon and her fellow knights of the realm are far from out of this Contest, yet.”

Dao Ming was silent, seconds ticking by with icy slowness, until the phantom of a smirk appeared on the kirin’s young features, lightening her fatigue with a flame of challenge, “I can admit to having misjudged you and your friends, upon first meeting. All I saw were common ponies, seemingly unfit for their legend or titles. I... look forward, now, to seeing you prove those misconceptions wrong in the coming events. If you can defeat me, going forward. I have much at stake, and much honor to regain, in winning the Contest of Champions.”

“And I, too, have my pride to consider,” said Trixie, sharing the kirin’s smirk and flicking her tail in a defiantly eager gesture, “With the air clear, I think we can both enjoy the challenges to come, no?”

“Yes...” said Dao Ming, her shoulders straighter, looking far less tired than she’d been mere minutes earlier, “Yes I think we shall.”

As the two departed back into the dining hall, both stepping lighter, Kenkuro, who’d been perched on the cliff above and making good use of his skill in reading lips, took a puff on his pipe and smiled, looking up at the sky.

“Hmm, a good rival for her... good for each other. Fu Ling, if only you could see.”

----------  

Ditzy tried hard not to shiver, entering the edge of the forest at the northeast edge of the island. Raindrops trotted alongside her and seemed far more at ease, despite keeping an alert eye out. Noticing Ditzy’s slight shudder her friend said, “You know you didn’t have to agree to this?”

“Yes, but I’m trying to put my best hoof forward,” Ditzy said, almost as much to convince herself as Raindrops, who gave a slight snort at Ditzy’s words.

“Far as I’m concerned you’ve already done that, and there’s nothing wrong with telling the creepy guy to go take a hike,” said Raindrops, eyes scanning the trees. “He did say to meet him here, right?”

“Yup, there’s supposed to be a clearing just ahead. Uh, thanks for coming with me Raindrops. I know you could be spending time with your family right now, enjoying the festival.”

“I have responsibilities to look to, and they understand. Part of that is making sure my friend doesn’t get a knife in the back,” Raindrops replied, not ceasing her wary scanning of their surroundings.

“I don’t think Grimwald would actually do something that drastic... I mean, I hope not...” Ditzy was almost irritated with herself for how unsure she sounded, but it was true that Grimwald had hardly done much to set her at ease. 

“You’re giving the buzzard way more credit than I would,” said Raindrops as the pair broke through the treeline into a wide clearing, perhaps thirty or so paces long and half that wide in a smooth oval. There were several broken tree stumps here, each at a slightly different length, and Ditzy noticed that there was a piece of dark stonework, like a large pillar, that rested on one end of the clearing. 

“Why hello ladies,” said Grimwald as he seemed to materialize from the shade of a tree not more than a few yards from them, causing Ditzy to near jump out of her fur, and Raindrops to wheel about, wings spread and reared to strike. Grimwald just held up his talons in a pacifying gesture as he sat back on his haunches. “Easy there, muscles. You’d think you were expecting trouble, with how jumpy you are. I thought I made it clear yesterday that I’m only interested in helping your friend.”

“I'll believe that when... “ Raindrops trailed off, tilting her head in thought, “Actually I don’t think I want to set a condition for that one. I just don’t trust people that try to stab my friends and let’s leave it there.”

“Your call. I don’t mind a spectator at any rate, since I’m just here to watch as well,” Grimwald said, as he peeled a knife from some sleeve or pocket that Ditzy couldn’t see and began trimming his talons idly, “Gwen ought to be here any minute. She’s the punctual sort. Won’t admit it but she’s got quite a bit of her mother in her.”

“And if she heard you say that, Grimwald, she’d end up agreeing with you and I’d have to bust your beak and set her straight on the matter,” chimed in a tough yet feminine voice as another griffin walked into the clearing from the left. Ditzy recalled only vaguely that she’d seen the female griffin among the other champions, though she hadn’t spoken to her yet. Gwendolyn’s lean frame filled out her blue and white trimmed jerkin well, and her red feather crests were held back by a steel banded circlet. She wore a sword at her side, broad and long with a gold worked hilt, and she carried over her shoulder a cloth bound bundle that rattled with steel. 

Grimwald gave her a wide grin, “My apologies Gwen, and here I thought you and your mother got on famously these days.”

“Cut the crap, Grim. She’s happy enough I came back home at the King’s summons and agreed to do this Contest malarkey, but soon as this is done I’m back to the Red Shields and that’s that,” Gwendolyn said with vehement force, tossing down the bundle in the middle of the clearing.

“Of course, yes, I’m sure King Gruber will be more than thrilled to let you return to your vigilantes... I mean, legitimate unit of awol soldiers,” Grimwald said without even bothering to hide his mocking tone, to which Gwendolyn shot him a hard look, but Ditzy saw a bit of fear in those proud eyes as well.

“I didn’t come here to talk about that, Grim. I’m here because you asked me to help one of these ponies with some combat training. So let’s do that and save the nettling for when we’re both drunk and I can punch you without causing a scene.”

That said she turned curious eyes towards both Ditzy and Raindrops, “Which one of you was I training again? Sorry, I know you ponies are color coded for convenience but I sometimes have a hard time telling you folk apart.”

Raindrops muttered something unflattering under her breath but Ditzy stepped forward, smiling politely and extending a hoof, “That’d be me. I’m Ditzy Doo. Pleased to meet you.”

Gwendolyn looked at the offered hoof for a second, then gripped it firmly with a talon and a solid shake, “Gwendolyn Var Bastion. Likewise. Now, I hope you’re not expecting to become a skilled fighter overnight. I’ve taught folk before how to hold the right end of a spear, but I’m not a miracle worker. Still, I’m used to teaching people that haven’t seen the business end of a weapon most their lives. I can get some basics into you, if you’ve got the mind to learn. Mind if I ask why you’re doing this, first?”

There was a piercing quality to Gwendolyn’s eyes even as there was a remarkably open and inviting tone to her voice. Ditzy felt like she was being measured yet not judged. It helped set her at ease, almost the complete opposite of the way Grimwald set her on edge. 

“I wouldn’t have really thought to do this if Grimwald hadn’t suggested it, and you could say I’m mostly doing it for the sake of being friends.”

“With Grimwald?” Gwendolyn asked, and Grimwald himself sighed.

“You don’t have to say it as if it's so unbelievable, Gwen,” he said, still toying with his knife. Gwendolyn didn’t even look his way, holding Ditzy’s gaze.

“W-well, yes... I mean, why does everypony find it so strange I just want to make friends? It’s why we’re here. Besides, while I don’t actually want to hurt anypony, learning how to defend myself better could be useful.”

“You’re a knight of the realm for Equestria, so I’d say that’s a fair bet,” said Gwendolyn, looking Ditzy over from snout to flank, “I haven’t fought ponies often, just a few bandits that have wandered north into the Border Kingdoms. I know enough to not underestimate you ponyfolk. For a species that’s all about harmony some of you can fight like rabid badgers. You got a lot of softness about you, Dame Ditzy, but your body is lean and has an agile look to it. I’ll start you off with the spear. Easy enough weapon for a beginner. We’ll see how you take to that and work from there.”

“Don’t be a fool, a spear doesn’t suit that noble mare at all.”

All eyes turned to the edge of the clearing where Ditzy and Raindrops had first emerged and trotting out from there was the dark furred form of Sigurd, the water deer casting a hard look towards Gwendolyn. Grimwald had an eyebrow cocked upwards and Ditzy heard him mutter, “Now how’d he figure where we were?”

Gwendolyn cast a questioning glance at Grimwald for a second before turning a challenging look to Sigurd, “What are you doing here?”

Sigurd took up a space next to Ditzy, face dour. He was wearing his full armor, all pieces of jointed leather hide, and his bone cared sword strapped over his back. “I chanced upon Dame Cheerilee on the festival grounds and inquired as to if Dame Ditzy was doing well.” He gave Ditzy Doo a slightly apologetic look, “She told me where you would be and what you intended. I decided I should come, perhaps to guard you if need be, or to offer my own services in seeing to your training. A good thing, too, for I don’t think this griffin is suited to the task.”

Gwendolyn let out a snort, “Why is that? Did I not best you on the field the other day, warrior of Elkheim?”

“You scored your points in a fair duel,” Sigurd said levelly, though he sounded as if he were chewing rocks as he said so, “But that was still mere play. You will not find me so easy a foe come the Contest of Strength.”

“An easy excuse, but I don’t actually care either way. What does this have to do with training the pony? You say the spear is a bad choice? What, you’d try to have a novice wield a blade like yours? Ponies are hardly suited to using swords in most cases. Their short muzzles don’t take to hilts so easy, but their fetlocks can carry a spear shaft with surprising dexterity. I’ve seen ponies use spears to deadly effect myself.”

Sigurd scoffed, “Therein lay your mistake. Dame Ditzy is not a mare interested in ‘deadly effect’. She may have a warrior’s soul, but it is married to a gentle heart.”

“Umm... can I interrupt for a second?” Ditzy Doo said, perhaps a bit more loudly than she intended, as both griffin and deer looked at her. She took a deep breath, trying to smile diplomatically, “There’s no need to argue. Why don’t both of you train me? I can do things Gwendolyn’s way for a bit, then switch to Sigurd for a bit, then back and forth. That way you both get to teach me your own way. I mean, I appreciate you coming out here Sigurd, I really do. But Gwendolyn is also being nice enough to take time out of her day to help me, too, so I hope you two can, um, be friends and work together?”

Sigurd and Gwendolyn shot looks at each other, and Ditzy for a second thought she could see sparks dancing between them as if the two were ready to draw swords at each other. Then, slowly and as if only being done by force, both griffin and water deer unclenched their jaws and relaxed their stiff necks.

“That’s fine. I’m certain I can shape you into a better fighter than this overbearing oaf in half the time he’ll take,” said Gwendolyn, while Sigurd laughed in amusement.

“We shall see, boastful bird. I shall teach her a warrior’s way in a manner one as young as you couldn’t see, for all your experience in soldiering. There is more to battle than weapons or tactics. The soul of a warrior must come first.”

“Oh, yes, because that will keep her safe when she has enemies bearing down on her, a ‘warrior's soul’. This is why you cervids have never won a war against us griffins! Too much poetry in battle and not enough actual fighting skill.”

“Hmph, yet the Griffin Kingdoms have never taken any of Elkheim’s lands for more than a fortnight, because you lack the heart and soul to remain steadfast under pressure!”

Suddenly yet another voice cut through the argument, high noted but polite, “I am not interrupting anything of importance, am I?”

Once more eyes turned to find another newcomer to the clearing. The zebra Tendaji stood from the clearing edge opposite where Sigurd had entered, peering at them all curiously. Grimwald groaned and threw up his hands.

“Alright, how do people keep finding this clearing!? This was supposed to be a secret training spot, but apparently I might as well just go throw up a bloody sign and invite the entire island over! Pfft!!” Ditzy found it odd to see Grimwald grousing, although the fact that he did so while pulling out another knife and idling spinning it in his other talon, seemingly without thought, kept her from laughing. 

Not so much Gwendolyn, who let out a honest chuckle, grinning at Tendaji. “You broke the Grimwald. I like you. What brings you here, zebra?”

“Tendaji, madame. And I came to speak with her,” he pointed at Raindrops, who bristled.

“You and I have nothing to say to each other,” the pegasus said with a harsh glare. If Tendaji was bothered by the heated eyes on him he gave no sign.

“I won’t force you, yet I cannot avoid you. You are part of my Path, Raindrops. I feel I have yet to garner an understanding with you on that matter, and wish to do so before our hooves meet in combat again. My... my wife also thinks this is for the best.”

“I don’t see how what you or your wife think should matter to me at all,” said Raindrops flatly, but Ditzy Doo put a hoof on her friend’s withers.

“Raindrops, it can’t hurt to just talk to him,” she said, “He’s being very polite.”

“I...” Raindrops looked ready to spit, but Ditzy Doo turned on the pleading eyes, pouting slightly, and Raindrops’ resolve started to crumble, “Okay, not fair to use that look, Ditzy, but fine I’ll go see what he has to say. You’ll be alright on your own?”

“I think I can manage,” said Ditzy Doo.

Reluctantly Raindrops took to the air and floated over towards Tendaji, who gave a formal bow to the group, then to Raindrops, and led the pegasus out of the clearing. Ditzy Doo sincerely hoped the pair might be able to clear the air with each other and start coming to an understanding. Speaking of which...

“Right, so, um, I guess we ought to get started, huh?” she said to her two new teachers, who both glowered at each other for a moment, before turning their full attention to Ditzy. Gwendolyn had a look that was a thunderhead of eagerness. 

“Since I’m up first,” the griffiness said while heading over to the wrapped bundle she’d left on the ground, unwrapping it to reveal a tightly packed pile of weapons ranging from straight blades, to broad axes. Amid the weapons was a short spear about three feet long, which Gwendolyn snatched up and tossed Ditzy’s way, “We begin with the spear. By the time I’m finished with you you’ll be able to at least hold that without stabbing yourself.”

Ditzy barely managed to catch the shaft, holding it awkwardly in her front fetlocks while using her wings to hover. It felt strange to hold the spear, and she looked at it with trepidation. Sigurd made a sound somewhere between a grunt and chuckle as he leaned against one of the tree stumps, “We shall see how this goes.”

As Gwendolyn started to put Ditzy through the paces of some rigorous spear drills she looked out of the corner of her eye. Grimwald was now perched on one of the trees, not making a sound, just sitting there with a satisfied look on his face.

Watching.

---------- 

Lyra had lost track of Carrot Top and Trixie amid the ever shifting tide of folk, dignitaries and champions alike, who buzzed about the monastery's dining hall. She’d anchored herself to Wodan because the moose was literally impossible to miss in the crowd, and he was good company with an easy laugh that could crack stone and a joke or anecdote to match any of hers. If anything she felt privileged to chat with the fellow, her mental lorebook of stories from Elkheim filling up as rapidly as Wodan could drain barrels of ale. Lucky her the traditions of Elkheim courtship didn’t apply here because Wodan already knew she was attached. 

“You didn’t actually use a pine tree to pole vault onto an airborne dragon,” she said, “I’m sure physics doesn’t agree with any of that.”

“Physics means nothing to mighty Wodan! It was a hundred foot tall pine, as clear and real as your own eyes, and of course I could see no other way to get up to the same height as the fiery wyrm that was scorching the forest bare! When it soared past the cliff-side, I was there, vaulting like a majestic eagle onto its scaly hide!”

“What Wodan doesn’t tell you of this tale is that he overshot his mark by at least ten paces and ended up on the dragon’s snout, nearly falling into its mouth,” said Andrea, who came up beside Lyra with a foaming mug of mead at hoof, “Of course what good story isn’t gilded with embellishment?” 

Lyra smiled past a sip of the cider she herself had snatched from one of the tables. “Got to make the story interesting. Who’s to say what’s true or not, as long as it’s a good tale?”

Wodan bellowed a laugh, giving Lyra a jostle that he probably assumed was friendly and light, but nearly knocked her off her hooves, “Andrea knows well the truth of many of my deeds. She’s been there to witness more than a few of them herself.”

“Being a Skald is fine work, and I must go where there are heroes making their legends,” Andrea said, and smirked, “While making a few of my own, of course. Heh, when the world lets me.”

Lyra glanced at her questioningly, “Not enough adventure following around guys like Wodan here?”

“Ach, few in Elkheim would say Wodan has not forged a great saga of his life, but even this tale of pole vaulting upon a dragon is an old one. Oh, don’t grimace so, Wodan, you know that happened near twenty winters ago!”

Wodan’s face had a shrugging look about it even though he was still as a mountain, voice gravel, “True words spoken, friend Andrea. The world has grown peaceful, but let that never be a bar to the hero’s spirit! One can find challenges even when dragons don’t sweep the skies with flames and ice serpents freeze the rivers solid.”

Lyra nodded in firm agreement, “Equestria’s a pretty peaceful place, but my friends and I keep finding trouble to get into, heh, and out of in ever increasingly ludicrous ways.”

“Perhaps,” said Andrea, looking towards Lyra with her emerald eyes flickering with intense interest, as if she were examining a fruit to pluck, “Grand adventures, to be sure, yet they’ve only come in a time of crisis for your land. A legend of old descending for the sun itself to threaten your peace, or an ancient island whisked from time, bearing old evils. These are the things that forge legends worthy of champions, more than say, a peaceful, quiet life.”

Lyra shifted uncomfortably, not entirely sure what the red elk doe was driving at. Yes, her life in Ponyville had been pretty uneventful and peaceful up until Corona, but that didn’t mean one couldn’t find adventure in the common, everyday events of life. Granted, she spent a lot of her time reading up on the lore and legends of more... exciting times, and now that she was living those same kinds of stories she was finding it both exhilarating, and rather terrifying at many a time, but there was nothing wrong with things being quiet and peaceful. Wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? 

Some part of Lyra wasn’t entirely sure.

“Okay, sure, some stories need a bit of danger and conflict to get going, especially for the legendary stuff, but there’s still good things to be found during a time of peace. I mean, you’re a musician just like me, an entertainer, right? The music and stories that convey legends, those are best appreciated in times of peace.”

Andrea’s laugh was a set of wind chimes in a stormy breeze, “Too true! Such a bit of twisted irony that our craft requires times of chaos and war to gain its fuel, yet can only be appreciated fully when the dust has settled and the storm ended.” Her red, curled hair bobbed as she laughed into her drink, taking a long sip, “If only there was a way to have it both ways. What is the Equestrian turn of phrase; to have one’s cake and eat it too?”

“Something like that,” Lyra said, raising her cup of cider, “To finding adventure, even in times of peace.”

Andrea’s grin had a warm quality to it, yet her eyes still seemed sharp and searching as she banged her mug to Lyra’s cup, “To adventure, even in peace.”

The cider went down smoothly and Lyra glanced around, still not sure where Trixie or Carrot Top had gotten off to. Then again, there was no rule that said they all had to be attached at the hip. She was a grown mare and didn’t need to ‘check in’ every ten minutes. Last she’d seen Carrot Top was still hanging around with that Frederick fellow anyway, and Trixie was a natural at taking care of herself. Lyra wanted to get some quality time in with Bon Bon. 

“Well,” she said, “Think I’ve managed to pack on as many pounds as politeness requires. I got to give to these monks, they can cook.”

“Leaving are you, then?” Wodan asked, stretching his legs, an act that reminded Lyra a lot of what a pine tree being bent to pole vault might look like, with those thick limbs bending. “Perhaps I shall accompany you.”

“Ah ah ah, “ said Andrea swiftly, “You pulled Prince duty for the day, so no wiggling out of it.”

Wodan’s face remained as impassive as a slab of stone, but Lyra did notice that his ears twitched a bit at Andrea’s words. “I did, didn’t I? I had near forgotten. So be it, I shall remain here, vigilant and watchful. You ladies go and enjoy yourselves.” 

Andrea put a hoof around Lyra’s withers, “Oh, we will.”

The pair made swift progress out of the monastery's main hall, Lyra giving Wodan one last wave of farewell before they cantered out into the warm morning air, hitting the trail leading to the festival grounds. Lyra glanced sidelong at Andrea, her curiosity pushing her to ask, “Prince duty?”

The doe let out a light chuckle, like chiming bells, “Just what we call our task of watching Prince Frederick, keeping an eye on the lad while he’s out from under the boughs of Yggdrasil.”

Yggdrasil. That was the capital city of Elkheim, if Lyra’s memory of the nation’s lore wasn’t being too fuzzy. The city got its name from the unbelievably monolithic tree that sprung up from the side of one of the realm’s largest mountains. She knew the royal family of Elkheim made their home within the tree itself, an entire palace shaped within the bark and branches of the massive tree.

“Is it not common for the Prince to actually leave Yggdrasil?” she asked with an intrigued raise of her eyebrow.

“Oh, that’s not the issue. He’s been in and out of the capital plenty of times,” said Andrea, “It’s more that the lad has some bad habits when it comes to certain things, so he needs some level heads about to keep him steered right, so he doesn’t make a fool of himself at best, or make Elkheim short one Prince at worst.”

Lyra wasn’t entirely sure she understood, “Just what are you supposed to keep him from doing? Wait, does this have anything to do with him being interested in Carrot Top?”

Andrea blinked at her, then let out a raucous chuckle, “What? Oh, no, not at all lass! If anything I’m glad your friend is keeping the Prince’s attention. Long as he’s busy chasing her tail he won’t be as likely to do anything else foolish. Lad has a head full of notions on how to get glory and not a lick of the sense needed to do it without getting in over his head.”

“Like pole vaulting onto the back of a dragon?” Lyra put forth with a small smirk.

“Ha! In Prince Frederick’s case he’d have skipped the pole vault and just jumped straight into the dragon’s maw. Lucky us this Contest is such a friendly affair and that the Prince isn’t participating, otherwise the oath me, Sigurd, and Wodan swore on the roots of Yggdrasil to keep watch over him would be that much harder to fulfill,” said Andrea just as the pair reached the edge of the festival grounds. The soft intertwining of a dozen different forms of music filled the air alongside the din of the large crowd of intermixed species moving about the grounds. The music, all blending from different cultures into a pleasant background buzz, made Lyra smile and think of the upcoming event.

“I wonder what the Contest of Art is going to be like?” she asked, not really expecting an answer, but Andrea  was quick to answer.

“From what I’ve heard passed down of tales from Contests past it is the least structured of the events. The monks believe too many rules stifle the creativity needed to express a culture’s Art. I believe the last century’s Contest had an event that was made up entirely of improvised pieces.”

“Heh, I bet Trixie would dig that,” said Lyra, “Me? Improv isn’t really my thing. I like to know the piece I’m playing beforehoof, at least a little bit. I can get by with minimal practice, but there’s gotta be some idea of what I’m playing.”

Andrea looked at her with an odd intensity in her eyes for a moment, through her smile was as easy as ever, “Whatever the nature of the event I’ve no doubt you’ll put on a performance that’ll be tough to beat.” Andrea held up a hoof, pointing it at Lyra, “This is the time and place for ones such as us to add to our sagas, Lyra Heartstrings, to make our marks on history that in time will become legend.”

“A legend, huh? Doesn’t sound so bad, but I’ll settle for just winning,” Lyra said with a maverick grin, bumping Andrea’s hoof with her own, “Here’s to putting on a show worth remembering.”

Andrea returned Lyra’s grin with equal measure, “Here’s to making the whole world remember this Contest in tale and song for generations to come.”

----------  

Among the numerous tents, pavilions, and stages set up around the festival grounds, it was hard to find one that was as ostentatiously... Cheerilee would use the phrase “in your face”, as the minotaur’s section. It had Iron Will’s stamp of approval all over it, and the sight sort made her grin in a giddily nostalgic fashion.  

Of first note was the controlled chaos of the minotaur’s love of fireworks. There was hardly a spot free of something sparkling or popping with something bright and flashy, all positioned to draw attention to various attractions ranging from minotaur strongbulls performing feats of ridiculous musculature, to a rather impressive display of minotaur steamcraft where Cheerilee had to pause and actually watch with fascination at a demonstration of a steam powered jackhammer that put some of Equestria’s best efforts in steam technology to shame. One minotaur was putting on a vigorous performance with metal drums that somehow complemented the din of the crowds rather than overriding it. The constant metal beats seemed to fill the air with a testosterone energy that made Cheeirlee grin because it was so very... minotaur.  

When she reached one particularly large front stage, surrounded by shelves of merchandise and one of the largest metal punch bowls she’d ever seen, she finally spotted Iron Will, the minotaur completing a sale of several Steel Cage plush dolls to curious and happy festival goers. The moment he spotted her he gave her a wide grin.  

“Cheer!” Iron Will boomed, looking happier than the proverbial clam as she trotted up to his rather colorful booth in the festival grounds. “Come on up here and have yourself an on the house Contest Cup of fruit punch.”

Cheerilee watched with bemused interest as Iron Will handed her an overlarge, bright red clay cup with a rather ludicrous and cartoonish logo stenciled on it with the letters “C o C” flanked by miniature depictions of all the participating species of the Contest in exaggerated battle poses. Cheerilee noted that it was a tad inaccurate to have the cartoonish pony on the cup that looked suspiciously like Trixie with magical bolts of energy flying from her horn, but she wasn’t about to correct Iron Will on his marketing techniques. 

The cup had a chilled fruit drink within that was quite delicious as she took a large gulp. “Mmm, punchy,” she said, glancing around Iron Will’s booth, “So, business is good so far?”

“Ha! You wouldn’t believe how fast the dolls have been selling, especially after the Grand Melee,” said Iron Will, walking over and gesturing at the shelves lining one side of his booth, where a line of plush little minotaur dolls sat. Iron Will was looking pleased with himself, chest puffed out and adjusting his cherry red tie with smug satisfaction pouring off his body language like a musk. “I keep up this profit margin and ol’ Iron Will has got a real shot at convincing the Hedron of Alphas to finally get off their butts and approve to opening up our trade borders.”

Cheerilee took another long sip from the shockingly good fruity drink, sliding up next to Iron Will, who offered her a seat on one of the stools set up around the merchandise stage. She noticed he had out far more than drinks and dolls; Iron Will had really gone for broke on selling all sorts of knick-knacks of minotaur flavor. There were innovative little puzzles and games all of labyrinth theme. Dice games, and dice in general, remained a popular aspect of minotaur pastimes and Cheerilee found herself eyeing a set carved from onyx that made her momentarily yearn for a game of Ogres and Oubliettes. 

She felt a gentle scratch behind her ears and before she knew it she was smiling contently and nearly waggling her tail before she looked up with a wry twist of her lips at Iron Will, whose hand was the culprit. “Not fair. You shouldn’t start doing that unless you’ve got an entire hour free for me to enjoy that while curled up on a couch.”

Iron Will coughed, retracting his hand and idly cracking his knuckles in a nervous gesture, “Sorry, uh, force of habit. One of the only ponies that ever let me do that.”

“More ponies ought to. Feels nice, and it’s not like it's meant as a condescending gesture. You know I’m not a pet, you just happen to like petting me,” she said, laughing. 

Iron Will’s body language shifted again, a sort of ‘at ease’ relaxing of the shoulder muscles that made it look like he was lounging while still standing, “Missed the first event but heard you and your pals did some fine skull cracking out there.”

“I wouldn’t say we ‘cracked skulls’, but we did manage to pull off a decent first showing despite the whole nearly being turned into lightning rods thing. Note to you if you ever decide to head eastward with your business, don’t get on a kirin’s bad side.”

There was an almost imperceptible flick in Iron Will’s small bovine tail, along with a faint tightening in his jawline, “Ain’t seen too many of them Shouma types come through here. A few, but not many. Fanciest one was one of them royal types, though, the red one. Princess Tomoko I think.”

Cheerilee nodded, recalling briefly that among the Imperial Family the red kirin, Dao Ming’s elder sister, was named that. “I haven’t really met her, but I remember seeing her. I don’t think the term ‘princess’ applies in regards to her position. Seems less official than that. I think all of the children of their Empress have some sort of probationary status until an Heir is made official, but I’m not even sure about that much. Their internal politics are a tad hard to get my head wrapped around.”

“Hmm, speaking of the subject, did...” Iron Will hesitated, eyes glancing about, his mood turning serious, “Did Steel Cage do anything during the Grand Melee?”

“Other than make a good impression of a twelve foot tall road block? Not really,” Cheerilee said while mentally reviewing the event, “I suppose he tried waggling his jaw at me during a game we and the other champions had agreed to play, but I didn’t exactly give him the chance to say his peace while I was busy trying to win. After that he got kind of pouty and quiet.”

Iron Will made a sound akin to what one makes when being punched in the gut by something and his whole demeanor shifted gears, muscles tensing and breathing faster through the nose, “Cheer, you didn’t seriously ignore him, did you?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Cheerilee asked, then realized it must have come off rather facetious. Indeed, she knew what she’d been doing on the field, “I guess I did kind of do it to nettle him. It was all in good fun.”

Iron Will put a palm to his face, fingers rubbing the bridge of his snout, “He ain’t gonna see it that way, Cheer. Not at all. When he sees you next he’s-”

“CHEERILEE!”

Iron Will closed his eyes tightly, “Blow his top.”

The crowd parted in waves before the walking, stomping stormfront that was Steel Cage, followed by one of the smaller minotaur champions like a dingy being pulled in the wake of a galleon. The shorter minotaur, the brown coated fellow with the sandy bronze hair, looked nervous but was seeming to make calming gestures at the crowd that parted before Steel Cage himself, like someone trying to conduct traffic. As for Steel Cage... well Cheerilee didn’t consider herself an expert on minotaur body language, but Iron Will had taught her enough. A minotaur could communicate entire volumes of subtext with just a few muscle flexes, and Iron Will had once told her that during the meeting of the Hedron of Alphas entire conversations could take place without a single word being spoken.

Steel Cage wasn’t speaking with his body. He was roaring with it. She’d never seen that many veins in her life on one body. She was pretty sure they shouldn't be pulsing that much, either, especially not on the forehead. Steel Cage’s muscles were bound and bunched so tightly, flexed in a hunched stalking motion as he stomped forward with hooves shaking the ground, that Cheerilee was afraid he was going to tear something before much longer. She was also fairly certain she wasn’t imagining the steam puffing from his nostrils. 

Some part of her, perhaps the more sensible part, was informing her that being somewhere else, rapidly, was a brilliant idea. But the rest of her, the part of her that remembered all she and her friends had faced and endured, decided she was going to stay right where she was and deal with the situation bearing down on her like a rockslide. Holding her head high and affecting a pleasant smile that was perhaps a tad too thin and sharp, Cheerilee said, “Hello Steel Cage. Did you have something you wanted to say to me?”

Iron Will made a small choking sound and a quick, warning hand gesture at her, but she ignored it as Steel Cage avalanched in her general direction, only stopping once his snout was a scant few inches from her face and her mane could be blown back by the force of his snorts. She couldn’t even see his face properly, just those two billowing nostrils.

“You and me got a score to settle, pony!” Steel Cage’s voice was a crack of thunder, one finger pointing towards her chest like a ready spear, “You’ve disrespected the Steel Cage, not once, but twice! There’s gonna be a whole storm of hurt rolling your way in payback, and it’s this man that’s gonna deliver it to you, first class in a box!”

“This isn’t a proposition is it? Because while I think the offer is adorable, you’re not my type,” Cheerilee said dismissively. 

The minotaur behind Steel Cage looked aghast, and turned a glare towards Iron Will, while Steel Cage himself seemed still as ice.

“Iron Will what’s with this pony? Don’t she know what she’s doing to the champ?”

Iron Will grunted in a deadpan manner, his entire body hunched in dejected acceptance of the situation, “Well, Brass Bearings, I kept trying to tell you all that ponies ain’t all the marshmallows we think they are. There’s iron under all that fuzzy poofyiness.”

“Not the way I’m seeing it!” roared Steel Cage, not looking at Iron Will but stabbing a finger towards him, “Now shut your trap, Iron, unless I ask your opinion. This mare wants to act like an alpha, she’s damn well gonna prove she’s got the stones for it, just before I grind them into powder and kick her to the trash heap.”

“So was your plan to posture at me, or was there some kind of a point to this? You were trying so hard to talk to me yesterday, but I just assumed you didn’t have anything interesting to say... care to prove me wrong on that count?” Cheerilee asked, raising one sassy eyebrow. 

Despite her bravado Cheerilee was finding it a bit hard to talk at all. Her throat felt constricted and it was like there was a mountain of looming, ominous force pushing down on her. Steel Cage wasn’t physically touching her at all, but there was an unmistakable, radiating presence rolling off of him that went beyond simple menacing body language and overpowering smell. It was like he was looming above her, taller than the spires of Canterlot, a dominating force that she was an utter fool to do anything but bow her head to.

Only Cheerilee’s own stubbornness and growing certainty that she had to stand up to Steel Cage kept her from submitting to that feeling. She could see the same feeling of submissiveness overcoming Brass Bearings, for all that he too was a minotaur champion. Both him and Steel Cage were, as far as Cheerilee could tell, alphas, but there was little question as to who was the superior alpha of the pair. 

Strangely, Iron Will wasn’t showing the same submissiveness. Once it was clear Cheerilee was ignoring his warnings he’d taken up a tense, but ready stance, as if he was prepared to step in between her and Steel Cage if things came to violence. Steel Cage seemed to notice this too, because his eyes did briefly flick disapprovingly towards Iron Will, and strangely Cheerilee also saw a flash of pain there, though it went away quickly as the full force of his ire refocused upon her.

“You wanna hear what Steel Cage has to say? Here it is point blank. Ponies ain’t nothing to us minotaurs. You got nothing we want, nothing we need, and all you do is cause trouble to decent folk back home with all your soft headed fancy froo froo talk of friendship and harmony! That ain’t us! But here it is that some young bull might get the fool notion in his head to break traditions that’ve been our bedrock since the time of the first labyrinth, notions that make him abandon his place and travel the world like he’s some kind of... of... world travel guy! Maybe others start getting it in their head to do the same, and the next thing you know our whole race’s bedrock is getting tore out.”

“Okay, first of all; ‘ain’t nothin’ is a double negative. It should be ‘are nothing’. Second of all; what does any of this have to do with me?” said Cheerilee, “Personally I think it’s good for your society that some of your people are trying new things, given the historical tendency of societies that don’t change and adapt to inevitably stagnate and fall. However, where does the issue with me come into this? There’s plenty of ponies in the Contest for you to be angry at besides me.”

Steel Cage ground his teeth to the point where Cheerilee could hear the noise like the squeal of a blade on an anvil, “Because you're the one that...” he paused, once more casting a glance at Iron Will, and he snorted, “You're the one that’s got the guts to act like she’s an alpha, challenging me with your disrespect! I ain’t gonna take your sass laying down, sister! Your little gal pals didn’t ignore me, but you did. Ain’t no other pony filled my friend’s head with nonsense, keeping him from coming home like he oughta either.”

“Iron Will can make his own decisions.”

“Not if his alpha says he ain't! Only alphas make their own way in life, the rest gotta fall into line, and Iron, he ain't no alpha.”

The clenched fists and tightened jaw, along with the hardened eyes on Iron Will seemed to suggest otherwise to Cheerilee, but oddly while Iron Will’s every muscle seemed to scream his outrage and desire to set Steel Cage straight, he remained silent, standing to the side. 

“It seems to me that what you really need to do is talk things out with Iron Will about these issues you’re having with him... what, exactly?”

“Cheerilee, that’s enough,” said Iron Will suddenly, “This ain’t how we do things.”

“Hmph,” Steel Cage snorted out a billow of steam, “So you remember that much about how to be a minotaur, Iron? Too bad. Your girl here wants to run her mouth, be the alpha of you, then she’s gonna take all the responsibility that entails. Me and her are settling this in the ring, bull to... mare.”

Cheerilee, suddenly a bit more worried now that there seemed to be some genuine concern, even fear, entering Iron Will’s eyes, asked, “Settling things how? What are we settling, other than the fact that you have some seriously misplaced aggression issues.”

“Iron Will is a beta, by his own damned choice!” breathed Steel Cage like a leaking steam pipe, “He ought to be an alpha, but he ain't, so he’s got no say in this. You, on the other hand, want to act like his alpha? Fine, then as an alpha that wants his dumb thick headed skull to come back home I’m challenging you for the right.”

“You can’t do that Steel!” shouted Iron Will, stepping forward, chest out in challenge, “It ain’t right! She’s a pony, she can’t know what that challenge means!”

“If she’s gonna talk like an alpha then she can damn well walk like an alpha, especially if you’re gonna keep insisting on acting like you're her beta. The Hedrons will back me on this one, no matter what profits you rake in for them, because you were my brother, bound in iron, before any of this pony loving nonsense ever entered your stone-thick brain! I’m taking you home, even if I got to drag you back after knocking around this pony like a training dummy.”

He wheeled back to her, “Contest of Strength. Be there. You and me. For him.”

Cheerilee glanced at Iron Will, who had a look on his face as if he’d been pole axed and staked out to dry. She gulped, “And, just so I know, what happens if I refuse.”

It was Iron Will that answered, “Then one of two things go down. One, I either accept the challenge by the laws of my people as being defaulted, and follow Steel Cage back... home. Or, I ignore this, probably get labeled an outlaw for breaking an iron-bound blood oath, and what career I do got as a traveling merchant goes up in smoke.”

“So, what, he can challenge me because I made him a bit angry, and suddenly all this minotaur law comes into play?” asked Cheerilee, eyeing Steel Cage definitely, “Not that I’m not willing to kick your flank in the ring, but how does this pan out according to your laws if I’m not a minotaur?”

Steel Cage smiled in a particularly nasty fashion, “Lemme ask you this. You ever slept with Iron Will?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your-”

“Yes,” Iron Will said, simply.

“Iron!” she gave him a sharp look, but he shook his head, shrugging apologetically.

“He already knew the truth of it, he was just trying to get it from the pony’s mouth, Cheer. Fact is, if you, uh, do that with a minotaur, it's sort of like a softcore version of the iron-bound oath. You’re basically seen as part minotaur. Think of it like being blood siblings, only instead of blood its-”

“I get it, don’t need the added visuals,” Cheerilee said, sighing, “So by your laws, he’s within his right to challenge me like this?”

“By the unnecessarily labyrinthine laws of my people, which I’ve been wanting to do my part to change for years, yes,” said Iron Will.

Cheerilee looked blankly at Steel Cage for a moment, blinked once, then said, utterly straight, “So are we going to fight in an actual steel cage, or would that be too tacky?”

----------

Heroes’ Rest was almost as crowded as the festival grounds, the quaint small coastal town’s inns being packed full and many of its shops busy with a curious tourist crowd. There were several buildings given over to historical museums concerning different subjects, ranging from the founding of the town itself to the campaign to stop the Warlord that ultimately culminated in the final battle on the island. 

Raindrops might have otherwise enjoyed the energetic atmosphere, further charged with the stormy winds that were kicking up all day, making her feathers tingle in anticipation of possible rain. However she was stuck following a zebra she had very little reason to like or trust, and was wondering why she’d agreed to this rather than just insisting he take a hike.

Face it, you’re as much a sucker for Ditzy’s pouty face as anypony else. Mare’s hard to say no to when she’s being all softhearted and reasonable. If she can stomach trying to make friendly with the creepy griffon then you can deal with Tendaji.

The zebra had barely said two words to her since she agreed to follow him, only letting her know he was taking her to the town to meet with his wife and father in law for some kind of pow wow that apparently mattered to the zebras quite a bit. Raindrops decided she’d give him five minutes to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

He led her to the back of one of the smaller houses on the south side of the town, where there was a wide garden whose enclosing hedges all but walled the place off from the rest of the town. A small iron gate opened into the garden, and when it closed behind them the noise from the town became muted. Raindrops looked around with curious confusion. An old zebra, one she vaguely recalled was one of the zebra champions, named Nuru, sat in an extremely uncomfortable looking position in the middle of the garden where his hind legs seemed impossibly twisted around his body, his fore legs balanced out to his sides. 

Tendaji’s wife, Aisha was seated similarly across from Nuru, and one of her eyes slid open as Raindrops and Tendaji approached. Her braided hair tingled with the bound fetishes tied into its braids as she turned her head towards them.

“You have brought her, husband. Good. I had a wager with my father that you would.”

“Ah, and what did Master Nuru believe I would return with?” Tendaji asked.

“A black eye, boy,” Nuru said with a wry twitch of a smile as he opened one pale eye, “I’ll say I’m glad to be proven wrong.”

“I wouldn’t have been surprised if that had been the result,” Tendaji admitted with a pensive look towards Raindrops, “I do thank you for coming.”

“Five minutes,” Raindrops said, “That’s about as far as my patience is going to stretch, so make it quick.”

Nuru, weathered hide pulled taught across thin features, laughed loudly, “Ha, you do have a savanna cat caught by the tail, don’t you boy? She does act like my little Aisha did when you first met, doesn’t she?”

“Father, please,” Aisha said, eyes ever so slightly narrowing, “Let us not muddy the watering hole. My husband’s Path lays beside the hoofsteps of this mare for the time being and it will be difficult enough to impart to her what we must without you being difficult.”

Raindrops growled out a sight, “Tick tock. Somepony, er, somezebra, start making sense.”

Tendaji cleared his throat, trotting over to his wife and father in law, and gestured for Raindrops to follow, “Please, sit.”

Raindrops rolled her eyes and complied, mentally counting down his time. She had no issue with just flying away if these crazy zebras didn’t start making some level of sense in the next few minutes. She did decide to give them a brief break, however, because her sense of general decency required one answer before any of the rest.

“Are we just squatting in somepony’s back yard?”

“Oh, the owner of this home is a herbalist I’ve been speaking with,” Aisha said, “We who practice herblore, no matter the culture, have much to learn from each other, and the mare has been kind enough to allow me the use of her garden. It is an excellent spot for meditations.”

“The energies here flow cleanly,” said Nuru, smiling his approval as he patted the ground, “The land of this island has suffered great hurts that echo even after so much time, but here, they mend. It is a good feeling. It cleanses one’s spirit, makes things clearer. That is why the boy asked you to come. We shall show you things, Raindrops of Equestria. Things that may change you, but things you must see, for whether you know it or not, your Path on this island is entwined with the boy’s, and I fear neither of you may survive if those Paths remain at cross purposes.”

“...Wut?” Raindrops blurted, blinking.

Tendaji gained a weary look on his face, “Master, she won’t understand through words. Some things can only be shown.” 

The elderly zebra gave the younger Tendaji a sharp eyed look, “I can’t force her eyes to open, boy. Be patient. She’s of no use to any of us if she’s forced into this.”

Raindrops, truly exasperated, slammed a hoof on the ground in front of her, not gently, “Into. What!?”

The two male zebra stared at her for a few seconds, then Aisha sighed out a chuckle, “Our intention is to help you see things the way we of the Peacewalker tribe see. To give you a glimpse of the Paths that bind all zebrakind, and for some, such as grandmasters like my father, shape our souls. These are things not spoken of or shown often to outsiders, Raindrops of Equestria. It is a sign of my husband’s dire need that he would go this far, and ask my father and my aide in this.”

“Okay, yeah, that didn’t explain anything...” muttered Raindrops.

“My husband, impatient as he is, happens to be right that this is not an easily explained thing, but rather something that is better shown. But for this to work my father is right, you must be willing to trust us.”

Raindrops folded her fore legs across her chest, “Lady, I barely understand you, let alone trust you. Just tell me plain what you want me to do and I’ll tell you if it's cool, or if you can go sit on a fence post and spin. You’re down to three minutes, by the way.”

Tendaji was the one to cut in, speaking quickly, “We ask your permission to allow us to help you open your inner eyes, allowing you to see the flow of maisha, if only temporarily. You won’t be able to do this on your own. In some ways it isn’t natural for ponies, but is a matter more suited to we zebra, but it is possible to guide you through the act with myself, my wife, and my master helping you. Through this, I hope for you to better understand me, and why I seek to battle you.”

“... I don’t get it,” Raindrops said bluntly.

“Then allow me to begin showing you, young one,” said Nuru, “The boy tells me you practice an Equestrian martial art. Surely that involved some meditation technique?”

“You want me to start meditating?” Raindrops asked, and at the old zebra’s confirming nod she frowned, thinking it over. She couldn’t claim to trust Tendaji or his wife, but this Nuru old timer, she was actually getting a positive vibe off of him. Maybe it was the way he nettled Tendaji and made the dangerous zebra seem less an issue by constantly calling him ‘boy’, or perhaps it was just how relaxed Nuru seemed, but Raindrops found herself trusting him enough to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Well, alright, but I don’t see what this is going to accomplish.”

It took a minute, but she managed to settle herself into a more comfortable meditative position, hind legs crossed, fore legs held together in her lap, and she slowly regulated her breathing. It came quickly, as meditation was a common practice for her, especially during the recent months of high stress. Emptying out her thoughts like a water barrel with a hole in the bottom of it, she gradually let a calm inner void overcome her. Of course the void wasn’t utterly empty. Stray thoughts were still common, skipping stones across a still lake. And there was her anger, an ever present burn that hovered just out of mental notice like a fire light peeked through door cracks. Other than that, her mind became still.

She heard Nuru speak, “Maintain that mental state. I am going to guide your flows of maisha now, as gently as I can, and for a brief time you shall see as a master can see. Tendaji and Aisha shall assist. Remain calm, and follow the flow within.”

Raindrops didn’t really comprehend what he was talking about, but she felt something brush against the pit of her stomach... but it was strange. It wasn’t quite a physical sensation, more a lightening combined with a warmth that passed through her. Instinct sparked, telling her to push this feeling away, and it was only by force of will she kept her calm, steadily breathing. 

“Good... good... the boy was right it seems, you have largely untapped potential. Were you trained properly, you would certainly be his match. Now, feel the flow through your core, let it reach to your throat. That is the gate to the crown, where the flow can pool, and open the inner eyes.”

Was he talking about chakra points? It sounded like it. Raindrops, being the martial arts enthusiast she was, knew that more than a few Equestrian schools of martial arts and even a number of schools of magic talked about points on the body that acted as natural conduits for energy. The stomach, the heart, the throat, the crown, all were such points. This maisha stuff must be a zebra version of the same concept. She couldn’t deny she felt... something flowing through her body, passing her throat like a cool river, and seeming to concentrate at a point between her eyes. 

It felt like there was a door slowly, with grinding difficulty, being swung open inside her.

“Now, look, Raindrops of Equestria. Look with your inner eyes,” Nuru said, and as if there was a hoof guiding her from the inside out Raindrops felt her eyes open, but the world around her looked different. It was as if the colors of the world had become brighter, yet at the same time more fluid, as if everything around her had been turned into an oil painting. Everything popped out more, even as its edges seemed to blur, even the zebras right next to her. Then, in between the blurred lines she could see streams of light in all the spectrum of the rainbow. Like small molten rivers the streams intertwined and wove around each other, filling up every blade of grass, every small insect, everything living, including herself.

Nuru’s voice was as clear as ever, “You see it now, with my spirit propping up yours, with Tendaji and Aisha’s weathering the strain so one as new as you can see without being overwhelmed. This is the maisha, the flow of life inside all living things.”

“Magic,” Raindrops said, wondering if this was what Tixie saw when she used her magic sight spell, or at least something similar.

“Some cultures might call it that. We zebra merely see it as the natural flow of the world, a flow that can be directed, at times, in the right ways and manner.”

“I’m... I’m using zebra magic ?” Raindrops felt her mouth go dry.

“No,” said Tendaji, “We are helping you see, that is all. When we are done you won’t be able to do this again, not without giving up years of life in hard training, and even then perhaps not, for zebra eyes were meant to see as you see now, but a pony’s eyes are not. At least, not in this way. If you let another pony ride upon your back as you fly, would they be able to fly on their own afterward? Such as it is, with this.”

“Right... so what am I supposed to be seeing with this?” Raindrops asked, but even as the question left her mouth her glance turned towards Tendaji, and she gave a sharp jerk of her head in a double take.

While the flows of magic she was seeing through Nuru, Aisha, and herself all had a bright luminescence to them, Tendaji’s were muted, as if the colors were less saturated and pale. In some places, around his heart and stomach, the flows were nearly gray. 

“What’s wrong with you?” she found herself asking, even as she noticed that the flows of energy she was seeing weren’t segregated affairs, solely contained within individual things. They flowed into each other as well. The flows from each zebra intertwined with each other, forming patterns so complex it hurt Raindrops’ mind to try and even start comprehending them. Then she saw that her flows of energy also entwined with the zebras, and while she couldn’t understand the patterns, she did notice that among the three, her flows were wrapped up tightly with Tendaji’s far more so than either Aisha or Nuru. 

Even as she thought that that was strange, Tendaji spoke in a tightly controlled, solemn voice, “You are seeing the result of a disease I’ve carried since foalhood. Only my dedication to my Path keeps it in check. Keeps it from spreading.”

Raindrops’ frowned, examining the flows around Tendaji’s grayed out areas more closely. The flows that still had color looked as if they cordoned off the grayer areas, and her mind recalled a few stories she’d heard of martial artists who did seem to think that the spiritual side of the practice could have health benefits beyond the obvious from exercise, as if the focus of will could have healing properties. 

“You have to keep getting better at this spiritual martial arts stuff to keep from dying?”

“And to keep the disease from spreading to others,” Aisha said, the flows of her energy seeming to flare like the light of fireflies. Raindrops could see that Aisha’s own flows were tenderly wrapped around Tendaji’s, an embrace without physicality yet more intimate than hooves on coupling. “My husband would have died young had my father not found him, and trained him to contain what’s inside. Even so, he cannot risk passing it on to anyone else.”

“Uhh,” a cold sweat broke out on Raindrops’ brow, “You do realize that participating in a very physical contest involving punching things probably isn’t a good idea then, right?”

“I cannot spread it that way,” Tendaji said simply, “It won’t spread to anyone else save my...” he took a deep breath, “To any children I might have. I contracted it as a youth, but with it contained, it is now solely congenital. You cannot get it by bleeding alongside me on the field of battle, but my wife and I cannot risk foals, for they would be born with the disease and not survive long past birth. I only live because of my skill in maisha, but no foal could do the same.”

“What is this disease, exactly? Where does it come from?” Raindrops asked. 

Tendaji’s face turned stonelike, his flows of energy themselves seeming to stiffen, “It was made. Created by those who wanted my tribe, the Peacewalkers, dead. You do not need to know more than that. It is a matter I settled long ago, and all that remains is the last of the disease residing in my body. If I can purge it, then that will be the end of it.”

“So this is why you’re so obsessed with going hoof to hoof with me? Just doing lots of chin ups and squats ain’t going to cut it with this spiritual training?”

“You can see how our flows are locked together, yes?” Tendaji said and it was as if his words alone were enough to make the energy shift and push, his flows clashing with hers like two separate continental plates grinding against one another, causing an earthquake of change along the flows. “You are part of my Path. I could face a hundred lesser foes and not gain half of what I’d gain from facing you, Raindrops.”

“This is what we wanted you to see,” said Nuru, “But the question is whether or not you understand?”

Raindrops was having a hard time concentrating, her eyes continuously trying to take in all that she was seeing and her mind feeling a bit overwhelmed by seeing the world in this light for the first time, while still also digesting this new information about Tendaji. She wasn’t certain it made her sympathetic towards him at all. Whatever his motivations, he’d still made some poor choices in pursuing his ‘Path’ and she didn’t like the idea of being his mystical rival. It felt one sided. Where was her choice in this? 

Aisha eyed her knowingly, as if reading Raindrops’ thoughts, and said, “Father, let us end this for now. There is much she must think on, I believe, and there are some days yet before the Contest of Strength.”

Nuru gave the barest of nods, and Raindrops felt a draining sensation wash through her body, and she let out a small gasp as the vibrant flows of energy around her, the sharp colors she was seeing the world in, faded away. It almost felt like waking up from a deep, vivid dream. She blinked a few times, vision returned to normal, and rubbed her head, which felt light and cotton stuffed.

“It can be strenuous, the first time,” Tendaji said, “If you trained, in time you’d get used to it, the same way your muscles get used to certain motions after enough exercise.”

“Don’t think I’ll be doing that again honestly. It's a bit trippy,” said Raindrops, looking Tendaji over with a furrowed brow, “Okay, so truth be told, I’m not sure I get what just happened. To be blunt, while it sucks that you’re... sick, I don’t see how that should make me okay with the fact that you willingly worked for criminals and could have gotten my friends hurt in Oaton.” 

A ghost of a smile played across his face, and he let out a sound that might have been a laugh, or as dry a version of a laugh as Tendaji could make, “I suppose you would not be who you are if you easily looked past such transgressions. I am not asking you to forgive my role in those past affairs. I am asking that you understand why I do what I do, now. My Path of self improvement is mixed with my need to control what’s inside me, and this is, in turn, entwined with your Path. While I know ponies don’t hold the same cultural beliefs we zebras do, all life is connected. All things living have a road to walk. At this time and place, our live’s Paths are at intersecting crossroads, and we can either pass one another having come out for the better... or the worse.”

“What do you mean by that?” Raindrops asked.

“Only that I am not the only one with something to gain,” Tendaji said, pointing a hoof at her chest, right above her heart, “Just as I seek to control what’s inside of me, you seek to control what’s inside of you, do you not?”

Even as he spoke there was a flare of anger inside her, mostly because she didn’t like being prodded at, but it just served to illustrate what he likely meant, and Raindrops only got angrier at the realization, “What, you think this mystical talk about paths or roads or whatever is going to help me have a better handle on my anger issues the same way it’ll help you with your disease? They’re not the same thing.”

Tendaji for a moment looked frustrated, but Aisha’s hoof brushed his flank, and he looked her way. “Husband, I believe we’ve come as far as we can with her today. There’s just some matters that take time. You know this.”

He had a look for a moment as if he wanted to argue, but Aisha just gave him a look with a slight tilt of her head and a upraised eyebrow and Tendaji instead let out a breath and nodded, “Yes, you are right. As usual.” 

Raindrops blinked as the three zebras, all in strangely synchronized motion, stood up from their meditative positions. “So... what, we’re done here?”

“Yes,” said Tendaji, giving her a bow of his head, “I know you must still be confused, but I hope you might have a slightly better understanding of me. Soon we will face one another again in the Contest of Strength, and it is my sincere hope that you can fight me with all the strength, tenacity, and focus of will that you did when we clashed in Oaton.”

“Yeah, because you need me to in order to get stronger, to eventually use zebra mystic martial arts to cure yourself. I get it.”

“You get a portion of it, but still fail to see the whole,” said Tendaji, shaking his head, “Perhaps in time, you will see how our Paths are meant to further both of our journeys, despite all of our differences.”

“Okay, boy, enough talking the mare’s ear off,” said Nuru, cracking his neck and stretching his limbs, “All this chatter has left my stomach grumbling at me, and there’s enough scent of delicious food in the air to drive me to criminal acts if we don’t go and eat soon.”

Tendaji flinched, “At least when I perform criminal acts it's to pursue matters slightly more dire than an empty stomach. Partially empty; we only had breakfast a few hours ago.”

“And I’m hungry again. Opening a stubborn pegasus’ inner eyes is famishing work,” said Nuru. 

Raindrops just glanced back and forth as the two male zebra continued to argue about getting an early lunch, and she just shook her head, trotting for the gate, “I’ll just let myself out.”

She reached the gate, opening it, but paused as Aisha came up beside her, a strangely pensive look on her face, “One last question for you, before you go?”

Raindrops met her gaze levelly, “Go ahead.”

Aisha glanced back at her father and husband, almost as if making sure the two weren’t paying attention, which they weren’t as apparently Nuru had somehow cornered Tendaji into debating where to go get food rather than whether or not it was necessary. Aisha returned her look to Raindrops and said, “Have you seen the zebra mare who serves Corona anywhere since the day they arrived?”

“Huh? Wait, you mean Zecora?” Raindrops scratched her head, thinking, “No. Not since she hopped off that big golden boat the other day. Why are you asking?”

“I know her, from long ago,” said Aisha, “There is some air to clear between us, but I have not been able to find her since her arrival. I thought perhaps, you being a foe of hers and the one she serves, you and your Princess might have been keeping an eye on her and would know if she was hiding away somewhere.”

“Sorry, can’t help you there,” said Raindrops, “Luna’s giving Corona a pass for now because her sister is playing nice for the time being. As for Zecora, your guess is as good as mine. I don’t know her, other than she likes to rhyme and has a weird notion that Corona’s more suited to ruling Equestria than the sane sister. Don’t suppose you can shed any light on why that would be?”

Aisha smiled, but it was a bittersweet expression, “If she is anything like she was when we trained together then she is convinced of one of her prophecies. She may even be right. Zecora has ever been gifted. However I don’t think she ever understood that some prophecies are only prophetic because they are self-fulfilling.”

An odd look entered Aisha’s eyes, and she whispered in a manner that made Raindrops think this was a thought Aisha didn’t quite realizing she was vocalizing, “Or perhaps she does know that, and is counting on it...”

The zebra mare gave a small start, blinking, “Well, in any case, thank you for coming Raindrops. Whether it means anything to your or not, whether you understand it or not, I am grateful my husband’s Path has cross yours. I was not sure if I approved of you or not at first, but I think I am starting to.”

“I... uh... thanks?” Raindrops said, baffled. Zebras were weird. Zecora, Tendaji, this Aisha... out of all of them Nuru seemed the most normal. Even the other stallion who rode the giant scorpion seemed easier to understand. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“Yes, you will,” Aisha said with just a hint of a cryptic smile that just left Raindrops feeling even more bewildered than before as she left the garden and took to the air, flying back towards the forest and wondering if Ditzy was having an easier time learning combat skills from an irate griffon than she was figuring out how zebras thought.

---------- 

Zecora rubbed the bridge of her snout, trying to forestall the magnificently horrific headache that was building up. Several colorful phrases came to mind to describe her frustration, but none of them rhymed, and they hardly fit the generally quiet dignity she tried to carry herself with. She was tempted to let loose anyway. Two and a half days of scouring the island had thus far utterly failed to turn up a single clue as to the nature of the prophetic telling that had warned her of the coming doom. 

At her core she knew this was as much part of her Path as anything else in her life. Her gift of prophecy was hardly unique, but it was uncommon... and theoretically useful. She knew nothing she foretold (or rather had such foretellings thrust upon her, usually at random and inconvenient times) was ever set in stone, they were meant to be warnings. They spoke of events that could be influenced, and it was Zecora’s Path in life to ensure that the proper course of events were what took place. 

It was such a foretelling that had led her to her Queen, or rather to the alicorn who would be Queen, but may in time become so much more. Zecora’s loyalty to the one who was at once both Corona and Celestia was absolute, for Zecora knew the troubled alicorn’s own Path was entwined with hers deeply and that the world itself needed Zecora to guide the alicorn, as much as the sun itself could be guided by mortal hooves, along the correct course. 

This bump in the Path of destiny upon the Isle of the Fallen was just another challenge to be met. If only Zecora could figure out what challenge it was meant to take! She was back at the northern beach, walking slowly along the sandy white shore as gradually larger waves began to roll into shore. The wind was high, and while the sun still warmed the sand, the wind was cold and felt as if a storm was coming in, though Zecora saw no stormclouds yet. Her eyes scanned the ground, golden bangles around her neck jingling as she turned left and right. She wasn’t just staring at sand. Her blood coursed with an alchemical potion that, combined with the lessons she’d learned as a young filly training as a tribe shaman, allowed her to view the flows of life energy, maisha, that swirled through the land. 

Here the lines of energy swirled around a central point, a place where a great spell had been worked. It was one of three anchoring points for the barrier that Celestia and her sister Luna had placed upon the dread fortress Rengoku, and Zecora was certain that the doom she’d foretold coming was tied to it. After two days of examining all three sites on her own she’d found nothing, but kept returning thinking that perhaps if someone was intending to tamper with the spell, they might show up at any given time. 

“You have found nothing, yet, have you?” asked a familiar, imperious voice that while one Zecora now knew well, still made her jump slightly.

Corona, or Celestia as was her true name and not the misguided nickname her own people had given her, stood upon the top of a small sloping cliff along the edge of the beach. Her mane and tail of flames seemed to ignore the growing winds, flickering in regal grace rather than whipping about. Zecora turned and bowed deeply. Celestia always demanded the proper respect, and Zecora had no issue delivering it.

“My Queen speaks true, for I have yet to discover a single worthy clue,” Zecora said, using shamanic chant, as she always did when she spoke aloud, “Please forgive this lapse, for my zeal in fulfilling our purpose shall not collapse.”

There was the faintest quirk of a smile on Celestia’s lips. Zecora was never entirely sure what was going on behind the alicorn’s fiery eyes, what thoughts drifted through her Queen’s mind, but anything that amused her was infinitely better than anything that earned her ire. 

“I have always wondered why you cling to that part of your past,” Celestia said, taking wing and gliding down to the beach, landing with all of the light hoofed grace of a hummingbird despite her being easily more than twice Zecora’s height and bulk, “Did your shaman lodge not turn their backs on you when you left to come serve me?”

There was a hint of understanding in Celestia’s tone, and Zecora reflected that the alicorn could perhaps relate to the feeling of having one’s own people turn their back on you, as much as Celestia could ever let herself relate to the mortals she sought to rule and protect. Head still bowed, for Celestia had not given her permission to rise, Zecora said, “I chant for I am a shaman to my core, and if my tribe cannot see that then they I shall ignore.”

“You are who you are, even if the whole world is telling you otherwise.”

Celestia’s words were spoken in such a manner that it was hard to tell if they were meant for Zecora, or merely said in a moment of self musing. Whatever the case Celestia’s alabaster hooves walked slowly across the sands until they reached the spot where the spell’s energies were concentrated, a place where a single circle of stone was embedded into the ground like a platform, no more than a pace wide. Within this circle a blade was stabbed into the stone, a long shafted spear of white ash whose blade was a hoof length and curved. 

Celestia looked at the weapon with a derisive sneer, “I should have killed Yeng Shen myself before she became a threat. I saw the signs! I could smell her ambitions! I thought my sister could control her. That their friendship would be enough to quell the thirst for conquest inside that fool kirin’s breast. Just another mistake I shall remind myself never to repeat. Too many of my little ponies paid the price for my softness. It shall not happen again.”

Celestia turned about so fast that Zecora barely had a chance to blink before the alicorn’s horn flared with golden fire and light. The magic was not directed at Zecora, however, but at the squeaking form that suddenly seemed to meld out of the nearby cliff face, an invisibility spell popping like a bubble as a unicorn mare with gray fur and wearing a tight fitting black and violet uniform appeared, gripped firmly in Celestia’s telekinesis. 

“You can tell my sister that, spy,” spat Celestia at the bat pony, who was looking rather utterly terrified by Zecora's estimation, “Tell her also I tire of her little ‘Shadowbolts’ running around following my loyal servants. We are not here to be your enemies...” Flames rose in crimson splendour around the alicorn, a heat bubbling the sand beneath her hooves, “That can be changed, if I will it. Pray that it does not. Now go, little spy.”

The unicorn gulped visibly as she was released from the crushing telekinesis, and wasted not a second in galloping away hurriedly. Zecora watched the spy go with a small frown.

“I did not know I was being followed. Has your sister’s faith in your word that you are here in peace become so hollowed?”

Celestia’s anger seemed to simmer, the flames settling down around her, though several embers still derived through the air, “Perhaps the pony was merely keeping watch on this site, but I do not appreciate eavesdroppers, regardless.” Again that small, amused smile, “Besides I always did enjoy keeping Luna off guard, and she may hesitate now to have us watched as closely for fear of setting me off. I need Kindel and you to perform your tasks unhindered.”

Zecora wanted to ask how the Voice of the Sun’s own investigation was going, but couldn’t quickly think of anything to rhyme with ‘hint’ or ‘clue’ so she just kept her silence. That too was a trick to making the shaman chant work, to maintain a mysterious silence. Instead she just raised a questioning eyebrow, knowing her Queen would notice.

“Ah, you may find it irksome, but Kindle has had some small success, him and young Smoke,” Celestia said, and Zecora had to admit she was surprised. She didn’t account Kindle for much. Zealous and loyal he certainly was, and had a way with words, but Zecora had a hard time trusting his judgement. He was too focused upon what he thought Celestia was and not enough on what she was meant to become. Yet Celestia held him in high regard, enough to take confidence in him at times over Zecora’s own counsel... yes, she had to admit that Celestia seemed to understand her well; irksome was the term. 

“That news gladdens my heart, to know that my comrades are doing their part,” said Zecora, waiting for Celestia to elaborate. 

“Smoke’s skill in examining magical patterns has led to one important discovery that I did not know before, and intend to keep a close eye upon,” said Celestia, “My sister’s... progeny, has magic that interacts with my sister and mine’s spellcraft on an equal level. This ‘Princess’ Cadenza has visited all three sites, presumably out of respect for those that gave their lives defeating Yeng Shen. Each site now has a trace of her magic resonating around it.”

Zecora controlled herself, wanting to break chant and immediately ask what that meant, in plain terms. The Princess of Cavallia was admittedly a very strange anomaly. An alicorn in all ways that seemed to matter, yet her very existence was a matter of most unusual happenstance, born from the magical rituals Princess Luna used to infuse herself with dark magic to face Celestia over a thousand years ago. 

“If further insight I am to glean, I humbly ask of you what that might mean?”

Celestia frowned. On any other the expression might seem tiny and insignificant. On an alicorn who could incinerate the very island they stood upon, reducing all to cinders with minimal effort, that frown was quite unsettling. 

“I do not know. There was no sign of this Cadenza’s spellcraft at work. She cast no spells here, or at any other site. In fact, I do not think she even knows that she left a trace of her magic behind. The girl is unschooled. Untested...”

Celestia’s eyes glanced towards the ocean, “If she persists in claiming the title ‘Princess’ perhaps I shall have to test her in some suitable fashion. Hm, a matter for another time. For now, Zecora, I wish for you to cease scouring the island. It is clear the danger will not present itself to be found so easily. Instead my command to you is to approach Cadenza and, if not befriend her, seek her confidence. Say that you are looking to know of her and ‘her’ country better so that when I claim Equestria as my own the transition can go more smoothly. Your real task is to keep a close watch on her.”

“You believe that she is part of the doom that over this island dreadfully looms?”

“She was forged from dark magic. Luna assures me she is an innocent soul, and perhaps it is true, but my sister may also be blinded by the love of a mother...” Celestia’s eyes softened briefly, “It is a feeling neither of us have had the luxury of, so perhaps I shall not fault her for it, foolish as it may be. Innocent or not, I would be a fool to ignore the possibility this Cadenza will play a role, intentional or otherwise, in what is coming. I wish to have a trusted and competent servant nearby in case that comes to pass.”

Zecora nodded, bowing once more deeply to her Queen, mohawk nearly scraping the sand, “Then your will shall be done, and I shall ensure I am prepared for whatever is to come.”

----------  

Ditzy Doo was a mare who knew what tired felt like. She got up before dawn on most mornings and worked hours that were long and necessary for a single mother to afford raising a foal. There’d been some days she got home to her apartment tired enough to collapse on her bed and be asleep before she was fully done hitting the pillows. She thought she knew what tired felt like.

“My everything hurts...” she breathed, not even sure she could describe herself as ‘sweat soaked’ and more like ‘profusely attempting to create a sweat lake where she stood’. She lay on her belly, wings and limbs splayed in a vain attempt to ease the aches she was pretty sure she’d feel for the rest of her life. Or at least the next twenty four hours. While she knew she had a comfy bed back at the monastery waiting for her, the ground felt so inviting compared to the notion of attempting to move any further. 

“You still alive down there?” asked Gwendolyn, standing on one side of her, while Sigurd was at her other side, rubbing his chin with a hoof.

“Mayhaps we ended up overdoing things slightly. The spirit of a warrior you may have, Ditzy, but I forgot that you have not developed the endurance of one.”

“Blargh...” was Ditzy’s carefully thought out response. 

With a curt turn of her head Gwendolyn looked at the weapons she’d brought, most of them piled neatly along the ground after Ditzy had finished the exercises Gwendonlyn had run her through. The sharp eyed griffiness’ expression turned reluctantly contemplative, beak twisting in a small grimace.

“Pains me to admit this, but I’m thinking you might’ve been right, old timer,” she told Sigurd, who at first just blinked and whispered “Old timer?” before Gwendolyn went on to say, “Near as I can tell Ditzy here doesn't have any affinity for a single one of these weapons.”

“Proclaiming judgment so soon after just one day of training, are we?” asked Grimwald, who had remained perched up in his tree the entire time, lounging on the branch like a feathered serpent. He’d acquired an apple from somewhere and was casually carving off slices with a plain knife, “Can you really tell so much with so little time?”

Gwnedolyn closed her eyes and shrugged, “Call it my soldier’s intuition, but I also have experience taking raw recruits and turning them into fighters in short order. Sometimes you can tell when someone’ll take to fighting or not, and honestly while this mare could probably learn to be competent with time, she doesn’t have the edge to go further than that.”

“Ha, then you weren't watching closely enough,” said Sigurd, leaning down and giving Ditzy a firm pat on the shoulders.

“Ooowww...” Ditzy said.

“Oh, sorry, friend Ditzy. Don’t be glum, wear your aches with pride! They are signs of just what I’m talking about. Many would have quit under such a strenuous exercise routine, but you remained steadfast through the entire ordeal. It is such stamina of the spirit that Gwendolyn here has failed to see,” Sigurd said, slowly wrapping one of Ditzy’s hooves around his shoulder and helping her up. Her whole body felt like strung out, soggy cabbage leaves, and she could barely stand without wobbling about like a drunkard. 

“I saw that she’s got heart,” Gwendolyn growled, “But that doesn’t win you battles by itself. You still need technique, good instincts, and a certain killer edge.”

“Th-that’s okay,” said Ditzy, still trying to catch her breath, “I really only came because Grimwald seemed to want me to. I don’t mind not being a natural fighter, but I do appreciate the training. I know more now than I did yesterday, heheh, mostly about how many places I can ache I didn’t know I had.”

There was almost something akin to embarrassment on Gwendolyn’s face as she ran a talon along her crest of red tinged feathers, “If I had more time I could probably get you to learn the basics. You might not be a terror of the skies, but you’d know enough to defend yourself. Not that you have rampant banditry in central Equestria, eh?”

Ditzy thought back to when thugs had tried to foalnap her muffin, and frowned, “You’d be surprised what kind of trouble can crop up, even in a peaceful place like Ponyville. I appreciate the help, Miss Var Bastion.”

“It’d just be Bastion if you were looking for a spot between familiar and formal. The Var part isn’t used much outside of griffin noble gatherings,” said Gwendolyn, holding out a talon, “And really, I prefer Gwen.”

Ditzy gladly extended her hoof, shaking Gwendolyn’s talon. Sigurd seemed to approve the gesture, nodding with a look of solemn respect as he said, “Perhaps in time Ditzy will surprise both of us. I suspect her skills can still be honed in ways not yet discovered.”

“I certainly hope so,” said Grimwald, popping an apple slice into his beak and rolling off his perch, gliding down to join them with a peculiar smile at Ditzy as he slowly chewed the fruit slice and swallowed, “I don’t want you to feel unprepared for our next... encounter.”

Sigurd’s mood almost instantly shifted to something frosty and hard,  Ditzy feeling the steel hard tension in his body, as she was still leaning on it. Sigurd’s voice held a thin edge to it. “Perhaps it won’t be her you encounter.”

Grimwald’s smile only deepened as his eyes stared unblinkingly into Sigurd’s cold gaze, “I’m sure we’ll have plenty of opportunities to have fun before the Contest is over. I’d look forward to having either you or Miss Doo here as partners in crime for a spot of whatever game suits your fancy.”

“With one such as you, I do not play games,” stated Sigurd flatly, then Gwendolyn stepped between the two before Grimwald could offer a retort.

“Okay, enough waggling what you’ve got between your legs. Both of you,” she said, giving a pointed look at Grimwald, who gave an innocent shrug, and then to Sigurd a more openly defiant look, “I know Grim can be a pain in the tailfeathers, but don’t let him bait you. He likes playing games, but it’s not him you really want to fight, is it? You looking to rematch after the Grand Melee?”

Ditzy glanced between her and Sigurd, who had a dour frown stamped on his features now. Gwendolyn had gotten the better of Sigurd during the Grand Melee, but she’d gotten the impression neither warrior had really been trying that hard. Sigurd merely confirmed this as he said, “The Grand Melee was a good warm up, but yes, the real battle of warriors will be the Contest of Strength. You can see my full measure there and test if your own mettle stacks up to it. However while I respect you, Gwendolyn Var Bastion, I have no such regard for the cowardly cur behind you.”

“Stinging barbs make poor weapons of choice for a true warrior, wouldn’t you say, nobel deer?” asked Grimwald with a sarcastic twinge of his beak, and Gwendolyn looked back at him hard.

“Grim, shut up. Not helping.”

“Well, then let me make it all simple for you both,” Grimwald said, taking wing, rising up into the air, “I’m here to do one thing; enjoy myself. Take that however you will. Do whatever you want. It will still all lead to me getting my piece of entertainment. I saw what I wanted to see for today, and Miss Doo, I very much liked the show. So you have my thanks for that, whatever that might mean to you.”

“Um, well... you’re welcome,” Ditzy said tentatively, “I know this might sound odd, but I was hoping we could be friends.”

Grimwald got a very strange look on his face. It reminded Ditzy of the way Dinky looked when Ditzy put some new kind of food in front of her daughter and Dinky wasn’t sure if she’d like it or not. After a moment the look vanished from Grimwald’s face and the mask, yes Ditzy was pretty certain now it was a mask, of pleasant smiling returned. “I’d be curious to see if you feel the same way once you get to know me more.”

That said, he flew away, quickly vanishing over the treeline. Gwendolyn blew out a rumbling sigh once he was out of sight, “Guy never changes.”

“You’ve known him a long time, I take it?” asked Ditzy. 

“Since we were both children,” Gwendolyn replied, slowly picking up the training weapons and bundling them back up in the cloth she’d brought, “If you’re wondering, yes, he’s always been like that. I think I must have been the only one who ever learned to get along with him.”

“How did you ever manage such an impressive feat?” asked Sigurd in a tone dry as a dead leaf. 

Gwendolyn barked out a quick laugh, “Because I’m the only griffin stubborn enough to put up with him. Grim’s weird, off putting, outright crazy at times, but he’s got his good points. Never abandoned me in a tight spot, for one. He’s got my love of long odds and lost causes. Decent sense of humor. Not hard on the eyes.”

Sigurd snorted, “You sound as if you would have taken him as a mate.”

Gwendolyn gave a small, jerking start, and for a moment looked astonished. Then she shook her head and chuckled, “A part of me thinks you’re mad for even thinking that, but... who knows how it would have all ended up if his family hadn’t pawned him off in an arranged marriage early on, and I hadn’t stayed with the border guards and formed the Red Shields? Not that I’m envious of his wife, having to deal with him. Although from what I’ve seen of her she’s a special brand of crazy all her own.”

“No dreams of hearth, home, and young ones in swaddling?” inquired Sigurd.

“Hardly. Too much work to be done,” said Gwendolyn with a rough tone, her face turning stormy, “Not really eager to talk personal stuff, anyway, or being reminded of my mother by a water deer twice my age.”

Sigurd laughed, gesturing towards the edge of the clearing, “Then shall we go? Can you walk, friend Ditzy?”

She bent her knees experimentally, wincing hard at the shooting feeling of aching pain running up and down her exhausted limbs, but they did hold her weight once she stopped leaning on Sigurd. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I can also fly, if I have to. My wings aren’t as tired as the rest of me.”

“I ought to show you some tricks you can pull with your wings,” said Gwendolyn, “All we did was ground work today, but there’s a whole different set of maneuvers and exercises for fighting on the wing.”

“M-maybe another time?” Ditzy said, almost pleadingly.

“Not tomorrow, obviously, because of the whole art thing coming up,” Gwendolyn said, frowning in distaste, “Ugh, don’t even know what I’m going to do with that. I know some good war songs, but doubt those’ll go over well with anyone who isn’t a griffin.”

“Hey, if you guys are hungry, then let’s go get lunch, and we can all come up with ideas for each other,” said Ditzy, realizing just how hungry she’d gotten after all that hard work, “I bet we could figure something out for you to do.”

“You ponies really do get into this friendship stuff, don’t you? You do remember we’re competing against each other, right?” 

Ditzy just giggled, brushing off Gwendolyn’s look with a smile, “I get the feeling I’m going to be getting asked that a lot before the week is done.”

----------

Trixie had been the first one to return to her and her friend’s rooms at the monastery, not long after dusk. There was still some light outside, even as the sun was already well below the horizon. Wind howled outside, and Trixie looked out the windows to see that the forest trees in the distance were swaying like rolling green waves. No stormclouds yet, but Raindrops seemed to think one was coming. 

Hopefully it wouldn’t last long, though Trixie had heard from Princess Luna that if the weather did persist towards morning then she and Princess Cadance could work some magic to clear the sky for the sake of the Contest. Tomorrow was the Contest of Art, and only a couple of hours ago had the monks gathered the champions so that Abbess Serene could explain the rules.

“So, let’s review...” Trixie began, turning to look at her friends who were lounging around the living area of their shared rooms, and she paused as she realized they were still down one mare, “Wait a second, where’s Carrot Top?”

Lyra cracked a smarmy grin and said, “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Trixie pressed her lips tight to only partially suppress a groaning noise, “Seriously? The elk prince? He’s not that handsome.”

“To be fair we didn’t actually set a time to meet up tonight, so it's not like she knows she’s missing something. I can just bring her up to date on anything we plan here once she comes in,” said Cheerilee, looking fairly composed for a mare who’d been challenged to some kind of strange honor duel by a five hundred pound minotaur. Trixie still thought Cheerilee ought to take the issue up with the Princess to get the matter sorted out legally, because there had to be some sort of loophole or form of diplomatic immunity that’d axe that nonsense, but Cheerilee seemed determined to face the problem head on and had made it clear she fully intended to face Steel Cage when the time came. Apparently a friend’s livelihood was on the line. Trixie sympathized, but still thought there had to be a better way to deal with things than watch one of her friends try to go one on one with a minotaur. Then again... Cheerilee wasn’t exactly fragile, either.

“I doubt she’ll be out long,” said Raindrops, her nose twitching and an oddly content smile on her face, “That storm will be here pretty soon. Mmm, I can practically feel the rain coming in.”

“Rain will be nice. It’ll help me drift off to sleep,” said Ditzy with a yawn, the mare practically a pile of gray putty sprawled on one of the couches, face half buried in a pillow. Trixie wasn’t entirely sure what Ditzy had done all day, but she looked ragged. 

“Are you going to be good for tomorrow, Ditzy?” Trixie asked, raising a concerned eyebrow. Ditzy waved a noodly fore leg, not even looking up from her pillow.

“I’m good. Just, aaah, need sleeps and I’ll be one hundred percent perky for the art stuff,” Ditzy said, punctuating her statement of confidence with a less reassuring yawn. 

“I think that’s the best we’re going to get out of her for tonight,” said Lyra, looking like she was holding back laughter. Out of all of them she seemed the most energized, and Trixie understood perfectly. Tomorrow Lyra was going to be in her element. Not the Loyalty kind, but the kind that involved creative, artistic expression. Lyra was a fine musician, and her talents were going to be the cornerstone of their efforts tomorrow. Trixie of course had quite the performer’s streak in her as well, and had every intention of using her skills as a stage magician to full effect. The real trick would be figuring out how to best utilize the rest of her friends and turn their talents towards supporting the cause. It wasn’t required by the rules that they all participate, but Trixie wanted to see if she could get all of her friends involved. She felt it would lend to a more impressive spectacle, and fit well with Equestria’s cultural theme of the united strength of the pony tribes’ friendship if she and her friends did as much of the Contest as possible together. Of course there’d be exceptions. Trixie was pretty sure she’d be out for the Contest of Strength, for example, but much as they could she wanted to do all of this together with her friends. 

“The event's going to be taking place over the whole day, so if Ditzy needs to rest through the morning, she can,” said Trixie, “There’s no rule that says all of us have to participate at the same time.”

The rules weren’t complicated. The Contest of Art had three phases, one in the morning, one at noon, and the final one in the evening at the onset of sunset. In each phase any given champion or group of champions would provide a performance of their choice, which could be of any kind as long as it was clearly related to the artistic expression of their culture. Each phase had to be a different performance than the previous, however. Each performance could involve multiple combinations of elements, such as song, or dance, or poetry, or a demonstration of physical artwork. The point was to provide a variety over the course of the day, with a composition that drew attention while showcasing what made each culture’s art unique. 

Scoring would be based upon audience response, as every individual who’d be witnessing the performances would be given a set of three wood tokens, each colored for a different time of the day to correspond to those phases of the event. The performing champions would be able to set up all across the field, and audience members given free reign to wander the field and watch whatever performances drew them, and for each phase of the event, a vote cast with their wood tokens on the performances that impressed the most. That meant that over the day there were three chances to draw an audience and earn points, with the final points totaled at the end of the day. 

Exactly like with the Grand Melee, the top five champions or groups of champions earned points to their overall score for the whole Contest. Having come in fifth place the mares from Equestria had earned three points to their total for the Contest, with four more opportunities to score more before all would be said and done. Trixie felt confident of their chances. The higher they managed to rank in each event, the more points they’d get, and while a part of her of course wanted to win the whole thing, Trixie wouldn’t have minded just surpassing Dao Ming. Not out of any residual grudge, but because there was now a sense of real competition between them, and Trixie didn’t want to hold anything back. 

“Be nice if Carrot Top were here,” said Trixie, “I was hoping to lead off with her cooking in the morning with me drawing in the crowd with some patented Trixie visual spectacles, backed up with Lyra doing some softer music to set a good mood for the food.”

“She’ll be here, give it half an hour, tops,” said Raindrops. A bit of distant thunder tailed the pegasus’ statement and all the mares glanced towards the window as the wind rose.

Trixie shook her head, hoping Carrot Top wasn’t anywhere out in the open. It even was starting to smell like rain out there. “The afternoon phase I’m open to suggestions on. I was thinking maybe focusing on some Equestrian dances. I know quite a few suitable to court.”

“And I got the more, heh, energetic folk dances covered,” said Cheerilee, “If Lyra can pull off a jaunty tune for jigs I’ve got the moves.”

“I was thinking me and Ditzy could get in on that too,” said Raindrops, “Be your backup dancers.”

“Dancing is fun...” mumbled a half asleep Ditzy. 

Trixie blinked, “Okay, so we’ll refine that phase a bit. There are several hours worth of downtime between each phase anyway. Now, the big finisher for the evening phase, that’s where you and me, Lyra, we’re going to do some collaboration. We’ll need everypony, but it's you and me that’ll need to get our timing down.”

“Not easy, given how little time we have to prepare, but hey, I’ll just have to get into the improv mood,” said Lyra, not at all letting her confidence flag as she leaned forward with a warm light in her eyes, a kind of hunger that Trixie recognized as the spark of a competitive spirit. It seemed that like Trixie had an urge to compete with Dao Ming, Lyra had found something, or perhaps someone, to light the competitive fire under her tail. 

“Well, I’ll be doing most of the improv, but we’ll plan for it around your musical talent,” said Trixie, sharing Lyra’s enthusiastic smile. 

At that moment the wind began to screech outside and the first patters of rain started to fall. Raindrops couldn’t entirely keep a grin off her face. “And there it is. Bit earlier than I thought, too.”

Trixie went over to shutter the window, taking one brief glance out at the island. The stormclouds had rolled in from the south, it looked like. It wasn’t a large, or even very fierce storm. Mostly just a lot of wind and light rain. Neither ominous nor unusual, other than it’d arrived quickly. Just normal weather for a southern island off the coast of Cavallia. Yet Trixie still felt a twinge of uneasiness. 

She hoped Carrot Top would return soon.

----------

A rough peal of thunder made Frederick jump, and Carrot Top chuckled slightly as she gave him a pat on the shoulder, “Not a fan of the weather?”

Not unlike the rosy hues of the now gone sunset Frederick’s cheeks painted themselves red and he gave a full bellied laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “If you think I’m jumpy now, you should have seen me as a fawn. Thunderstorms aren’t at all uncommon back home, but I never could get used to them. Of course such a thing isn’t very respectable for a young buck growing up as the heir of the throne of an entire race that prides itself on the strength of our warriors, so I had to get over my fear of thunder pretty quick. I used to go out in them, terrified as I was, and spent days in the mountain forests outside Yggdrasil. I’d usually come home with a fever. The guards once dragged me back almost half dead from exposure...”

Carrot Top shook her head in disbelief, “That’s... your parents were okay with that?”

“Oh abyss, no!” Frederick said with another rich laugh, “My father tanned my hide each time for being a fool boy playing at gaining courage in the dumbest way possible. I, uh, suppose I never did take to the lesson very well. I still like to stay out in thunderstorms, even if they still scare me.”

“You are flat out odd, you know that?” Carrot Top said with a half smile, looking out south at the ocean. She and Frederick were walking along the edge of the forest, right next to the sands of the long beach on the south end of the island. Waves crashed in, surf breaking over muddy sand, and the noise was comforting to Carrot Top. Nature was usually far more regulated in Equestria, yet after spending time working on her alchemy in her hut inside the Everfree forest she’d come to almost appreciate the patterns of ‘random’ weather. 

“Do elk ever try to control their weather, the way we do in Equestria?” she asked.

“No,” Frederick said, shaking his head, “It wouldn’t be our way to interfere with the seasons. The seasons are sacred to us. All part of the cycle of death and rebirth that most cervid kin pay homage to in one way or another. I’m not exactly the most devout, at heart, but as the inheritor to my father’s throne I must know and respect my realm’s beliefs. If you’re curious, I’m a Spring-kith, born in that season. You?”

“Oh, I’m, uh, let’s see, I’m just on the cusp of winter, born late November.”

A flash of an amused smile graced Frederick’s face, “Ah, a Winter-kith! Natural enemy of we Spring-kith. I think tradition demands I challenge you to a blood duel in hopes of having your heart to offer to the Spring fae of the deep forests in hopes of blessings for a good harvest.”

At Carrot Top’s look he just held his belly with another bout of laughter, the wind picking up around them, “Sorry, sorry! Couldn’t help myself. Even at our most extreme I don’t think the old traditions ever got that archaic, but just as your three pony tribes had their time of strife, so did cervid kin. We were divided by the seasonal tribes, more than physical tribes. Elk, deer, moose, that mattered less than if you favored the Fall fae or the Summer, Winter or Spring.”

“Must’ve have made for some interesting holidays,” commented Carrot Top.

“Oh you have no idea. The holiday schedule back home is grueling.”

Thunder rolled across them again, wind whipping manes and tails about, and Frederick and Carrot Top both laughed as they were caught in a sudden downpour of rain. Carrot Top gave a little whoop of surprise as Frederick led her into the forest, the thick canopy from the trees shielding them from the rain. 

Wiping water out of her tail, Carrot Top said, “Well, I think that’s the season’s way of telling us to get our butts back to civilization. I’m pretty sure the girls are going to be having a meeting for tomorrow’s artsy event, and last I knew I was slotted for some cooking.”

“Truly? I’ll have to ensure I’m there to sample your work then,” said Frederick, “I’ve never eaten food cooked by a champion before. Wodan is infamous for wiping out flights of dragons just from a whiff of his own attempts at a cookpot. I somehow doubt you’ll see such an attempt tomorrow.”

“Sounds like my lucky day. I’m sure I’ll whip up something to satisfy folk,” Carrot Top yawned, “I’ll have to get up early if I’m going to get a good start at it. Good thing I got practice at this kind of thing back home. Let me tell you sometime about this cooking competition I got into. Now, where’s the way back to the monastery?”

Frederick looked about, “You know I’m not certain.” He sniffed the air, “This way, I think.”

“Did you seriously just attempt navigation by nostril?” asked Carrot Top.

“When in doubt, follow the smell of food,” said Frederick, sniffing the air again, and turning towards Carrot Top, smiling deeply, “Then again, there are more pleasant scents in the air.”

“Charming,” Carrot Top said, giving his shoulder a light punch, “I haven’t even had a chance to bathe today. I’ll need to give myself a good scrub before heading to bed. It's practically a travesty that I’ve let myself go this long without at least washing my mane and tail!”

“Oh, I don’t know, there’s something to be said for a mare with the smell of sweat about her. Something honest, clean, even inviting...” Frederick said, then seemed to hold himself back, “I don’t suppose I’ve used up all my flirtation points for today yet?”

Carrot Top made a show of rubbing her chin, though she was in part seriously considering the situation. It wasn’t actually that late yet, somewhere between eight or nine, she’d guess. Plenty of time to wander back to the monastery, catch up with the girls, clean up and hop into bed to wake up early for the Contest’s next event. She was alone in a forest with a admittedly handsome fellow whose company she couldn’t deny she enjoyed. 

“Perhaps not all of them, but even if you had, I could always think up of a bonus round,” said Carrot Top, deciding that if she was going to do anything, it’d be on her terms and with her taking the lead. She reached out to brush a bit of mane out of his face. “That is if you’re okay with taking this at my pace.”

“I never imagined doing otherwise,” he said, leaning forward. She was all too aware of the heat coming off of both their bodies, more pronounced in the now misty cold of the storm. She was also keenly conscious of the fact that the rain was making a natural sound barrier, meaning it wasn’t likely anyone passing by even within a dozen paces would hear much of anything.

There were no real rules to this, and she didn’t think she was ready to go there with someone she’d only recently met, no matter how much she was coming to like him, but there was nothing wrong with a little... fun.

Their lips were nearly touching when Frederick suddenly pulled back, and Carrot Top blinked in surprise. She was about to ask what was wrong when he frowned, holding up a hoof to his mouth in a ‘quiet’ gesture and nodded behind her, kneeling down.

Not sure what was going on she knelt down too, turning to follow where Frederick pointed. At first she didn’t see anything, but then a flicker of movement caught her eye, a streak of blackness in the deeper forest. Narrowing her eyes, Carrot Top followed the movement until a break in the treeline showed her a figure in a dark cloak, moving deeper into the forest. The figure didn’t seem to notice her and Frederick crouched down a score of yards away, and the rainfall drowned out most sound save for the occasional thunder. 

“Who is that?” she asked, whispering even though she probably could have gotten away with almost shouting and still not be heard by the distant figure.

“I don’t know, but whoever they are they either don’t like the rain, or want to hide their face,” said Frederick, face musing, “Who would be wandering around the forest like this?”

“Maybe just somepony like us, looking for a bit of private time? The island is full of people and any of them might want to get away from the crowds,” suggested Carrot Top, but her mind immediately started to think of what Trixie had told her and the girls the other day. The mysterious warning, and some potential threat looming over the island.

Did this count as something suspicious worthy of investigation. Survey says...

“Should we try following them?” Carrot Top asked, only to find Frederick giving her a wide, maverick grin.

“I thought you’d never ask.”