Preunification Anon

by Spooples

VII - Confidoit

The magic under the marketstead curls from underneath its foundation, susurrating in a low, magical growl. The grass underneath its shadow is bleached in a rainbow glow of many unicorns’ horns.

The sounds of ponies – merchants calling out for potential customers and the mixed and matched conversations of hundreds of strangers – do nothing to rid yourself of the image of a prowling timberwolf. The image of the many wooden ramps dragging across the grassy ground, leaving claw wounds across Equus’ face. The image of a stallion’s face, blank and unreadable, devoid of his previous liveliness.

No. You can’t think of that. Not now. Your friends are counting on you.

…At least, you hope they see you as a friend.

You swallow the dryness in the back of your throat and hop aboard one of the many wooden ramps of the marketstead. It remains sturdy, not even bending a hooflength under your weight.

Once again, your link to the core of Equus is broken. You are now adrift on this magical island.

Your fur prickles at the sensation of it all, as if a timberwolf were taking a long, deep smell of the meat under your coat.

“Move your fat plot, ya horned mammoth!”

You flinch at the frustrated yell of a stranger. You hastily make the rest of your trip up the boreal slope, giving the exiting wagon you hadn’t noticed a wide radius. There are two unicorns on the wagon’s helm; one’s magical grip holds the reigns, while the other’s wraps around her sword’s hilt in a threatening manner. Both unicorns are wearing cloaks, though their sneers and glares are as discernable as a stain on a white quilt.

As you pass by the wagon, one of the unicorns suddenly takes a heightened interest in you. The magic around her sword’s hilt dissipates as her head follows your adjacent path. “Not horned,” she grumbles to her companion, just loud enough for you to hear. “Just a lost mammoth.”

”Don’t even think about it,” the driver answers before the question is even asked. “Not while onboard. Ancients help us if a Marestro catches us.”

You only bow your head and speed into a trot. You half expect the back of the wagon to suddenly burst open in a flurry of cloth and armed unicorns, horns and weapons pointed your way. Thankfully, the wagon does no such thing. It only continues in the opposite direction, gliding down the wooden ramp before making its way back into the open world of Equus.

As you continue into the marketstead, the sounds of hooves clacking against cobblestone, the humming of horns, and an amalgam of voices wash over you like an avalanche.

”Twenty doits! Anything less and all of Marketstead Confidoit will know you’re a haggling thief.”

”Thestral is what I heard they were called! No, in Equestria!”

”Bucking raiders… whole damn place is behind ‘cause of them.”

”Don’t give a shit who you stab with it, ‘s long as it’s well and away from here.”

”ANCIENTS-DAMNIT, GET YOUR MUDDY HOOVES OFF THE ROAD!”

You yip as you hurriedly skitter to the cobblestone lane to the side of the wooden “road,” as it seems to be called. You were wondering why nopony else was walking on it, but as another caravan of unicorns roll on by on the wide boards, you get your answer.

The architecture of the marketstead seems so foreign to you. Instead of being carved into a mountainside, flowing upwards in a tall wall of sidewalks and stone buildings, everything here is much flatter. You look above, but instead of a comforting, natural wall, you only see the whites and blues of the sky. You feel too naked for comfort; you can’t imagine how these ponies would withstand a sky thief raid, or a griffon attack!

That’s the thought that reminds you of your comrade in the sky.

A white puffball steadily remains overhead, no doubt piloted by an observant Max Gusto. You blink slowly, taking comfort in that fact. You are by no means alone.

You can do this.

You see all manners of attire worn by the unicorns around you. If the marketstead were more popular, you’d imagine the sidewalks would look akin to a sea of flowing clothes and glimmering armors. You never knew there were so many variations of cloaks and armor.

As many variations as there are, though, it’s obvious each one has one of two goals: intimidate, or conceal.

The unicorns around you give you a wide berth. They all seem to give each other a wide berth, now that you pay attention. There aren’t so many unicorns that anypony is forced to rub up against each other, and each one seems to be content to remain either by themselves or with their housecarlas or ladies. But so far as you’ve noticed, you’re the only one whose presence would have a unicorn walk into the wooden street and brave the passing wagon than walk beside you.

As the second unicorn risks injury, you decide to change your trajectory. You’re now walking alongside the curb of the wooden street. Now nopony should be endangering themselves when trying to avoid you; there’s plenty of room on the other side!

So… where shall you go first?

You’ll be honest. It was much easier to know where you’d be going when you had a wider view of the marketstead. Now that you’re between the merchants and customers of the place, you’re having trouble orienting yourself.

Still, there is one landmark you haven’t lost sight of since you’ve entered the marketstead. It’s some ways down the street, yet sticks out like rotten fruit. The thomery stands out from the tents and structures of the marketplaces not only due to its exterior, but also its magic wafting into the air like a dark chasm.

Each hoofstep towards the thomery suddenly becomes painfully intentional.

You bite your lip, your eyes boring into the ground. Your medicinal bag is tied to the left side of your hip. You find yourself entertaining the notion of finding a dark alleyway and settling down to begin another round of organizing your supplies.

No. Don’t stop now, Bountiful Riverside. If you get the thomery over with now, everything else will be easy.

You strike your procrastination from your mind and give a stomp of your hoof.

A cloaked unicorn yips from your side.

You squeak, turning towards the disturbance, only to find that the unicorn is giving you a suspicious glare as she skitters by you.

…Oh. She was yipping because of you.

You suspect a few more unicorns are giving you dirty glares, but when you look at each one you suspect, they turn away too quickly for you to decipher their reaction.

Blast! Why does this have to be so difficult? You haven’t even opened your mouth yet!

Besides, what reason would they have to be afraid of you?

Your eyes are on their way to be glued to the ground again when something in your peripheral grabs their attention. There’s a small shop a few cubits ahead – you hadn’t given it any notice before. Its structure isn’t so different from a building you’d find on the higher levels of Marestricht, but what sets it apart is the strange, shiny, transparent material which makes up its walls. It isn’t this material that’s grabbed your attention so quickly though, rather the baked goods that you can clearly see displayed on the other side.

Cakes. The shape and size is the same as the ones you’d find in Marestricht, if a little small for your taste, but the colors vary wildly. This is the bakery that Lucky Favor had pointed out when she asked you to buy Tia a treat. She was right; it is a straight line from the bakery to the thomery. It’d barely be an inconvenience to go in once you have the thome.

…Just how much of a disturbance would it cause if you were to buy a cake, you wonder? They certainly look tasty. You would never hope to disrespect Anonymous’ wishes, but what Lucky Favor said piqued your interest. Anonymous needs this to make amends with Tia. Just why does he not want you to help him?

…You’re sure Tia would appreciate—

Something warm collides into your chest and lets out a yelp of annoyance.

Curses! You zoned out and didn’t see her coming!

Before you can even begin to apologize, though, your vision is filled with a bright, paralyzing light.

”Quit clogging up the sidewalk!” the unicorn spits. You’re immediately on your haunches as the glowing horn is pointed at your face. “Lousy excuse of an Ancients-damn raider!”

Her words barely register as the feeling of your fur peeling off becomes unbearable. You whimper as you scoot away from the unicorn, turning your head away and slamming your eyes shut.

Glimmering, pale yellow eyes stare at you from between your blood father’s protective hooves.

The humming of the unicorn’s horn continues for a few agonizing moments before it slowly fades into nothingness. “Tsk,” she mutters. A set of hoofsteps makes its way around you. “Elusive my plot. You mud horses are just a bunch of cowards, is all.”

You feel something come up in your throat that you haven’t felt since you were a filly.

A sickly bile, caused not by a physical sickness, but by something much more nauseating. Your ears slam to your skull as you try to focus on taking in deep breaths.

You sniffle, wiping at your dry muzzle with your hooves, reminding yourself that your fur in still intact. You remind yourself that the vile magic is no longer targeting you, that Max Gusto is there to protect you…

…Although, if that unicorn had decided to fire that spell at you, would Max have had enough time to react?

Ancients, please give you strength…

You open your eyes and peer back up into the sky. The cloud is much closer now, close enough for you to be able to make out a pair of lime ears perking over its edge. You take solace in Max’s proximity, and your heartbeat slowly descends from its hummingbird perch.

You’re back on your hooves and making your way down the cobblestone path once again. You’re sure to not bump into anypony else.

One look in the thomery’s general direction, though, and you know you aren’t anywhere near ready to brave the spindles of magic whirling from its interior. You’re also starting to get why Anonymous had been so against getting the cake for Tia – it seems this marketstead doesn’t care if you aren’t looking for trouble. Trouble will fall into your hooves before you can refuse it. The sooner this is over, the better. So, with this all in mind, buying the map first is your best bet…

…The location of which you aren’t sure.

Blast! You can’t recall Lucky pointing out just where to buy that map. There was no need of maps back in Marestricht, so you wouldn’t even know where to look!

A general store? Or would it be in some sort of cartographer’s marketplace? Is there even such a market that specializes in that?

Fortunately, you’re quick enough to come back from your thoughts to avoid bumping into the unicorn just in front of you. You teeter to a halt just to the side of the cloaked mare, who barely registers you. She also seems to be lost in her own thoughts, her attention clocked in on something across the street.

…Well, she seems unassuming enough.

Not wanting a startled unicorn and a face-full of magic, you opt for a simple clearing of your throat. The unicorn’s ear flicks from under her hood as if you were a fly buzzing around her head. “Excuse me, stranger?” you ask gently. “I have a question, and I would appreciate if you would grace me with an answer.”

You’re sure this is the correct way to speak to strangers. You’ve heard it plenty times before, when ponies would speak in passing to you.

The unicorn’s muzzle scrunches, turning to respond before suddenly becoming still.

Her reaction is different from the usual subversion of unicorn’s expectations. Her face transitions from annoyance, to curiosity, but quickly back to annoyance as she looks over you. “Huh!” she says, her teeth stained with some weird, brownish green glob of moss. “Well, aren’t you a big one.”

You nod, still uneasy from the horn pointed your way. “Yes,” you confirm, your eyes flicking to where the unicorn had previously been staring. There’s a crowd of ponies surrounding what looks like a bulletin board, the sounds of armor and weapons rubbing up against each other unmistakable. There’s a certain unicorn, speaking loudly as she rubs up against a--…

Ancients above, there are male adventurers?!

No! No, you won’t make a big deal out of it! No need to look suspicious.

Even if the unimpressed look the stallion has on his face makes you feel for his situation.

Your eyes slowly return to the unicorn in front of you as you eke out a friendly grin. “Where would one go when looking for a place to buy a map?” you ask directly.

The unicorn frowns at something you’ve most undoubtedly messed up. You suppress a sigh of defeat. Without warning, the unicorn suddenly turns away from you and spits on the ground, before saying, “You can see Plumsteed just over the horizon. Don’t see any need for no map.”

“I am not headed in that direction,” you correct.

”All-Father’s rusted hilt you aren’t. There ain’t—” Suddenly, the unicorn stops speaking.

Your blood freezes. You didn’t give anything away, did you? You just said you weren’t headed for Plumsteed.

Thankfully, the unicorn’s next words are friendly. “Well, big miss,” she says with a chuckle. “I’ll be glad to escort a fellow traveler to the general store.”

“Your hospitality is appreciated,” you assure. “But I decline. I only need to know its location. I do not want to trouble you any longer.”

This only seems to pique the unicorn’s interest even more as she takes a step towards you. “Lotta thieves milling about in Marketstead Confidoit,” she insists. “Sure you can’t use some company?”

“I am fine. Please, only tell me the location of—”

”Don’t kid yourself. I can tell by that slur of an accent you’ve got you’re as lost as a colt in a brothel. That pride will get you bloody and in a ditch.” The unicorn lets out a sardonic chuckle, and for a brief moment her eyes glance at nothingness. It’s gone as soon as you notice it. “Well then, what’re we waiting for? I’ll lead ya.”

Before you can retort, her horn is set alight in an ethereal flame.

You force yourself to remain calm, but you can’t get the image of your blood father out of your mind now.

Ancients above, you wish you only knew what he was thinking…

“I’ll keep the unfavorables off your back,” the mare susurrates as the hilt of some kind of a weapon, you don’t care to decipher what, peaks out of her cloak.

Four round, almost boomerang-looking runes adorn its handle.

“I am FINE!” you shout before you can stop yourself.

Maybe it’s your racing brain’s imagination, but you swear you can see the friendly glimmer in the mare’s eyes… evaporate. She shrugs, the hilt of the wagon retreating back under her cloak. So why is her horn still engaged?

”Shoulda let me help you, saddleback,” she grumbles, her voice now absent of any friendly accordance. Already, she’s beginning to retreat away from you and back into the masses.

Before she can walk two steps, though, you hear the ungodly howl of a spell before a ball of light careens into the mare.

She drops limp. You scream out as your legs turn to liquid, dropping your haunches to the cobblestone. Before you can bolt, though, one augmented word rings in your ears.

”THIEF! Everypony, BACK!”

Immediately, the unicorns passing by and coming your way are at attention. A select few draw weapons, others look on in interest, and one or two suddenly bolt away from the newly made clearing around the limp body of the mare.

It was so quick. You heard the spell before you saw it. A split second, and the mare you were just speaking to was killed in front of your eyes.

Erased.

The hard clacking of hoofsteps can be heard from your right. You’re too numb to turn to see who’s approaching, but when the unicorn marches into your vision moments later, there’s no need. It’s the unicorn who was flirting with the stallion. The flamboyant armor which adorns her body burns in the sunlight, and the chainmail underneath sets loose a cacophony of rustling metal. Her horn is aflame with the same glow that now surrounds the other mare’s body.

”Ancients-damnit, again?!” a voice comes from…

…What?

You double check to make sure, and when the limp body of the mare continues speaking, you triple check to make sure you’re not just hearing voices. “Don’t you have a colt to smooth talk, Cindertouch?!”

You can only watch as Sister Cindertouch continues on her march towards the limp mare, not bothering to entertain her with her questioning. The few unicorns who had gained on the limp mare skitter off as the armored mare nears.

“Where is it?” Sister Cindertouch growls lowly.

The limp mare groans, “Guess the ‘honest bounty hunting life’ rotted the thinkin’ part of your brain. I got no idea what you’re talking about.”

”Ancients-damnit, I told you I wouldn’t go easy on you!” Bounty Hunter Cindertouch snaps. “Not in Confidoit! I saw you! You stole that mare’s doit bag.”

It takes a moment for you to realize she’s referring to you. As Hunter Cindertouch’s eyes lock with your own, you quickly reach for your doit bag, only to touch fur. Your head snaps to your side, and you confirm it with your own eyes. Your doit bag is missing.

”What’re you talking about?” the limp mare sniggers. “It’s right there, on the other side.”

Anger prickles at you. You stomp your front hooves into the ground and stand at your full height. Hunter Cindertouch and the limp unicorn are the only two who aren’t put off by your size. “Shame on you!” you affirm. “This is a medicinal--!”

”Shut your yap, mud horse!” Hunter Cindertouch barks.

You flinch, taking a step back. Are you missing something? Are you not the victim here?

The limp mare chuckles at her captor. “You fixin’ to believe some saddleback over your friend? Remember the last earth pony you trusted? Orange, stallion, lied like the best of them. He and his raider marefriends costed Confidoit a whole slew of problems.”

The anger blossoms from your chest to your face, but you hold your tongue. You do not want to prompt another reaction from Hunter Cindertouch.

To just what extent did the Red Garden use your herdbrother? Did they use him in dangerous missions, such as robbing something like this marketstead? Did they not care if he was hurt?!

A few glares are sent your way from the crowd. Hunter Cindertouch’s glare, though, remains trained on the mare. “That ain’t here nor there,” she snarls. “This is about your complete lack of honor for the marketstead. You were a thief before Confidoit, and you still are now!” Hunter Cindertouch turns to somepony in the crowd. “You there. Caster. You know ambient mass-magic?”

You perk up, looking to the crowd member with hope. But she only shakes her head and says, “No, ma’am.”

Not even a second passes until another hoof shoots up from the crowd. “I do, Cindertouch!” its owner calls out. The way she addresses Hunter Cindertouch by name makes you feel as if you’re dealing with somepony of supreme stature. Is she a kind of sachemare to these ponies? Or, marestro, as those unicorns on the wagon had uttered about?

Hunter Cindertouch nods as she passes those last few cubits to be towering over the limp mare. “Cast an inrithaumatic sphere,” she commands. Immediately, a wave of grumbling washes over the crowd of onlookers. “Exclude my magical signature. I’m gonna prove this low-life-- ANCIENTS-DAMNIT, SHUT YER YAPS AND KEEP WALKIN’ IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT, YOU BELLY-ACHIN’ FOALS!”

The Caster’s horn ignites, and you’re skittering to a safe distance before the spell is even cast. Most of the crowd has now dispersed, leaving room for Hunter Cindertouch to hop onto the cobblestone path and off the road. What happens next gives Hunter Cindertouch even more room free of onlookers.

An otherworldly hum emits from the Caster’s horn. You’re left paralyzed as a translucent sphere grows from the tip of her horn, rapidly increasing in size. It’s almost as if a tiny, blue sun has now encapsulated the trio of unicorns. You can’t find it in yourself to look at your reflection in the boiling, plasmatic sphere.

”All this to keep me magicless?” you hear the limp mare moan from within. “I’m paralyzed, for Ancients’ sake!”

Hunter Cindertouch has none of it. “I know your little tricks. You ain’t teleporting out of this one, Speck.”

”Fine, if you think I’m so stupid I’d steal inside the marketstead. Come on then, Ancient Lady of Lucidity. Check me.”

Hunter Cindertouch narrows her eyes at Thief Speck’s nonchalance. You can only watch as the unicorn reaches with a hoof and pulls back the limp mare’s cloak.

Immediately, the runes on the thief’s weapon glow a bright red before suddenly shooting out of its holster. The weapon is a blur – you can only tell that it’s small, round, and very sharp – as it slices into Hunter Cindertouch’s face.

The unicorn screeches in pain as the paralysis spell is disengaged. The thief is immediately onto all fours, pausing only to let the strange weapon zip back into its holster, before she’s making a gallop for it.

The Caster has been caught completely off-guard. Thief Speck is coming your way. You quickly bound for her path of escape. Once she’s out of the sphere, though, the brief flash of white and thunderstrike of what has to be teleportation magic sends stars into your vision.

It doesn’t matter, though.

A lime blur slams into the thief from above. The two tumble for a moment, almost barreling into you, before coming to a stop on the wooden road. Max Gusto is quick to wrap her hooves around the thief’s barrel to keep her cloak closed.

”BUCK!” the thief screams as she tries to thrash out of Max’s grip, prompting the pegasus’ powerful muscles to tense and striate from under her fur. “GET THIS THIEVIN’ HORSEFLY OFF ME! ANCIENTS ABOVE, SHE SMELLS!”

You swear you heard that teleportation spell. The swirling stars in your vision are also proof of this. Yet the thief is still here?

No, that’s not the only important matter. Max Gusto has just revealed herself! In front of a bounty hunter, no less!

Not knowing what else to do, you close the distance to help Max. She has most of the thief under control, so that only leaves her horn uncontested.

You reach forward and press your hoof to the thief’s horn, sandwiching it to the ground. She cries out from the pain.

“I’m sorry about this!” you plead to the unicorn. “Please don’t resist or you could really hurt yourself!”

The unicorn only gives you a half-flabbergasted, half-standoffish look before spitting on the ground yet again.

“Max!” you whisper. Max doesn’t respond, though. “Max, she’s a bounty hunter! She might--!”

”Step back, you two!” you hear Hunter Cindertouch’s voice above the chaos. “Our friend could use some magical restraint.”

You make sure to make eye contact with Hunter Cindertouch and give her an affirmative nod, taking a step back. Your hoof still remains on the unicorn’s horn until Max also relents…

…Which she isn’t doing. In fact, now that you’re getting a better look at her, the pegasus is only squeezing tighter. Her lower face is smushed into the thief’s cloak, but her eyes are clearly visible as she glares into the thief’s face.

You can barely see a hint of peach in those apoplectic pinpricks.

”I said git, sky rat!” Hunter Cindertouch barks once again.

Finally, Max pushes off from the thief, but not without a solid punch to the gut. The unicorn doesn’t even have time to double over in pain before her body is once again enveloped in a paralyzing glow.

Max is grumbling something under her breath as she stands by your side. All you can hear is a low, angry, “…not a bucking liar…”

Hunter Cindertouch nods to the Caster, who disengages the sphere. The unicorn makes no move to leave, however. She only watches attentively as Hunter Cindertouch glowers at the thief. Her attention doesn’t once shift to Max Gusto. “So that’s how it is, huh?” she mutters, cringing as her torn cheek moves with the words.

”S-Self-def—AKH!” Thief Speck sputters before succumbing to a coughing fit. She sends Max a glare, who responds with a waggle of her eyebrows, before continuing. “Self-d-defence ain’t against Confidoit law! You opened my cloak and got a face-full of revenite runes!”

You turn to once again to whisper to Max, but she beats you to it. “Sorry for not coming in earlier,” she murmurs as Hunter Cindertouch approaches the limp mare. “Had to be sure nopony was looking for me. From the sounds of it, their bounty board needs renewel. I’m guessing that has to do with this ‘raid.’”

Max’s frown deepens as she finishes, and the word “raid” is hissed from her lips like a poisonous gas. ”Bucking idiots think Apple Seed was doing it willfully…”

Meanwhile, Hunter Cindertouch snorts as the gash on her cheek stains the left side of her face maroon. A piece of flesh hangs limply from her face, yet she shows no sign of pain. “You teleported the bag away,” Hunter Cindertouch says. “The moment you left that inrithaumatic sphere, you teleported it away. The Caster’s my witness.”

”You can’t prove that!” the thief yells out. “If you wanna play the noble bounty hunter, there’s a sky thief right there!”

Max Gusto’s eyes flex and narrow to keep from giving a reaction.

”Mud horse,” Hunter Cindertouch suddenly says, her attention now away from the limp mare. “What’s your name?”

Before you can respond, it’s Max who speaks up. “Hey, we just caught the thief who gave you that gnarly makeover! The least you can do’s not be a name-calling little b--!”

“Mender Bountiful Riverside!” you say, hastily pulling Max into a mumbling mess in your forelegs. Max gives an indignant yelp before she changes tactics and starts…

…is she licking your foreleg? Is she a foal in a mare’s coat?

Judging by Hunter Cindertouch’s reaction, though, it seems you were too late. She got the gist of what Max was saying.

”…Okay then, River,” Hunter Cindertouch corrects as you release Max from her vocal prison. “I’ll make it simple for you. Use some that earth pony strength and press down on Speck’s horn until she’s willing to cooperate.”

You freeze up.

The mere thought of harming the thief completely strips you of your communicative skills. For what could’ve been minutes, you only stand there, open-jawed, unsure of what to say.

”I’ll do it!” Max suddenly pipes up with a raise of her hoof.

Hunter Cindertouch’s response is a glare at Max, and a faint weakening of her horn. The thief twitches a hoof as her paralysis is slackened. Max hesitates, her hoof unsure, yet still hanging over her head. For a moment, she mirrors your previous indecisiveness.

Without a word, you brush up against Max Gusto and give Hunter Cindertouch a nod. The unicorn watches as you approach the thief. You lay a hoof on the unicorn’s horn, prompting a soft yip from her.

”Petty little brat…” Max mumbles under her breath just soft enough for you to hear.

You can’t even look at the poor unicorn’s face as you slowly apply pressure.

”You can’t scare me with this, Cinder,” the unicorn chuckles nervously as her horn continues to be pressed against the hard ground. “It’s just like that other time with Wind. Look here, the saddleback was looking for a map of the coastline! Y-you know as well as anypony the only thing from here to there is the dock-- Agh! Th-the dockyard! This filly’s gotta be packed with doits – a ride on those ships ain’t cheap! I’ll split it evenly with you! It’d be just like--! BUCK!”

Hunter Cindertouch’s eyes are unfocused, yet narrowed – recounting something regrettable. Or perhaps, many somethings regrettable.

Max approaches you from behind, but doesn’t say anything. You focus on reminding yourself over and over that the horn you’re touching isn’t a magical timebomb, and to be careful to apply just enough pressure to hurt, but not nearly enough to snap the horn against the ground.

Ancients above, you hope you don’t snap her horn.

”AGH!” the unicorn squeals. “Ancients-damnit, don’t you have some colt to flirt with instead of dealing with me?! C’mon, just--…!”

”Riverside?” Max whispers from behind. “Riverside, you don’t have to—"

”ANCIENTS BUCKING ALL-FATHER-DAMNIT, FINE! FINE, JUST STOP!”

You immediately retract your hoof and stagger away from the thief. There are tears in the unicorn’s eyes as she glares up at you. You sniffle, averting your eyes to the ground. You can’t bear to look at anypony in the eyes right now.

The Ancient Lady of Life is saddened by your actions, Bountiful Riverside.

Hunter Cindertouch approaches the thief once again. This time, something levitates out from behind her back; a metal helmet, enveloped in the same glow as the thief’s body. Hunter Cindertouch’s face is scrunched in effort as she balances the two spells equally.

”Caster?” she says, earning the attention of said unicorn. “Get the marestros and tell ‘em we caught ourselves a thief.” The Caster nods and is gone in a flash of light. You barely even flinch. “I’m about to relinquish the paralysis spell to let her retrieve your doits, Riverside. It ain’t a rune paralysis, as keen as our friend here is on the things, so she’ll have to be free to cast the spell. Pegasus, go ahead and keep her here steady.”

”Sure you don’t want Riverside to do that, too?” Max growls as you feel a wing settle on your withers. You just feel guilty for making Max feel like she has to do this. “Maybe we should also break her legs for good measure.”

”I’m sure,” Hunter Cindertouch says, her voice much softer. “She’ll need her horn to teleport back what she stole, so don’t touch it. And don’t worry—” The softness of her voice is gone, replaced with a steely snarl as she glares at the thief. “—She can’t teleport when somepony’s holding onto her for dear life. Not that advanced yet. Ain’t that right, Speck?”

The thief and the Hunter share a tense look before the thief can no longer stand it and glowers at something in the distance.

Max Gusto complies with Hunter Cindertouch’s instructions, once again settling on top of the thief to keep her limbs in check. To her credit, the moment the paralysis spell is undone, the thief tries her best to squirm from Max’s grip. The pegasus merely holds tighter and waits for her to tire herself out.

Meanwhile, Hunter Cindertouch reaches a hoof towards the thief’s cloak yet again. This time, when the revenite-infused weapon launches at her, Hunter Cindertouch deftly blocks her face with the bottom end of the helmet. The weapon is caught in the helmet’s interior, the helmet’s bottom is swiftly planted onto the ground, and the weapon is rendered useless in its new cage.

Now with no more tricks up Thief Speck’s sleeve, it doesn’t take long before your doit bag reappears in a flash of white light and is in your hooves. You quickly check its innards and confirm that there’s nothing missing. The wave of relief you feel in that moment is only seconded to when Lucky had accepted you into her group.

Before long, there’s another flash of white, before the Caster returns with a pair of other heavily-armored unicorns. The wicked-looking swords strapped to each of their hips are only half as threatening as the visorless helmets which obscure any semblance of a fellow pony. Magic must be being used to make visibility possible. Max Gusto is soon no longer needed as the thief is enveloped in the third paralysis spell of her day.

The thief’s cloak is removed and tossed aside, revealing a complicated-looking array of tools and weapons strapped to her under armor.

Meanwhile, you still haven’t stopped looking at Hunter Cindertouch’s ghastly wound. She hasn’t even acknowledged it, but you can’t get the sound of her pained shriek out of your head. She also avoids much movement of her cheek, opting for a neutral frown as she relays the necessary information to the authorities. Her eyes are creased in pain as her face twitches sporadically.

You jolt as you feel a nudge at your side. “C’mon,” Max whispers from below. “Let’s get outta here. We caused enough of a scene.”

You resist against Max as she tries to pull you away; Hunter Cindertouch is brushing off a Marestro’s parting comment about her wound as another scoops up the revenite-infused weapon.

“She helped us, Max Gusto,” you remind your friend as you approach the unicorn. Max groans, but follows close behind regardless.

Before you can even get a word out, Hunter Cindertouch begins speaking. “You ponies are new around here – and don’t even waste your breath trying to deny it – so let me make something clear.”

As the thief and the marestros disappear in another flash, Hunter Cindertouch’s gaze remains fixated on the spot where they’d been moments before. “Out there,” she begins. “Be whoever you are and do whatever you want. As long as you have the doits, whatever kind of a wanna-be hero or dirty criminal you are on Equus’ grounds don’t mean spit to us. But the moment you set hoof on those planks, you’re in Marketstead Confidoit. And that means no. Thievin’.” As she finishes, Hunter Cindertouch’s eyes settle onto Max. The pegasus glowers, but decides against retorting.

“Hunter Cindertouch,” you say softly, lowering your head to her level. “You are hurt.”

”Gonna give me a kiss better, medicine pony?” she asks in a way that’d go perfectly with a sardonic smirk, but is still said with a straight face. “Speck’s about to be a whole lot more hurt than me. That fact tickles me more than enough.”

“You were hurt while helping me!” you declare, stomping a hoof. “You can barely move your face! Come, I will heal you.”

”How do I know you’re not just gonna—?” Hunter Cindertouch starts, before she slowly fades to silence. Her face transforms from apprehension to shame in front of your eyes. After a while, Hunter Cindertouch only sighs. “…Consarnit, fine. Just keep those puppy-dog eyes holstered.”

…You don’t have puppy-dog eyes, do you?

Regardless, you smile in earnest, leading Hunter Cindertouch to someplace where the two of you can sit. At first, you reach for the mare’s hoof, but all that does is earn you a slap to your fetlock. The sidewalks have been cleared of passerbys for the moment, what with the altercation with the thief and the marestros’ interference, but even still, you decide to find a much more secluded spot to begin your mending. Max Gusto still follows, her wings fluttering with nervousness as her head swivels left and right.

“It shouldn’t take more than a minute,” you assure as you unlatch your medicinal bag and splay it out in front of you.

It’s quite a deep laceration. It would take weeks to heal normally, and there would be no chance of coming out of it without a noticeable scar. The detached skin is a concern as well; you’re going to have to reattach it with pincerheads. Iuncti root extract will help with the pain. Besides that, a touch of antequus seed powder and a quick petrevoke to the Ancient Lady of Life will work for sealing.

Fortunately, this is no full body mend. Your connection with the Ancient Lady of Life has been severely dulled while on this moving mass of magic and wood, and you are furlongs away from the lubotice in your mending burrow. Your extensive time spent on treating minor wounds in Marestricht leaves you prepared and experienced.

After cleaning the immediate area of blood via a congregor leaf, you find yourself humming a song your blood father once taught you as you mash a piece of iuncti root underneath your hooves. You pause your humming momentarily to take a breath and blow the resulting powder onto the gore of the wound, but quickly resume when you see the cringe of pain on Hunter Cindertouch’s face.

You like to think that Hunter Cindertouch’s now relaxed expression is due in part to your humming. You know this particular song had such an effect on you when you were a filly. It had a similar effect when you were older, even if it was coming from your own mouth.

You’re too focused on your work to notice how Max Gusto is looking at you with a tilted head and a raised, curious eyebrow.

The iuncti root works its natural magic within moments, and the only hint of further discomfort Hunter Cindertouch shows is when you are reattaching the loose skin with pincerheads. They react instantly, latching onto her cheek tightly and closing the wound enough for the next step.

”I hope this doesn’t mean I have to walk around with decapitated ant heads holding my face together,” Hunter Cindertouch mumbles softly.

“Not at all,” you assure with a smile. “They are not ants, they are beetles.”

”Oh, thank the Ancients. What a relief.”

Another blow of air, and a healthy serving of antequus seed powder sticks to the crescent moon-shaped wound. The particles which land on the thin line of blood are a dull brown, but you know that will soon change.

“Hold still, please,” you assure as you bend down to the unicorn’s level. Hunter Cindertouch’s face takes an indignant shade of red as your forehead connects with her own.

”D’ya take me for some sort of dyke?” she mutters. This gets a snicker out of Max.

You pay her comment no mind, close your eyes, and your humming stops. Your prayer to the Ancient Lady of Life is sacred and heralds no need of transcription.

Through the darkness of your closed eyes, a faint glow can just be made out. It is a bizarre feeling, this shifting of Equus’ life force when not within the confines of your mending burrow. Still, soon the feeling fades, and you know your work has finished.

You retract from Hunter Cindertouch’s head to see an astounded expression on her face. You simply smile as you work on carefully removing the pincerheads with your teeth. A few small pricks open from the more stubborn of the pincerheads, but all in all, a successful mend. You smile and give a nod, before beginning to place your supplies back into your sack.

It takes a moment for Hunter Cindertouch to recover. She opens her mouth to speak a few times, but each end with failure. It isn’t until she clears her throat and shakes her head from her stupor that she finally succeeds. “H-how much?”

“Hm?” you ask as you pull the medicinal sack’s string with your teeth, tightening it closed.

”How much do I owe you?” Hunter Cindertouch reiterates, much more confidently than last time. “How many doits? I ain’t seen nothing like this, but I’m sure I can afford whatever you earth ponies usually charge. Come on, just spit it out.”

You give Hunter Cindertouch a shrug and a gentle, reassuring smile. “Nothing at all,” you say. “You helped me retrieve my doit bag, so I’ve helped you. It is an even trade.”

Hunter Cindertouch’s eyes widen more than you’ve seen from the mare previously. That’s interesting, you hadn’t noticed that hint of green in those blue orbs before. It was hard to discern while her eyes were stuck in a perpetual glare.

“Wellllll,” Max Gusto suddenly pipes up, effortlessly swooping against Hunter Cindertouch’s side. The unicorn’s eyes are immediately narrowed once again. Max seems to have that effect on ponies. “If you’re really that desperate to repay us, you could do us a solid and buy a certain map.”

Blast, you had forgotten all about that! Max Gusto saves you once again. You need to find a way to repay her kindness.

Hunter Cindertouch glances to you for confirmation, and you give her a hasty up and down of your head. She rolls her eyes before taking a step away from Max. “Map of the Western coastline?” she asks.

You once again bob your head up and down excitedly.

”Done,” Hunter Cindertouch confirms. “Where’s the dropoff?”

…Dropoff?

“Could you just meet us in person outside the thomery?” you ask softly.

“…Sure,” she finally relents, her voice softening. “Well, if that’ll be all…”

Without waiting for any goodbyes, Hunter Cindertouch turns and powerwalks out of the alleyway. She nudges Max Gusto out of the way, even if the pegasus was a good cubit or two out of her path.

The pegasus immediately bounces back with a peppy, “Good luck with your face not falling off!” before Hunter Cindertouch turns the corner and disappears into the masses of Marketstead Confidoit. “Don’t do any stretchies!”

The moment Hunter Cindertouch is out of your vision, Max Gusto’s face immediately takes it up completely. “Bountiful Riverside,” she whispers, dead serious. “Before it’s too late, promise me that if I ever get slashed like that, you’ll just let it scar. Ancients, that thing with the ant heads was--…” Max can’t even finish her sentence before a nerve-rattling cringe crawls up her spine and onto her face. She gives a shake and a “ewbwbwb!” at the mere thought.

“Pincerheads are actually carnivorous beetles,” you correct. “And there is no need to be disgusted by them. Rest assured, they are well and truly dead. Their bite is a reflexive mechanism.”

”Yeah, yeah, just don’t give me the jab,” Max says with a dismissive wave of her hoof.

You only give a purse of your lips before you start walking back into the marketstead. Regardless of her ignorance, you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed with the pegasus.

”Alright, well good luck!” Max chirps from behind.

You immediately stop and whip around to see that Max is already floating above the ground. “Wait!” you yelp out. “Were you not going to continue to accompany me?”

Max bobs up and down in the air with each flap of her wings, giving you a tilt of her head. “Uh, no?” she says as if it were obvious. “Remember what Lucky said? If anypony here is looking for us, they’d recognize me, but not you. We’ve flaunted our best buddies-status enough already.”

The prospect of the thomery once again cools your blood. The prospect of entering the thomery alone is almost unthinkable.

“Please wait!” you plead, bouncing up and down on your hooves. “I believe we would be more successful if we stayed together!”

Max stays suspended in the air for a moment, giving you a look that’s a mix of pity and confusion.

”If you got some larua roots and know ambient mass-magic, then I’d be happy to,” Max explains with a shrug. “But I doubt it.”

“That is a perfectly reasonable doubt!” you say with a stomp of your hoof. “But it is unrelated to our circumstances. I believe I know how I could disguise you. I shall be back!”

You quickly turn and skitter towards the exit of the alleyway, but not quick enough to not catch Max mumble, “I’m surrounded by autistics...”

You pay the nonsensical word no mind as you skid to a halt at the previous crime scene. Hunter Cindertouch is nowhere to be found, and besides the red stains of blood on the cobblestone, it looks as if nothing had happened at all. There is only one piece of evidence left behind.

The thief’s cloak. It doesn’t fit you, but you’re sure it will fit Max Gusto.

You reach down and grip the cloth with your teeth. A few of the passing unicorns mumble at this, but you pay them no mind as you quickly return to the alley. Max is now sitting on the ground, waiting for you as she taps a hoof impatiently.

“Her’ you gow!” you announce, standing over the pegasus. With a flick of your head, the bulk of the cloak is now resting over Max’s body, hiding her wings. You use your hooves to drag the hood over Max’s head.

The oversized hood promptly slides down her face, covering everything but her muzzle. It was obviously made with extra room to home a horn.

The ordeal with the thief was not a complete setback – for instance, you’ve learned that checking for whatever is under somepony’s cloak is grounds for self-defense. You doubt anypony would attempt it with Max when unprovoked.

”…A-Ancients above clothes feel weird,” Max mumbles. “How can you landlubbers wear this stuff?”

“Clothes are not ‘weird,’” you assure as you reach up to your own mane with your hooves. “It is an extra layer for your Y-7 gland. A mare must remain pure for any stallion who might choose her to be her foalbearer, yes?”

Max Gusto looks like she’s about to respond, until you undo the bun atop your mane.

”PFFBFFT!” she spits out, hastily looking away and holding a lime hoof to her muzzle. You can no longer discern her face due to the hood.

“What is the matter?” you ask, using a hoof to glide Max’s face back to your own. Her trembling lips are scrunched to astronomical levels, as if on the verge of bursting out laughing.

”N-nothing,” she snickers as you roll the hood up and over the nape of her neck. “Just didn’t know your mane was so… --Uh, what’re you doing?”

You currently have the top of Max’s mane in your hooves and are ready to roll and bun it into a neat cylinder. “I am going to attempt to bun the front part of your mane to fabricate the indenture of a horn underneath your hood. That would cause less suspicion, would it not?”

Panic flashes across Max’s eyes. You immediately freeze, unsure of what to do.

”Y-yeah, that’s not happening,” Max says, shaking her head, and by proxy, your hooves away. This shake of her head glides down the rest of her body to the tip of her tail as she stands up to all fours. The wavering of her posture is replaced with that of a swaggering, confident mare once again. “Kinda prefer going all neigh-cher-ell, anyways.” You have the sneaking suspicion it isn’t pronounced that way. “Plus I don’t want you anywhere near my mane, Puffball.”

You scrunch. You’re not a puffball.

”Look, I’ll follow you, but you’re not braiding my bucking mane!” Max calls out as she deftly sidesteps you and makes her way to the alley’s exit. You frown, wrapping the bun around your foreleg before giving pursuit. You’ll be sure to have Max Gusto help you put it back on after all this is over.

The thought of Anonymous seeing you without your bun ignites a fiery embarrassment in your cheeks.

As you trot to Max’s side and into the open air of Marketstead Confidoit, your mane bounces in the corners of your vision with each step you take. You have to flick your head every once in a while to get the obtrusive strands out of sight. Max Gusto isn’t faring much better, having to jut her chin out to even see from underneath the hood over her face.

The unicorns passing by are now giving you and Max more space. You’re still the odd one out between the two of you, but perhaps this arrangement has done something for your intimidation factor. Do they think Max is your housecarla? Or you, hers?

…Or, perhaps, your mane’s volume makes you seem even bigger than you already are. Like a filly who hasn’t yet grown into her thick winter coat!

The thought gives way to a giggle you can’t stop. You remember how your blood mother had lost her composure that first winter, praying to the Ancients you wouldn’t hit your growth spurt just yet.

”So,” Max suddenly pipes up, unprovoked. “This… ‘staying pure for your stallion’ business. Tell me more about it.”

You tilt your head. You’re about to ask what she means, until Max turns to you and you see the smile underneath her hood.

…Oh!

This is a social interaction between friends! It has to be!

You take another look at the thomery, still crawling closer and closer as you continue to walk. Your nerves are still shot from the ordeal with the thief, but you find that when you’re looking at Max, it becomes muted. Not entirely gone, but in the background.

“It is the honorable mare’s way,” you recite your blood mother’s words. “Procreation is a sacred practice. There is no grosser offense to a stallion than a mare who engages in such an act so frivolously.”

Max Gusto purses her lips at your answer, before her attention is once again in front of the two of you. Her voice is now much more tapered than before. “So you’re from a cabal of bluebeaners.”

“That is untrue, and quite vulgar! Our herdbrothers hold the same virtues as us. We show that we are strong and suitable mates, and they choose who their foalbearers will be. It is a fair arrangement, and the way the All-Father would have wanted.”

”Well, sure, but what happens when you’re acting all honorable and stuff, but no colt wants you?”

The familiarity of the situation stings.

“Then the mare will continue to diligently provide for the Herd, regardless,” you say, fighting for your voice to be laced with Marestricht pride over pitiful wist. “The love and comradery she receives from Marestricht is enough.”

”That’s kinda sad.”

You frown at Max’s words. She turns back to you, defending herself with, “What? It’s true, Puffball! The majority of your herd-sister-mares or whatever will die virgins!”

“I’m not a puffball,” you murmur, flicking the puffballs of your mane out of your face once again.

Max snickers, an extra pep in her step as she returns to the oncoming thomery. It is close enough that your fur prickles at the sensation of ambient magic. The thomery is a black blemish among the many colors of the other markets.

You find it hard to continue to look at it, so your eyes latch onto the black cloth of Max’s cloak.

”Alright, Puffball,” Max pipes up. “Given you’re furlongs away from Marestricht and its array of earth pony hilt… There anypony you’re currently staying pure for?”

“Yes,” you affirm. “Anonymous.”

Max Gusto’s hooves skid to a resounding halt. For a moment, it’s as if the pegasus’ soul had left her body, which now stands before you with nopony inside. The moment passes, and Max’s head slowly creaks toward you. You can tell Max is trying for a smile, but her muzzle is trying too hard and looking too uncomfortable to be anything other than a cringe.

”I appreciate you didn’t make me work for it,” Max says slowly. “But please do not ever be that blunt again.”

…Does she not approve?

You suppress a sigh, giving a faint nod. All you’ve known is disapproval for your romantic aspirations, so it doesn’t sting as much.

Max takes your affirmation with a nod of her own before turning and continuing down the cobblestone sidewalk. The two of you are even closer to the thomery now. You can feel every follicle on your body prickle, as if your entire coat was made of raised hackles.

”Can’t really say I see the appeal,” Max Gusto’s voice provides an asylum from the inevitable. “Just can’t see how that… not-quite-monkey-but-still-kinda-monkey face can attract anypony.”

You clear your throat, already knowing that without it you’d be prone to becoming a stuttering mess. “A stallion’s beauty transcends species, Max Gusto.”

”You landlubbers are weird. Up there it’s so much simpler. Ponies buckable, griffons not buckable.”

And then, you notice that the two of you have arrived at the thomery.

Your eyes are glued to Max’s figure, and you pray to the Ancients that she continues to speak.

Anything to distract you from this.

…Please don’t let it bubble up again.

Max murmurs as she continues forward to the maw of the building, “Keep forgetting how many sapient species are down here… Hey, you coming?”

Your hooves haven’t moved from their spot on the cobblestone. You try to give Max a contradictory smile, but your face feels frozen. The back of your throat feels numb. All you can feel is the pulling and striating of your follicles.

A unicorn grunts as she nudges past you and into the thomery.

It feels like you’re watching a rabbit willingly enter the open jaws of a timberwolf. And your friend is right in front of you, waiting for you to follow.

Your friend is waiting for you.

Your friends are waiting for you.

You begin to shake. Your mouth twists and contorts to keep up the sham of a smile, but soon your only focus besides the swirling magic and the thoughts of your blood father becomes holding back the tears.

Big mares don’t cry, and you’re the biggest mare here.

Another unicorn passes you, up until seeing you nonchalant, but once you’re in her vision, giving you pitiful, confused glare. You’re twice these ponies’ size, and she gave you a look a stranger would give a bawling foal.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper. It’s hard to speak through the cotton in your mouth. “I’m sorry, Max. I--…”

Your blood father would be ashamed of you, Bountiful Riverside.

You clamp your eyes shut and scrunch to keep from letting out a sob.

You stay petrified like that – frozen, vulnerable – until you feel something warm settle on your withers.

You just wish he had recognized you one last time.

You open your eyes to see Max at your side, her eyes concerned. If you were a normal pony, maybe like Lucky Favor, Max’s foreleg could easily drape across your shoulders. Instead, Max Gusto has to stand on her hindlegs to reach your height, only making the both of you look more ridiculous than before.

“I apologize,” you sniffle, bowing your head. Your mane cascades around your vision, and you wish desperately you could just shrink and disappear behind this prison of hair. “I s-should have told you sooner. I have a phobia of magic. It is more severe than most earth ponies.”

Max stays silent, not caring at all that the two of you are mere cubits away from the entrance of the thomery. Thankfully, no unicorns are entering or leaving at the moment, but you’re sure you’re attracting the attention of passerbys.

”Hold on!” the pegasus blurts out so suddenly it makes you flinch out of your stupor. “You’re telling me… that despite having crippling thaumaphobia, you volunteered to go on a magically moving, unicorn marketstead, to help us?”

You sniffle, nodding your head ashamedly.

Now that Max is here, you suppose there’s no need for you. She can grab the thome, retrieve the map, and fly back to the wagon in half the time it’d take you to muster up the courage to enter some building.

”…Ancients above, you’re a bucking scoundrel,” Max grouses. “Puffball, you make it SO bucking hard to root against you!”

You blink owlishly.

”GAH!” Max groans, holding her hooves up and shaking them as if about to strangle you. “I just wanna… HUG you and protect you from this cruel world! Oh my Ancients, you’re precious!”

You blink owlishly. Again.

Max sighs and gives a long-winded shrug, still oblivious to the stares you’re sure the two of you are now under the gaze of. She shakes her head unbelievingly before turning back around, once again aimed at the thomery’s entrance. “But hey, protecting a pure maiden such as yourself isn’t my job.”

Anonymous.

The thought of the human brings feeling back to your hooves. But the pit still resides in your stomach, as deep as ever, and your coat still burns with a pulling sensation. You sniffle again, using a foreleg to wipe at your face.

”…Hey,” Max says softly. When you’re done wiping away, your eyes settle on your friend once again. She’s pulled the hood up and over her eyes to give you a genuine smile. “Wanna hear something kinda sad but also really funny?”

You’re still for a second, unsure of how to respond, before you simply give a nod.

Max Gusto saddles up to you, holding a hoof to her muzzle so only you can hear her words. ”…I can’t read,” the pegasus says with a snicker. “So I kinda can’t do this without you. They could sell me some raunchy romantic novel and I’d be none the wiser.” The genuine smile disappears, replaced with a contemplative scrunch as she taps her chin with a hoof. “Actually… I’m kinda tempted to do that just to see Lucky’s reaction.”

You try to smile at her joke, but the sickening sensation remains.

You shakily take a step forward. It’s agonizingly slow.

You feel a string of ambient magic waft against the fur on the right side of your barrel.

You freeze once again.

You’re one cubit closer to the timberwolf’s jaws.

This thought bounces in your head relentlessly, dizzying you. You’re about to withdraw the traitor of a foreleg that took that step, until you feel a warm body press against your side – against the right side of your barrel. As Max leans into your fur, the feeling of that ethereal burn of magic slowly subsides to a warm, gentle hum.

”Alright, enough feely shit,” Max says as the both of you take the next step forward. “I gave you a pretty great pep talk, so you owe me this now.”

You don’t respond, but you can’t fight the smile as it pulls the corners of your lips back. You simply lower your head and let Max Gusto lead you into the growling maw of the thomery.

The suffocating magic, the blackness, the sharp angles… it’s all so alien.

Your muzzle clamps even tighter as you lean more onto Max Gusto. You try to focus on the little idiosyncrasies of the structure. It can’t all possibly be this deathly shade of black. There must be some hints of imperfections caused by the ponies who built it. Even the highest buildings of Marestricht, built by the most skilled of earthpushers, have the occasional bump in the wall, or cracked corner.

You and Max both pass the threshold. You feel ashamed for even thinking that the naked sky above was less comforting than the mountain of Marestricht. It’s leagues better than the corridor that you’ve found yourself it, shrouded in fluctuating, purple lights.

Whereas Marketstead Confidoit was warm and natural, the interior of the thomery both burns your blood and freezes your coat.

”I’m right here, Puffball,” Max whispers tenderly.

There is a room directly ahead, no doubt where business is conducted, but something else quickly grabs your attention. There is another bounty board on the left wall.

This one is lit by a magical flame, and there is only one mare who is looking up and down its contents. On the top of the board are the glowing letters, ”Wanted - Magical Anomalies.”

This board is the first idiosyncrasy you’ve seen since entering the thomery – a rustic, wooden island in a sea of black metal. You find yourself scouring its contents hungrily as you pass it. The bounties on this board are much different from the one in the bulk of Confidoit. Creatures, the shapes and kinds of which you’ve never even considered, are displayed on the board as if it were a gallery of all the things most unfamiliar to a Marestrichtian.

”Hey, if any of those happen to be sapient and male,” Max Gusto whispers. “Would you landlubbers be tempted? Just curious.”

Before Max’s words can even register, though, one of the bounties snaps you to attention. The prickling sensation of the magic, and even the warmth of Max Gusto, fades into the back of your mind. The bounty on the board depicts Anonymous.

It’s the Anonymous as he arrived in Marestricht. The depiction is a side profile of the human’s face – his eyes are harrowed and stuck in a perpetual glare, and his beard and mane are both unkept and long. Seeing him in this state, despite knowing that he’s much better off now, makes you wish Anonymous were at your side.

…What happened to Anonymous before you met him? Before the Red Garden?

You and Max Gusto pass the bounty board, giving the bounty hunter inspecting it a little more room than needed. “M-Max Gusto,” you whisper shakily. “I… I thought the bounty boards needed renewal..? A-Anonymous was… there.”

”That’s news to me…” she murmurs. “But let’s focus on the here and now. Anon’s safe, Riverside.”

“P--… please don’t call him that. He… doesn’t like it.”

”Ancients above, you’re more of a white knightess than Lucky.”

The two of you are now in the market portion of the thomery. Your eyes briefly flick upwards from their captivity on the ground, and you catch a lone mare on the other side of the thomery’s booth. She’s dressed in dark, otherworldly clothes which reek of magical interference. Behind her is a small square opening in the wall with a single rune embedded in it.

You wonder where the thomery exterior’s raw size went into. It certainly didn’t go into this portion of the building; the room is small, and the only furnishings are the vendor’s booth and a few strewn about tables and chairs.

It’s almost cruel, how the thomery would expect its patrons to be relaxed enough to sit and wait.

Besides you, Max Gusto, and the vendor, there are only three other unicorns here. They keep to themselves in the corner of the room, a thome about inrithaumatic nature in their hooves. They’re dressed in bizarre, unfamiliar attire which juggles armor and adventurousness, and not paying either you or Max a passing glance. A crossbow hangs from one of their hip, a sword another’s.

Your eyes once again return to the ground. Another chill of ambient magic sweeps through your body. “Max Gusto?” you whisper. “Can… can I find somewhere to sit and wait?”

Max looks you up and down, unsure. “…Well, sure,” she relents. “Just be ready to read some thome covers, alright?”

You smile and nod to the pegasus, reaching back with a hoof and unclamping your doit bag. Max gets the hint and takes the sack from you. “We’re almost outta here, Puffball,” she reassures with a grin.

You’re too busy keeping your head down as you make your way to one of the unoccupied corners to notice how one of the bounty hunters give Max Gusto a tilt of her head.

When you reach the corner of the room, you promptly drop to your haunches and close your eyes. Almost mechanically, you unlatch your medicinal bag, place it in front of you, and loosen the drawstring.

Max Gusto begins to speak with the vendor, but you’re too busy focusing on your medicinal supplies to pay attention. Your hooves shake as they move, though, so your priorities shift to focusing on keeping them steady before they make contact with your supplies. You wouldn’t want to lose grip of any of them and have to move around too much in this place. Already, you feel glued to your spot, as if moving a hooflength would suddenly alert a pack of timberwolves to your location.

”Gals!” a voice suddenly chirps from behind. You flinch, your eyes snapping to the commotion.

It’s the bounty hunter from the hallway of the thomery. She seems to be returning to her group of comrades, a familiar piece of paper in her magical grip.

It’s Anonymous’ bounty.

One of the bounty hunters turn your way, and you quickly return to your supplies, even if you now know reorganizing them will certainly do nothing to calm your nerves.

The bounty hunters’ voices are now much more hushed than before. You can’t make out what they’re saying. Your hooves mechanically poke and prod at your supplies.

…Should you tell Max? Or would that cause too much attention? Those bounty hunters know Anonymous, so what are the chances they would also know Max Gusto?

…Ancients, why is Anonymous’ bounty here?

You’re rolling the half-used iuncti root between your hooves when a flash of white magic snaps across the room.

The vendor asks something to Max Gusto as she holds up a thome with her magic. You squint your eyes to confirm it. It reads, From Particles to Pulchramatics - A Filly’s Guide to Ambient Mass-Magic.

Lucky Favor did say it was low-level magic. Still, you can’t help but feel insulted on her behalf. Nevertheless, you don’t waste much time reorganizing your supplies back into your medicinal sack.

When you’re pulling the drawstring tight, though, Max Gusto’s voice pierces through the silence.

”Gee, I dunno!” she exclaims loudly, tapping her chin. “I wonder if it is! Let me take a closer look!”

What is she doing?

You tilt your head at her display as you get up to all fours. You’re about to approach the pegasus, but she stops you as she once again exclaims, “Hey, do you give discounts for lone travelers? I’m kinda new here.”

You stop in your tracks.

Max Gusto is telling you to act like she’s alone, but why…?

It clicks for you. You turn your head not even a hooflength so you can look at the bounty hunters in your peripherals. It’s a blurry image, but it’s definitely of the four bounty hunters giving Max a set of discerning glares. They’re no longer conversing.

Max Gusto heard something from them.

The vendor, meanwhile, responds in an unamused negative.

”Damn!” Max says with a stomp of her hoof. “Well, that’s too bad. Now, back to the question of the hour…” Max’s voice teeters off as she gives an exaggerated inspection of the thome presented to her.

Double-checking just to be sure, you confirm to Max with a soft whisper. “…Yes.”

Max Gusto is all smiles and thanks as she and the vendor make the transaction. You, meanwhile, can only flick your eyes between her and the four bounty hunters in the corner of the room. Once the thome is in her hooves, Max turns and is already trotting out of the thomery.

The bounty hunters avert their eyes once Max faces their direction. She uses this opportunity to give you a look that affirms your suspicions. Without even a word, Max Gusto leaves the thomery.

It becomes harder to breathe.

You can’t follow her even if you wanted to. You’re now alone in this room of swirling ambient magic and onlooking enemies. Despite having your travelers’ attire on your back and your medicinal bag on your hip, you feel too exposed to even move a hoof.

If you did, those piercing, pale yellow eyes would know you were here; alive, shivering, and hiding behind your blood father.

The bounty hunters all share a look before a collective nod pervades the group. The bounty of Anonymous is rolled up and tucked away into one of their bags, and the four of them are trotting after Max Gusto.

You can’t call out to them. The ambient magic licks your fur, sending a frozen breeze throughout your system.

The feeling is familiar. The spell the unicorn had casted chilled you to the bone, even if it hit its mark cubits in front of you.

The pale, yellow eyes of the unicorn soon transform to the earthy brown ones of your blood father. They’re lifeless now, yet his body still stands. When he looks at you, his eyes no longer hold the familiar glow of a loving parent.

It hurts to even think of how empty those eyes were. You would have preferred staring into your vengeful blood mother’s eyes, who vehemently, yet silently, blamed you up until the second she and her foalsire had disappeared without so much of a word to you.

Are you going to let Max Gusto disappear as well? Without so much of a word, at the behest of more unicorn magic?

You clamp your eyes shut and slow your breathing. Again and again, you think of that name: Max Gusto.

You can’t let her down. You can’t let any of them down.

Lucky Favor. Tia. Anonymous.

Brother Apple Seed. Sachemare Sagebrush. Maretinet Apricot Ammil.

Forest's Bounty. Rivershine.

It doesn’t matter how many times you think of the ponies in your life, though. The feeling of ice invading your veins, your fur being pulled from its follicles, it all remains. Still, you put your hooves beneath yourself and push up.

Run, Bountiful Riverside.

The timberwolves give chase.

You bolt like a madmare. The strings of ambient magic cloud your nostrils and invade your eye sockets, but you only bite your tongue and latch your focus on where the bounty hunters had left.

You pass the bounty board – the board now without Anonymous’ bounty. The rectangle of light is just ahead. You’re so close. You’re closer, and closer, until you finally breach the entrance of the thomery.

Sunlight and voices immediately assault you from all sides, but you still aren’t at ease. Your heart is still pounding in your chest. Your eyes snap this way and that around Confidoit to try and find Max Gusto, but between the cloaks and armor sets of the unicorns surrounding you, it’s impossible to find her.

What you do find, though, is the same set of unusual armor the bounty hunters had been wearing, just before it vanishes behind the threshold of an alleyway across the street.

“Max!” you call out hoarsely, already giving chase. “Max, if you can hear me, fly! They’re--!”

The screeching sound of wheels coming to a halt across wood fills your ears. You quickly skitter to the other side of the road, not paying the enraged calls of the wagon’s driver any heed. The unicorns in your way immediately part, not wanting to be trampled by you.

A flash of magic splashes the walls of the alleyway in color, and the howling of a spell turns your blood cold.

“MAX!” you scream as you round the corner.

The sight of the four bounty hunters surrounding a limp Max Gusto greets you. One of them throws her cloak off the pegasus’ body.

”Sky rat,” she says. “Bucking knew it.”

”Conehead!” Max Gusto immediately snaps back, still unable to move. “Bucking knew it!”

One of the unicorns notices your arrival. Immediately, her horn is aglow. It’s enough to make you skid to a halt.

Surprisingly enough, though, it isn’t nearly enough to quell the anger that’s bubbling in your chest.

”Crawl back to your mountains, mud horse!” the unicorn snarls as her sword’s hilt is enveloped in the same glow. “This is our bounty!”

Before you can respond, though, your words die in your throat.

Three of the unicorns are now turned towards you. One of them is unarmed, although her horn’s glow hums with a threatening growl, as if it itself were her weapon. The unicorn who had first noticed you keeps her sword in its hilt, although the shining blade between the sword’s handle and its scabbard is slowly growing with every second you don’t respond. The last one holds a wooden crossbow, pointed squarely at your head, the scars and collected look on the unicorn’s face suggesting she won’t hesitate to let the bolt fly.

But the unicorns looking your way aren’t the reason for your sudden silence. The fourth unicorn’s magical hold on Max Gusto falters with a sputter of her horn, but barely holds firm. The sight of the tall, cloaked figure on the other end of the alleyway has frozen her with fear.

With the sunlight’s surrender of the figure’s features, the only hint you have of its identity is the glint of Anonymous’ emerald bracers as his hands curl into fists.

”Behind us!” the fourth one yells out, and Anonymous charges forward.

The crossbow immediately twirls in the air before settling on the rushing human. There’s a moment of stunned confusion before it fires, and this provides Anonymous with the opportunity to dodge. He rolls well out of the way of the bolt as it sails past him, his cloak trailing behind him like a black wake. His trajectory only seems to speed up as he launches himself at the closest unicorn.

She tries to skitter away, casting a reflexive spell at Anonymous, but it only fizzles out of existence as it makes contact. Anonymous swiftly grabs the unicorn’s mane and rams her muzzle into the nearby wall. The mare’s head wobbles like a teetering stone before the human launches a powerful knee into her cheek, driving her head back into the hard wall.

Your blood runs cold at the sickening sound of the unicorn’s unconscious gurgling as she slumps to the ground.

…This isn’t Anonymous.

Anonymous is kind. He stood up to Maretinet Apricot Ammil.

Why does he look so hateful?

”What the buck are you?!” the Swordsmare yells out before her sword lands the first blow of many.

The slice bounces off Anonymous’ bracer, showering the alleyway in sparks. Another try from the left, and another from the right, until the Swordsmare suddenly teleports her weapon back before thrusting it at Anonymous’ neck.

You scream out as the human twists his body to dodge once again, but the sword clearly makes contact. Anonymous grunts in pain, but doesn’t back down. He crouches lower to the ground, keeping his hands open and high.

There’s an immediate shift in the unicorns after Anonymous’ masculine grunt. The Swordsmare’s sword remains in the same place for a moment as she only stares at the human.

”It’s the human colt!” the Caster yells out from behind. Once he hears this, Anonymous slides the hood back from over his head, revealing himself. A trail of red spills from the right side of his forehead, chilling your blood. “It’s Anonymous! Don’t kill--! AGH!”

A blur of lime and white springs from the ground and tackles the Caster. As Max and the unicorn tussle, Anonymous gives the Swordsmare no time to choose between her comrade or him. He closes the distance and is now on the offensive, redirecting the Swordsmare’s swipes and trying to grab at the blade, all the while keeping the mare on her heels.

As all this transpires, you can’t even move a muscle.

Help them, Bountiful Riverside!

Why won’t you help them?!

In the midst of the chaos, the Bowmare’s face switches from the blur of Max and her comrade, too closely locked for a clean shot, to Anonymous and the Swordsmare, also too tight for a bolt, until she finally settles on you. The two of you only look at each other for a moment.

That moment lasts until the crack of Anonymous’ elbow meeting unicorn skull fills the alleyway, and the Swordsmare’s sword clatters to the ground. The Bowmare charges at you.

The fire in your chest from earlier is all but a memory. All you can do is stand frozen solid, staring between your friends and enemies.

For Ancients’ sake, move out of the way!

Before you can even twitch, the Bowmare’s forelegs wrap around your neck. You gag as she pulls you down to the ground, your legs turning brittle. When you recover from the dizziness, the sharp end of the Bowmare’s crossbow is digging into your throat.

”UNLESS YOU’D LIKE A NEW HOLE IN YOUR FRIEND’S NECK,” the unicorn shouts, immediately silencing the alleyway. “I’D RECOMMEND LETTING MY OWN GO, HUMAN!”

Ancients-damnit...

You can barely look at your friends… no. You’d be insulting them to call them your friends.

You can barely look at Cloudpusher Max Gusto and Brother Anonymous in your sorry state.

The human is crouched low the ground, one forearm around the Caster’s neck as the other wraps around the back of her head. She struggles vainly, her eyes and mouth wide open as she tries to draw in gulps of air. Like a defanged predator, Brother Anonymous’ emerald eyes are narrowed, but unsure.

The sight of Brother Anonymous bringing harm to the unicorn makes it hard to breathe.

His hands look so… dangerous now.

”Yeah…” the Bowmare sneers, digging the bolt closer to your neck. “The slippery ferret’s got something to lose now, huh?”

Brother Anonymous stays silent, his grip not loosening on the Caster’s neck. Cloudpusher Max Gusto attempts to take a step forward.

You yelp as the cold metal of the bolt digs into your neck, drawing blood. Cloudpusher Max immediately stop her pursuit.

”Drop her, Anon,” the Bowmare commands. Brother Anonymous’ eyes narrow even further at the nickname.

His grip tightens even more on his hostage. Her face is becoming paler by the second. She begins to panic, whimpering as she tries vainly to gouge Brother Anonymous’ face with her horn, scratch him with her hooves, kick the ground with her hindlegs – anything.

When his eyes land on you, though, the hostility in Brother Anonymous’ eyes extinguish.

Please don’t hurt her, Anonymous… Ancients help us…

”You’re no sky rat, but I’m sure as Tartarus you can hear me!” the Bowmare shouts, jostling you roughly. “I bucking said, DROP HE--!”

The whirling howl of a spell from behind crackles in your ears, cutting the Bowmare off.

The world flip flops as the Bowmare’s grip on you goes slack, and you fall limp. The warm body of your captor keeps the back of your head from slamming against the cobblestone ground. You’re staring at the cyan sky peeking through the surrounding walls now, breathing rapidly.

Are the Ancients playing a trick on you? Are you dead?

”Ancients-damnit, WHO JUST MADE AN ENEMY OF PLUMSTEED?!” the Bowmare screeches from just behind your head.

Your mind quickly registers what just happened, but your limbs still refuse to move. Your limbs are shaking too much from the unfamiliar adrenaline and shock.

Before you can make a move, what appears to be a rolled-up scroll slowly enters your vision, enveloped in a glow of magic. The scroll is tied together with a red bow, and its edges are gilded in a glimmering gold.

One end of the scroll quickly descends and bops you on the snout.

You squeak, trying to swat the offending piece of paper, but missing just barely.

”Leave you alone for five minutes and yer’ already hock-deep in trouble!” a familiar voice crows from behind.

”Cindy-loo, it’s been so long!” Max Gusto yells out.

”Greetings, pegasus. I see you’ve had a sudden bout of modesty and decided to cover that dusty fur of yours.”

”You?!” the Bowmare yelps, cutting Max and Cindertouch off. “You should know better to interfere with a bounty on Confidoit grounds, Cindertouch!”

Finally, you’re able to muster the willpower to pry your forelegs from your chest. It doesn’t matter, though. Not only because they’re shaking too much to support you, but also because Anonymous’ concerned face enters your vision. His hood is once again pulled over his head, but it only hangs limply around his features, framed by the cyan sky above. His right eye is closed to keep the blood from leaking in.

The Bowmare and Hunter Cindertouch are still arguing, but right now your only concern is the human above you. He reaches down and grips you by the barrel. You’re at a loss for words as he gently lifts you up and settles you down on your four hooves, too easily to not be embarrassed over. Anonymous’ eyes dance around your body as his fingers softly grip your chin, tilting your head this way and that as he searches for injuries. Max Gusto’s brow is furrowed as she looks between you and Anonymous, but she stays silent.

It was only until recently Anonymous was using these same hands to inflict pain.

”You’re helping two hornless fillies over a fellow bounty hunter?!” the Bowmare explodes. “I’m no thief, Cindertouch! I’m well within Confidoit law! What’s your Ancients-damn excuse?!”

Anonymous’ eyes stop dead at where your neck is still stinging. His eyes become hardened, and he doesn’t make a sound as he stands up to his full height.

”Saw somepony being assaulted, wanted to help,” Hunter Cindertouch says nonchalantly. “No idea you were hunting a bounty. From the looks of it, it just looked like a brawl. A brawl you were losing.” Hunter Cindertouch chuckles sarcastically. “Who would’ve known one hairless cat would be all it takes to hold off four of Plumsteed’s finest?”

“Cat?!” the Bowmare shouts in indignation.

”Anonymous?” Max whispers under the chaos as Anonymous makes his way to the limp Bowmare. “Anonymous, she might recognize--”

”You bucking moron! That ain’t no hairless--!”

Before you or anypony else can react, a sharp THWACK! echoes through the alleyway. The Bowmare’s exclamation immediately stops dead as Anonymous towers over her limp body, her jaw stuck open and her eyes closed peacefully.

”Huh!” is all Hunter Cindertouch says as Anonymous wordlessly takes a step between her and you, crossing his arms. The mare’s eyes trail up and down Anonymous’ tall stature, before she merely shrugs. “Well, none a’ my business if you’ve got weird friends. Here’s your map, River.”

Anonymous tilts his head as the scroll in Hunter Cindertouch’s magical grip is tossed your way. It bounces off your chest before your forelegs shoot out to grab hold of it. You quickly undo the bow and unfurl the scroll.

A detailed rendition of the Western coastline shines back at you.

It feels as if the weight of an avalanche’s snow has been lifted from your withers.

“…Cindertouch?” you ask shakily. “C-can I call you Cindertouch?”

”Yes,” Cindertouch says neutrally. “You can call me by my bucking name.”

Anonymous turns to you and back to Cindertouch at this, his lips pursed in confusion.

“Thank you so much!” you gleam as you hastily position the map between your bag string.

Cindertouch gives a ghost of a smile. As you get up to your hooves and Cindertouch turns to leave, though, Anonymous points a finger her way.

“Ally?” he asks lowly.

The sound of Anonymous’ voice puts a stop to Cindertouch’s hooves. She slowly turns back to the human, one brow raised to the cyan sky above.

“Yes,” you say wholeheartedly, giving Cindertouch another grin. “She is an ally. She helped me earlier as well. She’s a kind pony.”

”Now just hold up!” Cindertouch suddenly bursts, spinning to fully face you and Anonymous. Mostly Anonymous. “The hairless cat’s a mister?”

Anonymous merely rolls his eyes before turning from the unicorn and walking past you. Max Gusto is hopping up and down at this point, her eyes wide and hungry as she stares at Anonymous. As he makes his way to the pegasus, Cindertouch continues to stare in disbelief.

As he passes you, Anonymous reaches up and wipes some blood from his face. Your mood immediately dours.

You wonder if that would’ve happened if you had done something to help…

”What the buck’re you doing here?!” Max Gusto hisses as she begins poking Anonymous’ shin with murderous zeal.

”My job,” Anonymous whispers back. “You’re the retard who flew into town and didn’t fly back up. How the fuck was I supposed to know what was happening?”

Max stays stock still for a moment as what Anonymous just said registers. “…Alright, yeah, that was pretty stupid, but you could be recognized! And how did Lucky react to you heading off like that?!”

”Pretty well, actually. I think the possibilities of what could’ve happened to you, Riverside, and me all joined forces in a neurosis trifecta, and she’s just numb to everything at the moment.”

”Oh… Hey, do you think getting her a romantic novel would be a good peace treaty?”

Anonymous drops to Max’s level, reaches forward, and flicks her ear. She squeaks, batting his hand away with a glare. ”Let’s just focus on getting out of here. You got the thome, right?”

”Well, yeah, it’s right here. Where’d you get that cloak?”

”Stole it.”

”Holy buck, you’re lucky you’re a colt.”

A new voice joins in, right next to your ear.

”Well,” Cindertouch says with a smirk, making you jump from her proximity. “A mister he most certainly is. And not half bad-lookin’, neither.”

”SERIOUSLY, HOW?!” Max Gusto explodes, snapping Anonymous’ attention to Cindertouch. “YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HE WAS A COLT FIVE SECONDS AGO!”

”YOU WOULDN’T KNOW A STALLION’S TRANSCENDENT BEAUTY IF IT PEGGED YER’ BROTHER, PEGASUS!” Cindertouch claps back.

Anonymous frowns, pacing away from the pegasus. He looks to the other end of the alleyway, his arms crossed. His knee begins to bounce up and down as he shifts his weight on the other leg.

You hesitantly tap Cindertouch’s shoulder, making the mare’s fiery temper simmer to nothing. She turns to you, but before you can open your mouth, she interrupts, “You ponies ready to leave yet?”

You tilt your head. Anonymous and Max Gusto also fall silent as all eyes are on Cindertouch.

”I said, quit with the Ancients-damn puppy-dog eyes!” she blurts out. “I’m helping you all until you’re off Confidoit grounds. All-Mother on a stick, you need me.”

Whether you like it or not, the last pony who had asked for directions crosses your mind. And even then, it was because you had no idea where you were going. Now that you have everything you need and know the landmarks, you’d be able to get to where you need to go, no problem.

Some help would most definitely be appreciated, but with Anonymous here…

“I must refuse,” you rescind with a bow. “It… would not be fair. You’ve helped us so much, and I’ve only mended one wound in return. I appreciate it, Cindertouch, but we really must be off.”

Cindertouch purses her lips, her eyes narrowing inquisitively. “Wouldn’t be fair, would it?” she mulls over, prompting you to give a nod. “…So you’d just have to do me a favor, and we’ll be good?”

…Is that how it works?

Cindertouch’s eyes latch onto something just above your own. “Stay still,” she suddenly commands. You freeze as the unicorn takes a step toward you before lifting a hoof above your head, and…

…Oh, darn it all.

Your mane scrunches up and down as Cindertouch bounces her hoof in it, an amused grin adorning her lips.

Max Gusto suppresses a snicker. Ancients above, you wish you had somepony to redo your bun. Anonymous could probably help, with those fingers of his.

…

…Buck.

”Alright, now I’d say we’re even!” Cindertouch says as she plops back down to all fours. You can only simmer as the heat of a thousand Summers pervades your entire face. “Now c’mon, the lot of you. Wouldn’t be able to get a wink of sleep tonight if I left y’all here alone. ‘Specially with a wounded colt in yer’ group.”

”Wait, wait, wait!” Max chimes in. There’s the sound of a hoof clacking against metal as Max kicks the body of an unconscious bounty hunter. “What about these buckers?”

”What about ‘em? They’ll wake up."

”Well, yeah, but…” Max grows silent. You can tell what she’s thinking without even asking.

These bounty hunters know about your affiliation with Anonymous now.

”I’m assumin’ y’all are the ‘moralistic’ type,” Cindertouch sighs. “What with not a single weapon between the three of you. Suppose outright killin’ them’s off the table…”

Killing?!

Of course killing is off the table! Why would Cindertouch even consider that?! Are they not co-workers? Fellow bounty hunters?

They don’t deserve to be killed for doing their job…

”Know any mind altering spells?” Anonymous asks neutrally.

The reaction is instant. You whip around to glare at the human. “ABSOLUTELY NOT!” you yell out.

Anonymous blinks, his eyebrows raised at your outburst. He stays silent for a moment before eventually just saying, “Okay, then. We’ll just hope they’ll miraculously forget.”

Cindertouch guffaws with laughter at this. You don’t find it the least bit funny.

You can’t believe Anonymous would even consider something like that.

Why is he acting so different from Marestricht? You know he isn’t like this…

”Alright, you bickering lover birds,” Cindertouch snickers. “If’n there’s nothing else to discuss, I say we start trotting.”

You keep the intensity of your glare up, but soon find it hard to continue. Anonymous meets your eyes with a bored, unimpressed shake of his head. With the sound of Cindertouch’s hoofsteps, you finally tear away from his gaze.

”Ancients above, she’s cool, you paranoid ass!” Max Gusto groans from behind. Hoofsteps prelude her arrival as she passes in front of your mane, her cloak once again hiding her features as she follows Cindertouch out of the alleyway. She calls back to Anonymous, “Quit being autistic!”

You still can’t bring yourself to turn and face the human, so you keep your attention on the doorway of light just in front of you.

Anonymous lets out a sigh before walking towards the exit of the alleyway. As he passes, he follows Cindertouch’s lead in more ways than one.

It’s brief, but you know for a fact Anonymous puts his hand in your mane and gives it a bounce.

…

You much prefer it when Anonymous uses his hands for head pats, rather than violence.

You trot into the warm Confidoit sun, sticking to Anonymous’ side. Max Gusto and Cindertouch are just ahead, but you’re not paying attention to their conversation (which quickly turns into bickering and insults).

Despite everything, you can’t deny that the streets of Marketstead Confidoit suddenly don’t seem so dangerous at the human’s side.

…Even if you don’t deserve it. Tartarus, the moment you are back with Lucky and Tia, the first thing you’ll do is mend that gash on Anonymous’ forehead.

Before you can open your mouth to start apologizing, though, Anonymous beats you to it. “Riverside?” he asks quietly.

Your ears descend to your skull as your eyes once again find solace on the ground below. Will he chew you out for not fighting alongside him? For needing Max’s help? For yelling at him?

”Be honest,” Anonymous says. “Do you trust Cindertouch?”

The question catches you off-guard.

You tilt your head to look at Anonymous’ face to see it creased in concern. His eyes twitch away from you for a moment before locking back onto you.

“I do,” you answer truthfully.

Anonymous gives a minute nod before his attention once again turns ahead. After a while of silence, though, a small smile creeps on his face as he extends a hand and lays it on your mane once again.

Your own lips creep upwards, and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

”Honestly,” Cindertouch grumbles. “If I’d known you had a colt in your stead, I would’ve gotten you an escort sooner. An’ now look him, you daft pegasus! Poor little guy…”

”No offense,” Max says, her ears swiveling in your and Anonymous’ direction. “But I’m willing to bet twenty bits that ‘poor little guy’ could kick your plot with his hands tied behind his back.”

If that was meant to elicit a negative reaction from Cindertouch, it fails spectacularly. The unicorn merely eyes Anonymous from the corner of her eye before giving a smirk. “Win or lose,” she coos. “Some hogtyin’ with that stallion would sure be the experience of a lifetime.”

Your face blanches at Cindertouch’s gross breach of etiquette. You’re less than a cubit away from giving her a piece of your mind before you remind yourself of how unicorns are with stallions. Lucky Favor was awfully straightforward, from what you’ve gleaned from the wagon ride earlier, so perhaps Cindertouch is just leaning a little more into that?

Regardless, this is the mare that’s saved you twice. And gotten you that map.

…You just don’t like the way Anonymous is glaring at the ground now. Did that make him uncomfortable?

Unsure of what else to do, you slowly lean your head to Anonymous’ side. His armor is so much harder and colder than what he was wearing in Marestricht.

”Noninator,” Max Gusto drawls over her shoulder. “You are many things, but a demure bachelor is not one of them. Just relax and take the compliment!”

Anonymous doesn’t respond besides a wordless nod. Max Gusto groans, her eyes returning to ahead. “He has trouble expressing his feelings beyond glaring and being a shit. Don’t take it too hard. Oh!” Max suddenly chirrups, twirling around to face Anonymous, still backpedaling at Cindertouch’s stride. “Two things! Number one, how bucking dare you skimp out on that one-liner opportunity?!”

”What’re you talking about,” Anonymous says, not so much like a question, but like a matter of fact.

”That bounty hunter back there! She said, ’What the buck are you?!’ ANCIENTS, that was the perfect opportunity! You should’ve said something like, ‘I’m your worst nightmare,’ or something like that!”

”You’re retarded.”

”At least I’m not autistic!” Seriously, what are these words these two are saying? “And number two! You’re teaching me how to fight like that. And don’t try to deny it, ‘cuz I’ll just keep pestering you ‘til you give in.”

”Max, you’re a quadruped. I couldn’t teach you even if I wanted to.”

”So what?! Be like your landlubber friends out here, who don’t see race! You don’t want to be some kind of a racist, do you?”

”I'm the rarest minority here. I'm never racist, even when I am."

Even if you can’t keep up with Anonymous and Max, you soon find yourself smiling.

Even if he never once smiles, besides the sarcastic smirk every once in a while, his banter with Max proves that whatever dour mood that had suddenly engulfed him has now passed. Cindertouch merely keeps on trotting ahead, her gaze shifting to Anonymous once or twice, but otherwise staying on course. You can see the slowly shifting grass plains just up ahead; you are almost out of Marketstead Confidoit.

…No. Something still doesn’t feel right.

You want to repay Anonymous for everything he’s done.

“Cindertouch, would you mind waiting for a moment?” you chitter excitedly, already bouncing on your hooves, your mane bobbing in the rhythm.

Cindertouch’s eyes quickly snap from Anonymous to you, a perplexed expression on her face. “Thought you all wanted outta here?” she asks.

“Yes, but it won’t take more than a moment!” you answer as you skip ahead to a certain market, just a few cubits ahead. The bizarre, clear material of the place still portrays the goods within, untouched and unsold.

”Bountiful Riverside,” Anonymous’ voice cuts through your excitement. You stop bouncing and turn to the human. “You don’t need to do that.”

The way Anonymous says it is more like a reluctant plea than an earnest request.

“Yes, but I want to!” you squee, the bounce once again coming to your hooves.

Anonymous looks between you and the bakery, then between the bakery and Max, before finally letting out a sigh. “Need anyone to come in with you?” he relents.

You smile. “I will be fine!” you say as you push through the doorway, leaving the sunlit streets of Confidoit behind.

The first thing that hits you is the smell. No… aroma of cakes. There was nothing like this in Marestricht, not even remotely. The sweetest thing in your village was the fruit ale, and while you were an avid drinker of earth pony alcohol, you can’t deny that these pastries have your drinks beat by a furlong.

You receive a few glances from the occupants of the bakery, and you’re by no means accustomed to this style of shopping, but besides that, you’re proud to say that there are no hiccups in your trip. All the choices look good to you, but you aren’t picking something out for you to begin with. You eventually decide on a lime-colored one, that also smells suspiciously of lime, and approach the vendor’s booth.

You were right. After the thomery… no, after everything, this is not a challenge for you. You even look at the vendor in the eyes as you buy the cake! And she gives you a smile and a, “Have a good day, ma’am!”

Nopony really bothered to help you balancing the cake on your back, but that’s fine. You have plenty of experience balancing things on your withers, so getting it on is the hardest part. You’re squeeing on and off, all the way back outside.

You hope Anonymous will pat your head again when he hears about how well you did. Your only concern with your mane now is keeping the hairs out of the cake.

When you open the door to the bakery, though, what greets you is something that stops you in your tracks.

”--just quit it?” Anonymous is growling as he enters earshot.

Cindertouch giggles, trotting away from the human, while Max looks between the two with an amused expression. “Just trying to rile you up!” Cindertouch titters with a shrug.

“Cindertouch?” you ask hesitantly.

Anonymous’ hands are curled into fists at his sides. He’s turned away from Cindertouch, his eyes… straining. As if he were in pain.

For a moment, those eyes land on you, but they quickly turn away.

Cindertouch is a giggling mess as she trots past you, head and tail held high. “You’re telling me you’ve had this handsome colt by your side all this time and you haven’t teased him just a little? C’mon, River.”

You frown as you follow the unicorn, Max and Anonymous not far behind. “Cindertouch, I appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” you say. “But please do not harass my friends.”

”Harass?!” Cindertouch guffaws. “Filly, you ain’t new to Marketstead Confidoit, you’re new to the whole damn planet! A little sweet talkin’ ain’t harassing.”

The four of you are now at the threshold of the wooden ramp, the free grasslands of Equus just cubits ahead. Cindertouch steps off to the side, giving the three of you enough space to pass.

”Harassing is casting a mind spell on an earth pony stallion and trying to drag ‘em away to do the deed,” Cindertouch says, and for a brief moment, her eyes glisten over as she recounts memories, and her heartbeat slows. Max Gusto, in the meanwhile, trots down the ramp and waits for you at the end. ”Harassing is threatening somepony’s life because they tried to stop it. So, forgive me for not thinking a little sweet-talkin’s harassin’."

Like a stick briefly being caught in a river, Cindertouch's heartbeat returns to normal as quick as it stopped. Just in time to catch Anonymous as he passes her onto the wooden ramp. ”Compared to that,” Cindertouch sneers as she rears back a hoof. “This is jus’ teasing!”

SMACK!

Anonymous staggers forward from Cindertouch’s strike before completely freezing.

”Alright, now that was just mean,” Max Gusto chuckles.

You, meanwhile, feel a fire in your chest you’ve never felt before.

“CINDERTOUCH!” you bellow, but the unicorn merely laughs as she trots past you, back into Marketstead Confidoit. “The Ancient Lady of Chivalry is MORTIFIED by your actions!”

”Oh, go mend it better!” Cindertouch crows as she skips away. “Colt’s gotta get used to gettin’ spanked if he’s gonna be hangin’ around mares!”

“You should be ashamed! You will answer to the All-Mother when you pass into the Eternal Graze!”

You snort angrily as the Cindertouch leaves the three of you on the wooden plank, but you soon come to realize there isn’t much you can do. The unicorn is already some ways away by now, blending back into the fellow hunters, thieves, and rapscallions of all kinds of Confidoit. The cake balancing on your withers also makes movement rather strict as well.

You sigh out your frustrations before turning back to the ramp. Max Gusto is still waiting for you near the bottom, but Anonymous has already descended. He walks determinedly in the opposite direction of the marketstead, his hands once again curled into fists.

“Anonymous?” you ask as you trot after the human.

Once your hooves make contact with the grounds of Equus, and the connection is restored, you’re surprised by a certain pounding through the earth. Max Gusto has thrown off her cloak and has taken to the air, so it doesn’t belong to her.

It’s Anonymous’ heartbeat. It thumps as fast as a Summer hummingbird, and twice as hard against his chest. The human continues walking toward the misty forest line, not saying a word.

”Aww, don’t tell me…’” Max Gusto says as she floats by Anonymous’ side. “You really are a demure bachelor in a housecarla’s clothing! We got everything we came for, plus the cake, and we’re Scott-free!” The pegasus insouciantly drifts closer to Anonymous’ face. Her hoof lazily lands on Anonymous’ shoulder. “You beat up crooks for a living, but you can’t even take a little--?”

The moment Max’s hoof make’s contact with Anonymous’ shoulder, he reacts.

The blind elbow he throws at Max Gusto isn’t nearly as accurate as his attacks in the alleyway, but it slams into the pegasus’ snout all the same. She lets out a pained scream as she falls to the ground, and Anonymous freezes at the sound. Max is immediately scrambling back up to her hooves, although her movement is disoriented and blurry. Max readjusts her wings and glares at the human, sniffling as a trail of blood seeps from her right nostril.

”Oh, good job on getting that out of your s-system!” she spits, scrunching in and out, to hold back tears or readjust her snout, you don't know. "You're a bucking asshole, you know that? I was just teasing you, Anon!"

Anonymous, for a brief moment, appears petrified as he stares at Max. The pegasus sniffles again, wiping her forehoof across her snout to smear the blood away.

"Max Gusto, are you okay?" you murmur.

The pegasus gives you an impatient snort as she wipes another stream of blood from her muzzle. Anonymous' hands clench and unclench and he begins to shake, but he quickly turns and continues on his walk before he says anything.

“Yeah, don't even bucking apologize," Max snaps, unfurling her wings. "I'll go scout ahead. You can just continue being insufferable. Ancients, I don’t know WHAT they see in you!”

Before you can call out to her, Max beats her wings and is once again ascending into the air. Before long, she’s a lime blur in the cyan sky once again, leaving you and Anonymous alone.

The human only continues to walk, his posture tense yet brittle. His hands are still curled into fists – they aren’t open and inviting for head pats anymore. Tartarus, you only want to walk forward and nuzzle the human’s leg, to comfort him… but you feel as if all it’d take for him to lash out would be a mere touch.

“Anonymous?” you try again, trotting to the human’s side. “Anonymous, that was very unkind to do to Max Gusto…”

As you round the corner of the human, though, Anonymous’ eyes suddenly snap to you.

It’s only for a moment. What you see in those eyes are enough to stop you in your tracks, yet Anonymous keeps continuing forward, his face once again returning to the trail.

It’s the Anonymous from before you mended him.

In front of you now is the human from the bounty in your bag. His eyes reflect the fear you saw in those motherless foals’ eyes months ago, but…

Angrier.

Ancients… Please tell you he doesn’t have experience with this kind of harassment.

As the two of you continue walking, you can’t find it in yourself to try and get his attention again. Anonymous doesn’t talk to you either; he only continues to mechanically trudge forward, his hands curled into fists, his heartbeat racing, and his eyes full of pain. You can only keep your ears glued to your skull, the cake balancing on your withers, and passing blades of grass below in your focus.

Ancients above, you were the one who told him Cindertouch could be trusted. And the fact of the matter is that she could be trusted, but only by you and Max Gusto.

The rest of your journey back to the wagon continues in this oppressive silence. Max Gusto doesn’t return to your or Anonymous’ side, only circling from far overhead. The mist surrounding Lucky’s wagon soon engulfs you and Anonymous, and only then does Max come anywhere near the two of you again. She swoops in to clear a path to the wagon multiple times during your walk, but never once does she say a word.

Soon, a familiar sound tickles your ears.

The moment you hear this sound, you’re finally able to breathe a long sigh of relief.

You’ve done it. You’ve traveled into the marketstead, obtained the map, thome, and even Tia’s cake; and have returned. The many mistakes you made along the way had until now being gnawing at your mind, but the sound of Tia’s giggling in the distance turns them all to mist.

”Tia, that’s not how you properly shade,” Lucky Favor’s voice joins, somewhere near the faint outline of the wagon. “Each stroke must be in the same direction. Here, follow my hoof. …See how that doesn’t look as jumbled? Now you try.”

”stwaight wines…” Tia babbles, making your heart blossom with warmth. “stwaight wines, no jumbwy…”

Silence once again pervades the mist, but you’re close enough now to see how Lucky Favor is sitting beside Tia, currently crouching over her splayed-out notebook. The filly’s horn glows that same, comforting iridescent glow as she scribbles something into the pages with Lucky’s feather.

A certain lime green pegasus is standing behind Lucky Favor. Good, it looks like Max has landed.

”Splendid, Tiny-Tia!” Lucky exclaims with a clap of her hooves. “Now just keep that angle in mind with every curve. Think of it like the sun is… here, so everything’s shadow is pointing in the opposite direct—"

Max Gusto gives a tap on Lucky’s shoulder.

Lucky immediately flinches away from Max, letting out a squeal of terror. Tia drops the feather as she turns into a cackling mass of filly.

…Oh, it seems Lucky didn’t know Max was there.

“MAX GUSTO, DO NOT EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” Lucky squawks as she hastily regains her composure, patting her tuft down and straightening her mane. She pouts at the guffawing pegasus before her face suddenly transforms to realization. “Wait. If you’re here, then that means…”

You and Anonymous step into the clearing, and into Lucky’s peripheral. The white unicorn immediately twirls around to meet the two of you head-on. For a moment, she’s at a complete loss for words, besides the stuttering and half-words tumbling out of her mouth. Then, she finally regains motor control of her tongue as she tirades, “OH MY SWEET ANCIENTS, DO NOT EVER PULL THAT AGAIN! NONE OF YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN! I’M SERIOUS!”

Anonymous finally comes to a halt, looking away from Lucky as she virtually reappears in front of the two of you. “What happened?!” she demands, tears in her eyes. “Why didn’t Max return after she flew down?! Oh my Ancients above, Anonymous, you’re bleeding! And YOU! Bountiful Riverside!”

As Lucky’s cyan eyes finally land on you, you bow your head out of shame. You’re the one responsible for putting her in this kind of stress, after all. If only you hadn’t let your fear of magic get the better of you…

”Are you alright?!” Lucky Favor’s words cut through your fear. “Ancients above, you’re bleeding, too!”

You tilt your eyes upwards to see that the unicorn in front of you isn’t angry. Lucky Favor’s face is creased in concern as her eyes lock onto your own. Slowly, you return from your bow, giving a soft smile. “I am alright,” you say. The look of relief on Lucky’s face washes over you like a cool, refreshing stream. Your smile grows as you give a nod to Max Gusto. “We’ve gotten everything you’ve asked for.”

Lucky turns to find that Max is currently balancing the ambient mass-magic thome on the ground next to Tia, as if measuring the filly’s size to said book.

“The map is in my hip string,” you explain, snatching Lucky to attention. “Although, I cannot reach it without disturbing the cake.”

For the first time, Lucky’s eyes lock onto the green cake balancing on your withers. She only stares at it for a moment, before staring at the map, then back to you.

”You got the--…” is all Lucky Favor can breathe out before she suddenly darts forward and wraps her hooves around your chest.

You squeak, backing up to keep the cake from losing balance, before the unicorn withdraws as quickly as she charged forward. Lucky has a red tint to her cheeks, and turns away from you as she juts her chin out.

”I cannot-- ACK!” she begins, before suddenly succumbing to a coughing fit. She spits out a few purple and white strands of hair from her mouth.

All you can do is simmer in shame and embarrassment. You suppose you could ask Tia to redo your bun, seeing as she’s the only one who hasn’t thoroughly humiliated you about it…

”…I-I cannot properly convey my gratitude within the confines of the Ponish lexicon,” Lucky Favor finishes, stealing a quick glance at your mane. She takes a moment to cringe at the residual feeling of hair in her mouth before she suddenly perks up, turning to Anonymous. ”Oh! Before I forget! Anonymous, dear, come look at what Tia drew!”

Tia’s ears flick to her skull as she looks up at Anonymous. The feeling of despair seems to infect Max Gusto as she, too, sends a glare Anonymous’ way before turning and trotting behind the wagon. Lucky Favor is lost at the pegasus’ reaction, and the bout of sincere joy which had consumed her just moments ago is gone.

The human stays put for a while before sighing, taking his first steps over to where Tia sits. The filly doesn’t move from her spot, though, only leaning forward to push Lucky’s notebook further in front of her. Her eyes never leave the drawing.

Anonymous’ footsteps cease, and he’s towering over the filly and her drawing. He peers over Tia to get a better look at her work.

You can feel how, for the first time since you’ve left Marketstead Confidoit, Anonymous’ heartbeat slows.

The human’s fists slowly unfurl to hang limply at his side. He hasn’t yet discarded his cloak, so his face still remains hidden from underneath his hood, but you can see how his shoulders slowly round in calmness.

”Tia,” Anonymous murmurs. Tia draws her front hooves to her chest, tapping them nervously, but still doesn’t look up to meet the human’s eyes. “Riverside has a treat for you. Go and thank her.”

What?!

No! This is his present to her!

You freeze up as Tia’s attention turns from her drawing to you, then to the cake on your back. The human takes this opportunity to leave. Tia, for the first time, looks up at the human as he does.

”naw-nee?” she breathes.

Lucky Favor looks after Anonymous as he pulls open the wagon door and ducks inside. He closes the door silently, and the clearing feels empty without his presence.

”naw-nee, wiver-side?” Tia squeaks out, a hesitant smile on her face. “wiver-side, cake?”

Without much of an idea of what else to do, you nod and try your best to make the smile on your face seem genuine.

Tia gives one last look at where Anonymous had gone off before she jumps up to four hooves. She giggles as she scampers toward you, her pink mane and tail bobbing with her. “wiver-side, cake!” she beams, melting your heart once again. “wiver-side, fank! fank you!”

---

The distant stars and observant moon of the night sky illuminate the map in your hooves, basking the trail ahead in a cool sheen of blues and purples. The only sounds are of the crunching of grass underneath the wagon’s wheels and the ambient hum of your horn, setting a twisting and turning string of magic alight on the map in your hooves.

You’ve already calibrated the ambient direction spell to mainly stick to the trails. You’ve also set the location of the last pit stop until you’re all scheduled to arrive at the dockyard. That was the easy part.

The hard part is teaching the wagon how it would avoid any oncoming traffic without crashing into the first tree off the beaten path. Hence, why you’ve spent the last few hours since the sky became dark slowly guiding the wagon through whatever thin parts of the forest you could find.

Despite your constant vigilance of stones, bushes, and trees to avoid, though, you can’t keep your muzzle shut as you let out a long yawn.

Suddenly, a new noise snaps you awake.

It’s muffled, but the masculine grunt from inside the wagon leaves no room for interpretation.

Oh drat, did you wake him with your driving?

You momentarily disengage the spell on the reins of the wagon to double check, but sure enough, the stabilization spell of the interior holds firm. No, your driving wasn’t the reason. Did somepony accidentally wake him up? No, that doesn’t make sense either. Riverside and Tia were asleep on the opposite side of the wagon. Max Gusto made herself a cloud bed in the upper corner of the wagon’s interior, also well away from the human’s spot.

More time passes like this, and you soon find yourself wondering if you had imagined the noise after all.

That’s when you hear the squeaking of the wagon door opening.

You scoot to the end of the helm and turn to find a sight that sends you into a sputtering mess. Anonymous is awake now, hanging on the side of the still-moving wagon as he slowly closes the door. He’s no longer wearing his armor – his casual Marestricht wear flows from the wind and hangs loosely from his body. “Anonymous!” you yelp. “What are you doing?! We’re still moving, for Ancients’ sake – you could fall!”

”Chill,” the human says as one of his hands grip a crevice on the side of the wagon, pulling himself toward you and the helm. His arms are absent of his bracers, and the moonlight reflects brightly off his muscular, peach arms. “We’re moving at a snails’ pace.”

“That’s the least of my concerns! Are you part monkey?!”

”Yes.”

“Oh, j-just hurry up, then! Don’t hurt yourself!”

Anonymous continues climbing on the side of the wagon until one of his hands grips the side of the helm. You hastily offer him a hoof for help. He ignores it as he once again shifts his weight so both hands are hanging on the helm, and you shake your hoof up and down impatiently for him to grab on.

”Please tell me you don’t actually think you could pull me up,” Anonymous says with a nonplussed gaze.

You scrunch. “Just get up here! I can’t stand you hanging like that!”

Ancients above, you know you saw that flash of mischief on his face! He’s probably thinking of teasing you -- acting like he might fall!

Ancients above, your heart can’t take this!

Anonymous only smirks as the muscles along his arms tense and he hoists himself up. The wagon’s weight tilts in his direction momentarily, but it isn’t nearly enough to be of any concern. You scooch over to make room for the human as he settles down next to you.

You breathe a sigh of relief as the human kicks up his boots on the helm’s canopy. He slumps back in his seat, arms crossed and head tilted back as he merely sits. His emerald eyes gleam brilliantly in the darkness.

It seems like Riverside’s mend on his wound has healed quite nicely. It hasn’t even left a scar.

”Nightmare,” is all he murmurs. He reaches up and caresses his throat with his hand, and for a split second, something besides the beautiful moonlight gleams in his eyes.

The wagon shifts its weight once again. You turn to see that it’s avoiding a bush just to its right. It’s beginning to learn, but…

Well, it’s hard to feel any kind of accomplishment when you’re too busy holding back the urge to hug your housecarla. You settle back into your seat, setting the map in your lap. “Would you like to talk about it?” you ask.

Anonymous scratches his cheek, emitting a soft, bushy shuffle as his finger disrupts his beard. “I’d rather just sit,” he says.

You give an exaggerated sigh. “Well, unless you find watching an ambient direction spell calibration gripping, I would propose we do something more than just sit. How about we sit…” You lean towards Anonymous and give him a smile. “…and talk? It won’t be easy, but I assure you we can do it together.”

Anonymous gives you an amused raise of an eyebrow. “Kiss my ass, Max Gusto.”

You return to your perch, holding a hoof to your mouth to keep the titter at bay. Anonymous’ lips twitch upwards, but it still isn’t enough to be pulled into a full-fledged smile. “But yeah,” he relents with a shrug. “We can talk.”

Anonymous stays silent for a while, his gaze returning overhead as the two of you sit in a warm, comfortable stalemate.

…Wait.

Is he waiting for you to bring it up? About why you asked him to kiss you in Marestricht? Is that why he’s being silent?

You’re not drunk. You are in complete control of your faculties. The night sky is beautiful, and the passing trees and mist provide a picturesque backdrop.

…Oh, Ancients above, you might just tell him.

”Question,” Anonymous mutters so quietly your ears strain to hear it above the wagon’s wheels.

Your chest heats up at your heart’s pounding. He’s going to ask about it.

Do you tell him how you feel right away? Do you ease him into it? Knowing him, he might take it better if you go slowly. Of course, you have to be sure to remind him that you don’t mind in the least if he doesn’t have an answer for you right away. You’ll be okay with just a, “I’ll think about it.” Or Tartarus, even a joke about the whole thing. Anything but a flat-out rejection.

…No, a joke wouldn’t do. You’re sure you would just take it as an avenue to bail out. “J-just joking!” you would say, complete with a nervous chuckle. “How immature would it be of me to fall in love with somepony I’ve known for barely a week?”

Oh, Ancients, even in your thoughts you’re stuttering.

As your mind is going at a mile a minute, though, Anonymous finally finishes his question:

”How do you guys even put up with me at this point?”

You blink.

You turn to Anonymous to see the way how his face immediately changes. His lips are now pursed, one eyebrow raised as he gives you a shrug. “Just trying to start a conversation,” he says, his voice much louder and stinted than before. “Actually, forget it. That came out wrong.”

Anonymous clears his throat before you can retort, leaning over your shoulder. His proximity lights something in your chest, and you can’t find it in yourself to pull away. “The Hell’s that?” he asks, pointing a finger at a dot of sparkling magic along the glowing string on the map.

“Um… our last pit stop,” you inform. Your muzzle twists in a regretful scrunch at the notion of having to call in that last favor to the uppercastes. “We’ve everything we need now to reach Equestria, but… well, after the doit debacle, I wouldn’t be able to afford passage onboard by normal means. This will be our ticket. But after that, I swear, it’ll be a nonstop ride to the dockyard!”

Anonymous nods, satisfied with the answer, before settling back into his spot. You inspect the human, seeing how his knee bounces in place.

“Anonymous?” you ask softly. He gives you a raised eyebrow. “Max Gusto wasn’t injured. Please don’t ask how we could ‘put up with you.’”

The human’s shoulders slump at the mention of the pegasus. For a moment, you dread that he’d change the subject again, but soon he lets out a long sigh. “How caught up are you on the whole thing?” he asks softly.

“I have Riverside’s and Max’s perspectives… but I’d like to know yours.” You give a gentle smile, leaning closer to Anonymous. He gives you an unreadable look. “Max and Riverside don’t know--… well, they’re not acquainted with your past, Anonymous. Please be assured that they didn’t mean to make light of Cindertouch’s harassment out of malice.”

Anonymous blinks slowly, his eyes changing from unreadable to…

Exhaustion?

He turns away from you, back up to the night sky.

“Anonymous?” you ask, but the human’s walls are up once again.

…It’s frustrating, but you refuse to be impatient with him after what he told you last night. Besides, talking with Anonymous is its own reward, anyways.

You suppose you could lighten the mood a bit. Get the ball rolling again, make him feel comfortable.

“I want to teach Max how to read,” you say giddily. Anonymous raises an eyebrow and turns back to you, his green eyes sparkling in the moonlight. “I was wondering if you’d like to help me teach her? You know, to mend your relationship with her. Of course, we could also include Tia in our lessons! She’s a smart filly, so I’m sure—”

”Faust, do you have a problem with Riverside?”

You flinch as if suffering from physical whiplash.

“…W-where is this coming from?” you ask meekly. “We were just talking about--…”

As you try to find excuses to dodge the question, though… you begin to wonder just why.

Of course you don’t have a problem with Riverside! You gave her that hug when she brought back the cake, didn’t you? You even refrained from making fun of her mane, which was incredibly hard to do!

What reasons would you have to have a problem with Riverside? With everything she’s done for you in such a short amount of time, it’d be selfish of you to “have a problem” with her.

“Of course not!” you sputter. “I-it’s just…”

…You’re jealous?

No! Of course you’re not jealous! You can’t be jealous! The jealous stallion architype in those romantic novels you’ve read is your least favorite architype!

Who cares if you’ve had no romantic experience as of yet? You’ve had… lots of reading material!

“Well, for one, she stole your credit for the cake!” you chuckle, giving a lopsided grin.

Your joke doesn’t land.

”It would’ve been me taking her credit,” Anonymous sighs. “She got it all on her own.”

Your ears fall to your skull, defeated. “…But what about making amends with Tia?” you whimper.

”Better Riverside than me,” Anonymous says with a shrug. “She’s the one who could use a friend.”

…You’ve been a friend to Riverside, right?

“…I don’t have a problem with her,” you affirm, scrunching. “That would be rude and simpleminded of me, to have a problem with somepony who’s done so much…” The map in your hooves feels much heavier now. You sigh, bowing your head. “What she’s done cannot be overstated. I know that, but… Tartarus, I suppose it just irks me.”

Anonymous tilts his head, staying silent.

You shake your own, ashamed. “It just took me so much effort to be able to—” You slowly extend a hoof and press it to Anonymous’ bare arm. He doesn’t pull away. “--…Do that. And the moment I meet her, she’s already there.”

Anonymous only gazes at you, mulling something over in his mind, until a smirk appears on his face. “Jealous?” he susurrates.

“I AM NOT--!” you shout out, but can’t find it in yourself to finish that sentence. “…I’m an uppercastemare! I wouldn’t feel something so… petty just because—I mean--!… HMPH!”

The fire on your cheeks makes it hard to concentrate. You jut your chin out and turn away, slamming your eyes shut to keep the sight of Anonymous out of them. Anonymous’ voice, though, has no trouble reaching you.

”Faust,” he says. “Do you know what it means to ‘petrevoke the Ancient Lady of Life?’”

You scrunch, shaking your head. Of course you don’t know what that means. Why doesn’t he go off and ask Bountiful Riverside what it means?

”Don’t feel too bad about it,” Anonymous chuckles. His hand descends on top of your head, giving you a firm pat. “Neither do I. Not fully, anyway.”

Anonymous retracts his hand, sighing. Your frown deepens at the absence of his warmth.

”It’s what Riverside did when she mended me,” Anonymous continues. “Some kind of a… religious remedy thing. Although, I guess it’s more fact than religion when the proof’s right there…”

Anonymous teeters off to silence. You turn to the human to find that he has a wistful, bemused look on his face. “Still weird to think about that.”

Does he come from somewhere that doesn’t have a strong connection with the Ancients?

”Riverside and I…” Anonymous begins, before biting the inside of his cheek, thinking about what to say. “…When she petrevoked the Ancient Lady of Life, I could read her mind, Faust.” He shakes his head, as if still unbelieving of what has transpired. “She’s a good kid. I know it.”

You’re not sure what to react to, the fact that Anonymous has as good a reason one could have to trust somepony so quickly, or the fact that he called Bountiful Riverside a “kid.”

She’s always struck you as youthful, you suppose. Definitely mature, but… naïve. And according to Apple Seed, Riverside had just started her mending career when he was captured by the Red Garden, which was months ago. It makes sense now that she’d be young, but…

Ancients above, she’s so big! The thought never even crossed your mind!

Suddenly, Anonymous lets out a sarcastic chuckle. You give him a tilt of your head, earning you his explanation, “Guess I couldn’t avoid talking about it after all.”

The sad smile on Anonymous’ face stays as the human leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. He shakes his head as memories come back to him. “Faust, after… Cindertouch,” he says slowly, mulling each word over in his mouth. “I started seeing red.”

Anonymous’ words echo in your mind.

”Sometimes it feels like everyone’s Red Letter.”

“…Even Bountiful Riverside?” you ask quietly.

Anonymous only nods.

Even Bountiful Riverside, the mare he shared consciousness with…

It almost surprises you, how Anonymous’ nod make you feel. Five seconds ago, you would’ve at least had the comfort of knowing that you were the only pony here that he felt comfortable confiding in.

But now… you’re just saddened.

“You can trust them, Anonymous,” you whisper. Anonymous’ face devolves into a pained cringe. “You can trust Riverside. She certainly trusts you.”

Anonymous only looks at you for what feels like minutes. His eyes slowly crease as he finally says, ”I’ll be gone once we reach Equestria, Faust. It won’t matter.”

…Is that why he wants Tia to have a relationship with Riverside? Because she’ll stay, and he won’t?

No. You can’t think about that now.

Now’s as good a chance as you’ll ever get.

“What if that weren’t the case?” you put forward. “What if you stayed with us even after we reached Equestria?” Anonymous turns to you, but before he can open his mouth, you hastily continue. “I know I’m short on doits at the moment, but freelance bounty hunting is lucrative in Equestria! We could take up a few bounties so I could continue paying you! A-and of course, I’d be giving you a hefty raise—"

”If I stayed with you, what’ll happen when another Cindertouch comes along?” Anonymous says with a shrug. “Or another Red Letter, or Sapphire Lily. And you’d be stuck with…--” Anonymous grows silent. Not knowing what else to say, he simply taps his head with a closed fist. “--this. What if something mundane happens, and I fuck everything up for you guys? What if I hit Tia? Or go off and break my leg on another log?” Anonymous chuckles darkly, shaking his head as his eyes are glued to his chest. His emerald orbs reflect the same pain you saw during the Rejoicement. “It’d be selfish of me to stay. No matter how much I want to.”

You blink.

…He wants to stay?

Anonymous is done talking. He turns away from you, peering into the passing trees and strings of mist. But you can’t let things end like this.

“You can talk to me, Anonymous,” you whisper. Anonymous shows no reaction to your words.

Tartarus, you can’t let things end like this…

“I want to help you as much as you do me,” you try. “…Anonymous, what happened to you before Red Letter?”

Anonymous frowns, glaring at you. ”Stop talking to me like I’m a fucking victim.”

Anonymous’ glare falters as you don’t flinch away. You stay firm, not moving a hooflength. “After everything we’ve been through,” you plead. “Please just tell me what I can do to help. Do you trust me, Anonymous?”

The night drops ten degrees as Anonymous doesn’t your question.

…Why?

Why, after everything…?

The seconds feel like hours as the human by your side merely regards you. His eyes dance from your own, to the map in your hooves, to somewhere off in the distance.

Does he not fully trust you yet? Were you too late?

Anonymous turns away, murmuring, “…Faust, why didn’t you tell me about Tia?”

For a brief moment, you feel the comfortable haze of confusion. After all, what could he mean by a question like that? You’ve shown him your entire hand by now, haven’t you?

But soon, the confusion falls into the growing pit in your stomach.

”About the fact she can control the fucking sun?” Anonymous continues, though his voice is muffled through the ringing in your ears. “Seems pretty important to just not mention.”

He knows.

But how? You never told him. You’ve done everything to keep it a secret, so… he must have seen it for himself.

No, that doesn’t make sense. He hasn’t treated you and Tia like he would’ve if he had.

Did he somehow get in contact with somepony from the uppercastes?

It’s becoming harder to breathe.

The pounding in your heart increases until it’s all you can hear. That, and the unbearable ringing.

Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out in the middle of the calibration.

Oh, Ancients almighty, how does he know?!

“EEP!”

Somepony is touching you.

What the buck is it? Who is it? Is it Sapphire Lily?! Red Letter?!

What if they know?!

You hastily throw your hooves up and cover your horn, bringing your gaskins to your barrel. You pull yourself into a tight ball, praying to the Ancients to wake up from this nightmare.

Whoever’s touching you isn’t relenting, though. But they’re also not hitting your horn, or grabbing the bag from your hip, or betraying you, or paralyzing you and keeping you in a muddy cell, surrounded by ponies who want you dead…

Whoever’s touching you isn’t doing any of that. They’re only resting a hoof on your back, slowly going up and down against the fur.

…No. It isn’t a hoof. It’s a hand.

And it’s so… so warm.

”Faust?” Anonymous murmurs. “I’m not angry. I just want to know."

First, you focus on your breathing. In and out, each breath longer than last time.

The ringing slowly succumbs to the crunching of grass and the humming of magic once again. That, and the slow rustling of Anonymous rubbing your back through your shirt.

Your heartbeat still pounds in your chest, but you only close your eyes and bask in the feeling of Anonymous. You slowly lean more into the human until your cheek presses into his side.

Anonymous doesn’t pull away.

Your heartbeat soon fades out of your ears to be returned to your chest.

“…S-scared,” you whisper, holding back tears. “I was so… so scared.”

”Scared I’d hate her?” Anonymous asks. “I’d attack her?”

“No,” you sniffle. “Scared you’d suddenly love her, and everything would be for nothing.”

Anonymous stays silent for a while. You take the opportunity to bask in the last moment before what comes next. There is no simple answer to Anonymous’ question, “Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a multitude of answers, each more painful and embarrassing than the last.

For now, though, during these next five seconds of peace, you can bask in what might be your last moments with Anonymous at your side.

“…I come from the uppercastes, but I’d be hesitant to say I was happy up there,” you murmur. “Drawing and reading were my only forms of escape. I suppose this is what allowed me to become so disconnected from everypony else.”

Anonymous stays silent, his hand not once stopping as it rubs up and down on your back. The wagon has grown accustomed to the map's ambient direction spell, and thankfully requires no more input from yourself. You can't imagine having to scoot away from Anonymous to regain your magic.

”…Maybe that’s why I was the only one who didn’t immediately try to kill Tia when she showed up on my windowsill one night,” you say with a halfhearted smile, but you can’t bring yourself to appreciate the joke. The memories of the few ponies you did know – your sister, of all ponies – turning on you when you showed them your new friend are too painful.

You hate thinking about it, even now.

“Anonymous?” you sniffle. You wish you could stay within the human’s warmth for a while longer, but you know what has to come next. “Your question has a multitude of answers. One of which is the answer to a question you hadn’t bothered to ask up until now, but… well, it’s the reason all of this is happening.”

If he knew, it might influence him to stay.

You don’t ever want to manipulate him.

“Do you want me to continue?” you ask meekly.

Anonymous’ emerald eyes are pools of sanctuary during this cold, frightening night. He nods, not saying a word.

You tap your hooves together, drawing into yourself. “I was hunted in my own home,” you whisper. “But I didn’t travel to the lowercastes just yet. It wasn’t until one night, behind the planetarium, that… I had my reason to go to the lowercastes. To go to Equestria.”

The memory of this particular moment is smothered and repressed by everything else that’s happened. You don’t remember the specifics of what happened afterwards. You only remember the shock of hearing that Tia had the very same dream as you did.

“Tia has a sister,” you say. Anonymous is dead silent, but you can practically feel the warmth of his eyes burning with questions. “We shared the same dream that night. Something… no, somepony told me everything. Tia has a sister, and she’s in the heartland of Equestria. That’s the only place she’ll be safe.”

You shake your head. Everything burns at the shame of your… stupidity. Of what happened next. “I tried to tell somepony,” you concede. The memory burns to think about. Tartarus, you swore to yourself you wouldn’t think about your own sister again. “Tia rose the sun in a desperate effort, and… I don’t know how to explain it. But it was as if…” You hesitate, thinking of the right word to choose from.

And then, it comes to you. “…Harmony. It felt as if everypony who saw it was suddenly in some kind of harmony.”

You shake your head darkly.

How much they’d tried to apologize to you, every single one. How hard your sister tried to keep you from leaving.

How she insisted to at least help you travel across the ocean, and how she’d revealed she had made contacts within the lowercastes. How she, despite your numerous attempts to cull her from your life, set up a contact for you to meet near the coastline.

How empty it all felt.

Like you were some sort of charity case to the universe.

When you turn to gauge Anonymous’ reaction, you’re met with a look of utter shock.

For a long while, he doesn’t say anything. He simply stares at you.

Tartarus, you hope he doesn’t bring up staying again. You hope he doesn’t change his mind now. It’d feel empty as well.

”Why not just…” Anonymous finally says, slowly, deliberately. “…Show me this weird Harmony thing? You’d be sure I wouldn’t betray you, at least.”

You draw your forehooves to your chest. “I wanted what we had to be genuine. I didn’t want it to be empty.”

“Why do you even want to be around me, Lucky? Why’re you jealous of Riverside?”

This time, Anonymous’ words don’t sting.

They don’t herald a kneejerk reaction from you, and they certainly don’t make you blush with indignation.

…Ancients-damnit, you are jealous.

“I wanted what we had to be genuine,” you say quietly. “In Plumsteed… you were the first one to ever stand up for Tia. Or for me.” You sniffle. You can’t help it anymore. You scooch closer to the human. You wish he would reach forward and rub your back again, or pat you on the head one more time. “I understand that you still have your reservations, Anonymous, and I can’t blame you because… frankly, I can’t know what you went through. But... Believe me when I say that everypony here trusts you.”

Anonymous turns away at your words. His shoulders raise as he once again becomes hardened. You scoot even closer, and his arm grazes against your hoof. He pulls it away.

“Especially Tia,” you say.

Anonymous’ walls crumble. He slouches, leaning back into the helm of the wagon. He lets out a single sniff, before hastily wiping at his face and turning away.

Anonymous kicks his feet back up onto the canopy of the helm, crosses his arms once again, and keeps his eyes forward.

But you’re not done yet.

All-Mother above, you’re not done yet.

“I’m going to hug you now,” you warn. “And I would appreciate not being punted into the stratosphere.”

It’s quick, but you definitely saw it.

Anonymous snorts with laughter – genuine laughter. As he reaches with a hand to cover it from you, you still see it before it disappears.

He’s smiling. He’s genuinely smiling. His white teeth shine through the darkness, contrasted with his dark beard and amplified by the shining moonlight. It’s fillyish, truthfully -- one side of his lips is creaked up more than the other, giving it a lopsided curve.

It is the most adorable, perfect smile you’ve ever seen.

You did it.

He’s smiling, and it’s because of you.

You’ll convince him to stay with you. Maybe not now, but you will. You’ll be the one to show him how amazing he truly is. Even if he never fully opens up to you, you’ll at least convince him to stay with you for just a little longer.

You swear it on your place in the Eternal Graze.

"I, uh--" Anonymous chuckles, holding up his hands. "I appreciate it, Faust, but I'm good on hugs."

You pout, your hooves returning to your lap. You've failed for now, but by the Ancients, you'll get that hug...

“Well then, would there be any questions you have left, my dear housecarla?” you squee as Anonymous wipes away the last remnants of his laughter.

He turns to you and opens his mouth to speak, before one more errant giggle escapes him. This time, he can’t hope to cover that smile as it shines through the night.

”I’m gonna have a hard time getting that image out of my head,” he chortles before he can finally sober up. Still, he can’t fight his lips as they twitch upwards into a betraying smile. “Just one question, really. And it’s actually bugging me a bit. If all it takes is for Tia to do the…” Anonymous gestures with his hands in an adorable rendition of the sun raising. “…All-Powerful Goddess of the Sky thing for ponies to not hunt the two of you, why don’t you just show it more often? Or when you’re in trouble, like at Plumsteed?”

“From what I understand,” you muse, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “The clearer the view of the sky she has, the better Tia can perform the spell. It wouldn’t have worked at all in Plumsteed, and certainly not in the Red Garden. Not only that, but she’s vulnerable in the meanwhile. It’d be too much of a risk..." The levity of the night dampens as you give the possibilities more thought. "...And, to be frank, I don't think I'd feel comfortable manipulating ponies like that."

It's strange. It definitely wasn't mind-altering magic -- you would've recognized it if it had been. Still, the thought of somepony just... changing like that makes you shudder.

...And why didn't it affect you, now that you think about it?

”Fair enough,” Anonymous says with a shrug. “Guess I can forget about mind washing entire towns to do our bidding.”

“Y-you most certainly can forget about that!”

”Yeah, yeah,” Anonymous says with a wave of his hand.

Wait, that’s not a wave of his hand. Its trajectory hasn’t stopped yet, and it’s coming right at you--?

Boop.

You scrunch, swatting at the offending appendage. Anonymous only smirks, once again turning his head upwards to the night sky. You notice how his eyes seem much livelier as he looks upwards, as if he were studying the many stars and galactic wisps of light.

The silence continues for a comfortable amount of time. Long enough for you to circle back to the elephant in your mind.

You’re jealous of Bountiful Riverside.

There’s no use denying it now. You’re jealous of Bountiful Riverside’s closeness with Anonymous… but there’s no reason to be.

You have your own closeness with him.

“Anonymous, dear?” you ask as you set the map aside. You fish into your bag and pull out your notebook. “Can I draw you?”

You’re already flipping open to a specific page before he responds. The night scene without a subject – the one Max Gusto had once belittled you for, and the one you couldn’t complete during the Rejoicement. Now, though, there’s only one potential reason for you to not complete it tonight.

”I won’t stop you,” Anonymous says with a nonchalant shrug.

Make that zero potential reasons for you to not complete it tonight.

You begin with the basic bipedal form of Anonymous’ sitting posture.

Yes, you have no reason to be jealous of Bountiful Riverside. You have no intention of getting between Anonymous’ and her relationship. Ancients above know she needs somepony like him.

You suppose it’s only fair to have a long discussion with Bountiful Riverside. To apologize for the way you’ve been acting, for starters – you’ve been getting rather good at apologies these past few days. To ask her how her relationship with Tia is, how she feels about Max Gusto. To assure her you’ll be more careful with your magic around her, going forward. And, of course, to tell her how things are with Anonymous.

You’ll refrain from making any romantic moves for now. Until Anonymous is completely comfortable with you, and until you tell Riverside that you won’t be giving up, you’ll wait.

For now, you only focus on your drawing, trying and failing to not smile as Anonymous subtley looks your way, his eyes gleaming with curiosity at what the both of you are creating.

Comments

[AnOnyxPolygon]

“Anonymous, dear?” you ask as you set the map aside. You fish into your bag and pull out your notebook. “Can I draw you?”

You’re already flipping open to a specific page before he responds. The night scene without a subject – the one Max Gusto had once belittled you for, and the one you couldn’t complete during the Rejoicement. Now, though, there’s only one potential reason for you to not complete it tonight.

”I won’t stop you,” Anonymous says with a nonchalant shrug.

Fuckin' A! The interactions and character growth leading up to and associated with this moment are just so utterly fantastic! Keep up the good work man!

[kitsune5000]

Great chapter. I love the character development.
Two spots where the horse grew hands

to the map in your hands

You’ve shown him your entire hand

[Spooples]

11004681
Thanks for catching that

[DoctorWhoooves]

You don’t respond, but you can’t fight the smile as it pulls the corners of your lips back. You simply lower your head and lex Max Gusto lead you into the growling maw of the thomery.

Only typo I found. Also I feel like Anon is gonna end up with a herd whether he likes it or not.. Although he is traveling with one of every tribe.. How very Harmonious.

[Scholar Andrew]

God, each of the characters so much! Max’s sense of humor, River’s meekness, and Lucky’s upper crust sperginess.

[M4Tiger4014]

God damn this is a blast to read.

Also, funny. Y-7 Gland is absolutely brilliant. (Most kid's shows are rated TV-Y7. YMMV. Legend of Korra ended season one with a murder-suicide, and that wasn't the last onscreen death, but it was TV-Y7 still. Somehow.)

”YOU WOULDN’T KNOW A STALLION’S TRANSCENDENT BEAUTY IF IT PEGGED YER’ BROTHER, PEGASUS! ” Cindertouch claps back.

Not sure I'll ever need to use that turn of phrase but Damn I'll keep it in mind. That was good.

So… where shall you go first?

IIRC you're not supposed to have a space after an ellipsis. I noticed it in other places, I'd recommend using the "find" command (ctrl+f) and putting in "... " (an ellipsis with a space).

You scrunch. You’re not a puffball.

Does she have an afro or something?

I couldn't find it again, but I think I saw you misspell "gauge" as "gouge." There was also something last chapter where you mistyped something (i.e. Put instead of But. I'd actually try and find it but on mobile right now).

[Spooples]

11005789
Thanks for catching those mistakes. I'll fix them right away
>Does she have an afro or something?
I was thinking more like this, but a bit poofier (and minus the flowers of course)
external-preview.redd.it/xtqJ6n6te7nnIFiafTL2VkVDXxW9n9kh5H_V1F8obVc.jpg?auto=webp&s=c21e2698d1fd08471850c1c1b79bd7bdcd704fe6

11005474
Auto correct takes another victim

[Silentwoodfire]

Did Harvest run into a Changeling?

[Gordon_Freemane]

I keep forgetting to ask, but what the heck is a Y-7 gland?

[paladinwolf]

This update made me smile

[Spooples]

11009301
A personal headcanon of mine - it's a magical/psychological "muscle" ponies use to hide their genitals from view when they aren't procreating. Like how they look from the show
awn.com/sites/default/files/styles/large_featured/public/image/featured/1040169-lights-camera-action-cinematography-my-little-pony-movie.jpg?itok=DSpsMj-K

[Tesseract417]

11009301
I've been meaning to ask this too.
Something that kept coming up, and I'm thinking "What the heck is this, I've never heard of it before". In the first context I noticed it, I thought it was something to make them 'smell' less when Max mentioned it, but in later chapters, I kind of figured it was a *Censored* plot device of some sort.
Now I know if I ever see it referenced again.

[msgunner501]

Man, I'm loving the story and character interactions. One thing that bothers me is that this harmony sounds very like mind control and that is concerning to me. I'm getting the feeling that their victory is going to be bitter sweet if that's the case. Other than that, I'm excited to see what happens next.

[ObsPerson]

Ok I haven't read this story in a while now and I need a reminder. How and why did Anon get to Equestria again? Also what time period did he used to live in? Modern? Medieval?

[Spooples]

11014147
>How and why did Anon get to Equestria again?
Hasn't been revealed yet
What time period did he used to live in?
Modern; he was thinking back to his time in an MMA gym in ch2

[parflon]

It would be great if you added "human" to your tags.

[Spooples]

11030653
11030457
11030581
Thanks for catching those. I've fixed them
As for the Y-7 gland, I explained it in 11009377

[Tahallazhad]

I can’t be bothered to hunt for it at the moment, but there’s a couple of instances of the use of wrong words. One is a mention of someone giving River “a wide girth” to avoid her. That’s… just no. The term is to give someone a wide berth. The next one is more understandable, but this is the second or third time it’s shown up in this fic- when someone has gained insight or information, you say they’ve gleamed it. The correct word in this case is gleaned. N, not M.

[PinkDragonJr]

11010913
Im suspecting ut is the cause of the adoration that celestia gets both in the show and the catalyst for her fighting with Luna.
makes me wonder if luna has a similar effect on thestrals when she raises the moon

[DarkPhoenixx]

” naw-nee, wiver-side? ” Tia squeaks out, a hesitant smile on her face. “ wiver-side, cake? ”

What's Tia trying to say?

[Nos Astros]

“Anonymous, dear?” you ask as you set the map aside. You fish into your bag and pull out your notebook. “Can I draw you?”

Yes, you can draw me like one of your fancy French Girls...

[Coffeeknight234789]

”D’ya take me for some sort of dyke?”

I'd rather you not use these kinda
words please.