• Published 27th Mar 2019
  • 1,605 Views, 225 Comments

Five Score – A Prench Tale Vol.1 - Alsey



Getting a cutie mark for my birthday was already strange enough, but what will I do now that my body has suddenly decided to take a Prench leave..?

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17 – Weirdsome Meetings

Laurence's View

I sidestep to follow, throwing a quick jab-cross combo and hitting my targets – if barely. My limitations are still painfully obvious against a moving opponent, but I'm getting there.

My shoulders and upper arms are less mobile, less independent from my torso, which certainly doesn't help either. From my earlier tests, hooks are only a flimsy fraction of their original power, but maybe I should try to put a lot more of my body into it? Not easy when my mass isn't distributed as it should..!

All right, no more fussing! Focus on the present, Laurence!

Now I need to close the distance, and I throw another jab-cross, more successfully this time!

Ah! I'm so eager to get back to my usual routine, once I'm fully updated on the basics! Despite the reduced ability to rotate my wrists and my shoulders, I feel my uppercuts would still pack quite a punch, to say the least! If only I could just get a better feel for my own movements and range to try it out properly..!

Sidestepping again, I prepare myself for the next combo and—

And I lose my footing, falling sideways onto the wet forest floor just as I was readying my jab..!

The sting of the fall is nothing compared to my frustration – why was my right foot moving to lead again!?

Oh and of course, every time I lose my balance these damn wings start to act up, making me even more unbalanced!

“You okay down there, Big Boss?”

I look up at Clem, as she takes off one of her focus mitts to give me a hand.

“Not any less pissed off than the last three times, if that answers your question.”, I deadpan.

Of course that makes her smirk, but by now I've learned there's no malice behind it: “You're getting better, I promise. That was your best fall yet!”

“And you really missed your career as a bad stand-up comedian, funny how things are, huh?”

“Remind me to have us work on your witty comebacks... After you get the 'not tripping over yourself' part, I mean.”, she winks.

My stern face is answer enough this time, and as Clem pulls me up, it helps hiding my cringe at the feel of actual fingers closing around what's left of my own hand.

Damn... I don't want to have my mood ruined so early in the day!

Leaning against a tree for support, I try to breathe the frustration out, but it's not easy – not when each inhale reminds me of the unnatural distance between my nose and my lungs, or when I have these drying smears of mud sticking to that ugly coat of fur, or when my back's killing me like this..!

“Does it hurt?”, comes Clem's concerned voice.

I must've let the pain show too overtly... Bringing my face back to something more neutral, I stagger away from the tree, fists clenched: “It's not comfortable, but I'll manage. Let's get back to it!”

She shrugs, not looking exactly convinced. “You're the boss, Boss. Though maybe you shouldn't keep your, uh, 'hands' curled like that when you strike. Try it like when we trained for depth perception.”

“You think it's easy to punch things with your fingertips?”, I grumble, staring at the misshapen lumps of flesh and keratin.

“What I think is that doing it like you do reduces your range by almost a third, and as your upper arm's shorter and your elbow's closer to the body, you can't build enough momentum. So, you should compensate with the, well, knuckles I guess.”

Still looking at the offending limbs, I flex them experimentally, curling and extending, again, and again, trying to get a good feel for that movement that's both familiar and alien... But the only 'feel' I get from this is nauseating.

I kick the ground in anger, trying to chase the feeling away: “I have to change so many things in how I move, I hate it!”

“Yeah I see that,” Clem tells me, “but that's the only way we'll bring you back on top of your game!”

And I hate it when she makes sense because I sound even more ridiculous when I'm complaining..! “All right, let's try it your way then...”

We get back in position, and I force myself to shift to that direct, pragmatic, but wholly counter-intuitive state of mind – don't think, just act. Clem readies her stance, I get myself balanced on my feet, and we begin.

My first try comes too short, I wasn't sure enough of my reach, but on the second I manage to hit both focus mitts. The next combo still strikes true, and Clem sidesteps to increase the distance. I follow, and my jab-cross combo is successful on the first try. We stay in position for the next three, allowing me to fine-tune my movements and my strength, before shifting toward my left and performing the same pattern, combo after combo, the hardened nail hitting the cushioned pads.

I have to admit, doing it like this is far more efficient, both for the quality of my punches and my range management – enough to be able to mostly go on automatic.

Thinking back to the previous times I had to fight, once I let instincts take over I had a tendency to strike hoof-first, and I remember it could have devastating effects. It's hard to imagine I could move so... So naturally, almost. A lot of details are hazy now, but I know I performed functional approximations of my usual fighting techniques...

Am I just thinking about it too hard?

Of course I am, when I'm supposed to acquaint myself with this fucking body! It's like trying not to blink while you're constantly staring at the sun!

My focus wanes, without much surprise, and I decide to stop here – I don't want to injure Clem or myself by being careless. “Okay, let's take a break for a bit..!”, I pant, moving closer to a trunk to prevent myself from falling forward. “What would you say of a little walk..?”

She too has worked quite a bit of sweat despite the weather being on the chilly side, and she looks more than happy to take her mitts off: “Good idea, my arms have been getting a little tired here. Your hoof punches are something else!”

I'm annoyed to give these overgrown nails any kind of praise, but involving them does improve everything from my balance to the fluidity of my movements... Well, the stupid things will get caked in mud all the same, so ner!

And so, after a quick drink from the bottles she brought, Clem and I start rambling forth through the forest in companionable silence. It's raining a little, like it has been sporadically today, but the trees shield us from most of it. The splatter of water on the leafs is soothing music for my mind, helping me forget the soreness of my whole body. It's probably still too early to subject myself to this intense training regimen, but what Clem doesn't know won't hurt her...

We happen to reach the old stone wall, and—

Oh! I completely forgot to ask her! How could I even forget about that!?

“Clem, any news on those stray dogs?”

“Hm? Oh, you certainly made an impression, let me tell you! I've heard this morning that they've been caught by guys in Saint-Beauzély, that's almost twelve kilometers from here.”

“Good to hear, that's at least something we won't have to look out for.”

“Yeah... By the way, did you get more info on what these kids were doing so late in the middle of the woods?”

I snort, recalling what Vi told me last night. “Well a filly and a colt wanted some time alone, if you can believe it. Then two other foals got curious, and followed after them. They were lucky enough to have all been together when the dogs found them...”

“'Some time alone'..? How old were these foals again?”

“How should I know?”, I scoff, eyebrow raised. “Can you tell a cow's exact age just by looking at it?”

“Oh come on Big Boss, even I can get a rough idea! Though it's true you always avoid looking directly at people, so you probably didn't even notice what color they were!”, Clem jeers at me playfully.

“I most certainly did!”, I counter. “The pegasus filly was a light teal, the earth pony colt was rust-colored, and one of the others had a green mane!”

“Weeeell,” she muses aloud, “I've only got your word on that, in the end, huh..?”

“Yes, and that should be quite sufficient!”, I huff in mock outrage. “And for your kind information, I'm always looking at people – I'm just doing it with my right eye.”

She laughs at my dark quip, and I find myself smiling along. To my own surprise, I like Clem despite her brash personality, and it's easy to have this 'quick-acting' mode on when I banter with her, a far cry from my usual meager social spontaneity.

I've been liking people far too often as of late, actually... I've always been content with Mél, Séb and Sainfoin, I've never needed more!

Though maybe it's just that I've met more people in the past three weeks than in the past three years combined, so I guess the chance of meeting people I like is proportionally greater? I sure came across people I can't stand in the slightest too, after all. Meeting Clem is definitely something I'm happy for. Despite having to do with this ungainly nightmare of a body, training with her's as relaxing as physical training's ever been – my most essential outlet. Still wish I had a bungee cord or two, but for now I'll make do.

I'm pulled out of my thoughts by a twig snapping some way behind us.

Looking over my shoulder, I easily spot our interloper – the little pegasus foal sticks out like a sore thumb in the forest, with his raspberry coat and whitish mane. Hell, he even has splashes of white on his forehead and his lower legs! He doesn't appear to try for stealth anyway, simply following after us at a distance, and looking right at me.

*sigh*

It was inevitable that last night's incident would have its consequences... Well, as long as he keeps his distance, I don't care!

At least it's better for him to stay close than wander around totally unsupervised, I guess...

Sweetchard's View

I look upon our work of the past few days, and smile at the tiny patches of green that are starting to bud all over the fields. Our very first large-scale harvest is taking shape, and it'll bear its fruits soon enough, as long as we take good care of it!

My whole body aches, but in a good way. I'm giving it my absolute all, even if sometimes it doesn't feel like it's enough... But well, there still has to be some sort of learning curve, right? I mean, it'd be foalish to expect everything to go smoothly on the first go, right..?

...

Who am I even trying to convince?

I'm confronted to so many little frustrating things all the darn time..! This body's made for farmwork, I even have a cutie mark for it, it has to be easy! The others shouldn't be able to keep up! It should be MY thing!!

What am I doing wrong, seriously!? I didn't give up all the rest for being mediocre!!

“Sweety?”

Ah! My rock, my lovely, lovely honeybunch of a rock!

I pivot on my hooves and trot to meet my beautiful mare, leaving the bad thoughts behind. It's so nice to see that her pastern's finally on its way to being fully healed; we'll be able to spend a little more time working side-by-side!

“Hey honeybunch...”, I whisper as we share a nice long nuzzle. “What's up on your side?”

“Nothing interesting, I'm afraid...”, Crispy sighs. “I've been helping Violette with some of the legal minutiae she needs to take care of, but we're banging our heads against the pegasi...”

“Keensight again?”

“Yes, again...”, she grumbles. “That mare can't help but try to involve herself in everything, it's exhausting!”

“At least she's volunteering to do stuff, no? Her heart's in the right place.”

“If you say so, Sweety... Right now I'd rather enjoy some fresh air than anything else!”

“Alright then!”, I chuckle. “You've definitely came to the right place!”

We walk down the path between the fields together, enjoying each other's presence. It's become a bit more difficult to get some time for just the two of us, with so many ponies around. We could find some peace in the woods, especially now that Rafale patrols the place regularly, but I get the feeling it's starting to be somewhat frowned upon, I'm not sure why.

Reaching the stone wall at the farm's entrance, we use the verdant grass as a naturally comfy mattress. I feels good to stretch like this under the sun, especially when it's done alongside my Crispy..!

“Say, Sweetchard...”

“Hmm?” I twist my neck to better look at my mare, who's laying on her back, staring at the blue, slightly cloudy sky.

“Do you like it here..?”, she asks.

“Of course!”, I smile. “It's so great to spend so much time outside, and doing something worthwhile and productive for a change, you know?”

“I suppose so yes, but what's your take on the ponies here?”

“Well to me it's a bit like one big family, don't you think?”

She snorts, batting a persistent fly away. “I don't think I would go that far... Some are becoming friends, sure, but... A family...”

My eyes widen, seeing her muzzle scrunch up and her brow furrowing – that won't do!

“Hey honeybunch, we're our own little family, right? Just the two of us!”, I exclaim, poking her shoulder.

“I guess so...”, she whispers, glancing at me, and smiling in kind.

Now that's more like it..!

We just need each other, no-one else, be they human or pony!

Just the two of us, without any...

...

No no no no no, no wandering thoughts! Bad thoughts!!

“So you're making friends, right? That's great!”, I blurt out, focusing my mind back on Crispy.

“It's pleasant, yes. From time to time it still feels strange, to count as 'one of the mares', you know. I've never really had female friends before, that doesn't help!”

“But you had your veterinarian friend, no?”

“Solange Prévost's always been more of an aunt than a friend, to be honest. Until my father ordered me to stop seeing her, anyway...”

Ack no! Why did I talk about that!? Quick, something el—

We're both startled when a teal pegasus darts from the forest, flying right above us and towards the farm!

Back on my hooves, I place myself between Crispy and the forest's edge, ready for anything that'd come out next..!

... But in the end, it's just a sheepish Fleur de Bruyère who trots out of the woods, looking just as surprised to see us as we are: “Crispy? Sweetchard? What are you doing here?”

“Just enjoying some free time.”, my mare answers. “What were you doing in the forest?”

“I, uh, I got kind of lost...”, she stammers. “They helped me out.”

Looking to where she's pointing, I catch sight of that policewoman and Rafale in the distance. They must've found her during their patrol.

“So, uh, I'll leave you to it! See you later!”, Fleur calls as she canters back towards the farm.

What was that about..?

I turn to Crispy for her opinion, but I find her still looking at the woods, and pretty tensely at that. Following her gaze, I only see glimpses of the human and the pegasus between the trees. Maybe she's worried about why we even need patrolling in the first place... If these rumors of footprints are true, staying vigilant doesn't sound like such a bad idea.

Let's hope that this time we won't have any kind of human-related problems. Neither Crispy nor I need that now, or ever...

Laurence's View

The hoof clatters against the tree bark, the shock reverberating all the way up my leg.

Dammit, in trying not to fall over I kicked too hard..! I have to be more careful, even if it's a bit difficult to keep my mind focused when I'm training alone.

Clem couldn't be here this morning. Yesterday we found more human footprints that weren't hers, so today she's leading her own investigation with the police. Hopefully this will convince the people in charge that we need more protective measures than isolation and a lone garde champêtre...

In the meantime I took it as a good opportunity to test my kicks. I want to be more used to them and what they can do before we try together, and for good reason – aiming still proves to be an issue, while the kicks themselves are as powerful as I could expect, if not more.

There's also the obvious issue of balance. After copious falling due to inhuman proportions, the only way I've found to get better is, to my great frustration, to deal with letting these damn wings be in full display... The cursed appendages are always trying to spread out when I'm about to kick, throwing my balance even more, and I'm also thrown off by the simple fact that stretching's pushing them out from under my sweater.

I... I'm forced to admit that letting them do their thing, as distracting as it was at first, has vastly improved my balance. They provide a good counterweight, and automatically work to preserve my equilibrium when I'm standing on one or two feet.

At least one of my deformities does have some mitigating effects, I guess...

Before I try another kick, I cast a quick glance toward the raspberry foal, who's sitting on the other side of the small clearing. He's still looking at me, of course.

I'm not sure what his deal is, exactly. He's been following me since the other day, staying some distance away and rarely speaking, just observing as I patrol or train... If I walk away, he catches up soon enough, and as unnerving as it is, I'm forced to get used to it. He's one of our youngest foals after all, if I'm to believe his diminutive size – his eye level barely reaches my knees – and I wouldn't be at peace knowing he's alone somewhere in the woods, without any supervision.

My next kick is better aimed, but I still need to control my strength more efficiently – this is beginning to hurt.

“Gosh, you must really hate this poor tree..!”

I turn toward the source of the squeaky voice, gracing the foal with a mid-level stern face, but he's clearly not impressed, just watching with that slight smile of his.

Well whatever! Stay focused on your task Laurence!

Aiming for the same discolored spot of bark, I plant my left foot firmly in the soil, my right leg muscles start to tense, I'm all ready to inflict another kick on this poor innocent tree, and...

Gah! Now I can't unthink it!!

My incipient kick becomes a frustrated stomp. All right then, I'll switch!

I stagger away, looking around for my next improvised punching bag, hoping to find a dead stump or something, but of course I'm surrounded by whole, healthy trees! Oh, and not content with disrupting my perfectly legitimate training apparatus, the pegasus foal keeps on following! He's sitting even closer now, as if he were anxious to see how I'd solve this new quandary!

The temptation to just run away from his gaze is strong, but I know that it'd only incite him to run after me! How to convince him to leave me alone?

Ah, children usually seek to avoid punishments from adults! Let's try that: “I don't think the green harpy would take too kindly to you spending so much time around me, you know...”, I tell the foal with all the required sternness.

“You mean Keensight?”, he giggles. “Well she's not here, so I don't care!”

Dammit..! What's wrong with this one!? “... Okay, what do you want? What's your name?”

“You can call me Dusky, I guess!”

“... You 'guess'?”

He gives a dismissive flick of his left wing. “Well that's what the mirror said, but for some reason I'm sure it's just a nickname. It's the only name that comes to mind though, and nobody else had a better idea, so for now Dusky it is!”

“What about your actual name?”

“Actual name?”, he repeats, head cocked in apparent confusion.

Human name.”

“Oh. Never liked it, and doesn't really fit anymore.”, the foal shrugs.

I roll my eye, but choose to get on with it. “Okay, 'Dusky'... Now answer my first question.”

He smiles widely: “Just hoping to spend some quality time with you!”

By stalking me through the woods? “Isn't there enough older pegasi on the farm..?”

“Yeah but there's only one you! You have to admit, you look super badass!”

Ugh..! Again with this stupid and misaimed 'hero worship' thing... Is that hard-wired for these bird brains or what!?

Dusky seems to have interpreted our talking as a tacit agreement to come closer, but he keeps staring at my side: “You really, really need some serious preening though...”, he mutters.

“... 'Preening'?” What's he babbling about?

“Yeah, like this!”, the excited little colt bounces over and, before I can pull back, starts shuffling through a wing's feathers with his mouth!

What the ever-fucking hell!?

I jump away with a strangled screech, the outlandish sensation giving me goosebumps all over my body! “P– please don't..!”, I barely manage to articulate!

That feeling of large individual shafts embedded within my skin being moved and rearranged – Uuuugh!! Somehow it manages to be even more abhorrent than when the whole plumage moves as one!

And what does Dusky do? The infuriatingly clueless foal just blinks: “What, you ticklish?”

You– you demon..! You sordid, innocent little demon!!

And he keeps looking at me with his big orange eyes, and..!

Oh come on Laurence, get a hold of yourself already! He clearly meant no harm!

With a long, deep sigh, I try to let the sudden tension leave my body, and the ruffled, puffed out wings go back to their usual forgettable state... Schooling my expression to feign nonchalance, I answer the first thing that comes to mind: “No no, it's just... I'm just unaccustomed to unsolicited physical contact, that's all!”

“I understand,” he nods, “but even I know that it's essential to take good care of your wings!”

“Well I don't prevent you from taking care of yours, these ones are off-limits!”

“Okay, okay, I'm sorry!”, he giggles, not sounding one bit sorry.

Anyway..!

Where was I? Ah yes, kicking practice!

I pick a tree at random and don't waste any more time – I was standing a little too close and I hit the bark more with the knuckle than the hoof, but at least I'm back on track!

Three better-aimed kicks later, I glance to my side and my clingy spectator, who's still looking at me, smiling, waiting after me to do something 'badass' I guess.

Goddammit... I can't just kick him away, huh..?

“All right, you can stay if you want,” I grumble, “but not a peep, you hear me!”

“Yay!”, the little pegasus bounces in place. Tsss, at least one of us is happy..!

Once Dusky's done with his exuberance I can finally get back to training... Like I already noticed, I don't have much problem with low and medium roundhouse and piston action kicks, but any high ones still throw me off-balance, on top of being a little hard on the hip joint. As for reverse kicks they have an annoying tendency of pushing my body toward an all-four stance.

I wonder how would flying kicks work now... But not thinking about that for now, I still have to get used to—

“So, your character was a Wonderbolt?”

...

What kind of question is that?

I turn to the annoying foal: “I said not a peep! And how should I know that anyway!?”

“Well I heard Mr. Sweetchard say you were a sergeant or something? So maybe your character could be, like, a sergeant of the Wonderbolts!”

Chard and his big bucking mouth..!

“... Probably not,” I answer offhandedly, “I'm not a good flier. And I'm sure the uniform would clash with my coat anyway.”

...

Wait.

Where did this pathetic and needlessly precise excuse come from..? I don't even know what their uniform looks like – or what a 'Wonderbolt' is supposed to be, come to think of it!

Dusky has taken advantage of my inner musings to get closer once again, pointing an accusing hoof to the unwanted appendages anchored to my back: “Well of course you can't fly good with wings in this state!”

My stern face is met with more giggles, but at least he seems to get the message and backs off to a more comfortable distance. “No more wing talk, understood?”, I glare at him.

“Yes Ma'am!”, the foal mock-salutes with his own wing.

I roll my eye so hard it could've fallen out of its socket.

*sigh*

This is going to be a long day...

Amber's View

“All right Amber, one more time.”

“Do we really have to..?”, I whine.

Laurence just nods, and I resign myself to follow her latest order, levitating a new pebble in the air.

I'm sure that deep down she's enjoying herself at seeing me work my horn off, after everything Clémence forces her to do for her own training! I mean, I haven't missed the last six times, I don't see the point of doing the exact same thing again!

Our current exercise is directly inspired by something I saw the real Amber Spire do in my nightmares. I wasn't sure if it was worth it, considering how poorly that helped her against Discord, but Laurence was quite intrigued by the idea.

The core concept, which I only began to understand after I'd grown more used to Amber's vanilla 'pathing' or 'compass' talent through our exercises earlier this week, is to lead my magic into interpreting an 'action-reaction' relationship as a 'beginning-end of path' one. I like to call it my 'marksmareship' ability, even if Laurence has poor taste and thinks it sounds silly.

Here, the goal is to launch a pebble so that it strikes a leaf we stuck to a tree trunk... while I'm standing in front of the other side of the tree, the leaf completely out of sight. We began with the leaf visible, but quickly switched to this setup when Laurence wanted to prove that, contrary to my levitation, my special trick doesn't need me to see or feel the target... And of course, she was right.

The comparatively easy part, after getting a good feel for the shape and weight of the pebble, is to call up in my mind's eye the path I must put it on to reach the leaf. Once I get the general idea, here launching the pebble at another tree to make it ricochet towards the target, I have to select which tree I'll be aiming at, and abracadabra, I just know what path the pebble needs to take for reaching the leaf.

Seeing the path is not too difficult when it requires only one turn, that's an almost instinctive process, but what comes next isn't: evaluating precisely how I must launch the pebble for it to follow its designated path, matching perfectly what I'm doing with what the path needs...

Just for throwing the pebble I already have to pour quite a bit of magic into its orbit around my head, as I need to generate sufficient momentum to have it on an as-close-to-straight trajectory as possible, ricochet on another tree, and still have enough to reach the leaf... Getting the precise angle of incidence on the ricochet tree's also difficult, but more because I have to try multiple times just to find the right amount of magic I'm supposed to use to obtain the desired effect.

It was so grating at first, to have so clear a view of what needed to be done but not being precise enough to actually perform it! As if I were standing with my bow in front of the target, the arrow perfectly aimed, but I still had to find precisely how much I had to draw the string for the arrow to strike true...

Not gonna lie, this mental gymnastic gets pretty tiring just from how insanely precise I need to be! It's either perfect and it works, or it just fails... And it certainly doesn't help that Sarge always forces me to use a different pebble, and from increasing distance from the target, so each time the perfect amount of energy and the angle of incidence are ever so slightly different!

So... I should have a sufficiently detailed idea of the latest pebble's characteristics, holding it aloft for a good half-minute.

I begin the orbital trajectory, pushing the pebble faster and faster around me, calling upon the correct path in my mind's eye, and when I get that evanescent feeling that it is just right, I release the pebble.

The little piece of weathered stone flies through the air on a close-to-perfect trajectory, ricochets on the first tree, and hits the second one, though I can't be sure if it got the target from where I am...

“Excellent!”, Laurence smiles, reassuring me that the pebble did hit the leaf like I hoped. “Your success rate is fantastic, well done!”

“Thank you!”, I answer with a big grin, glowing at her well-deserved praise. “So are we done with this exercise?”

She nods, and I let out an inner sigh of relief; my horn's really starting to feel the strain! It's more than a little disappointing that I clearly got the short end of the stick when it comes to pure magical potential, compared to all the other unicorns and especially Mom. I suppose that's a fair trade for how useful my special talent can be...

“Well Amber,” Laurence begins after I've had time to drink some water, “I think maybe we could try your 'laser beam' now.”

“Really!?”, I exclaim, almost dropping my bottle in the excitement.

Now that's changing things up!

But... “But I've barely any magic left! Can't we rest for a bit first?”

“No.”, she answers bluntly, shaking her head. When she notices what must be a pretty disgruntled look on my face, she elaborates: “I would expect that a beam requires quite a lot of energy to charge, but our priority here is for you to test the mechanism, to familiarize yourself with it outside of the nightmare's context. Being low on magic is a sure way of avoiding any involuntary and potentially dangerous discharge.”

“Oh...”, I blink in realization. “Yeah, you're not wrong... But then, I've no chance of getting it right!”

“I can understand the perfectionism impulse, believe me, but 'not getting it right' is more prudent for now.”, she tries to comfort me.

But... Do I really need to be comforted? I mean, I've never really cared about being perfect before; I've even been kind of a slacker at times, to be honest...

“Am I a perfectionist now..?”, I ask out loud, quite a bit chagrined by not having noticed it until now, especially if Laurence of all ponies noticed it first!

“Uh... More or less, yes..?”, she replies, head tilted, but I'm not really paying attention, just letting myself fall on my rump, still in this strange kind of shock.

How many things am I missing..?

Last week I was miffed to realize how much I sounded like an awkward airhead with Luisard; I supposed it was just my usual timidity amped up because we're the same age and he's kinda cute, for a stallion. But now that I stop and look back on how I act, around Mom in particular...

“Amber..? Are you all right?”

Turning to the winged woman, I need an instant to find how to word this correctly: “Laurence, you... You remember, just before we left Toulouse, how... How I wasn't sure what to do regarding Violette?”

She nods.

“We said I should spend time evaluating my feelings, that was the plan, but then... It just felt so good, to have a mom again, to have my best friend back, so I... I could not not accept it, you know?”

“I can understand that, yes.”

“So I suppose that, in a way, deep down, I saw this opportunity, to, like, push the rewind button for my own life, and I jumped on it without looking back, really. The other day I told you that I wouldn't want to just become Amber Spire instead of being myself, but now that I take time to check my own behavior, I... I'm afraid I'm actually starting to lose myself into that role, the longer I stay around Mom, but I don't want to lose everything I've lived through! Everything I've gained through all the awful stuff, my experience, my maturity, being a functional adult! Now I sound more and more naive and awkward and indecisive like a freaking teenager, and– and is it just a new way for relationships to burn me, from the inside-out? Am I always going to lose..? Can't I just have a good, nice life..?”

I sweep my tears away with a fetlock, already feeling stupid for breaking down like that in front of Laurence... I wasn't this emotional before either!

“Amber, I... I guess the best course of action, considering the circumstances, is to strive for a satisfying medium.”

“What do you mean..?”, I sniff, too ashamed to look her in the eye.

“I'm afraid that it would only be self-defeating for you to reject everything pony, as long as you don't let yourself drown in it. Try to keep to who you are deep-down, stay aware of how it affects you, but also enjoy what ponydom can offer, like your new mother.”

My addled brain needs a couple seconds to truly appreciate what Laurence just said. Looking up, I see that her face is kept completely neutral, the same way her voice was almost toneless. By now I've learned that this is something she does when she doesn't want to broadcast strong emotions, and forces herself to be objective and impartial... All for my sake.

I'm so selfish, in addition to everything else..! She's living through this very issue every single day, she doesn't need me to bother her with my own trivial version of the problem!

Quick Amber, change subject!

“All right!”, I almost shout, jumping back to my hooves. “We should go about trying that laser beam, as long as I'm properly spent!”

“Sure Amber, let's do that.”, Laurence agrees, the ghost of a lopsided smile on her lips. “If I remember well, you once described it to me like some kind of rubber band or something..?”

“Oh yes! So...” I can't help a shiver, calling upon memories of my nightmares, but I force my focus on the element that interests us: “It works by directing magic to the middle horn layer, like an elastic being tensed back towards the horn base, or maybe a spring being compressed. I fill the inner horn layer with magic, forming the beam, then I push it towards the horn tip along with the spring of the middle layer. Does that make sense?”

“You're the one with the horn here.”, she shrugs. “But if it worked in the nightmare, it'll work here too. Can you, uh, access these individual 'layers' at will?”

We spend the next hour or so experimenting with this very point, improving significantly my awareness of what's happening inside my horn; after all, levitation deals mainly with the outer horn layer. The only time I really tried to use my 'laser beam' was back in Toulouse, when that dirty policeman threatened Mom, but it was more instinctual than anything. Here we perform multiple times the first two steps of the spell, in isolation then in conjunction, making sure they feel identical to what I remember, and getting them down pat.

At the end we do try to perform the complete spell, but with only a modicum of magic left in me by that point, the mighty laser beam is reduced to a miserable, mortifying sputtering of red sparks...

“I assure you, this is exactly what we wanted.”, Laurence tries vainly to comfort me. “It proves that the underlying mechanism is sound, and in the future we'll gradually increase the energy input to test the effects. This could be a dangerous ability, and we have to make absolutely sure we study it responsibly.”

“Yes Sarge...”, I pout, even though I know she's right once again. I'd feel infinitely worse if I'd blasted a tree to ashes without meaning to...

The usual headache of magical exertion is beginning to make itself known, so I suppose that'll be all the training for this morn—

“Could we...”, Laurence interrupts my musings, sounding surprisingly unsure of herself. “Could we try something with these..?”, she asks, gesturing at her covered wings with barely-restrained contempt.

“If you want to.”, I nod, keeping my voice soft and, I hope, encouraging enough; I can scarcely believe it! “What would you have in mind?”

She just frowns silently, ears drawn back, and I fear her resolve to confront her new body and abilities has dwindled as quickly as it appeared, but after a little while she breathes deeply: “They're dangerous too. And we have to be responsible.”, she says in a somber monotone. “You already saw me try. Did you notice anything specific?”

Mmmh... I try to dredge up the memory, and I do recall what she's talking about, but as for the details... “I... I'm not sure, sorry... Could you try again?”

With a resigned sigh she slowly extracts the feathery appendages from under her sweater. Their movements are kind of jerky and stiff, as if she hasn't used them for a while, which is probably true... Staring numbly ahead, and her neck awfully tense, she fully unfolds her two great blue wings.

It's so rare to see them like that. I never had the opportunity to notice that the inner side closer to her barrel is slightly darker, while the tips of the largest feathers are slightly lighter... Though any potential majesty these wings could've had is marred by the fact they're a good deal messier than any other pegasus wing I've seen until now.

Laurence starts beating her wings, her first shallow movements growing deeper and more powerful, even if I worry to see flashes of pain on her face..! “I—”

My sentence doesn't go further, as I suddenly feel a bizarre tingling in my horn. It's very faint, but as magic-deprived as I am right now, it's quite obvious. Using my horn like a dowsing rod, I find the source to be Laurence's wings, without much surprise. The tingling is short-lived, but reoccurs at each wingbeat, and it reminds me of all the times my magical field came into contact with another unicorn's...

It's Laurence's magic..!

But I've never noticed something like that with other pegasi; is it just that I didn't look for it? Or is it specific to her? I'll have to ask Luisard!

Right now my friend clearly has had enough though, and with a groan she lets her wings go limp, feathers slamming against the forest soil.

“Are you all right?”, I ask; she looks exhausted!

“Did you notice anything specific..?”, Laurence questions instead, her voice strained.

“Oh, er, yes, yes! There's some kind of magical energy discharge each time you beat your wings, though it's very faint.” Moving closer, I dare approach my horn to the largest feathers... “... And the feeling is definitely present in your feathers.”

“I see...”, she mutters, looking critically at her wings, before hastily retracting and shoving them none too gently under her sweater. “Thank you for your assistance, Amber, it was very helpful. You should go have some rest now, you worked hard this morning.”

“Er, okay..?”, I blink, taken aback by her terseness as she turns on her heel, and starts walking deeper into the forest without a look back.

Well... I knew her resolve couldn't last very long, but still..!

Oh come on Amber, she basically has species dysphoria! Remembers how awful it'd feel to have the aspects you hated the most about your body put on display! What she just did was a real, difficult effort!

“Laurence, wait!”

She stops, to my relief, and even if she doesn't turn around, I can see her ears pointing in my direction: “Sorry Amber, but I—”

“I understand, you know I do!”, I reassure her. “And I... I know all too well how hard this must've been for you...”

“... Thank you, little sister...”, she almost whispers. “Please don't worry too much about me, I'll be okay. Just... Just need to cool down a bit. Thank you for helping me, we will... We will do it again soon.”

“All right...”, I nod as she resumes walking, and soon vanishes among the trees and bushes.

Poor Laurence... I understand how she must feel, her body so at odds with her identity, with who and what she is... But today was important! Just foal steps, sure, but also fundamental; like she told me, we should strive for some kind of middle ground, instead of rejecting everything we may have gained through our change. It's certainly not easy, painful even, but I'll support her every step of the way! I'll help her just as she helps me, just like friends, or sisters, should do. Until we find a way for her to be human again, I'll do my best to be here for her!

With a new, hopeful smile on my lips, I turn away—

And come almost face-to-face with a little purplish pegasus foal, staring at me coldly.

“Oh, hi there!”, I greet him, though his expression doesn't change. “You must be Dusky, right? Laurence told me about you.”

The colt's only answer is to try to go around me, but I don't let him:

“Hey wait, I want to ask you something!”

“What?”, he snaps quite rudely.

“Why are you following her around? What do you want with her?”

I may sound a little suspicious, even brusque, but considering how the pegasi have been behaving recently I don't want Laurence to be subjected to any more harassment from their part!

“Not your business, and she told you to leave..!”, he all but hisses!

“She's my friend, so it certainly is my business, little colt! What kind of ploy you and the others are trying to pull here?”

“'Ploy'?”, he snorts. “What 'ploy'? The same kind you allow Luisard to pull each time you two go for a walk in the woods..?”

“I– This has nothing do to with anything!”

“You have your mom, you have a coltfriend, everybody likes you! Who does she have!?”

“She has her friends! And he's not my coltfriend, yuck..!”

“Well now she has me!”, he argues right back with a dark glint in his eyes. “Who do you think I'm doing that for? I'm doing it for her! And a little for me, yeah, but for her first! She doesn't need you anymore! In fact, she's gonna come with me to the Council tonight, you'll see! So now get lost unicorn, and leave us alone!”

I'm startled by his harshness, and he uses the opportunity to run past me, going in the same direction Laurence went!

Well that was rude! Pegasi have a true problem with proper manners, it seems! Next time I'll tell Laurence how you talked to me little colt, and we'll see who she really listens to..!

Anyway... Get hold of yourself Amber, you're not going to get riled up like this by a surly foal! Laurence asked for her space, so I'm not going to go after them and bother her with such petty and senseless bickering... I for one have enough of a headache already!

Sighing, I pick up my bottle, cradling it in the crook of my right foreleg, and I turn towards the farm, letting my compass direct me on the way back. Going on autopilot like this allows me some time to calm down, and reflect on what Laurence and I talked about...

From now on, I need to pay better attention to my behavior, that's a given. Like she said, I should be able to appreciate my relationship with Mom without devolving completely back into a child, right? I wonder... Was this how the real Amber felt? Was she just that puerile, despite clearly being in her late teens? Or is it really my own fault for letting myself be lulled by all these new feelings..?

Was I... Er, wait...

I should've been out of the woods by now..! Looking around, I blink when I notice the target leaf we used for training earlier, still stuck to its tree.

Have I been walking in circles..?

A shiver runs down my spine..! What happened!? Was I so lost in my mind I didn't pay attention to my compass? Maybe I'm just too magically tired, that'd be somewhat logical... I've been here often enough to have a rough idea of which direction I'm supposed to take though, so I get back on my way, more mindful of what I'm doing this time.

What was I thinking about, again? Ah, yes, how I'm acting... Should I maybe talk it over with Mom? She's always doting on me, and so affectionate, but would it help to, like, put some kind of boundaries? I don't want to jeopardize our relationship, but for this too we need to find the happy medium. There can't always be some dark cloud hovering over my life, after all! With time and some efforts, I'm sure I'll—

I almost trip as my right forehoof lands on something hard but slippery!

Dang it! Can't I just get back home today!?

Fortunately I avoided an embarrassing fall, and I discover I slipped on a white plastic lid, almost as large as my hoof.

Tsk, who left their detritus laying around at the forest's edge? Must've been some earth pony on a break from tending the fields. That's just irresponsible..!

Wincing at my horn aching and my head hurting, I quickly levitate the lid to rest against my bottle, and slowly walk back towards the house to put it in the trash where it belongs.

Laurence's View

The sun is setting on this cool early evening, and even from the forest's edge I can hear the ponies as they convene for a late dinner under the great oak tree. They're celebrating their agricultural prowess or something, but I've no intention of joining them. Instead I'm headed to the other side of the house, not far from the woods, like Dusky instructed me.

He talked my ear off about it until I accepted to at least show up, under the promise that it'd only be us two and a select few. Not sure I'm trusting him, and yet... I guess I wouldn't mind the distraction, for once.

My... 'magical' training with Amber is a necessity, of course, an inevitability even, and that first session this morning helped confirm my suspicions, but...

But I don't want to think about this tonight! Future problems are for future-me!

Getting closer to the rendezvous point, I finally notice two ponies already there, sitting around a wide tree stump. My pace slows on its own, the temptation to just turn away increasing with each step, and I curse under my breath when the ponies see me!

I could act as if I'm just passing through... Swerve back toward the forest or toward the house, that could work...

But Dusky sounded so happy when I said 'yes'... and I'm sure I wouldn't hear the end of it if I were to abscond..!

Come on Laurence, it's going to be all right! They're more afraid of you than you are of them, I'm sure!

Forcing my neck to hold my head a little higher and my legs to carry me a little faster, I soon arrive in front of the ponies – who are two of the most exotic-looking ones actually: the donkeyesque guy, and the little zebra-like filly... And for some strange reason, the simple fact that they both are so disparate from each other, and from most of the ponies really, is reassuring to me.

“Uh, good evening..?”, I try as I arrive before them.

The grayish stallion turns his piercing green eyes on me, and I battle with my instinct to look away. “So Dusky told the truth...”, he muses, his voice deep and sharp. “We have royalty at our table tonight!”

I blink, suddenly dreading that I've missed something essential and obvious or that I've made a mistake following Dusky's instructions! “Uh, 'royalty'..?”

The stallion smirks at my cluelessness: “Well you are one of our three pony princesses, so to speak – the rebellious one!”

Ugh... That somehow manages to be worse than the alternatives..!

Little brown hooves stomp the tree stump. “Please, be nice!”, the foal chides her friend, before turning to me: “Good evening, I'm Chloé, and this is Olivier; take a seat! You are Laurence, right?”

I would have a believable excuse to escape now, arguing that I've been insulted – which is true – but, almost despite myself, I'm won over by the stripped filly's sweet smile, at least enough to give this a try, and sit around the stump for a little while... “That's me, yes. Nice to meet you both.”

“Nice to properly meet you too, and please excuse me if I sounded a tad too acerbic here...”, Olivier winces slightly. “We know how it is to have unwelcome labels applied to oneself.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, I then notice Dusky slinking about from the other side of the house, a large loaded plate balanced precariously on his back. Before I can decide how to react Chloé has jumped to his help, and together they put the plate on the stump, the smell of cooked vegetables hitting my nose.

“You came!!”, the pegasus colt gushes and bounces around, wings abuzz. “Oli, Chloé, meet Laurence! And Laurence, meet Oli and Chloé!”

The three of us exchange polite nods to indulge him, and my eye is then drawn to another approaching pony, one of the unicorns this time – a young, lanky steel-gray stallion wearing ill-fitting human glasses, holding another plate, more tableware and a plastic bottle in his silvery magical aura.

“Thank you, Nat.”, Olivier tells him as he delivers his goods to us, before scampering away without a word – very much as if he were afraid to be seen in our company... And I begin to think that my impression isn't far off the mark.

“So... This is the side of the outcasts, huh?”, I ask wryly.

“Oh 'outcast' is such a strong word, implying that we would've been 'cast out'.”, Olivier chuckles, sarcastically I think. “No, our official appellation is much more benign: we're the weirdos, and this is our Council!”, he declares, gesturing around with a hoof.

“'Council of the Weirdos'..?”

“Catchy, isn't it? A little affirmative thinking is always good for morale!”

With this, smaller plates and spoons are shared, and the four of us start digging in. I'll admit, hot meals slide better on the tongue than my usual leftovers! If the present company keeps on being relatively nice and quiet, maybe I could see myself partaking in 'Council sessions' now and then.

I wonder how this situation even came to be... That the ponies would segregate themselves according to if they have either wings or a horn or neither I can somewhat understand, and there's lots of empirical data on the subject in any case, but what about these two? Olivier certainly has less delicate, more equinesque features than most, and Chloé, besides her stripes, also has slight variations in facial proportions compared to, say, Dusky... But I really don't think it goes much beyond the already important variability of earth ponies. Or maybe they can see something I don't? I've heard talks about scents and such, for example.

Would it be just 'regular' racism..? I would have expected that suddenly switching species and sometimes gender would grant some manner of relativity to such matters, but then, Crispy proved me that some old habits die hard... Just as so many of them have relinquished all ties with their human nature, did they also develop some sort of—

“What's on your mind?”, Olivier suddenly questions me, pulling me out of my inner discussion.

Damn, should I talk about it? It could be a sensitive subject... But then again he seemed to make jokes based on their ostracization, so is it expected to talk about it..?

“Don't worry, we won't bite,” he chuckles, “despite everything we're still well-fed!”

Well... He's been somewhat nice until now, I could maybe take the risk, as long as I'm careful: “I, uh... I was wondering, the both of you are the 'Council', right..?”, I ask, pointing at him and Chloé with my spoon.

“We could be seen as senior members, at any rate, but the actual number of councilors varies from week to week, depending on the whims of equine politics. For example Samy, or Luisard as he goes by now, started off as a full member. Then when Charles-Édouard, A.K.A. Keensight arrived, she brought him back into the fold of proper pony society – either she didn't like the idea of an adult pegasus interacting with us, or she wanted to give the impression of a united front compared to unicorns and earth ponies. Though, if I were to wager, his colluding with unicorns as of late should send him back to us sooner or later... Oh, and Dusky here is an honorary member, of course.”

“'Honorary' member..?”

“'Honorary' because, contrary to Chloé and I, his own flavor of weirdness isn't displayed visibly. As for you,” he continues, pointing at me, “you too are in an interesting position: you exiled yourself, despite repeated attempts from your kin to integrate you into the hierarchy. I'm curious, is it truly because you do not identify as a pegasus..? Certainly you didn't choose an easy path to follow, asserting your own weirdness so openly...”

“I'm human.”, I answer simply. “I'm not a pony, let alone a pegasus. This body I'm forced to live in is a prison, a curse, and I don't want to have anything to do with it. Does this answer your question..?”

Maybe I was too blunt, because Olivier and Chloé both look at me with wide eyes now...

“At least this brooks no ambiguity this time...”, the stallion comments after an instant, nonplussed. “I'm sorry to hear that, Laurence. Now I understand better why you reacted so strongly last week...”

“It feels like you deserve a seat here even more than any of us...”, Chloé mutters. “That's kinda ironic though, you'd be the only one on the Council who'd look like a true pony and have a cutie mark..!”

'Cutie mark'..?

Oh, right! The brands on our thighs!

Would the others really discriminate them on this basis..? I know some foals like Dusky don't always have them, but I thought it just came with the adult bodies? Doesn't Olivier have one?

I chance a furtive look to check, but I'm easily spotted: “Nope, no silly drawing on my butt!”, he chuckles, likely expecting my curiosity. “Though I don't know if it would change much, to be honest.”

“And I'm not even sure I'll ever get one! Why are things always so unfair..!”, Chloé whines.

“Uh, you know, I'm not sure those things are that important, right?”, I try to reassure her.

“For lots ponies they are.”, Dusky chimes in. “It tells a lot about a pony, and it shows what you love or what you're good at, so others know they can trust you.”

“How do you know that..?”, I ask, eyebrow raised.

“Watched the cartoon and looked around.”, the colt shrugs.

Ah, yes, that cartoon... Our most unlikely source of information on our present condition. I turn toward our senior councilmembers: “Speaking of, doesn't the cartoon provide any clue about your own situation?”

I'm afraid to have made another gaffe when Chloé hunches over, her little brown-tipped ears folding back: “I don't like that cartoon...”

“But I told you it ended well!”, Dusky interjects.

“Don't care...”, she pouts.

Uh? “What ended well?”

“The episode she only watched the first half of.”, answers Dusky. “The one with Zecora.”

“I, uh...” Dammit, I'm out of my depth here, why did I even bring this up!?

“The first time there's a character that looks like me even a little, and she's a villain!”, the stripped filly grumbles.

“She's not a villain, she's just weird, but nice too!”

“As you can see,” Olivier tells me, “the officially-sanctioned pony medias aren't always too keen on us weirdos. The closest thing to what I look like was used as the butt of a joke, for example, so I'm not too fond of it either...”

“Oh. I see...”

I didn't think about that problem. The cartoon is naturally slanted in favor of ponies – hence the name – so what happens when someone changes into something else..? I've seen how people can already be affected by wearing the skin of a protagonist, but how much harder would it be, to be one of the antagonists? Would it be worse than not even knowing what you've become?

Not only are Olivier and Chloé isolated from the rest of this community, they're also isolated from who and what they are now...

And yet... “And yet, from what you said, I suppose you too don't consider yourselves human anymore, huh?”

“Not really...”, Chloé shrugs. “I guess I got used to it.”

“I think that, whatever we are – a zebra, a mule, something we don't even have a name for – it's just what we are, now. It may sound weird to someone still feeling human inside, but, well, we're all about weird here.”, the stallion chuckles, quite humorlessly this time.

“Then you... You like it, what the change did to you..?”

“I do, weirdness and all!”, Dusky nods vigorously.

“'Liking it' is perhaps not how I'd say it, exactly.”, Chloé clarifies. “Even if you accept it, you can't help but be a little resentful, when what you are is used by others to shun you...”

“Tsss..! I hate the way these ponies act! We're not animals, goddammit!”, I blurt out, enraged at the feeling of injustice!

“Well, you know, at the beginning, when it was just the five of us, it wasn't like that.”, Olivier says sadly. “We were really close-knit, friends before and after the change, whether we had a horn, wings, butt marks, or neither... But then more ponies started to arrive en masse, and the whole dynamic changed...”

I nod. “Yes, I heard something similar from the Vallières.”

“Soon they just started to gravitate more toward those who looked like them...”, he continues. “Nat was so happy to have other unicorns to practice magic, François now had someone to share the sky with... Even Yan drifted away, once Fenchone started to take the leadership role. And so I was left, the odd one out, the one who doesn't fit anywhere, because 'he's not even a pony'...”

The stallion sighs deeply, Chloé patting his foreleg in silent support.

Damn I hate that... These two are rejected and led to feel bad about what they are, and why? Because they just look a little different!? Because some cartoon said that a butt tattoo is something important!? What will happen then, down the road? Will they be judged as 'less worthy', because they're not 'true' ponies!?

They don't want to be human again, they will stay as they are, despite the way they're treated, so what, they'll have to learn how to deal with all that scorn for the rest of their life!? How can something be even more unjust!?

No! I refuse to accept that!! They do not deserve to be treated like some kind of second-class beings just because they were born that way! They should be able to feel proud of who they are, whatever a stupid cartoon or stupid bigoted ponies may say!!

I'm pulled out of my fit of rage when I feel a small hoof land on my left arm, Dusky looking up at me with concern clear in his eyes.

And that gives me an idea...

“Olivier, Chloé, I noticed that even though you both accept what you have become, you still use your legal names. Correct?”

“Well, yes.”, the filly answers matter-of-factly.

“Let me guess: you didn't take the 'mirror test', huh?”

“Oooh that's an awesome idea..!”, Dusky whispers loudly, having probably figured out what I'm getting at.

“Mirror test? What for?”, Oliver questions, frowning. “It's for 'true ponies' only, I'd bet... It certainly looked like it at the time.”

“I promise, this is for you, too. Believe me, you're both far more than what these ponies think you are.”

Or even what you think you are...

The two senior Weirdos glance at each other for a moment, until they shrug almost in unison: “I suppose it can't hurt...”, Olivier concludes as they get up, even if I can tell he's still not completely convinced.

“I'll watch the food and stuff then!”, Dusky declares.

Looking around the 'council chamber', I see nothing that'd scream 'don't leave a foal alone' – we're just next to the house, ponies are still dinning close by... But... “I would rather have you coming with us, Dusky.”

To my surprise he seems more happy to be brought along than be given a small responsibility, and flits directly toward the house, eager for us to follow. I will definitely never get children...

Once we catch up I take the lead, and knock on the door. I hope they're not asleep yet...

I'm relieved to hear faint footfalls from inside, and soon Ivan Vallières opens the door. He doesn't look too happy to see us, but I will not be deterred! If he refuses, I'll find a small handheld or something – I won't let them down now that they put their trust in me.

“Sorry to intrude, Ivan. Would you allow me to bring a couple ponies to your big mirror?”

The old man tries to stare me down, but I stare right back with the full power of my sternest face.

Neither of us blink.

A pony shuffles nervously behind me.

The cawing of a crow echoes in the distance.

“... You may.”, my adversary finally says, even if it sounded like it had to be pried from between his clenched teeth. “It's in the corridor directly on your right.”

“Thank you.”, I answer neutrally, motioning for my ponies to fill inside. When I follow after them, Ivan winks at me, with what I would classify as a knowing smile – it was another of his games, of course.

Maybe it's that place that makes people crazy, after all...

I switch the corridor's lights on, revealing the old full-length mirror. “So, who would like to go first?”

Chloé proves to be the most curious of the two, walking gingerly to stand in front of her reflection. Her light greenish eyes wander over her form, from her brown face down her neck and toward her whitish, stripe-less hindquarters. Her attention lingers on her blank thighs, her ears menacing to pull back – I need to redirect her to what's important:

“Look at that filly, Chloé. What's her name?”

She goes back to looking deep into her own eyes, then blinks in surprise. “Her name's Mesembrine...”, she breathes, her voice taking for an instant the slightest hints of an accent I can't place.

“'Mesembrine'? It sounds nice!”, Dusky is quick to affirm.

“It... It does sound nice, yes...”, the filly nods, a little smile starting to bloom on her lips.

“Next?”, I ask Olivier, who still looks uncertain.

“I guess so...”, he sighs, before confronting his double in the mirror.

His gaze is more focused, staying firmly set on his own eyes, but I can still see unknown emotions playing over his features.

After almost half a minute, he finally looks away, smirking. “Meh. I still prefer Olivier...”, he chuckles. “Thank you, Laurence. This was... enlightening. In what way I'm not sure yet... But enlightening all the same.”

Eh... Something tells me he expected more. “It's a first step.”, I tell him. “But at least, now, you're both on the same starting grounds as the others. It's up to you now what you decide to do with it.”

We do not impose ourselves longer on our hosts, now that we've got what we came for. Back outside, Dusky races Chloé – or maybe Mesembrine, now? – to the tree stump, leaving Olivier and I to follow at a more sedate pace.

“Will you sit with us a little longer?”, he asks.

“Why not.”, I shrug. It's not like I've better things to do at this hou—

I freeze as my ear turns to the left, and up.

There's something on the roof.

Dashing to my right, I plant a hoof on the ground and let my momentum turn me around to face the house and its roof, but as I look up, I catch nothing more than a brief glint of something.

What was that..?

Moving a little farther still to get a better view, I see nothing out of the ordinary...

“Laurence? Are you all right?”

“Yes...”, I reply absentmindedly to Olivier. Could it have been a large bird? A cat, maybe..?

The last rays of the sun are slowly vanishing behind the trees, was it just a trick of the light?

I don't like this...

...

Will do a little patrol before heading to bed, just in case...

Sweetchard's View

Most ponies are still snoozing in the barn; I walk as silently as I can on my hooftips to not wake anyone...

It's still early, especially after the good party we had last night. Lucky me, I woke up before the others, but I really need to get out and get some work done.

My mind drifts too easily toward what's in my bag otherwise...

Slipping outside, I'm greeted by a slightly foggy dawn. Kinda chilly too, but that's all the more reasons for some physical exertion!

I trot toward the fields, passing between the vegetable gard—

...

Wait a minute..!

Backtracking a bit to the nearest garden, I see that the tomatoes aren't looking good, leaves hanging down and yellowed at the tips.

I don't understand, we had some rain this weekend, they shouldn't look like that!

Glancing around, I soon realize that this doesn't only affect that patch of tomatoes – all the plants in this garden show the same signs, to varying degrees... But they all looked fine yesterday!

Suddenly overtaken by dread, I gallop towards my own piece of garden—

And it's the same..! All my little carefully tended tomatoes and salads and everything..!

No!! What happened!? I– I didn't do that, I'm sure!! Why are all the plants dying!?

I turn back towards the fields, hoping that somehow this disaster didn't spread that far. My hooves skid on the soil as I go down the slope, and I arrive in front of our future harvest.

...

Our dying harvest..!