Lost Legacies

by AkibaWhite

E02: Tough Crowd [Ø]

NOW

Near-total darkness eclipsed the guest room of the Ponyville Library, only the faintest hint of the golden light from outside making its way to the room's interior. Derpy Hooves lay face-up and spread-eagled under the covers of her bed. Thunderous snores issued forth from her mouth as it widened and contracted. In the midst of deepest slumber, the pegasus mare remained unaware of the bubble coming from her nose that expanded with every exhale. She also paid no heed to the bright glow of the amber pendant on her bedside table. The jewel shone with a brilliant fire from within, not reflecting any of the light from the window. As it began to cast a pale radiance across the ceiling, another pony appeared in the room.

The door had not opened. The window remained shut. Even so, a gray-furred earth pony mare took hold of the chair from a nearby desk and moved it to the side of the bed. Planting herself onto the cushioned seat, she placed a large leather-bound book on the bed and stared at the sleeping Derpy with wistful violet eyes. She leaned forward and opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound issued forth. The mare looked away, then gave up on the notion entirely, slumping back into the chair and brushing her long black mane out of her eyes. The book flew open, seemingly of its own accord. The light from the amber pendant danced across the pages. The earth pony mare drew in a deep breath.

"The reading is from the Lost History," she said, her voice possessing all the elegance of a finely-tuned pipe organ. "First Book of Kings, Chapter 16, Verse 12." Her lips gave a soft smile. Her violet eyes shone with an ethereal light. "Let us be attentive."

My Little Pony: Lost Legacies
Episode 02: "Tough Crowd"

The trees flew by on all sides at a rapid pace, many of them bearing strange, faintly luminescent red sacs that Derpy did not recognize. All around her were the sounds of panting, grunting, and the occasional vicious shout. Earth pony and pegasus stallions of wildly differing builds charged forth into the underbrush to her front and - as she determined by glancing about - they were indeed all around her. The mass of ponies wore varying degrees of leather and metallic armor, the latter type creating a great clanking cacophony as they ran at full speed. The shouts became clearer to her ears as she grew accustomed to the racket.

"Get that scum-suckin' bushwhacker!"

"Lily-livered frog-walloper! Our steel wants your flesh!"

Much to Derpy's surprise, she found her own voice joining in. "Goose-stepping dandy-hooves! Get your flank back here!"

Derpy's mind reeled. That rustic baritone voice could not have been hers, yet she had felt her mouth move and her vocal chords resonate just as if it had been. Other oddities began to hit Derpy all at once. To be in the middle of this crowd, she'd have to be running. She felt her legs moving, but they seemed to do so of their own accord. She attempted to stop and found that her legs paid no heed to the command. She was able to look about, but was doubly alarmed by the lack of any sensation that she had turned her head. Derpy gulped back the fear that was rising from her gut and experimented a bit. With a strangely painless ease, Derpy discovered that she could turn completely backward and look at the battle-scarred, almost savage faces of the stallions to her rear.

What the hay is going on here?!

The ragtag group of armored stallions came to a slow halt as the first orange hues of sunset began to show on the cloudy sky above the treeline. They quickly established a circular formation, brandishing a wide variety of evil-looking weapons outward from the center to oppose incoming threats.

A particular pegasus stallion emerged from the group with a confident, powerful stride. His rust-colored coat seemed to reflect the increasingly orange light of day's end. His leather armor looked more casual than the getups of most of his entourage and was partially hidden by a brown traveler's cloak. He possessed only three distinct markings: his wide-brimmed hat with a white feather plume, his unusually close-shaven blonde mane, and a Cutie Mark that resembled a chain & shackles.

The pegasus snorted. "How in the blazes of Tartarus did you idiots lose him?"

"He's a slippery one, Chief," came a hapless voice from somewhere toward the back. "He was a-divin' 'hind every bush n' branch in this godforsaken patch o' woods."

The chief groaned. "Imagine that, a fugitive taking cover behind trees in a bleeding forest!" His wicked eyes cast about dangerously from underneath the brim of his hat. "Might as well be draggin' along a boatload of foals; at least I could sell that lot!"

"He's over there!" came a shout from the far end of the circle. "I saw 'im duck behind that log!"

The chief immediately spotted the fallen tree in the direction that they'd come from; it was the only one large enough to hide a pony and sure enough, the leaves of a bush behind the tree were rustling with movement.

"Well?!" he shouted angrily. "What are you dolts waiting for, a bucking invitation? Get him!"

The mass of stallions lurched as one before charging off in a storm of thundering hooves and a shower of leaves and loam. One pegasus, however, only moved with the crowd for a few seconds before coming to a halt. He wore the helmet and hastily-attached breastplate of a stolen set of bronze armor, which he now discarded to reveal a simple grass-colored cloth shirt and traveler's harness underneath. His slate-gray fur and straight white mane contrasted with his wiry, muscular build, and the black leather-wrapped handle of a claymore protruded from underneath his unassuming cloak.

The gray pegasus stallion chuckled softly to himself, watching the group that he'd been a part of charging off after the wild pig he'd spied a few moments earlier. As he turned about to leave his pursuers to their fate, he felt the tip of a steel blade prick the back of his neck. A peculiar harness of leather straps held the blade's handle flush against the right wing of the one called "Chief".

"How stupid do you think I am?" the chief menaced.

"I don't know," the gray pegasus remarked offhandedly. "What's one hoof plus one hoof?"

"Two hoo-ooof!" the chief began to answer reflexively just before getting bowled over by a double-hoofed rear kick from the gray pegasus. The rust-hued leader fought for air with his bruised diaphragm as his target raced off into the wilderness. "I-idiots! Morons! He's over this way!"

Ever since it had occurred to her that she was somehow inside the body of another pony, Derpy had been teetering on the edge of panic. Even the revelation that this gray pegasus wasn't a part of that ferocious-looking gang had only been a small relief. However, in the relative silence that followed his departure from the rowdy pursuers, Derpy began to hear his voice. The mouth that the two shared did not move except to smirk, but she could hear his joyous laughter as if he were standing right by her side. Derpy decided to let go of her fears for the moment and listened closely to the comforting baritone as it voiced emotion that never passed his lips.

Do you even know that I'm here? she wondered.

It had taken a minute for the band of armored stallions to rally around their winded leader, but they now charged forward after their target once more. The chief, whose seldom-uttered name was Iron Bound, led his hunting party with even more confidence than before; he had already reasoned out the strategy of his prey. The gray pegasus had bolted off in the direction of a nearby river, doubtlessly intent on using the running water to throw his pursuers off his trail. The tactic seemed an extraordinarily simple one, but the chief knew for certain that his enemy would use it. It had to have been a question running through the minds of his simple-minded compatriots: why hadn't this pegasus used his wings yet? They would probably see the end of the fugitive's tracks as a sign that he'd taken to the air, or even the treetops, but the chief knew better. The open air offered no cover, and the treetops were too obvious a compromise. His prey had proven himself a veteran of the wilderness, and Iron Bound was sure that the gray pegasus would follow the river downstream to continue his escape.

Iron Bound became less sure of that when he spotted the fugitive resting against a tree up ahead, looking for all the world as if he were waiting on a pretty young mare. He slowed at the sight,though his followers overtook his position and lunged for the kill. "Wait!" he shouted. "Wait, you idiots! Its a tr-"

The forest floor exploded in a shower of multicolored lights and deafening thunderclaps. The initial blast lifted half of the stallions off their hooves; the rest began to yelp in surprise and mill about as they fell under the assault of a spectacular ongoing lightshow. The milling-about turned into a full-blown panic when they realized that various articles of clothing had caught fire. Futile attempts to put out the flames that were dancing about the area were only answered by an even stronger wave of sizzling lights and explosive bangs.

Only having been singed a bit on the outer area of the increasingly flashy mess, Iron Bound spotted a familiar glow in the trees above. "Retreat!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "He's got a unicorn! Retreat! Back to camp!"

The gray pegasus couldn't resist laughing at the bumbling heap of stallions as they sabotaged each others' attempts to escape from the spellbinding light shower. It was hard for him to believe that he'd actually been afraid for his own life when this chase started. Even when the last of the undignified retreat before him had run its course, the guffaws just kept coming up from inside.

A similarly gray-furred unicorn mare dropped down from the tree branches above and stared at the pegasus coldly. The last of the dancing flames cast a strobe effect across her delicate features. She tossed her black hair in a show of irritation, the various bird-feather ornaments within her mane clacking together as she did so. "Is this funny to you, Cross?"

"Fireworks?" the pegasus stallion managed between giggles as he wiped away a solitary tear. "You are so very lucky that they didn't have a unicorn of their own." He smiled broadly. "D'you think you could have passed for a Sorceress?"

"I don't depend on luck," the mare replied, drawing the folds of her navy cloak about her. "I'd have left you here if the spell failed to impress."

"Don't put on airs, Feather," said Cross as the hilarity in his voice began to die down. "You'd be bored silly without me."

"And I'll starve with you," the one called Feather continued. "Where are your saddlebags?" She raised an eyebrow. "More importantly, where are the supplies that you were supposed to bring back in them?"

"With that lot," Cross answered, gesturing in the direction of the retreating stallions. The smile left his face. "They're slavers, Feather. You ought to know by now that those blighters trade in death, not groceries." He cleared his throat. "Wish I'd seen through their ruse 'fore they pinched my bags. They'd have had me in shackles too if I wasn't so quick on my hooves."

Feather sighed. "Is it too much to ask that we have just one uneventful supply run?"

"I'd settle for a prosperous one," Cross amended, moving toward the river. "Let's get back to camp, shall we? Make the best of what we've got tonight and strike out in search of better fortune on the 'morrow."

Feather began to follow, her shoulders in a slump and her head held low. "Leftovers with crushed hopes for seasoning . . . my favorite."

Hope you don't mind this state of affairs, Cross thought. Wish I could offer something besides thrice-heated soup for your first meal.

Derpy snapped out of her depressed silence at the voice that had directly addressed her. You can hear me?

That I can, Cross replied. Though I'm not sure whether it's a blessing or a curse at the moment. The voice of his thoughts became openly jovial, despite his words. My name's Silver Cross, little fairy. What's yours?

LL

So, I'm a fairy now? Derpy Hooves questioned, still not quite able to accept the term.

Why is that strange? Have you ever been anything else? Cross replied as he tied a string around a nearby tree branch, a strangely contorted crystal hanging from its length. He tapped the crystal, causing it to swing evenly like a metronome and issue forth a barely audible humming noise.

Night had fallen in the time since Derpy had begun her conversation with Cross, and Derpy had found it very difficult to wrap her head–if she even had a head of her own anymore–around the idea that she now shared a body with this pegasus stallion. According to Cross, a similar thing had happened to his grandmother. She would often speak to voices in her own head and told her grandson that she'd been blessed by the faeries with eternal companionship for a life well-lived. Ancient lore described the faeries as mystical creatures who drifted in and out of the minds of mortals and offered them wisdom in times of need, but Cross had always seen the legends as mythical until today.

Why didn't you answer me in the first place? Derpy had asked him upon hearing that. It sounds like you were surprised.

Either faeries are real, or I'm going crazy, Cross had replied. Whichever is the case, panicking surely wouldn't have helped matters.

Silver Cross and the unicorn mare, whose full name was Feather Quill, had set up camp in only a few minutes' time. The campfire crackled and snapped as it illuminated the clearing they'd found with a warm orange glow. An iron pot sat suspended over the flames, whatever was for dinner gurgling away inside. It couldn't have been too appetizing; Feather Quill's expression remained blank except for a mild scowl as she stirred at the mixture with an enchanted ladle.

Does she ever smile? Derpy asked.

She used to, Cross answered as he strung up another humming crystal. Hasn't really done it much since we left the homeland.

Where are you two from, anyway?

Cross tapped the newly-strung crystal, the last in a ring of them that encircled the campsite. Not a subject I enjoy discussing, little fairy. Having finished his task, he sat down next to the campfire. "Parasprite wards are in place, my lady," Cross announced with more flair than necessary, gesturing to the nearby trees with red sacs that Derpy hadn't recognized. "Though I'm not terribly sure how much we'll need them, what with all the eater trees hanging about."

"There's no sense in taking risks that we can avoid," Feather Quill remarked impassively, her pale lavender eyes fixed on the task in front of her. "Besides, those trees are about as much of a blessing as the rest of this stretch of woods has been." She prodded a nearby water gourd to show how easily it rocked back and forth. "The parasprite eaters have polluted the groundwater; even the river was somewhat rainbow-colored." Her frown grew slightly. "And now our fresh water supply is low. Color me surprised."

Was that a pun? Derpy wondered.

Silver Cross chuckled. "Sure you didn't hit up a bit of the rainbow water while I was away? Almost sounds like you've contracted a mild sense of humor."

Feather's eyes narrowed as she looked up from her task. "If that's the case, then I'll have to shove you into some Poison Joke tomorrow to nurse it. There's bound to be heaps of it growing somewhere around here with a river full of rainbows."

"Sorry I asked," Cross remarked as Feather levitated a wooden bowl from a nearby haversack. "So, what might be the name of this evening's repast?"

"Leek broth," Feather answered as she filled a bowl and passed it to Cross. "For lack of normal seasoning, I've added some essence of 'Doubt in our General Direction' and a pinch of 'Regret for Opportunities Missed'."

Cross received the bowl with a questioning gaze. "Good Lord. Those aren't real flavors, are they?"

Derpy suddenly discovered that she shared Cross's sense of taste when he took his first sip of the tan-colored leafy mixture. The intensely bitter sensation would have wiped out her own taste buds, but Cross seemed to take it in stride. I sure hope that it's full of vitamins, Derpy commented.

"More like genuine concerns," said Feather as she made a bowl for herself. "We only have enough drinking water for another day's travel. I'm fostering a growing distrust for the viability of the local vegetation. We're fresh out of hardtack, and we're more than a week's travel from the last trading post." She took a draught from the bowl. "No offense intended, but I'm seriously considering taking a risk on the trek back to civilization rather than on promises in a book of fairy tales."

You're here 'cause of a book? Derpy asked. You're supposed to read those, not base your life on them. A new thought entered Derpy's mind. Are you going to a convention?

If Cross had an answer for that question, he failed to volunteer it as he looked up from his meal. "I didn't hear you complain when it served us well."

"That was then," Feather replied. "And 'then' was quite some time ago. It seems like we've been living on the edge of starvation for the past few months. Looking back, I can only blame your stubbornness for this state of affairs" Her voice took on the tone of a considerate appeal. "We've passed up plenty of decent towns and villages over the years. For a while, I actually believed that these 'Green Pastures' of yours were just over the horizon. It's different now. We're way beyond the borders of civilization; I don't think anypony's ever journeyed this far. Did those slavers even have any captives?"

Cross shook his head.

"See what I mean?" Feather continued. "They were probably ready to give up and head back the way we came before they ran into you, and I'm starting to think that they've got the right idea."

Cross put down his empty bowl and looked straight into Feather's eyes. "I didn't leave the homeland in search of a 'decent' substitute."

"Did you leave it in search of death?" Feather asked bluntly. "Because that's all that's left in the place that we called home, and that's all we're going to find out here in the wilderness if we keep pushing our luck."

Cross smiled, which caused a bit of surprise to show on his friend's face. "You don't believe in luck, Feather," he said in a measured tone. "And I don't either. I only believe in the words of the Tome, and according to them we are closer than ever to the paradise of Green Pastures." He rose to his hooves and began to retreat to his bedroll. "Faith had in times of plenty has little value. You should try having some now."

"Faith and an empty sack is worth the sack," Feather retorted, reaching for her bowl to finish her largely untouched dinner. "Just wait until we have to burn that book to make a fire; then we'll have a talk about faith."

"Good night, Feather," Cross said with a yawn as he tucked himself in. "'Twill be a better day tomorrow."

"For how many tomorrows?" Feather Quill muttered under her breath before returning to the broth.

Derpy felt a chill run through her. Do you feel that?

Feel what? Cross replied.

It occurred to Derpy that it might simply be her own reaction to the words of the unicorn mare. I don't know if I trust Feather, she began. But what if she's right? What if you starve out here?

Derpy felt Cross smile as his mind began to fade into slumber. It'll come to something worse before it comes to that, my little fairy.

LL

With the dawn came a rolling fog bank from the south. The land-bound cloud consumed the forest in a thick, coiling mist that reduced visibility, made the air feel muggy and stagnant, and even seemed to swallow up all the sounds of the forest's wildlife. The sea of trees took on a haunting, dreamlike quality that didn't seem to affect Silver Cross at all as he trekked along the side of a river that shone faintly with the full spectrum of a rainbow.

You sure you don't want to wake Feather up? Derpy inquired.

Why? said Cross. D'you miss her already?

No way, Derpy replied hastily. But isn't she your friend?

Cross sighed. She's a very depressed friend at the moment. I thought I'd find something to cheer her up before we set off this morning.

Derpy thought for a moment before responding. What if she wakes up while we're gone?

We, huh? thought Cross with a small hint of amusement. I don't know what she'd think about you, Miss Derpy Hooves, but Feather knows that I won't keep her waiting.

The river's pace had been increasing as they walked, and the noise that it produced was beginning to near a roar. Derpy soon saw the reason why; the flowing water dropped off a sudden cliff just a few yards ahead.

What are you looking for, anyway? Derpy wondered.

Silver Cross walked up to the edge of the cliff and gazed down into the narrow valley. Across from their position, Derpy could see a range of steep mountains, their bases obscured by the morning fog. The distance between the cliff and the mountains was so short that it was not hard to imagine a rope bridge of sufficient length connecting the two. The valley itself was less of the expanse that its name implied and more of a gash in the landscape, appearing as if some gargantuan knife had cut it into the surrounding terrain. Patches of trees grew on ledges of varying height, and another waterfall could be spied on the opposite side, suggesting that the resultant river below probably ran out to the ocean. The cascades of falling water combined with the pervasive mist cast multiple tiny rainbows that almost appeared to be the very bridges that the small canyon lacked.

The sight was quite beautiful to look at, but it only added to Derpy's confusion. This will make Feather happy?

Probably not, Cross quipped before pointing directly down. But that will.

Derpy looked in the direction of Cross's hoof to see a substantial ledge just below. In fact, it was wide and consistent enough that it obviously served as a trail down into the valley. Currently traversing that trail at a snail's pace was none other than the band of armored stallions from the previous day. Derpy would have recoiled from the edge if it were possible. Whoa! she exclaimed. I thought you wanted to get away from these guys!

Cross smirked. We're not going after them, Derpy. Can you tell what this means?

Derpy tried to think past her initial reaction. That we should go back?

They're moving south, Cross continued with not the slightest hint of condescension. Further into uncharted territory, at least by our reckoning. I got a good look at them yesterday too. They were gaunt, hungry, tired even. Their supplies are probably in about the same shape that ours are. He smiled. Now why would they head away from known civilization if they're in that state?

There's something down there, Derpy replied quickly.

Aye, Cross affirmed. Probably a small village, or at least a trading post.

No, Derpy corrected. I mean there's something yellow down there.

Cross looked more closely at the band of slavers to see a golden-hued mare on the shackle line being tugged along cruelly and prodded onward by a riding crop. Derpy felt Cross's throat tighten.

"Bleeding vipers," Cross muttered aloud. "They've got themselves a prisoner."

Both observers felt the sharp prick of a blade poking Cross in the backside.

"That they do, matey," said a raspy voice from behind. "That they do."

Derpy yelped inside his head at the sensation, but Cross's voice came out calm and a bit curious. "Rat Fink?"

"Got it in one," came the reply. The thin blade tapped Cross with its flat. "On yer hooves now; no funny business."

Cross rose and turned about slowly, the point of the blade at his throat every step of the way. He found himself staring at a swamp-green earth pony wearing a black eyepatch and a burgundy do-rag that partially covered his filthy graying mane. A brown vest hung off his wiry frame in tatters. His Cutie Mark resembled a wooden stool with a gray bird on top. The rapier against Cross's neck remained aloft by way of a hoof harness.

"Fancy that," Cross mused. "You actually lived through that mess in the catacombs."

"Aye, but not all in one piece," the one called Rat Fink elaborated while flashing his eyepatch. "An' certainly no thanks t' you."

You know this guy? Derpy asked, partially calmed by Cross' mannerisms.

'Know' is a strong word, Cross answered to Derpy's question. More of an unpleasant acquaintance, although even that is a bit flattering. He smirked. He's not much of a problem, really. Watch this.

"What're you grinnin' at?" Fink snarled, the variance in his tone suggesting the presence of a bold front.

"It doesn't seem that you've thought this one out well at all, matey," Cross replied, staring directly into Fink's remaining yellow eye. "D'you really suppose that you can do me in with that tiny thing 'fore my claymore makes your head into a souvenir?" His smile grew wider. "And don't tell me that you've forgotten 'bout my partner."

The tip of a stylized dagger prodded Cross's midsection as a familiar voice said, "He didn't."

Wha?! Derpy exclaimed.

Silver Cross glanced to his left to find Feather Quill using the pinkish glow of her magic to hold the weapon at his side. The same magic began to pull his claymore out of its scabbard and out of his reach. He sighed heavily. "Feather dear, I thought we had a talk about finding the right kind of friends." He raised an eyebrow. "I told you not to bring home anything scruffy."

Feather Quill's expression remained characteristically impassive. "You should have seen this coming, Cross."

"Mayhaps you can call yerself 'Double Cross' from now on," Fink jeered. "That is, if yer called anythin' at all after yer new chums down there are done with ye."

"Wouldn't that be 'Double Crossed'?" Silver Cross shot back, although Derpy could feel actual fear creeping into his mind. "Shame on your teachers, snotnose."

Fink prodded Cross's neck with the rapier and drew blood. "I'll teach you somethin' alright if you don't move that flank."

Whatever it is, Derpy cautioned. I don't wanna learn it.

LL

The path below did in fact lead to the canyon floor, its winding road becoming ever more obscure as the fog grew thicker. By the time that it began to widen out near the bottom, Silver Cross could barely see for three feet in any direction. The sharp blades of the two ponies to either side of him poked and prodded as they moved, both of them wary of any false moves.

Not much of a problem, huh? Derpy commented. What're we gonna do now?

Stay calm, for the moment, Cross replied before turning to the stone-faced Feather. "Y'know, it puzzles me, dear comrade. How on earth can you stomach the thought of teaming up with this miserable blighter?"

Fink pressed his dagger against Cross's neck. "I thought I told you to keep that gob shut."

"Take it easy, Fink," said Feather. "He's no more threat to you."

"I'll take it any way I darn well please," Fink shot back with a wave of his rapier. "We're partners in this, 'member? Equal cuts."

Cross ignored Fink and kept his gaze on Feather. "So, it all comes down to a matter of bits then?"

"A matter of preference, actually," answered Feather, her hair ornaments tossing about as she walked. "I'm done risking my life on the words of dead ponies. Besides, this way we both get what we want. I get enough supplies to make it back to civilization while you get to travel further south with these fine chaps." She gestured ahead.

The three ponies had reached the canyon floor, and the vague outline of slavers' encampment could be seen at the base of the cliff. Even with the limited sight distance, Cross could tell that the flora here was much thicker and more lush than in the forest above. He also spied a faint blue glow coming from thickets of unearthly flowers nearby.

"Oh, fantastic," Cross quipped. "I get to go on a field trip with bunglers who make camp in the middle of Poison Joke gardens."

"They don't got much choice; stuff grows everywhere down here," Fink growled, smiling wickedly. "Watch yer step. Wouldn't want anythin' bad to happen to ye."

A rust-colored pegasus strode forth from the encampment, tipping his wide-brimmed hat to the party. "I don't believe it," he declared. "How did your mangy hide actually manage to deliver where this whole mess of hooligans failed?"

"All in the skill, Mr. Bound," Fink crooned as he brought Cross to a halt. "'Tis all in the skill."

Iron Bound stopped suddenly. "Why haven't you trussed up that unicorn wench?"

"Because I'm the 'skill' he's referring to," Feather answered, cutting off Fink's reply. "We've agreed to equal shares of the bounty, although I'd like to substitute half the bits on my end for five days' water and hardtack."

Iron Bound looked her in the eye for a moment, then said, "Well, 'never let a bit of bad blood sour a good deal' I always say." He made a sharp clicking sound with his teeth. A stallion rose from a nearby cooking fire. "Fetch me 75 bits and five days' trail rations." The stallion dashed off into the mist. Iron Bound walked right up to Silver Cross. "You had a good laugh at my expense yesterday," he seethed. "But I suppose that the joke's on you after all."

"Not sure I get it if that's the case," Cross retorted, a defiant smile on his lips. "Is the funny part where this piece of pond scum somehow outdid you and your whole crew?"

CRACK!

Iron Bound's full-hoofed haymaker smashed into Cross's face and sent him sprawling on the ground. "No," he vented, his voice full of unrestrained anger. "The funny part is where you get the will to live beaten out of you and I sell your soulless husk to the Diamond Dogs as a chew toy." He turned toward the encampment. "Halfnose, Hope Dasher!" A pair of tough-looking stallions approached wordlessly. "Get this flankface on the shackle line."

The muscular henchmen hauled Cross's half-conscious form from the forest loam and roughly dragged him toward the main encampment, passing a stallion carrying the bounty in a pair of haversacks on the way. They dropped him back to the ground next to the yellow earth pony mare he'd seen earlier and tightened a pair of iron shackles around his joints.

Okay, Derpy commented. Do we panic now?

The voice brought Cross back from the inky blackness. He swiveled his eyes back to where he'd stood a few seconds before to witness a minor disagreement unfold.

"One condition," Iron Bound stated as he deliberately withheld Feather's portion of the bounty. "Supplies are worth more to us right now than money." He gestured to the object slung across her back. "I'll be taking his sword too."

Feather's gaze narrowed. It occurred to Cross that this was the most emotion that he'd seen from his traitorous partner all morning. Whatever she considered in that moment though, was quickly dismissed. She levitated the sword & scabbard, laying them to rest at Iron Bound's hooves. "May I leave now?" she asked discourteously. "I've got a lot of ground to cover."

Iron Bound relinquished the haversack to her possession. "I like your professionalism, Miss Unicorn. Perhaps one day we'll do business again."

"I doubt it," Feather stated coldly as she disappeared in a flash of pink light.

Both Fink and Iron Bound recoiled a bit as she did so. Iron Bound spat contemptuously. "Hornmongers. Never did have a taste for their kind."

Fink chuckled darkly as he retrieved his share of the bounty. "Can't argue with they handiwork though."

Another sound much closer to Cross summoned his attention.. The earth pony mare shackled in line next to him was sobbing softly, clearly muting her voice so as not to anger the slavers. Her coat of brilliant yellow complemented her curly but well-kept mane's shade of auburn. She bore a Cutie Mark that resembled a pair of wheat tillers with floret spikes at the tips, and it shook along with the rest of her form as she tried to hide her sorrow from those who might beat her for it.

Seriously, Mister Cross! Derpy lamented. That's gonna be us if you don't do something!

"What's your name, lass?" Cross half-coughed around the swelling of his left cheek.

The earth pony mare looked up at him for the first time. When she spoke, her high-pitched voice sounded much younger than her appearance let on. "What does it matter now?"

"They've taken your freedom," Cross admonished. "They can't take your name; 'tis yours to give."

The mare studied his bruised face with tearful eyes. "Golden Harvest," she whispered.

Cross smiled. "You have a beautiful name, Miss Harvest, but you should try having a bit more faith." He closed his eyes. "That which is beautiful in this world does not suffer needlessly."

Golden Harvest looked away from him as if angered somewhat, but she did not return to sobbing.

You say that a lot, Derpy observed. Does having 'faith' really make a difference?

Certainly not on its own, Cross responded. But knowing in your heart that everything will turn out as it should clears away many stumbling blocks that we set before ourselves.

"What d'you mean yor not gonna kill 'im?" Fink shouted.

Cross turned his attention back to the bottom of the cliff, mildly surprised that Rat Fink had remained.

"Why did you assume that I would?" Iron Bound rebuffed. "I happen to be in the slave trade; I never waste a good set of working muscles."

What does this guy have against you anyway? asked Derpy.

He's got quite a few reasons to dislike me, Cross answered in mental monotone. It's just that most of them are his own bloody fault.

Fink stomped his front hooves. "I thought you was out fer revenge after he made fools outta you n' yor gang."

Iron Bound waved dismissively. "To my mind, a lifetime of slavery is far better vengeance than a quick execution." He stared dangerously at Rat Fink. "I think you'd best be on your way, friend. You've got what you wanted."

Fink's contorted expression made his dissatisfaction plainly apparent. He cast about as if in search of something as Iron Bound began to walk away. Before the rust-hued pegasus had gotten too far out of earshot, he found it. "You're not gonna want to keep him alive, Chief," Fink shouted with a hint of smugness. "He's a stinkin' Topian."

Iron Bound whirled about in an instant. "He's a WHAT?!"

What's a toh-pea-uhn? Derpy wondered.

Cross groaned. "That moron . . ."

Iron Bound marched right back to Fink's position. The green stallion's smugness faded from his face. Open-mouthed dread replaced it as Iron Bound grabbed him by his vest's collar and nearly lifted him bodily. The chief's voice dripped with anger. "You mean to tell me that you brought a bleeding TOPIAN into my camp and didn't think to tell me about it?!"

Fink's pupils had narrowed to pinpricks. "I- Um- I didn't think you'd try to . . . y'know . . ."

Iron Bound hauled Fink by his collar and flung the unlucky wretch through the air. Fink came to a harsh landing several feet away as the chief barked orders. "Halfnose, Hope Dasher! Put this piece of filth on the shackle line! Bring me the Topian!"

"WHAT?!" Fink screeched, all pretense at hiding his naturally high-pitched voice now gone. "You can't do that! We had a deal!"

"We did indeed," said Iron Bound. "One viable slave for 100 bits. Since the one that you brought me is no use, I'll have to take your sorry hide instead."

Rat Fink tried to fight back against the slavers, but a single strong punch to the jaw was all that it took to reduce him to a whimpering invalid. They stripped his gear and dragged him toward the next set of manacles on the iron chain. Cross felt his own shackles released for a moment only to feel a similar, portable pair lock tightly into place. The two goons dragged him roughly before their chief and forced him to kneel.

Iron Bound snorted angrily, but a hint of curiosity shone through in his voice. "So you're one of those rotten plague-carriers as well?"

Cross looked up at him with a half-grin. "Is that what you heard about my people?"

"'Tis all one needs to hear," Iron Bound responded, taking Cross's claymore off his own shoulders to examine it. "I never thought I'd see one for meself. Who knows? Maybe I still haven't." A dark scowl crossed his face. "Not that it matters; I won't take the risk of spreading pestilence this far from civilization proper." He handed the sword and scabbard to one of the two subordinates holding Cross down. "Hope Dasher, take this diseased filth ten minutes' march north to the clearing at the other end of the canyon. Snuff him out with his own pigsticker and burn the corpse."

Hope Dasher received the sword with reverence. "It'd be mah pleasure, Chief."

LL

Silver Cross wound his way between thick patches of poison joke at a slow but steady march. He moved with more care than usual to avoid tripping over the clinking chain between his manacles, but the impatient pair of slavers to his rear took turns prodding him with the point of his own sword in an effort to get him up to a trot. They might have even had the wherewithal to issue some creative threats if they weren't so busy arguing over who would get to hold the beautiful blade and for how long. Cross couldn't understand exactly what they were saying due to their unusually thick accents, and it didn't help that one of them always had the sword handle in his teeth.

The morning's fog drenched the entire world in a haze of white that was only countered by the faint blue glow coming from the Poison Joke flowers all around. The setting looked positively ethereal, as if the three ponies had crossed into a mystic realm between life and death.

Are you crying? Cross asked with his thoughts. The sound of Derpy sobbing within his mind had been growing steadily louder for a while now. It continued unabated in spite of his question. You know you're not in any danger, don't you? he continued. A fairy's life is surely beyond mortal reckoning. You'll likely go back to the place from whence you came, or perhaps to the side of another-

I don't care about that! Derpy cut him off. You're about to die! Why don't you do something?!

What can I do, little fairy? Cross responded. I won't stand much of a chance against these two bounders with my hooves tied, not even counting the fact that they've got my sword.

Derpy considered this for a moment. Well, kick them into the Poison Joke or something!

Cross chuckled inwardly. With the point of a blade betwixt my shoulders? I'd impale myself.

Derpy searched her brain for other possibilities but came up with nothing more reasonable. When she spoke again, her voice had gained greater stability. How can you be so calm? Nopony's okay with something like this happening to them. Derpy stopped to allow Cross to give an answer, but none came forth. For half-minute, the only sounds to be heard were soft hoofsteps, the rustling chain, and Halfnose trying to mumble something around the claymore's handle.

I was once a soldier, Derpy, Cross suddenly began. Spend enough time with death all around you, with the taste of it on the wind every morn, and you become numb to the fear of it. Most ponies in this situation would react exactly the way that you are; I can only feel as if I'm walking into the presence of an old friend.

Derpy felt a twinge of horror at Cross's reasoning but tried to power through it. What about those 'Green Pastures'? I thought you wanted to go there; are you giving up on them?

Cross smiled despite the pain it incurred from the wound on his cheek. The Tome never guarantees that you'll see the Green Pastures in this world. In my long travels, I've become used to the idea that my paradise may indeed lie beyond the boundaries of this life.

The clearing that Iron Bound had mentioned was just up ahead. The sun shone through the fog overhead, casting a pale golden light on the grass therein. The beautiful sight brought a wave of hopelessness over Derpy's mind, causing her to cry again from the stress.

Please—weep no more, little fairy, Cross requested. I do not want it to be the last sound that I hear before passing on. Truth be told, I've enjoyed our time together.

But I wasn't any help," Derpy sobbed.

Nonsense, Cross chided as he crossed the treeline into the clearing. Just having somepony I could talk to in the lonely moments, somepony who I didn't have to watch my tongue with granted me one of the only wishes I've ever had for myself.

"Alright, on yor rump," commanded Hope Dasher, pushing on Cross's backside as he did.

Cross sat calmly in the damp grass as the faint rays of the sun warmed his back. He felt the edge of his own blade against the back of his neck.

"Oi," Halfnose shouted. The feeling of cold metal departed. "Who sed you git t'do it?" Another petty argument began to unfold.

It's not fair, Derpy continued. I don't want you to die. You're a good pony.

Is that so? Cross retorted. Would you still say such a thing if you knew how much blood is on my hooves?

What?

I've taken many lives, Derpy, said Cross as gruesome images flashed through both their minds. As a soldier, it was my duty. After that, it was a necessity. I've probably killed more ponies than this entire band of slavers ever has, and I'm not even sure if all of them truly deserved it.

Derpy remained dumbstruck as image after gory image and the cries of the fallen assaulted her senses.

If I escaped from this retribution, do you understand that not a single slaver would leave this valley alive? Cross elaborated. A warrior stallion can only give death to those who threaten him with it. Could even one so innocent as yourself willfully exchange their lives for mine?

Cross ceased the showcase of his sins, and Derpy said nothing.

"Right then," said Halfnose. "You git to do 'im, an' oi git first dibs on what's in 'is pockets."

"Fine," responded Hope Dasher. "But if you find that weird book those Topians carry 'round, we're still burnin' it."

The argument had ended, and the blade settled back onto Cross's neck once again.

"Now don't you get any funny ideas," Hope Dasher threatened in a low voice. "I'm gonna do this in one stroke, but if you even move a muscle, my friend an' I are gonna make you beg for death 'fore 'tis all said and done." The blade rose. "On three."

Halfnose giggled. "Make it slow, Dashie! Let 'im savor it!"

A moment of silence hung on the misty air.

"One."

You big dummy! Derpy suddenly yelled. I don't care what you say! Life is worth living!

"Two."

I don't care what some dumb book says either, and I don't care what happens next! I just want you to live!

"Three."

LL

Golden Harvest watched a flock of birds rise from the trees to the north and felt tears welling in her eyes at the sight.

One space over from her on the shackle line, Rat Fink sighed as if he'd just finished a large meal. "Well, least somethin' good come out o' all this."

Golden whirled on her fellow captive, her wide eyes ablaze with anger.

"Whoa missy," Fink responded, trying to hold up his chained front hooves. "Don't ye begrudge a man the satisfaction of 'is enemy gettin' 'is due. Ye only knew 'im for but a moment." His gaze became distant. "I knew 'im fer years 'fore now, an' he was a regular villain thru n' thru."

Golden's emerald eyes narrowed. "I know a villain when I see one, Mr. Fink."

Fink smiled. "Seems it didn't help ye much in avoidin' this lot." He edged closer, rattling the shackle line. "But let's not have bad blood come 'twixt us. We're mateys on the line now; 'tis almost like bein' bunkmates." He licked his lips.

Golden shuddered. "You lay one hoof on me and I'll throttle you with your own chains," she seethed.

Fink had wanted to come across as confidently sly, but his true nature showed when the smile on his face vanished amid a round of shivers. "Perish the thought," he muttered quietly. He began to turn away from the hateful mare when he felt a tingling feeling in his front hooves. He looked at them just in time to see his manacles unlatch. Thinking quickly, Fink caught them before they hit the ground and began to snigger. He turned back to Golden. "Looks like it really 'tis my lucky day." His joyous tone died in his throat when he saw the mare lift one unchained hoof to her face in shock. He gulped. "You too?"

Golden Harvest nodded slowly.

"Help!" came a sudden shout from across the fog. "It's the Topian! He's escaped! He's over he-AAUGH!"

Rat Fink dropped his chains and dusted his hooves. "Well, that's that then."

"What do you mean?" Golden Harvest asked unthinkingly, casting about to see the slavers' reactions. She focused on Fink to see him plotting a course. "You're going to try to run through all these hooligans?"

"I mean to say that I'm gettin' while the gettin's good," Fink replied. "And ye'd best do the same." A look of wide-eyed terror arose from his face. "I've seen wot comes next before. Just gets messier from 'ere."

When the shout regarding the Topian rang through the mist, Iron Bound looked up with alarm from a map spread over a makeshift log table.

"That sounds like Yellow Belly," said the tall earth pony sitting across from him in his gruff, no-nonsense voice.

The entire camp listened collectively, not entirely believing what they'd heard and waiting for a continuance. The next sound that came through the fog was the panicked clucking of a chicken.

The earth pony at the table raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think we had any of those along."

"We don't," Iron Bound replied just before another cry sounded, closer this time.

"No! I'm just the bookkeeper! No, don't- AAAAUGH!"

An earth pony suddenly came into view as his body hurtled through the air toward the table and landed squarely in a patch of the glowing blue flowers a few yards away. He picked himself up and immediately doubled over, holding both front legs around his gut. Most who were watching expected to see a grisly wound, but the earth pony instead began vomiting heaps of golden coins.

Iron Bound spread his wings toward the ground, the blades held underneath sliding out as he did so. The weapons clicked as they locked into an extended position. "Rally to me!" he shouted. "Kill the Topian; don't bother taking him alive! And for crying out loud, don't let yourself touch the Poison Joke!"

The chief looked about wildly as fresh screams rang out from multiple directions. At first, it seemed as if the Topian -- who'd somehow survived his execution -- was moving fast, striking quickly and dashing to the next target before he could be pinned down. However, as the panicked cries increased in multitude, Iron Bound realized that there had to be more than one assailant. But how? Iron Bound's wondering ceased when the form of Silver Cross charged through the mist, brandishing the beautiful claymore in his powerful jaws and headed straight for his companion's position.

"Big Melon," Iron Bound signaled to the burly earth pony. "Put an end to this."

The large stallion, whose battle gauntlets showed a preference for hoofticuffs, reared up on two hooves and assumed a fighting stance. "Don't worry; I got him, Chief."

Iron Bound readied his own blades, planning to slice the Topian to ribbons when either of the two combatants fell. However, the second that Melon's hooves hit the charging pegasus, Cross's form exploded into a plume of pinkish smoke. The earth pony stallion overbalanced and toppled into a nearby patch of perilous blue flowers with a resounding thud. Iron Bound watched in awe as Melon's head grew to twice the size of his body. The now impossibly deformed earth pony struggled to get up, but it was no use; his legs could no longer even touch the ground.

"I don't got him, Chief," Big Melon said in his gruff, no-nonsense voice.

"IDIOTS!" Iron Bound howled above the screams from the fog. "Stand right where you are! The Topian is dead! You're seeing illusions! It's a bloody magic trick!"

The shouts and cries did not cease. Another Silver Cross appeared from the fog, this time charging for the chief himself.

"Find the unicorn!" Iron Bound shouted, standing his ground and staring down the illusion that didn't return his gaze. "She's got to be behind this!" The image was almost upon him. From this close, the chief could spot the lack of detail that gave the slightly hazy image away as a fake. He smiled confidently. "It's a trick!" he repeated above the din. "The Topian isn't here!"

The image of the charging pegasus exploded into pink mist just three feet away. A very real Silver Cross emerged from it, the broken chain of his manacles dragging the ground as the point of his gleaming blade moved with lightning speed. Iron Bound didn't even have time to look surprised before the sword buried itself to the hilt in his heart. The slaver fell to the ground in a patch of Poison Joke, a confident smile forever transfixed on his lifeless visage. Even after the claymore had long withdrawn from his chest, the glowing blue flowers changed nothing, apparently satisfied with what had come to them.

LL

From the very moment when Cross had broken his bonds and turned his blade back against his would-be executioners, Derpy had found it a struggle to keep her eyes open. Even though Cross controlled his own eyelids, Derpy found she could still shut out what he saw if she wanted to. Right now, she most certainly wanted to. However, even turning her vision away from the horribly violent scenes playing out around her did not shut out the noise. The blood-curdling screams and desperate cries of the slavers-turned-victims echoed in her ears. The wet slicing and chopping of the claymore at work would have sickened her if her stomach was her own. Derpy kept her eyes shut and tried her best to ignore the sounds, but the more she did this, the more she became aware of something even worse that was rising up from the inside of her currently joined consciousness.

Hearing a lull in the battle and feeling that Cross wasn't currently killing something, she cautiously squinted and hoped that the whole thing was over with. Perhaps Cross had decided to show mercy after all? What she saw immediately informed her that this was not so. Silver Cross dashed headlong at a pair of slavers who had seen enough of the Topian's handiwork to know that running was the only option. Cross used his wings to extend his jumps over the Poison Joke flowers and add bursts of speed to his stride; it was clear that the clumsy pair to his front only had seconds left to live.

One of the two, a lightly armored pegasus stallion panicked and took to the air, perhaps hoping that the grim-faced avenger behind would go for the easier kill. However, his trajectory had made him suddenly predictable. Derpy felt Cross turn his head mightily and fling his spinning claymore skyward. The whirling blade caught the pegasus in the shoulder with enough force to cleave down to his waist. A surprised wail died in his throat with a gurgle just before he dropped like a stone. Cross gave a powerful flap of his wings and rose into the air, tearing his claymore from the plummeting pony in a somersault and coming down hard on the other slaver in the next instant.

Derpy closed her eyes again, but knew from the sound and sensation of the handle in Cross's mouth that the earth pony slaver had just lost his head. In the darkness caused by her avoidance of the merciless violence that continued unabated, Derpy only had Cross's inner consciousness for company. What she felt and heard from it seemed completely unrelated to the pony she'd gotten to know so far. Given the way that Cross had described his past, Derpy had expected him to feel guilt and shame as he fought for his life. However, the mind of the warrior pegasus positively glowed with malevolent glee. His mind spun faster than his blade, constantly evaluating the battlefield and coming up with creative and satisfying ways to bring death to his foes. His lack of fear astounded Derpy; his enjoyment of the situation even more so. As she dared to look closer though, she realized that he was not reveling in the deaths of the slavers. Cross felt delight at the removal of complications. A single task was now before him and he was free from worry or consideration. All that was left was the chance to use his talent to its fullest extent, and Cross could not help but feel the same joy that an artist might feel when painting, or a singer when performing.

All of this Derpy had begun to understand as she effectively put her ear to Cross's heart, but it was not what worried her. Behind the workings of his inner mind, Derpy felt something else stirring. It was hard to identify, and she felt almost instinctively afraid of it. It was a mess, a whirling jumble of discarded thoughts that grew and grew as Cross's mind worked faster and faster. It was a tornado within the tornado, but it reeked of contradiction and a savage emotion that was a far cry even from the joy of combat. Derpy did her best to ignore the byproduct, but it grew ever larger with each passing second. She did her best to hide away in a corner of her mind and not think about the part she'd played in all this.

LL

"You can open your eyes, now," said Cross.

Derpy followed the command and found herself staring directly into the tearful eyes of the yellow-furred mare who'd been on the shackle line.

"Is it over?" asked Golden Harvest, her voice wavering.

A unicorn mare became visible through the fog, using her magic to clear the mists away. "It is for them," Feather Quill responded as she hopped over a dismembered corpse.

Feather? Derpy thought. You mean she . . .

"Why hello, old chum," Cross remarked playfully as he cleaned his crimsoned sword on a patch of grass. "Made the routine a bit obscure this time, didn't you? One normally expects some kind of advance notice, what?"

You're kidding, thought Derpy.

"It was an act?" Golden Harvest said incredulously.

"Most of it was," Feather Quill half-coughed after inhaling a bit of smoke from an extinguished campfire. "Though I didn't count on them taking the sword." She grimaced. "Or on Fink to get you sentenced to death and himself put on the shackle line."

"Why not make a note of that one?" Cross joked as Golden Harvest's mouth hung open. "Next time, count on the idiot to be an idiot." He smiled ruefully. "It wouldn't be a bad idea to let your jolly partner know what's up before he gets beaten n' enslaved either."

If Feather was sorry, she didn't show it. "You can blame your friend Fink for that as well. He surprised me at camp just an hour after you went to sleep, and he wasn't in the mood for any tricks. Fink might be a dunce, but he knows us well enough. If I'd tipped you off to what I had planned, he would have known."

"Fair enough," said Cross as he sheathed the newly polished blade. "I think good old Fink's even been on the receiving end of the 'Number 5' before. Good call on your part, Feather."

Derpy could have sworn that she saw the beginnings of a smile on the gray unicorn's face.

"Mine always are," Feather replied.

"Amazing," Golden Harvest gasped, drawing the attention of her saviors. "The two of you are truly seasoned warriors."

"Campaigners, properly," Cross responded. "Although the greater error in this case is my own, young lass." He gestured with a flourish toward the yellow pony while facing his partner. "Feather, may I present Lady Golden Harvest, the only flower in this valley fit to adorn a bouquet."

"A pleasure," Feather Quill said impassively as Golden Harvest blushed.

Cross made the same gesture toward Feather. "And this, Miss Harvest, is Feather Quill - the stone-faced, stone-colored, stone-hearted-" He winced as something small impacted his side. "Stone-throwing Beauty of the Northerlands, Sorceress Extraordinaire."

"'Tis an honor, truly," Golden Harvest managed while stifling a giggle. "Only a Sorceress could have cast such a spell."

Feather Quill raised an eyebrow for a second before pulling back her cloak. Emblazoned on her flank was a Cutie Mark resembling a quill pen dipped into a red ink well. "Try not to take Cross too seriously," Feather advised. "I'm no Sorceress. Like all unicorns, my most powerful spell stems from my talent. I was a scribe before I became a traveler, and I can use my magic to bring the phantoms of my imagination to life, at least in the eyes of others."

Golden Harvest paid rapt attention as Feather spoke, but she quickly turned to Cross in the same instant that Feather ceased to do so. "And you, sir?"

The pegasus stallion stood a bit slack-jawed. "Didn't I introduce myself before?"

Nope, Derpy answered.

"Oh," said Cross, seemingly to no one. His confident smile returned as he reared up on his hind legs, one hoof resting on the handle of his claymore. As his cloak fell away, it revealed his Cutie Mark to be a whirling cyclone with a cross-like sword of gunmetal gray at its center. "Silver Cross, the upstanding citizen-soldier turned good-for-nothing vagabond at your service."

"Well, good for one thing anyway," Feather corrected as she glanced about at the destruction revealed by the clearing mist.

"Now then," Cross began as he came back down from his pose and walked toward the now-visible supply cart of the slaver band. "With our supplies replenished, we can venture wherever we wish." He paused to look the items over before turning back. "Though right now, I really wish I knew where the nearest town is."

"My hometown is just a day's journey to the southeast," Golden Harvest volunteered enthusiastically.

"Truly?" Feather remarked, her voice suddenly full of obvious curiosity. "Did you tell the slavers this? Was that why they made the trek into this canyon?"

Golden Harvest looked to the side for a moment before responding. "I'm afraid so. They beat it out of me when I was first captured last night." Her gaze fell to the ground. "I'm not as strong as the two of you; I blurted it out without thinking."

"Say," Cross ventured, taking a step toward the yellow earth pony. "This hometown of yours, it isn't overrun with this Poison Joke stuff, is it?"

"Oh no," Golden Harvest replied as a smile returned to her face. "It's a beautiful place, Mr. Cross, and I'm sure that all the townsfolk will be so very grateful when they learn that you took care of these nasty villains."

"Gratitude is good," Feather mused.

"Just wait 'till you see it," Golden Harvest continued, a faraway look in her eyes. "Have you ever been to a place where green pastures just go on and on as far as the eye can see?"

Silver Cross turned slowly to Feather Quill with a massive grin plastered on his face. "Can't say that I have. Sounds like a veritable paradise though, right Feather?."

Feather stared back coldly. "If I hear anything even remotely resembling an 'I told you so' come out of that mouth of yours . . ."

LL

The midday sun shone down from high above as the trio of ponies left the canyon to find a simple wooden bridge that crossed over the wide river flowing from the north. A well-traveled dirt road curved its way across the landscape to either side of the bridge. As they casually took to the southeast, Feather Quill occupied herself with asking pointed questions of Golden Harvest, leaving Silver Cross to tow the supply cart at the rear. All about the three of them were emerald waves of grass that flowed over the hillocks to dark treelines and mountains in the distance.

Are you quite alright, little fairy? he asked. You've been terribly quiet since the battle. There was no answer. Were you frightened?

Yes, came the timid response.

Of the slavers? Cross questioned. Or of me?

Both, I think, Derpy replied.

Cross smiled. 'Tis nothing to be ashamed of. I wish that more ponies had a distaste for violence. The world would be a better place, no doubt.

I'm not ashamed, Derpy corrected, though she hadn't really thought about it before that moment. I just- You could have broken free any time that you wanted to, right?

Of the shackles, you mean? thought Cross. Yes, I suppose.

Why did you wait? Derpy asked. If you planned on- She found the next word hard to utter. If you planned on killing them, why did you wait for me to say something?

Cross's gait became a bit slower. I hadn't planned on it.

You what?

His smile disappeared. I lost faith, little fairy. When Derpy didn't respond, he began to elaborate. When I reassured Feather by the campfire last night, I was going through the motions. As large as Feather's doubts had become, mine were deeper still. As I'm sure you can tell by now, she never puts on faces, so it was up to me to put on the brave one. One of the cart's wooden wheels bumped over a small pebble in the road. I was tired, to be frank. Years of searching for the Green Pastures had turned up nothing even close, and the promise of finding them beyond the grave became more appealing with each passing day. The only reason that I appeared resolute was for Feather's sake. When it looked like she had finally betrayed me, I felt free of the need to pretend any longer. I thought that my time had finally come.

Do you still think that?

The corners of Cross's mouth lifted once more. Not at all. You see, by idealizing my own end I'd overlooked something terribly important.

At that moment, Derpy felt a curious warmth embrace her. It reminded her of a hug, although she felt no physical embrace.

I hadn't found the Green Pastures, Cross continued. But I did find you, Derpy, and you bade me to continue. A fairy entered my mind just as I lost hope and told me to stand once more, regardless of my horrid past or even my despoiled present. I spent a long time looking for the land of miracles, only to nearly ignore the little miracle that practically fell into my lap. He laughed inwardly. I would never pull on your heartstrings for a bit of sympathy, little fairy. Before you spoke those strong words to me, I was ready to accept death. After you spoke them . . .

The feeling of warmth intensified. Derpy felt as if she were surrounded by clean sheets and a fluffy comforter.

Well, thought Cross. What I mean to say is, 'Thank you, little fairy.' Had you not been brave enough to confront me, I would have forgotten the joy of life and died on the doorstep of paradise.

You're welcome, Cross.

Cross raised an eyebrow. You sound sleepy, Miss Hooves.

Derpy yawned. I think I am.

Cross stopped in his tracks. Actually, you're starting to sound as if you're further away than before. There was no response. Are you there, little fairy? He remained still for a few moments, his wings spread lightly as he looked to the open sky.

"Cross?"

Silver Cross brought his gaze back to the path ahead upon hearing the voice of his partner. Feather Quill and Golden Harvest had paused to look back at him.

"Do you hear something?" Feather asked.

Cross smiled disarmingly. "Only the sound of tittering gossip. You don't have to start fighting over me just yet, you know."

Feather's eyes widened considerably. With only a single terrifying scowl shown to Cross she turned about mightily, nearly dragging Golden Harvest in her wake with the apparent intent of leaving her partner in the dust.

Cross resumed his forward pace with a renewed sense of vigor in his heart. See you again, my little fairy.

~E02 End~

NEXT
Amethyst 1B: "Locked Room"

Comments

[Remember the porter]

Just another day of grand adventuring for "Miss" Derpy Hooves
Good job

[DreadedCandiru2]

Well, some things need breaking. Things like Rarity's Big Wall-o-denial.

[AkibaWhite]

699145
Sorry the chapter's a bit late everypony, but the site gave me a lot of trouble over the weekend (even deleting one of the scenes and forcing me to rewrite it for no apparent reason). Thank you all very much for your continued interest! Remember to comment if you have any particular praises or complaints; every bit of feedback helps me write a better story!

Candiru, I wonder if you'd mind elaborating on your comment. It sounds like a suggestion, but it's a bit vague. I understand if you haven't the time; I'm just curious.

[DreadedCandiru2]

701895
What I meant to say was that Rarity needed to hear what Derpy told her. She might not have wanted to and doesn't like what she heard but she definitely needs to see where she's going wrong in life.

(I should think that Applejack would probably be saying "About tahm SOMEPONY said that!!" about now.)

[AkibaWhite]

701925
I'm glad you think so! I was actually afraid that I'd get a lot of complaints about Derpy's rant. I tried very hard to write that scene so that neither of the two came across as unsympathetically wrong—I could actually make a good argument for either of their viewpoints.

Also, if you've got a hankerin' for Applejack, you're gonna like Episode 05.

[DreadedCandiru2]

702027
Well, yes, both sides do have their merits and glaring flaws. Derpy's principal weakness seems to be that she really doesn't understand societal norms owing to her upbringing and Rarity, well, if Derpy knew how little the fashionista liked herself deep down, she'd have kept quiet. After all, most of what motivates Rarity is being ashamed of her origins.

As for Chapter 5, I can't wait.

[Travelguy62]

This is Just Freaking Fantastic. I can't wait for the next chapter, you really made Derpy into a much more complex character, just from the few scenes she has in the series, and have done so magnificently, I might add. Seriously Keep up the awesome work!

[AkibaWhite]

708927
Wow. I finally received a compliment on the execution of my primary motivation for writing this! Thank you!

By the way, does anypony have any comments on the effectiveness of the humorous elements in this chapter? Particularly the "Derpy in a Dress" scene? I just got a complaint from a reader who thought that scene was "borderline pornographic". Really?

[Travelguy62]

712870
I thought it was rather funny, Derpy trying to please spike by dressing up like one of his *cough* maids, not realizing what she was actually doing, if anything it just adds more lovable character to Derpy. Besides this is a story, you didn't describe it at any length being close to obscene, at least for my taste. That reader must have a pretty imaginative/dirty mind! hmmm?

[Mystic]

Took me long enough to get to this. Another great update. However, is that Spike x Derpy shipping I see on the horizon? I'll be damned if it is; I have never seen that one before! Haha.

Keep up the great work, and I look forward to the next chapter.

[AkibaWhite]

727783
Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying this, and I hope to meet your expectations in the future as well [strike]because I'm secretly a terrible writer[/strike].

>Have you submitted it to EqD yet?
No. This story actually received quite a bit of criticism over on ponychan (mostly for being confusing), and I want to give EQD my best shot. I plan to submit once I'm done with Episode 05 and have had a chance to see the effect that the first complete story arc has. Besides, I can't submit a story w/o best pony . That's just wrong. Seriously though, thanks for the vote of confidence! I'm in the middle of writing Episode 04 as we speak!

I wish Mr. First Dislike had left a comment, though. I'd be happy to know how I could improve.

[Ponky]

Oh. My. Gosh.

Oh my gosh.

Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh.

Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!!!

THIS IS AWESOME! You're seriously my new favorite writer. I love your style! It's fun to read, perfectly descriptive, truly emotional, and the way. you. characterize. is. PERFEEECT!

Plus the story line is incredible. And all the character interactions feel so real. And teenage Spike is to die for. And Derpy is so cuuuuute!

Oh, I'm freaking out. I love this story to death. So many things to love. Can't wait for the next chapter!!!

[Csquared08]

That was very interesting, this whole flashback sequence. I really want to know what's going on now, both past and present...

[Rosencranz]

I'm liking this so far. Will definitely finish when I next have time.

[Jake The Army Guy]

712870

Am I missing something? What Derpy in a Dress scene? All I see is a medieval seting with Derpy inside some dude's head. Did I just go full retard?

[Redbush]

the hell is going on?

[RazgrizS57]

741258
I blame thank you for my sudden interest in this story. You should talk about it more often.

[Honeytiger]

741258Honeytiger left a comment on another storye arlier about how someone's profile picture fit their comment more than any other Honeytiger has seen, now Honeytiger has seen this one. It fit even more. [ /color]