• Published 27th Mar 2019
  • 1,606 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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Part 2 | 8 – Ponies Ahoy!

Sweetchard's View

The last of the bland breakfast cereals crunch under my teeth. Could've used some milk or a touch of cinnamon, but beggars can't be choosers... The Prévosts are already nice enough to accommodate four ponies and the odd human at the risk of their own safety, I'm not gonna whine that we have to make do with what they had in stock...

At least it's not horse feed!

... Though now I wonder, how would that taste like..?

“Are you done Sweety?”

“Uh?” I turn to Crispy. “Oh yes, thank you.”

She takes my empty bowl between her forehooves and stacks it on hers, before seizing the loaded tray with her mouth. I smile as I see her carrying the tray from the table to the countertop, keeping it perfectly level and balanced, even if her leg still hurts a bit; she's gotten a lot more skilled at this in just a couple days!

She still smacks her lips with distaste when she's done: “Bwah, I don't think I'll ever get used to this..!”

It felt strange for me at first, too. Like I told her, it helps if you start to see your front teeth as some sort of tongs, and your neck as an arm. I think she didn't really try to learn how her body could work before we met, but she's catching up.

For my part I've been working on getting better with my lips, it's kinda essential for finer stuff that hooves can't help with. Writing is still a bit beyond me, but if I find myself a stylus I should be able to use a phone, no problem!

I don't really have a phone to test this in the first place, come to think of it – mine is still at Rafale's. Gosh the mountain of updates that must be waiting for me..!

Let's not think about it for now...

Crispy sits back at the table with me, and I snatch an apple from the fruit bowl. My hooves prove they're still quite useful as I cut the apple with one of the kitchen knifes, then give half the fruit to my mare.

Seeing her munching on the apple gives me an idea: “Hey, next time maybe you could try to fix a little something, like an apple pie for example?”

She looks at me oddly: “Why would I..? Cereals and apples are simple but perfectly appropriate breakfast fare.”

“Sure, sure, but I mean, you're a cook now, no? You even have the cutie mark for it!”

“The Crispy from our dream may have been employed to bake goods, but I'm not her.”, she frowns. “I just share her skin, I don't have any particular knowledge of how to cook...”

“Yeah I get that, but you still have her cutie mark! It's supposed to be your special talent now!”

She really doesn't look convinced: “Who said that..?”

“Well, the show did! Your cutie mark represents what you're good at, what you like best, and what's your unique special talent!”

“My 'special talent' is to have an MSc in Lean Operations Management.”, she replies a bit coldly. “And following your logic, what would your special talent be anyway..?”

“Uh...”

That's... not a bad question, actually.

I didn't notice anything that could've suddenly become easier to do since I've got my cutie mark, or any special urge to do something new... Well, there's this craving for going outside and working out, but it's not much different from my usual urges – and who wouldn't be tempted to make the most of feeling so strong and fit! Oh and I guess it wouldn't match with the mark anyway...

“I don't know yet, but I'll find out eventually! I was just putting the idea forward... Like, why not try to take advantage of the new opportunities that came with these bodies, you know?”, I conclude, attacking my half of the apple.

Something that I would always be good at, that nopony could take away from me...

Now this really sounds like a godsend..! Not being kicked from thankless job to thankless job ever again...

Yeah, I like the sound of that!

“I admit it is worth thinking about,”, Crispy answers cautiously, “but I believe it would be best to postpone these discussions until we can get to a safer place. No offense meant of course,” she says to Olivier Prévost, who's been silently drinking his coffee on his side of the table, “you both have been real lifesavers.”

“None taken.”, he replies. “I agree that this is far from ideal conditions. What do you plan to do next, once your friend's fully healed?”

“Well we...”

I stop, not sure what to say.

Do we have a plan..?

“We'll get away from the city.”, Crispy states with confidence. “There are several small antiglobalist communities further north and in neighboring départements, they probably wouldn't need much convincing to agree to harbor us, at least temporarily. That would certainly make them useful, for a change!”

I didn't know she had it all figured out! That's kinda reassuring... Until now we haven't been doing much else than reacting to circumstances; taking the initiative would be nice!

“Speaking of change, aren't you also trying to find some way to, well, change back..? If you went back to looking like regular humans it would sort out most if not all of your problems, no?”

“It's true that it would be the easy way out, in theory...”, she replies. “But I'm not sure this is a possibility, and besides...”

She doesn't complete her sentence, so I pick it up: “That's just how it is! Even if we don't know the 'why' yet, we're ponies from now on. And for my part, I've never felt better in my whole life!”

“Still, don't you miss your hands..?”

“It's not as horrible as you'd think. You just saw, we can get by just fine!”

“I concur, even if it does need some training.”, Crispy confirms. “Intellectually speaking I know that we lost something extremely valuable, but in practice it turns out to be only a hindrance relative to human technology.”

“Yeah, 'cause you created almost all your stuff for fingered beings. Otherwise... I don't know, hooves really feel natural now. In my head it's more 'this thing is really not hooves-friendly' than 'oh gosh I miss my fingers'. Honestly if I didn't have the memories, I'm sure I'd have a hard time imagining having these wiggly things at the tips of my legs!”

This may be a slight exaggeration on my part, but it's still mostly true!

“So if I'm following you... You really do not see yourselves as human anymore, both consciously and at the level of your subjective perceptions?”

“I assume this would be one way to describe it, yes.”

“Well, uh, yeah.”, I add once I'm sure of what he was getting at. “After all, we're ponies, not humans. I'm not sure when the transition from 'sick, deformed human' to 'ordinary pony' really occurred, though... When 'hair' became 'mane', 'arm' became 'foreleg'... When 'the tail' became just 'my tail'... When the 'us' became the 'them'... When it didn't feel right anymore to think of myself as human, or to use my old name... I'm not sure if the girls feel the same, but that's how it is for me.”

Or at least, most of the time...

“But is it really a positive development..?”, Olivier asks. “If you start defining yourselves as specifically non-human, instead of, let's say 'differently-shaped humans', you willingly forfeit a whole lot more than just a label! It would mean that you're basically animals now – with no legal rights, not being taken seriously by most humans, maybe not even evoking empathetic feelings! Isn't that the very problem that put you here in the first place?”

“What!? No! We're not animals, we're still individuals, still, well... not 'humans', but you get what I mean!”

“I fear you don't get what you mean...”

Urgh... It's far too early in the day for philosophy..!

“He's not wrong...”, Crispy tells me. “We are different, at least on the outside. It's only natural that humans would treat us differently.”

“Well maybe...” I can't contest their logic, and I can certainly remember experiences as a woman of Maghrebi origin that would back them up... “... But it doesn't mean it's right either!”

“It's human nature, Sweety. There are people who can see beyond this kind of instinctive reaction, but by and large humanity isn't known for its ability to act rationally, or even decently...”

“No need to make it sound so pessimistic...”, I grumble.

“That's just how the world is.”, she shrugs matter-of-factly.

This kind of argument is still a bit too absolute to my taste, but I don't want to launch into a pointless argument with her... “If you say so...”

“That's why we ponies have to stick together.”, she smiles at me.

Eh, I can't stay mad at you for very long..! “Like glue!”, I smile back.

We're so lucky to have found each other... Even if our outlook is as bleak as she makes it out to be, we'll keep on walking forward!

Crispy excuses herself, going back towards our room. I lose myself for a moment, admiring the way the morning light plays on her spotted coat, how it emphasizes the sway of her plump hips and the swish of her tail...

I bite my lip, trying to not embarrass myself in front of Olivier... Lucky me, he seemed to be looking at Crispy too, though his expression is more contemplative.

“It's... hard to keep in mind that you all looked human once, I'll give you that...”, he muses.

“Hey, like we said,” I answer with a smirk, “we're ponies!”

Ambre's View

Mmmh...

*purr*

I roll a little more into my cocoon of blankets... Can ponies purr..?

Mmh whatever..!

*loud purr*

Even if it's quite different from a real bed, our nest of pillows and blankets still works quite nicely for some quality sleeping-in... It's the perfect epilogue to a good night!

The nightmares keep on coming, of course, but we found out that being in close proximity to other ponies dulls the fear's edge. Maybe it's some form of herd instinct..?

Right now I'm alone, though. I really don't know what's the deal with these ponies and getting up before sunrise. It's not like we have to get to work or anything...

My ears twitch as hoofbeats get closer. I wriggle my head through the blankets to see Crispy entering the room. She looks... I dunno, a bit wistful maybe..?

She quickly puts on a more neutral face: “Amber? You shouldn't dally if you want some breakfast.”

I groan. “... So late already..?”

Sunlight is peeking through the blinds... Why does time always seem to pass faster when you're having a good time..?

I plunge back under the blankets. “Just a little mooooore..!”

“Suit yourself...”, she chuckles. “But I hope you will still be helping around the house today? It's the least we can do.”

That would be the responsible thing to do, I suppose. “Yeah, of course...”, I mumble.

So, where was I..?

Ah yes, blankets and pillows and all the good stuff!

I let myself doze off, reveling in the softness all around me...

... Until I hear a loud noise, like something falling on tiles.

It must've come from our shared bathroom, and...

Is Crispy crying..?

I extricate myself fully out of my cocoon and stagger towards the bathroom, brushing my mane out of my face. Crispy is sitting on the floor with teary eyes, a plastic hairbrush held awkwardly in her forehooves.

“Are you okay..?”

“It's... It's still so hard to get used to all this...”, she whispers, looking down at the hairbrush.

I can understand how difficult it must be... I'm lucky enough to have learned how to use magic, but she only has her hooves, and will have to learn how to live like this. It can't help that she still has to wear that splint for the time being...

Was she trying to brush her mane, or her tail? I could take care of both at the same time for her if we have a second brush!

But I don't want to rub salt in the wound either...

I inch to her side, not sure how to act, until she sniffs, and looks at me with a sad smile:

“I'm sorry, it's nothing, you should've stayed in bed...”

That was certainly more than 'nothing', but I can't force her either... What I can do is make sure she's conscious that she's not alone: “Well, if you ever want to talk about it, or if you need help, I'm here.”

I hope my own smile looks convincingly confident... At least she does seem a little less downcast:

“That's sweet of you Amber, thank you. I feel that I must come to terms with this on my own, though.”

“It's okay, I understand.” I brush my head against her shoulder, mindful of my horn.

Physical displays of affection come so much more easily now... Maybe it's because my body is less of a hang-up, or maybe that's just a pony thing. It's like my sense of smell, it's so much more powerful now compared to a human's that it creates a whole new layer of social interactions! Being so close to Crispy, I can catch this thing in the air that I've come to associate with feeling stressed-out.

And it's funny how her usual scent always makes me think of walking into a bakery... Gosh, from thought to image, it titillates my hunger!

*gurgle*

... You treacherous stomach!

“Well,” Crispy giggles, “looks like your body thinks you've had enough sleep for today!”

“Yeah, yeah...”, I mutter. “I'm gonna put the bed away.”

I walk out of the bathroom, and my magic makes quick work of folding the blankets and stacking the pillows in a corner. Our nest is comfy, but its main advantage is that it can be hidden quickly, just in case we have to deal with another surprise 'visit' like three days ago.

At first I was more than a little anxious to sleep alongside a new couple, but it's not as awkward as I feared. Well at least I think they're a couple. They sure act like it, but...

All this, just because of a dream..?

Anyway, that's for them to sort out I suppose.

My nose guides me through the house towards the kitchen and its coffee pot. Here I find Sweetchard and Mr. Prévost: “Good morning!”

“Morning Amber!”, greets the stallion as he nibbles at an apple. “Finally up?”

“Oh come on,” I huff, cheeks feeling hot, “it's not that late, is it..?”

“Almost eight.”, says Mr. Prévost after checking his watch. “Will have to leave for work soon...”, he sighs.

Eight? Oh that's fine then! The way they badger me about it they make it sound like it's at least ten!

I look around, but the only munchies I can see are more apples. Meh, it will do! I levitate one to my mouth, and from the corner of my eye I fix myself a nice cup of coffee.

Magic: it's awesome!

My second cup is on its way down when Crispy comes to ask Mr. Prévost what she could do to help, and this reminds me we're currently short one pony. I turn to Sweetchard: “Do you know if Laurence is up?”

“Oh, yeah, she asked Olivier if she could spend some more time in the garage.”

Again? She should be in bed, even if she's healing fast! And especially with Mrs. Prévost out working!

We proposed to build our nest in her room, but she declined, and since her sister left yesterday she's been obsessing with 'training', whatever it may imply.

I shouldn't care so much...

But...

“Maybe I should see how she is...”

Sweetchard rolls his eyes: “You shouldn't worry so much about her. I think sometimes she just wants to be alone by herself, so I wouldn't go and pester her for nothing, you know?”

“I'm not sure being alone is what she needs...”

He snorts. “Seriously Amber, you're not her mom.”

“What are you two arguing about?”, asks Crispy.

“She's afraid Rafale would try to do something stupid.”

“It's– it's not that!”, I blurt out, looking away.

It's just... We didn't help Laurence enough when she was suffering through the change, and...

And...

A forehoof bumps against mine, and it's Sweetchard's: “Hey Amber, I understand you're worried about her, but think about it: if she wanted to kick the bucket so badly, she wouldn't have followed us. It must've taken a pretty strong desire to live just to keep standing with these injuries, let alone flying! Yet she did just that, and now she's spending time training and getting to know her body. Maybe she doesn't want to admit it, but I bet she's gotten much more comfortable with the change than you might think.”

“... I sincerely hope you're right.”, I sigh.

Crispy comes to my other side: “Don't worry Amber, I'm sure Sweety's right. The change has been difficult for each of us, for different reasons, and she must only need a little more time, that's all.”

She smiles, but I can't shake the impression it's a little forced...

“Maybe, yes... But somebody should still check on her anyway.”

Olivier raises his hand: “Uh, I for one would appreciate if at least one of you stayed with your winged friend when she's out and about. Solange is still worried about her.”

It's relieving that at least one person doesn't think I'm overworrying! “All right then, I'll be with her.”

I pour some water into a mug and head out of the kitchen towards the garage. I don't understand why Sweetchard is so quick at dismissing Laurence's feelings, when at the same time he looked really concerned for her when she was wounded... Is it so hard to admit that it's not because he took to being a pony like a duck to water that it must be the same for all of us?

Anyway, I push the garage's door open. It looks more like the inside of a barn than a regular garage, probably because it was a barn contiguous with the old farm building before the Prévosts renovated the place.

I spot Laurence, on the other side of the old tractor parked in the middle of the garage. She has her back to me, standing in front of a wall, only wearing her boyshorts, and her wings extended. I didn't expect that; it's still unusual to see them fully deployed, considering how she hid them until now. Though I expected even less what she's actually doing with them.

She's flapping her wings, but with her hooves firmly on the ground, like she isn't trying to get airborne in the first place. There's the faintest tingling in my horn, different from my own levitation, but otherwise I'm not sure she's doing anything more than exerting herself when she should be resting...

After a long moment of fruitless flapping she lets her wings fall limply at her sides, head held low as she pants from all her efforts, and I take it as my cue to come closer.

“Laurence?”

She mustn't have heard my hoofbeats because she jolts at the sound of my voice, spinning on herself to face me like a cornered animal. Her sudden fierceness softens when she sees it's only me, but just barely: “What are you doing here!? It could be dangerous!”

'Dangerous'..? Well, for herself maybe! “You shouldn't train so hard, you're not fully healed yet!”

I look at her scarred face, with that eyepatch made out of bandages, as her anger devolves into anguish: “I... I have to! I need to control this better, I can't..!” She lets herself fall on the ground, exhausted, and cringes as she folds the jumbled messes of feathers that are her wings. “I have to..! They're too dangerous..!”

I don't know all the details of what happened back in this forsaken building, and I'm not sure I want to... From the way she reacted when we first broached the subject, the way she's reacting now...

That magic in the air, was it something she did..?

It's easy to imagine how magic could be dangerous; after all there's a good reason I haven't dared to try that 'laser beam' spell yet! Even if it were to protect ourselves, I'm not sure I'd want to use it anyway... Yesterday, at Mrs. Prévost's insistence, I already forced myself to learn how to use the hunting rifle, under her supervision of course. She told me it was for our safety. But if push comes to shove, would I really be able to pull the trigger on a sentient being..?

I'm not looking forward to finding out...

Laurence is slowly getting her breath back. I lay down on the earthen floor a body-length away on her left, and I float the mug of water to her, which she gladly accept like I hoped. Comfortable silence stretches out between us for a while, until I finally force myself to ask a question that's been plaguing me for the past few days, mainly because I fear I already know the answer:

“Laurence... Why did you stay?”

Her ears swivel towards me in surprise, even if her eye doesn't follow. “Uh?”

Now that I've dared to ask it once, it's easier to elaborate: “Why did you stay behind? Why did you have to fight them?”

Her expression grows sour, her ears splayed back. “I had to. They were closing on us, you were incapacitated, and Crispy was wounded. We needed a distraction, something to delay them until you could all get somewhere safe. I thought we already went over this, Amber...”

“That's what you said then.” I brace myself for the next part. “The thing is... I don't believe you.”

Only now does she turn to look at me, frowning. I continue:

“I know there was a better way out of this, and you know I'm right. We could've tried something, but no... You wanted to stay behind.”

She squints at me, and there's this pressure to back down, to drop the question altogether, but I tap into my years of experience fighting for myself to quell that urge and stand firm. I shouldn't care so much, but I need that answer.

I need to know it's not my fault.

Seeing that I'm not going anywhere, Laurence sighs in resignation: “What do you want me to say..? That we should have followed your hunch? Did the stunt you pulled when we tried to get inside the Brigade's store was another one of these 'hunches' you have now..? Because if I hadn't seen you go into that alley and gone after you, we would've been caught!”

She's... She's not wrong. “At least we got inside..?”, I offer lamely.

“We did, yes, but because we were damn lucky! What would've been the cost of your latest hunch, if we hadn't been fortunate enough? We didn't know the terrain, our mobility was limited, we were outnumbered without any way to level the playing field – we had to limit the risks!”

“I know it was a risk, but your plan was risky too, you could've died! Why didn't you even want to listen to me!?”

“... Why does it even matter now?”, she grumbles, looking away.

“It matters because I could not live with myself if I ever let you try to kill yourself again!!”

She avoids my eyes, and I see a single tear falling down her cheek.

I wasn't planing on shouting, but her blatant disregard for her own life, I... I just can't..!

I understand that being a pony is painful for her, oh Celestia how I understand viscerally how painful this can be, but that's not the answer! Not when we've barely brushed the surface of the problem, and that a solution could be just around the corner! We have to find a way to change back!

There has to be a way, right..?

“... My sister put you up to this..?”, she asks me after a moment.

Mélanie did ask me to keep an eye on her sister when she left yesterday, but I'd already made up my mind by then. “She didn't have to, Laurence... I know we haven't known each other for very long, but we went through this together, we're still going through this together, and I'm not about to give up on you!”

Her answer is a humorless chuckle: “Please Amber, I know you mean well, and I'm thankful for your concern, but it's just something you can't help me with...”

“Not... directly, maybe, but... You know I'm here if you need me, right..? Even if it's just to talk, or vent, or whatever... You're not alone, Laurence.”

“... Yes, I know.”

She says it with a small smile, but it still sounds like a brush-off...

Why do nopony want my help..? I'm not a foal, I can handle it! Do I really seem so unreliable?

And why do I even want to help them so much in the first place!? They're adults, they should be able to take care of themselves just fine, or actually ask for help if they can't! I should've learned by then that involving myself so much with people only ever leads to be burned!

But... They're my friends, right..? Isn't that what a friend would do, to remind them that they can count on me, and be there for them..?

*sigh*

Why does it always have to be so complicated...

“Hey girlsh!”

Our ears go up at hearing Sweetchard's voice, but he sounds strange, like...

Oh, that's why: he's holding a phone in his mouth.

... Wait, what?

Laurence gets back on her hooves, frowning: “What are you doing with my phone..?”

“It wash ringin', it'sh your shister!”

Ah! I levitate the phone from Sweetchard's lips and give it to Laurence. She fiddles with the device, probably trying to put it on speakers, but of course the touch screen doesn't detect her hooftip.

“It doesn't work with your hooves? Well use your lips then!”, urges Sweetchard.

“I'm not using my lips to touch a phone, let alone one you've slobbered all over!”

Before I can even propose to go get my stylus Laurence lets out a frustrated growl, slamming the tip of one of her largest feathers against the screen...

And to my surprise, it works!

“At least these stupid things are useful for something..!”, she hisses. “Mél? Can you hear me?”

Yeah, took you long enough! Shouldn't you be in bed..?

The pegasus's ears fold back, her annoyance petering out into sheepishness.

“That's what I told her!”

This earns me an outraged squint.

“Sorry..!”

Laurence clears her throat. “So, what is the purpose of your phone call?”

You remember I wanted to check on that colleague of mine?

“Yes.”

Uh? I don't...

We were right, she turned pony.

What!? “Are you sure!?”

Twenty-five, born in the first days of May, sudden eye and hair color changes, what I now know were real pony ears... As soon as I got home I tried to reach her, and she just answered.

“So there's really another pony? That's great!”, gushes Sweetchard.

And more than one, I think. They're safe, hiding somewhere in the suburb – they'll give us more information once we can prove we're legit.

“'Legit'? Are people routinely playing at being ponies or what..?”, Laurence scoffs.

After what you've gone through here a little caution isn't out of the question...

“... Point taken. So how do we do that?”

“Could a picture help?”, I propose. “We could take a group shot, and send it to the other pony?”

That should work. You got something to note her number?

We all rush back to the kitchen to take care of that, and once Mélanie hangs up we take that photo!

Well, after Sweetchard has caught Crispy and convinced her to participate.

And after Laurence has put her sweater back on, of course.

And after I've brushed my mane and tail a little bit...

But at least we're all satisfied with the picture on the first try!

Just have to wait for an answer now... I hope they're nice ponies!

“What will we do, when they reply?”, Crispy asks. “Confirming that we're not the only ponies on the planet is well and good, but what are we to do with this information?”

... Oops.

“Well technically we, er, already knew that..?” With everything I suppose I forgot that we learned this little tidbit at the Brigade meeting..?

“Seriously!?”, Sweetchard yells at me. “Why didn't you tell us!?”

Laurence moves to interpose herself between us: “Don't take it out on her, Chard. Compared to the fact we had to find a way to save you and not get ourselves killed in the process, this was an irrelevant detail. And considering you had already found another pony on your own by then, we didn't think it needed to be spelled out...”

“... Yeah okay,” he grumbles, “I admit it shouldn't be much of a surprise anyway...”

Crispy easily nuzzles his frown away before getting us back on tracks: “Be that as it may, the question remains: what do we do? I was thinking that we could contact private eco communities, like those in the Cévennes for example. They can be pretty remote, and I doubt their politics align with those of the Brigade. This still amounts to putting our fate into human hands, but it must be better than trying to live by ourselves in some random forest... Should we propose to these other ponies to come and join us, once we're sure we have a safe place?”

Mmh... I suppose that is a good plan. I'm not sure we have so many options beyond holing up somewhere in the countryside, anyway...

“It's a sensible short-term plan.”, Laurence agrees. “However, finding this 'safe place' will take time we don't have right now, with those Brigade bastards breathing down our necks. That's why I would propose that our first goal should be to regroup with the other ponies, if they agree to it. This will give us time to prepare for the next step.”

“Eh, you're the last pony I'd expect to go all 'let's go meet strangers!'...”, Sweetchard chuckles.

“... That's strategic thinking, that's all.”

“Yeah, if you say so, Sarge...”, he quips with a wry smile.

I can see Laurence's features darkening at his use of the title, but to my relief it doesn't go further than an annoyed squint... Still, better to not let her dwell on it:

“So we wait for the ponies to answer, and we ask them if it's okay for us to join, right?”

Laurence nods. “I think it's our best bet.” She turns to Crispy, who nods her agreement, and Sweetchard follows suit. “All right. As soon as they reply I will contact my sister, ask her to come take us there tonight.”

“That's pretty short notice!”

“The sooner the better. Once we have confirmation I will also ask Séb to bring our belongings here. We don't know when we will be able to get back, so I propose we use this day to make a list of whatever we want to take with us that Séb can collect. Crispy, if you need anything that we could buy, please say so.”

“That's a good idea, thank you.”

So we're leaving... I suppose, after everything that happened to us, it's the lesser change we have to go through. Oh, come to think of it, she didn't say where those new ponies are!

“Er, where are we going, actually?”, I ask Laurence.

“Where my sister works, Toulouse.”

Toulouse!?

Oh no..!

Please no!!

Laurence's View

I put the last touch at the accommodation certificate, these damn wings proving that they can serve as semi-decent hands, even if my writing is truly abysmal. Maybe it doesn't help that I'm writing with the left wing, but for some inscrutable reason, even while I'm right-handed, it proved more adept at the job than the right one...

Another factor could be how tense I am, biting my lip almost to the blood, trying to contain a scream of anguish-tinted frustration..!

But well... It's that, or not doing anything at all.

The document is completed by my signature, and I cast the pen away to forget the feels of these cursed feather dusters as soon as possible.

With this paper Séb will have official proof that he's lodging at my house. We discussed it, and he'll leave his previous place and his roommate to move in at mine. This way he'll take care of Sainfoin, and everything else, until I can come back.

We'll both donate for rent and bills, but even then, money could quickly become a problem. I'll be fired, naturally, if it's not already done, and we hope that Séb will be able to collect my unemployment papers and thus my benefits. I certainly won't be able to do it myself...

I've technically become an undocumented citizen, since the picture of my ID card isn't up to date anymore... Same for my height, and everything else, except for my gender...

Oh, and of course there's the little tiny detail that I look like a talking animal.

Anyway... At least I'm slowly getting through this administrative nightmare. Putting my life on hold like this... I hope it'll wait for me to come claim it back.

“You're still on that stuff?”

I turn my good ear to Sweetchard, who is sweeping the floor around the table I'm working on: “I hate this kind of hassle, but I don't really have a choice. We still have to see how to extend my car insurance to Séb... Don't you have your own issues to attend to?”

He doesn't answer.

“We could at least call your landlord, or see with Séb to help you?”

“Nah it's okay. I don't really care.”

Why am I not surprised..? “You realize that you risk losing everything you possess?”

“Yeah thank you so much for reminding me... Actually that's not a bad idea, I should ask Sébastien to withdraw as much money as possible from my account before we leave.”

“What about your flat? If you don't leave enough to pay your rent...”

He snorts. “So what? They'd have a hard time finding me even if they looked.”

“Which is exactly my problem...”, I sigh.

Something touches my right shoulder, and I shy away instinctively, almost falling from my chair. Turning a bit, I see it's Sweetchard, who just bumped his head against me.

“I understand all this is still very hard on you,” he says, “and that I can be somewhat... insensitive every now and then, so... I'm sorry if I hurt you sometimes, I really don't mean to.”

...

“... Was it Crispy, or Amber?”, I ask.

“Uh? Oh, it was Crispy, but she didn't have to do much. I remember how you got between me and Charles at the beach... How you got between us and them, that night... Oh and that you came to rescue us before that, too, and... I don't think I've thanked you enough for all this...”

“You didn't.”, I confirm with a smirk.

“So, uh, well... Thank you, Laurence. I hope we can still be friends?”

'Friends'...

Usually it's a pretty loaded term for me...

A 'friend' is someone for whom I'm ready to do anything, someone I trust completely. Someone I can be open with.

I've only ever had three people I've considered friends in my life, including Séb. Amber is straying dangerously close to be considered one, but as fond of her as I can be, I know I can't rely on her either...

Sweetchard, now..?

I didn't like Sarah. She was loud and obnoxious. Her pony self isn't much better. And yet, though I'm certainly not fond of him, I feel I could more easily grow to trust him – if only because he wears his heart on his non-existent sleeve, and that makes him easier to read and predict, unlike Crispy.

Not a friend, clearly, not under my definition... But still some potential. And his repentance deserves at least some recognition.

I bring my attention back to the stallion, who is still standing here with his broom, maybe a bit uncomfortable to not have my answer yet.

“Probationary friends.”, I declare. “Let's try to treat each other with respect, and see where that brings us..?”

His initial bafflement morphs into his own knowing smirk: “I guess that's the best I could hope for, huh?”

I shrug goodnaturedly. “It leaves room for improvement.”

“True, true...”, and he goes back to his sweeping.

Well, that was a good talk!

So, anyway, where was I again?

Ah... Yes...

Ugh..! I hate all these arbitrary administrative rules...

But I need to take care of it. Oh, and I'll have to call Séb for Chard's business, the more money we don't lose in this debacle, the better. Crispy's folks froze her financial assets, and Amber didn't have much to her name in the first place...

Speaking of, I wonder where Amber is? She wasn't her usual peppy self at lunch, and after helping me coming up with my to-do list she excused herself.

Actually she's been a bit withdrawn since we got our answer from the Toulousian ponies... I could certainly understand the anxiety of meeting unknown people, though she always struck me as more timid than socially anxious. Is there something else..? Maybe I should just ask her?

Buuuut it'll have to wait just a little more... I'm supposed to finish all my paperwork and online procedures before Séb arrives this evening with our luggage.

I hope that, once we're gone, he'll be able to get his life back into a semblance of normalcy... If Sensaz is in difficulty like he said, will he have to find another job? He will have my car, that could help him.

But what if the Brigade tries to go after him..? They already did it once...

Maybe it'd be better if he left with us? Though his parents still live here, what would they say of their son suddenly leaving for no reason..? Or maybe we could tell them he found another job in Toulouse?

Of course we would take Sainfoin with us, but... That'd mean abandoning my home, and forcing him to uproot himself too...

Is it so selfish of me to wish he came with us..?

Probably...

What will I tell him when we part ways..?

Maybe I could write a little something in preparation?

...

*sigh*

I'm stalling, aren't I..?

Come on Laurence, get back to work!

Even if you have to use these damn wings...

Ambre's View

I shift again, on my back this time. Maybe it'll work that way...

...

Come on..!

...

Ugh..! I want to sleep, dang it!

We only have a couple hours left before Mélanie arrives, and I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep in the car...

Maybe I should just check my bag again? Or do some little magical exercises?

Whatever but laying here doing nothing! Why is staying in bed so much better in the morning!?

*sigh*

Come on Amber, I'm sure it'll be okay... It's been years, you're strong enough now! And you have your friends with you!

Crispy and Sweetchard don't seem to stress as much as I do in any case, both sleeping soundly one atop the other... I suppose for them it's just one more change in this crazy week, and far from being the direst... They don't have this feeling of being dragged back to Hell...

If only I could doze off, to forget it all for a little while... Even my usual nightmares would be an almost welcome distraction!

...

Okay, on the back really doesn't work either...

I turn on my ri—

Wait, what's that..?

My ears twitch at what I recognize to be muffled hoofbeats. Only half the usual set, and coming from this side of the corridor, it must be Laurence.

Maybe nightmares woke her up... Or she could be troubled by our imminent departure too? She was practically glued to Sébastien since he got here, the idea of leaving him is clearly something she does not relish at all... Even then, at no point did she say anything that'd suggest she isn't fully in support of our plan. She's certainly braver than I am...

She surprised me after dinner, when she asked me if I had a problem I wanted to talk about. It wasn't even of the 'I need you at peak efficiency' kind, I think she was truly worried about how I was feeling...

It felt good, to see this naked concern in her eye. Not expecting anything from me in return, not trying to manipulate me to her own ends... Just honest concern for my well-being, like the Dejeans.

But all the same, maybe by force of habit, I didn't dare expose my anxieties...

It's not that important an issue, not with everything else that happened to us, and will probably keep on happening... I shouldn't bother them with my personal problems if they don't impact the group...

On the other hoof, maybe talking about it could help..? Laurence already knows bits of my history, I wouldn't have to explain it all. She would probably understand, too...

And it's not like I can sleep anyway...

I use a little touch of magic to get myself out of our nest without disturbing the sleeping couple, and I shuffle out of the room. Turning right into the corridor, I walk as silently as I can towards the living room and the kitchen, my horn the only light source in the darkened house. I don't want to wake anyb—

My ears shoot up at the sounds of a commotion coming from further away.

What's happening? Did Laurence slip?

I quicken my pace, arriving in the living room. The sounds are coming from the kitchen, but it's not just a commotion, it's a scuffle! There's a thud against a wall, and a grunt, and—

“You fuckin' monster..!”

It's a man's voice!

“You couldn't help yourselves huh, you had to keep trying to ruin our lives!?”, I hear Laurence hissing.

Oh no no no no!! It's them, it's the Brigade, they found us! We shouldn't have stayed here for so long!

What should I do!? I can't leave Laurence alone, not with how hurt she is, I must help her!

I'm about to charge head-on into the kitchen, but I stop myself, and turn towards the old escritoire.

The Prévosts' hunting rifle is here.

“You'll pay for all the good men you killed..!”, I hear the man growling.

“It's you idiots' fault for bringing military-grade weapons, I didn't want any casualties!”, comes Laurence's heartfelt rebuke.

The rifle is encased in the red glow of my magic, and I bring it to my side. I can feel its weight, the stiffness of the metal, the minute cracks in the wood... The whole bolt-action mechanism, the trigger...

This is only to serve as a deterrent, to force him to back down, I won't fire! I swear!

My hooves feel like they're made of lead as they bring me closer and closer to the kitchen...

“Whatever you do to me, more will come..!”

“Then I'll just have to get used to pun—”

Laurence's word is cut with a grunt, and a body falls to the floor!

I don't think, I dash forward!! My hooves skid on the tiles, and I find myself face to face with two men in dark clothes, standing on the other side of the kitchen table, over Laurence's prone form on the floor!

“Don't move!”, I screech, aiming the rifle at each human in turn! “Don't move or I shoot!”

They both stay still at first, but the one on the left, who holds a garden spade in his hand, is visibly relaxing, and soon the other does the same!

“I said don't move!”, I repeat; my legs are shaking, and my breathing is shallow, but my magic doesn't waver!

“And I say you don't have the guts to shoot either of us..!”, the man on the left sneers, and they start slowly shuffling around each side of the table!

“I– I will if I have to!!”

I can only follow one of them at a time with the rifle though, and even if the one I'm aiming at stops, the other always uses the opportunity to creep a little closer to me!

“And what will happen if you do..?”, questions the man on the right. “Aliens or monsters, you're just animals! You've got no rights! Shoot us, and you'll see what happens when the police shows up! It's the end for you!”

“And if you're not hiding another one in your ridiculous hair, you only have one bullet anyway...”, adds the one on my left.

...

Oh dang it!! I forgot the darn bullets!!

A cold shiver runs down my spine, but I can't let it show!

“Well I'm pretty fast with this thing!”, I try to bluff. “So don't get any funny ideas!”

I'm not trying to be quiet; what are the others doing!? Nopony sleeps that deeply!!

The two men stop, looking at each other for a moment. Did my bluff work!?

Leftie goes for his jacket's pocket. “Stop that!”, I shout!

But focusing on him, I didn't see Rightie doing the same! He holds something in his hand, and there's a sudden flash of light!

My heart skips a beat, but to my relief it's not the rumble of a gunshot that rings out in the kitchen, just a little 'click'. I still train the rifle on him, and I can see he's only holding his phone.

Did he take a photo? I'm lucky my eyes were forced to adapt to the glow of my own hornlight, otherwise the flash would've blinded me!

A second flash comes from Leftie's hand. What are they doing..?

“Now, little demon,”, he smiles with confidence, “we're just a finger's touch from sending your picture and location to all our friends... Still think you're fast enough..?”

What!? No!!

I can't let them!! What can I do!?

They're both holding their phone firmly in hand, I wouldn't win a tug-of-war against both at the same time!

My eyes scan the room frantically, looking for anything, anyway—

I have a way.

“So drop the rifle, or el—”

My magic flares to the left, around the handle of two of the knifes in their block atop the counter.

I don't have to think, the trajectory is clear in my mind as I flick the knifes out of the wooden block, and they fly on their way with as much speed and strength as I could muster.

Each knife pierces each phone, shattering the screen, and the men let them fall in their surprise and pain – the knife stabbed right through Rightie's hand to get to his phone.

With so much of my focus elsewhere, the levitating rifle threatens to slide out of my magic, but as I get out of that strange mental zone I have just enough presence of mind to keep it afloat, and aimed at Leftie.

... Oh my gosh..! Did I just do that!?

Rightie is whimpering, laying against the table and cradling his hand to his chest... But Leftie looks at me with both hate and fear in his eyes, and he moves to pick up the garden spade he dropped in his shock! “I going t—”

The lights suddenly turn on!

“What's happening here!?”

I jolt at Mrs. Prevost shouting from just behind me, and this time I really would have let go of the rifle, if she wasn't here to take it in her own hands! She shoulders the weapon without hesitation: “Did you two imbeciles really think you could get into my house like this!? Who do you think you are!? Both of you on the ground, now!”

This time the two men don't try to act tough, and they comply without a fight. For my part I'm feeling a little lightheaded after all these emotions, but I can't stop yet, Laurence is still laying on the floor!

I cross the kitchen to get to her, giving the widest berth I can to the groaning Rightie. She's sprawled on the tiles, still unconscious... Oh please don't be hurt..!

I nuzzle at her ear; it flicks in response, and she begins to stir! I crouch next to her, encouraging her with more soft touches from my snout, but she's still quite groggy...

“Ambre..?”

It's Sébastien, who is joining me at our friend's side. “She's okay!”, I tell him with a relieved smile.

“Let me be the judge of that.”, says Mrs. Prévost as she follows after him. Looking back, I see she gave the rifle to her husband; I didn't notice when Mr. Prévost got to the kitchen, nor Sweetchard and Crispy.

“You'd help this beast before your own kind!?”, Leftie has the gal to protest!

Seeing her face, I think Mrs. Prévost was this close to spit at him in disgust: “Her kind doesn't make me want to puke as often as yours, fascist scum!”

“Yeah, I'd shut your trap if I was you!”, Sweetchard snarls, head held aggressively low and pawing at the floor with a forehoof. “Just give me another good reason man, and I stomp you through the floor!”

“No more fighting under my roof!”, barks Mrs. Prévost.

“... Not so loud please...”, moans poor Laurence.

“You really have a knack for hurting yourself, don't you..? Here, help me take her to the couch.” Sébastien assists her, and together we get Laurence to the living room, away from those horrible men.

“What... What happened..?”, she asks me once we have made her comfortable.

“Two men got inside, they hurt you...”

She mulls the information over. “But you got them, right..?”

“I, er, yes...”

“You did good, Amber, thank you...”, she smiles at me, then turns to Sébastien: “Séb, call Mél... Ask her where she is... We're running out of time...”

He nods, and goes back towards their room.

I lay my head at Laurence's side. My heart is still beating hard in my chest, and her scent, like morning dew and crisp wind, helps to calm my nerves...

She says I did good, but... I was so scared, and then I did this... this incredibly dangerous thing! I could've killed them! I already wounded one!

It wasn't my magic though. Not the usual kind, at least... This was so strange..!

“Hey, you're all right?”

I look up at Mrs. Prévost, who came back with supplies to attend to Laurence. “More or less... Oh, by the way!” I open one of the escritoire's drawers and quickly levitate the little box of ammunition into her hands. “I, er, suppose you need that...”

She blinks in confusion. “Wait, you didn't..? Well in the end it's for the best I guess,”, she sighs, “considering what you did with just a pair of kitchen knifes....”

I look down at my hooves. “I... I didn't mean to...”

“What's done is done. I'm not happy about it, but after I've given a little something to your friend I should at least treat this idiot's wound...”

“What will we do with them now..?”

“Don't worry about that. We'll keep them here, and as soon as you're all on the road, we'll call the gendarmerie. Olivier and I are good friends with them, and this still counts as breaking and entering, if not assault.”

“I see...”

“You should all try to take some rest while you still can, this is going to be an even longer night than we thought...”

As Mrs. Prévost goes back to the kitchen I lay back against the couch, curling on myself, gazing at Laurence. Soon we're joined by Crispy and Sweetchard, and we find some measure of comfort in each other's closeness.

I don't think any of us are going back to sleep any time soon...