Fallout: Equestria - The Hooves of Fate

by Sprocket Doggingsworth

Light and Shadow and a Secret Third Thing

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE - LIGHT AND SHADOW AND A SECRET THIRD THING
"I was so naive as a kid, I used to sneak behind the barn and do nothing." - Johnny Carson

Friendship is supposed to matter. Friendship is supposed to win. Friendship is supposed to light up the gloom with purpose - a sparkly rainbow destiny lightning that defies all hopelessness, and all reason. That's. How. The. Universe. Works. Even Zecora said so. And the Great Sorcerer Planktoneth too!

But I'd fucked all that up. I'd hurt Scribbles. She was a really really really really reeeeally cool kid! And I'd gone and hurt her. By saying dumb stuff about her generation.

She was gonna hate me forever now - long after I was gone - and there was nothing to be done for it. No grand speeches or gestures or gifts of caramel apples and jewels and chocolate-covered popcorn to show how sorry I was.

But the worst thing about it was: I didn't even feel like myself. I mean, what the fuck was I thinking???!!!

How could I say something like that? So selfish! So stupid.

It made me wonder if I was even myself at all anymore, or if...like...there was some magic at play - like, maybe, the shadow energy haunting my hoof had made it into my bloodstream or whatever, and bolted straight up to my lips. To make me say mean things to Scribbles.

Or the brain hornets! Like, maybe that...misstep of my tongue - that...misfire of my brain - was their method of getting me to push Scribbles away.

My friends and I had a mission to do, after all. Scribbles avoiding me - like it or not - was actually the best thing for everypony.

The army of voices in my mind slowly faded to the background like phonograph static. One voice drowning it all out - the voice that laid the blame upon fate. It grew louder and louder and louder and louder and louder. Blame the shadows. Blame fate. Blame the shadows! Blame fate!

'Till POW!

The 2 x 4 o' Friendship killed it once and for all. 'You fucked up, Rose,' said the Twink inside my brain. 'You fucked up, and you're lying to yourself. No. Pony. Lies. To. My. Friends.'

She whacked me with every single word. And she was right to.

I'd spent the whole damn winter fighting against the Powers That Be - scraping together whatever scraps of dignity I could - even as I tumbled down the Staircase O' Destiny.

I couldn't just, all of a sudden, turn around and pretend like I'm some innocent puppet. Just 'cause I'd messed up and acted like a jerk.

Maybe the whole universe can't get boiled down to Forces of Light versus Tides of Shadow. Maybe, sometimes it's a third thing, every bit as stupid.

Ourselves.

* * *

"Okay, listen up," Lucky said to all of us new kids.

The whole herd of super sneakers was gathered in a warehouse at the end of Pinkie Pie's secret tunnel. We were above ground now. A gust of wind stabbed at us from a crack in the walls. Blades of light ripped through that gap too. They alternated colors like some kinda dance party. Bright blue. Then bright pink. Then blue. Then pink. Then blue. Then pink. Then blue again.

"...This amusement park ain't like normal sneakin'," Lucky continued. "Our Brave Troops are disciplined, and coordinated, and known to stick to certain routes - at least on the night before Hearth's Warming Eve when they throw their great big ol' shindig. So we should have this corner of the park to ourselves."

"We do," said a voice from above. The pink ray of light fluttered. A tiny figure slipped in through the crack in the walls, did a flawless triple back flip off the rafters, and landed in a ta-da!!! pose. It was Formerly Upside-down Boy - the kid who'd spotted us sneaking around back in Safety. "It's all secure."

"Thanks for the sitrep," Lucky continued, firing Eyeball-Cannons of Annoyance at F.U.B. "We probably have this corner of the park to ourselves. But we can't count on that.

'The closer we get to our destination, everypony, the more chance we're gonna have of running into trouble - even if those chances do remain slim. So!" Lucky clopped his forehooves together for emphasis. "...It doesn't matter if you're the sneakiest sneaker who ever sneaked, or if you're brand spankin' new to this." Lucky stole a glance at me - the kid who was, apparently, brand spankin' new to this. "We all have to work together to keep from gettin' caught. That means following a few basic rules that the Super Sneaking Secret Safety Society has established through our experiences with this kinda terrain…

'First: we can't move in a giant herd, or we'll get spotted. So there's a buddy system, and New Blood? You're getting paired up with seasoned Safety Sneakers. Stay low. Stay quiet. Stay patient. And most of all…stay close to your partner, and everything will be fine."

Cliff threw me a panicked glance that looked like this:

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

I threw one right back at him:

"!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

If all of us new blood kids buddied up with mega-experienced sneaky kids instead of with each other, none of us would ever get a chance to break off!

My friends and I. Needed. To. Get. Away. From all of it. And fast!

I shot my panicked eyeballs at Misty and Foster. But they were both cool as cucumbers frozen under seventy-nine feet of special cucumber-chilling ice.
…
…
…
The light turned blue once more. And Formerly Upside-down Boy swung a great big barn door wide open.

"Ahhhhh!" The entire Super Safety Secret Society of Sneakers winced and squirmed like we had all been stabbed in the head with swords and lasers and searing hot railroad spikes at the same time.

"Give it a minute," Lucky snickered.

"Gah!" Said Cliff. "You're doing this on purpose?"

"Better your eyes adjust now, than to go running out there blind," F.U.B. retorted.

I held a hoof over my brow. Squinted into the light as a chill bit my nose. Little by little, the outside world came into focus. There was a cinder block storefront across the street with a heap of crumbling plaster blocking the threshold, and an awning dangling over it that looked like a broken umbrella's twisted metal skeleton.

It was as blue as the light that blinded us. Everything out there was. Blue blue blue blue blue blue blue.

One by one, all the S.S.S.S.S. kids - old and new - closed in and drew nearer to the door. To steal a peek.

"You, Poet! Come with me," Formerly Upside Down Boy pointed my way.

"Who? What? Me?" I said, all smoooooth, and intelligible-like.

"Yeah, you," the boy replied. "And you, Feathers," he pointed to Cliff. "Go wit' Lucky."

Cliff whipped his head around. Left and right, and up and down. But there was no escape.

He pressed himself against me. Afraid of getting separated. Terrified-to-the-very-Cliffcore by the very idea of running off with one of the S.S.S.S.S.'s leaders, and left to figure out an escape all by himself.

"Bananas," Formerly Upside-down Boy pointed at Foster. "You go wit'--;"

"Hay," Lucky whisper-whined. "I'm giving the assignments."

F.U.B. tapped his hoof, and bobbed his head. "Look, you and Iris can split up Meadow Blade's duties however you want," he retorted. "But security's still my department."

Lucky grumbled, but didn't try to stop him. I gathered that F.U.B. must be deeply respected in sneakerly circles for his aptitude in the field of sneakosity.

Next thing I know, he's making a bunch of hoof-and-head gestures telling folks where to go, and where not to.

Iris came up right beside Foster and bumped hooves with her. Misty ended up paired with Some Blue Filly I'd never seen before. The Other New Kid Whose Name I Didn't Know was lime green, so she got paired with some periwinkle kid. (Who shall henceforth get referred to by me as Lime-O and Perry).

And Scribbles? I lost track of her entirely.

"But wait," I squeaked out. "We're friends. We need to stick together."

"You don't know the park," said Iris. "It's only 'till we get where we're going."

"Where are we a-goingk?" Asked Misty with an urgency he couldn't quite conceal.

Bzzzzt! The outside light turned pink once again.

Iris grinned and leaned in with the kinda spark you get in your eyeballs when you've gathered 'round a campfire, and it's your turn to tell a spooky story. "About a thousand yards in," Iris said, soft and conspiratorial-like. "There's an old fountain. Legend has it that–;"

"Fountain?" Misty lit up - choked back a smirk. "Ees big one, yes?" He looked to me with a giant, I know where that fountain is smile.

"Used to be," said Lucky. "It was sealed off a long time ago to keep the parasprites in."

Iris raised his prosthetic hoof like a professor about to commence with a lecture. But he didn't get a chance to speak.

"Parasprites?!" Me and Cliff squealed, simultaneous-like.

I remembered those little fuckers! They demolished the whole damn town. Worst disaster Ponyville ever faced. More dire even than the Great Bunny Stampede!

"Wouldja knock it off?'' Formerly Upside Down Boy snapped at Lucky. "You're scaring the New Blood."

Iris opened his mouth to speak once again, but F.U.B. slid dramatically across the room, looked me in the eye directly, and spoke in a voice that was both eulogy-grim and gentle as a lullaby. "Yeah, there's parasprites, but don'tcha worry - the fountain's sealed off good and tight. So the poison can't getcha." He winked reassuringly.

But it wasn't at all reassuring. Not even a little bit.

"Poisonous parasites?!" I said.

"Trust us, okay?" Iris jumped in. Radiating a warmth that rivaled even Matilda's back home. It was contagious somehow, even though it made no sense to trust him.

So Cliff and I nodded.

"Stay quiet," said Lucky. "Stay close to your partner. And all y'all will git to the party before you know it. Everypony have a partner?"

A quick glance around the warehouse: everypony was, more or less, already standing in pairs. We all drifted toward the door, two-by-two, eager to get the fuck on with it already. But Lucky threw himself in our way.

"Rule Number Two," she said. "We move with the light, not against it. That means warm-colored ponies go when it's pink out there. Cool colors when it's blue." Lucky flipped her own polka dotted cloak inside out and draped herself in its blue lining.

"Wait. Shouldn't we uh, do the…opposite of that?" Said Cliff.

"From a distance, we look like simple tricks of the light," said Iris. "…If we're the same color as the light. But if we're not, we look like suspicious shadowy figures."

"But I'm white," I said.

"I'm not," F.U.B. gestured to his own yellowish hue. "And you're with me."

"Okay, but—;"

"You also don't have a hat." F.U.B. pointed to my mane - red and pink and yellow. All warm colors that would, apparently, look like 'simple tricks of the light' once we were out there, dashing down Strawberry Lane.

Iris, who was also white, busied himself flipping his polka dot cape inside out to cloak himself in the pinkish tint of its lining. He was partnered with Foster, and would, apparently, be running alongside us warm-colored folks.

"We can't just–;" Cliff protested. But Misty cut him off.

"Ees okay," said Misty with a great big old bear hug. "We have each other."

Cliff Diver looked to me with panicked eyeballs. And I swallowed my own scaredy eyeballs - presented Cliff with better eyeballs - more confident eyeballs - eyeballs that said, 'you got this, Cliff'; and, 'we'll be fine. I promise.'

"Rule Number Three," said Lucky. "Stick close to the walls when you can, but it's more important to trot over softer ground. A little bit of clopping might blend into the din when y'all are out there sneaking by your lonesome, but there's no way we can hide the sound of a hundred galloping hooves."

"So, unless you're crossing an open square or thoroughfare," Iris added. "Silence before speed."

"Right!" Said Lucky. "Rule Four: whatever you do–;"

"There's too many rules," came a grumbling voice. The herd parted a little. I could just barely make out Scribbles, standing on the fringe of the crowd. "Rules are for school," she snickered out loud.

I sighed a sighing sigh of relief…sigh-ish-ly. It was good to see her keeping her spirits - you know, after I'd been such a colossal jerk to her.

But it didn't last long. Scribbles froze once she cast her eyes across the herd. Nopony else was laughing.

Lucky looked like she'd seen a damn dragon. "Rule Four," she repeated. "If you're spotted - if their searchlight lands on you - that's it. T's'all over. Sit down. Raise your forehooves. And wait. Do not run."

"Yeah, our troops are trained to assess the situation before opening fire," F.U.B added. "It keeps 'em from shooting one another accidentally."

"If you stay put," Lucky continued. "And if you keep a calm head, then, with any luck, they'll come n' collect you, and the worst thing that'll happen is that we'll all be in a fuck ton of trouble with Miss Honey tomorrow."

Scribbles shuttered at the thought.

"But if you run…" Lucky paused to survey the herd - to make damn sure that every single eyeball was fixed on her - Scribbles' included - "...If you panic and you run, then every last one of us is dead."

Scribbles swallowed her throat apple. Looked my way out of the corner of her eye, and shrunk back in shame.

* * *

The instant that the light turned blue again, Lucky gave a hoof signal, and folks rushed out in a hurry.

Half of them anyway.

Misty and Cliff and their respective foalsitters dashed into the open.

Cliff Diver threw me one final glance on his way out - a pair of What-The-Hell-Am-I-Supposed-To-Do-Now? eyes that somehow seemed to defy all physics and trail behind him.

Then, fwoosh! He was gone. Dashing down the street with the other cool kids.

Us warm-colored kids stayed behind. F.U.B, Iris, Foster, Scribbles - along with about seven other sneakers - all left in the dust. Waiting for the pink light to return.

The room fell silent but for the vague humming of some distant machine. We all gazed out that door at the beat up old street. The odor of spent gunfire blew our way.

"The name's Flip," Formerly Upsidedown Boy introduced himself properly at last.

"Hi."

I ogled his flank. His cutie mark - a spiral sort of scribble with an arrow at the end of it. Like the motion you make when you…you know…do a flip.

"Oh," I said. "Like your cutie mark."

Flip squinted at me. Confuseitty. Like I'd just accused him of being made out of radishes and armadillos and paper clips.

"You, uh…never noticed how ponies' names, and their talents, and their cutie marks all match?" I said.

Flip blinked, and looked at me be-puzzled-ish-ly.

"Aww, fuck it." I rolled my eyes. "Nevermind."

Bananas Foster threw me a knowing glance. She was the only other creature who ever seemed to detect stuff like that. Other ponies simply…didn't. Even though it was totally fucking obvious.

I wondered - just for half a second - if that was one of my Rose Family powers - if all this, what do you call it? - mind magic - was actually just noticing the obvious. Stuff that wasn't obvious to everypony else for some weird reason.

"Okay listen up, Poet,'' said Flip. "You don't have to do somersaults and cartwheels and stuff like me to be a good sneaker. But you gotta have your head on straight."

I raised a hoof to touch my own head - instinctual-like - just to make sure it wasn't falling off.

Flip facehooved. "Look, just...stick close to me, and you'll be fine, okay?

I nodded.

"The rules are less annoying than they sound," he led us closer to the door. "Just remember: there's only one secret - one trick you really need to know in order to be good at sneaking. It works, like, pretty much anywhere…"

"What's that?"

He leaned in close - the keeper of the clandestine knowledge of his trade. "Wherever you sneak," he whispered. "…Whatever you do…don't let anyone know you're there."

Flip drew back, nodded the sternest of nods, and gave me an oddly paternal pat on the shoulder (for a kid half my size). His eyes locked firmly on mine to impress the gravity of this great wisdom that he was entrusting unto me.

"Uh…thanks."

The outside light turned pink again, and just like that, we were off. Flip's solemn advice still echoing in my brain skull. "Don't let anyone know you're there."

* * *

The inside of the Fillydelphia Pinkie Pie Park O' Doom looks reeeeal different up close than it does far away. There were no towers to be seen. No barbed wire. No geysers belching up flames way up high in the sky, nor Pinkie heads looming over us like dark overmares. (At least not where we were).

Just a long, long road lined with more of those cinder block structures, and heaps of rotting wood and crumbling plaster littered at their bases.

Forgotten façades. Forgotten fantasies. The t-shirt shop that'd once looked like a castle. The gallery of busted knick knacks that had once borne the shape of an octopus - a twisted wreck of wireframe tentacles collapsing over the doorway, like vines before a secret garden. There was even a bookshop that had been shaped like Twilight Sparkle's head once upon a time (either that or a rhododendron wearing a wig - I couldn't quite tell).

We snuck past them all, hopscotching over loud and crunchitty splinters of cobblestone - leaping instead from one patch of silent dirt to another. Bounding as though all the broken street-fragments were lava.

When we came to the end of the block, Flip herded me toward the only store with an actual surviving awning. It looked like the top of a cupcake.

"Good job, kid," Flip said with a smile.

"Uh, thanks."

We took cover underneath the cupcake and waited.

The other warm-colored kids caught up with us. They'd crept across the river of pink so well, that I could barely see them myself. Bananas Foster kept one eyeball on me, and the other eyeball on her own hooves as she leapfrogged over the ground-lava.

Scribbles just focused on her task. A Wasteland veteran back in the groove. If there'd been even the teeniest tiniest microscopiest pirate whining inside her head, she'd already kicked its ass and moved on.

Good.

I turned to the courtyard square that lay ahead. There was a great big neon pink sign on the opposite end of it. Buzzing riotously through the night like a swarm of cicadas. But none of us crossed. Not yet.

We'd make our break for it when the blue-pink-cycle-or-whatever began anew. Till then, we just waited.

"Sooo," I said to Flip. "Uh, what're you gonna do with your, um…sneaking powers when you grow up?"

"I dunno," he replied. "Maybe sneak for Uncle Red Eye if he'll have me. Or maybe go solo."

"They'll let you do that?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. "We're all free to leave when we graduate…But, of course, nopony ever wants to."

He gazed out across the empty courtyard. Had it been a lake, he'd have skipped a stone upon it.

"Food first," I said to myself. "Morals follow on."

"Nah, I can get my own food," he replied. "I just wouldn't feel right about ditching out, y'know?"

"You think it's immoral not to work for Red Eye? I mean...Uncle Red Eye?

"Nah, not that," he replied. "I don't get wrapped up in hero worship."

"What then?"

He gestured at the tricks of the light all around us. The warm-colored fillies tucking themselves into nooks, and the strange, cool-colored kids in double hiding - waiting for the light to turn. "I don't think I could leave them all behind."

Bzzzzt! Blue. The great big courtyard square lit up like the ocean.

The cool kids emerged from their hiding spots and dashed across the courtyard. Galloping at full speed. The buzzing sign seemed to swallow up the noise of their stampede.

"Up ahead is one of those…speed before silence occasions?" I spoke directly into Flip's ear.

He nodded back at me. "You got it figured out."

Misty and Cliff and their guides all hauled flank over the vast open space before us - what appeared to be some kinda town square - not a real town square (of course) - but a part of the theme park meant to look homely.

Vague cottage shapes encircled the open field. Oddly familiar ones.

Ancient benches and ruins of foodhuts all lay scattered throughout the fairgrounds. They were storage sheds now. Wheelbarrows and crates and stuff.

Misty and Cliff and all the other cool kids used them as cover, darting this-way-and-that as they galloped full speed across.

It looked almost like my own home town, only with, like, stupid military junk everywhere. And a guard tower way off in the distance built atop a structure shaped exactly like Ponyville Town Hall.

Wait, Ponyville Town Hall???????!!!!

My chest tightened in panic. My lungs forgot to breathe. Everything around us looked fake. Felt fake. Like a dream gone sour. But for a moment - fleeting like the flash of a camera - I could swear I was back home. Ponyville.

Everypony had been invaded and occupied by some belligerent force that smashed everything and scattered military junk everywhere.

Have they gotten Roseluck?!! One of my voices shouted at me. Cranky? Matilda?

What happened to Ponyville?! Another Rose Voice stampeded around the inside of my head, screaming. My house? My family scrap book? Mom's chair!

"Home," I whispered to myself. "What happened to home?"

Then the blue light flickered a bit. Bzzt.

"Get ready," said Flip.

I suddenly remembered where I was. Remind-ified that, no matter what else happened, Roseluck was still back home. Safe. Minding my Rose Family altar - tending to the candles like Zecora had told her to.

Bzzzkzkzkkzzt! The light turned pink once again. And off we went - Flip and me.

Bananas Foster and her guide soon emerged from the shadows too. About twenty feet away.

Scribbles not far behind.

We ran and we ran and we ran and we ran and we ran. For the first time - exposed. All of us. A Pinkie Pie balloon haunted the air somewhere way off in the distance.

I could see the Ponyville Town Hall Guard Tower better now. They had big lights and even bigger guns. Both pointed away from Fake Ponyville. A pair of guards leaned against the rails, flanks facing us.

To my other side was a really long, empty stretch of pink light. The neon haze stretched its way down an abandoned corner of the park 'til darkness clawed it down to nothing. And beyond that darkness was a tiny flame, hiding behind hills and ruins and warehouses. Another Pinkie balloon probably.

I panted and galloped and panted and galloped and panted and galloped and panted some more. Tossing my head all over the place - desperate to get the lay of the land. "Come on, come on, come on," I said out-of-breath-ish-ly. Hoping that something - anything - might leap out at me, set off my brain hornets, my voices, or even just give me a fraction of an idea of what we should do next.

But no answers came. Just storefronts around the edges of the square. And stupid crates everywhere blocking my way.

That guard tower seemed to have eyes of its own too. Being within eyeball-range of it was vulnerablizing. Like having my hide flayed off and my guts flopped around all over the place on a clothesline on the front lawn of Ponyville Elementary. An ever-looming threat, even if the guards up there didn't bother to look our way.

But there were no fountains. No sewers, nor slave pens, nor signs telling us which way the zebra prisoners were being held. Not a single trace of anything, anywhere that might even give us even a micro-hint.

So I just kept on galloping, (Flip keeping pace beside me). And I hoped that Misty Mountain knew where the Hell we were going.

The buzzing light grew brighter and brighter and brighter. By the time we neared the end of the square, that sign was like a great big neon-pink sun. It hung over a grotesque caricature of a cottage - larger than any real cottage could ever hope to be.

In the mirage of its inarticulate pink glow, I saw a message, as clear and obnoxiously vague as anything the brain hornets might say.

BE CORN.

Be corn??? What the fuck did that mean? Was it, like, a reference to when I was in the trenches? Potatoes and 'corns? Was it a warning? To blend in? To look like the folks on the other side of 'enemy' lines?

Was it total nonsense? Brain hornets and Powers That Be and shadows and stuff, all trying to send me messages that got scrambled through time trying to find me and my friends, (who'd disappeared from their view)?

Or was I simply going nuts?

"What the–;" I said aloud.

My hoof snagged on a pothole, and Flip, by some miracle of physics, leapt - just in time to catch me, and use my own momentum to sling me in the correct direction. It was a weird kung fu do-si-do. But I landed on my hooves. And kept running.

"Good recovery," said Flip, surprisingly encouraging for somepony who'd just had to save my dumb ass from wiping out.

"Thanks," I said.

The pink light flickered. We were almost out of time.

"Final stretch," said Flip.

We both hauled flank - made straight for the underside of the gigantic fake cottage. To join all the other kids already ahead of us.

But just before the sign bathed the 'town square' in blue light again, it fritzed out one last time. And I caught a glimpse of the actual letters more clearly.

It read, not - BE CORN - but, SUGARCUBE CORNER. In ginormous letters.

We launched ourselves into its shadow, just as those letters burned to life. Its bright blue glow made a calm ocean out of the empty Town Square.

Flip and I caught up with the rest of the herd, and didn't look back.

* * *

It wasn't long before 'Ponyville' was behind us. The walkways grew wider. Darker. And a hill rose gently to our right, shrouding us all in shadow.

There was a whole lotta bright light halo-ing the hill from the other side.

Our brave troops. The thought of them made my hairs stand on end.

We ventured deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper into the dark. Unicorn kids never daring to light up their horns. For fear of being seen.

It was kinda weird. Darkness meaning safety. Light meaning danger.

I'd been dealing with nightmare monsters from Dimension-What-The-Fuck for so long, that I'd almost forgotten what it was like to face the kinda danger that came from, you know…regular ponies.

The hill rose steadily as we hiked our way through the gray, sharpening upwards into a mini-cliff. And the light on the other side only grew brighter and brighter and brighter. Till finally, we approached a giant claw, built onto the summit of the cliff itself.

At first, it seemed a random, tangled mess of crumbling iron, but as we drew nearer, the twisted form began to take shape - a building - or what remained of one. A castle with crumbling turrets. Missing spires.

A cruel mockery of Canterlot.

As the wind blew, it creaked and moaned and complained in a language that only iron knows. But it didn't tumble off the cliff. Didn't crush us to death. It just sorta hung out, looking spooky.

Iris held up a hoof, and everypony stopped, just as we were passing under it's ruins.

Flip whispered to me, "Be right back."

"Huh?"

Before I could muster even half a clue, Flip had already galloped to the front of the herd. Silently saluted Iris, and dashed straight ahead - into the darkness. Scouting the final stretch.

Lucky perched herself atop a modest ledge at the base of the 'mountain', and took to counting all of our heads.

Once accounted for, little by little, everypony just sort of casually drifted from their assigned partners, and converged into one herd. Warm colors and cool colors. Together again at last.

Bananas Foster was the first kid I found. She'd never strayed far from me in the first place.

"Rose!" She whisper-shouted. "Hay, Rose!"

"Hay."

"So glad to see you," she hugged me for a good long time. Then pulled away - held me at leg's length. "Hay uh…hehe," she laughed awkwardly. "Can I ask you something dumb?"

"Sure."

Foster craned her neck and peered over her shoulder. "Sugarcube Corner," she whispered. "Does it…you know…Does it really look like that?"

She pointed up the road. Back the way we'd come.

"No," I said. "I mean…yeah, it's shaped like that….Kinda….But it feels less…"

"Monstrous?" Foster asked.

"Yeah," I nodded. "More like the Pinkie Pie we know. And less…um…like you said…monstrous."

Foster nodded gravely. Narrowed her eyes. Furrowed her brow. Like she had a really hard math problem in her head that she refused to give up on because the numbers were actually feelings, and the formulas were all emotion-math, and nothing added up the way it was supposed to, and by the way, now there's a bunch of calculus squiggles all over the place, and the letter 'f' for some stupid reason, and nobody knows what any of that stuff even means!

"If we ever make it home," Foster said. "I'm gonna need a picture of it - the real Sugarcube Corner." A tremor haunted her voice as she raised her head and looked to me with desperate eyeballs. "Okay?"

It must have been so weird for her. To know Pinkie Pie. To see her two or three times a week. And still have to rely on rotting apocalypse architecture to fashion a guess as to what her home looked like.

"Okay," I replied.

"Thanks," she said.

A sadness hung in the air. Over us both. About Pinkie. Her fate. Her legacy of creepiness and terror. What she'd left behind.

But it was just a fleeting moment.

'Cause, outta nowhere, Foster suddenly lifted her head up to the sky, and sniffed alarmishly at the air, (though she didn't use her nose). "Misty?"

She took to surveying the crowd. And I followed her lead - scanning the whole herd with my eyeballs. Dim equine shape after dim equine shape.

Dark is it was, Misty was easily found. He stood apart from the others, staring down a sewer grate. Cliff Diver solemnly by his side.

Foster rushed over. "What's wrong?"

"Ees nothing," said Misty. "I'm fine."

A sour look crossed Bananas Foster's face. But she held her tongue.

"We have some idea where we are now," Cliff interject-ified. "Though we haven't quite figured out where the bumper plow slave quarters are, we do know that this part of the sewer," he pointed at the grate. "Is certified, by our local expert here," he smiled nervously at Misty. "To be parasprite-free."

Misty did not reciprocate.

"How about you, Rose?" Cliff changed the subject. "Are you okay? After running through all that weird, fake Ponyville stuff? It was kinda freaky, you know, seeing our hometown in ruins."

"Everything ees going well," Misty snapped. Totally out of nowhere. "Twenty times better than expected!"

Foster, Cliff, and I all exchanged eyeballs with one another.
…
…
…
Foster stepped up and broke the silence, "Where does this sewer hole lead?" She asked. Avoiding the obvious question on purpose.

Misty raised a hoof. Pointed deeper into the park - the road that Flip had gone down. Then he pointed the other way. At the fake-ass Canterlot Hill. Presumably 'cause the tunnels extended under the hill and all of that castle junk, and let out on the other side. Where the flood light blasted.

Blam! Kaplow! Suddenly, a great boom let loose on the other side of that very mountain, echoing against the walls and buildings in the distance like a snare drum in a cavern.

I threw myself on the floor. Tugged violently on Cliff's knee till he tipped over too. Pow pow pow went the gun - (and yes, it was totally, definitely, 100%, without a doubt, a fucking gun).

Kablonkerdunk! Went Cliff as he tumbled over me.

I threw my hooves over my head. Remembering No Mare's Land - the importance of taking cover. How a little twig teased over the edge of the trenches had been enough to get annihilated by a hundred-thousand simultaneous blasts of pure death.

I pulled Cliff Diver closer. Peeked from behind my forelegs to see what was going on. Misty had already hit the deck. And Foster had followed our lead. But almost all the other kids were still on their hooves. Unconcerned.

Through a forest of limbs, I saw only one other filly on the floor. Scribbles.

Her eyes met mine. Just for a second. In a flurry of eyeball panic, her fear turned to shame. And her shame turned to anger. She whipped her mane around so I couldn't see her face, leapt to her hooves, dusted herself off as though nothing had happened at all. And held her head overly high. To try and prove some weird kinda dignity.

"Conflicted," Bananas Foster whispered in my ear. "Unpredictable."

But none of it made any fucking sense to me at all. Why did Scribbles care so much? We were hallfway through the park, under a hail of gunfire, and my stupid comeback about The Asshole Generation still managed to cut her deeply. What the fuck?

"Good instinct!" said Iris with a chuckle. "It's alright though. Just happy fire."

"Happy…fire?" I said.

"Troops are having a party," said Lucky. "The louder they are, the safer we'll be."

Misty appeared out of nowhere. Offered me his hoof. And I offered Cliff Diver mine. Together we stood. Gazing up at 'Canterlot', and at the harsh lights behind it, cutting through the skies.

Pa-twang! The very tip of the 'castle' shed a cloud of dust as a bullet ripped into it from the other side.

Far away, a raucous roar broke out amidst the 'happy fire'-izing troops. Like somepony had just scored a goal at one of those sports stadium things.

I shivered. But not from the cold.

* * *

The last stretch of the journey was that long, dark road that Flip had scouted.
Iris and Flip led at the front. Lucky kept watch at the back. And we all casually intermingled in between, freed from the shackles of the buddy system at last.

But there was still no fucking way that my friends and I could escape, break off, and make for the bumper plow slave pen…wherever the hell that might be.

The roots of the fake-ass Canterlot Hill stretched out along the entire road, and hugged us on the right, walling us off from the 'happy fire' part of the park, while a solid wall of buildings-n-stuff met us on our left.

We made our way in silence - not just any silence - grim silence-y silence.

The further we went, the heavier the air became. A sort of dread hung over even the experienced sneakers now - a fear I couldn't quite explain. Foster sensed it too. Her gait stiffened, her ears pricked up like mailbox flags, and her eyeballs threw themselves in every conceivable direction.

Eventually, a distant light strobed at the end of the path. And the smell of gunsmoke carried on the wind.

Misty shoved his way forward the second he saw it. Pressed himself right against my side.

"Psst," he whispered.

I looked right at him. Nine inches away.

"Psst," he repeated.

"I'm right here," I craned my neck - spoke directly into his ear.

"Good," he snickered to himself.

But didn't elaborate.

Cloppa-cruncha-cloppa-cruncha-crunch went the sound of a hundred hooves on eroded cobblestone. Clop-clop-crunch-crunch-crunchity-clop-clop-clop, it kept on going and going and going and going and going. Till at last, Misty spoke up again. "You should know…I am understandink how you feel."

I wrinkled my face in confusion.

"...About seeing your Ponyville home in ruins." Misty turned his head skyward. Eyed the warped metal archway up ahead at the end of the road, and the Pinkie head that rotted above it. Her face was like a rusty anchor covered in barnacles.

"Thees Fillydelphia," said Cliff. "Thees Fillydelphia ees not home."

"Oh," I said, suddenly understanding. "I'm sorry."

"Ees okay," he said. "Thees is third time for me. Romaneia fell when war broke. Then Jerhoovesalem, being right on border of Equestria," Misty Mountain sighed. "I thought Fillydelphia was different."

He gazed at the hill. And again at the fucked up rusty old Pinkie Pie ahead.

"That's awful," I said softly.

"Eh," answered Misty with a shrug. "Such is life."

* * *

The rusty Pinkie Pie head was different up close. This version of her had a beard (for reasons I could not explain).

"Sweet Luna!" I whispered to myself. I bit down on the flap of my saddlebag. Instinctual-like. It still had the only surviving copy of Pinkbeard and the Zebra Princess in it.

We crept forward. Pinkie's eyes had long ago corroded down to nothing. But she seemed to look at me somehow. And though I felt no hornets in my brain - though I heard no voices - I took it as a sign.

Of what? I couldn't say.

Beyond Pinkie, the path opened up before a great big valley. Sands as white as the Moon. Splashed with violent blotches of shadow. Like one of those marble notebooks that teachers hate when you tear the pages out of.

It stretched out into the distance, and met a flickering orange glow - the fire beneath a distant Pinkie Pie balloon that…whoooosh!... unleashed a magnificent flame, and sprayed the night with mandarin light. It scattered every single shadow all-the-fuck over the place - just for a second - before vanishing in a cloud of cotton candy smoke.

I suddenly found myself next to Flip again. "Hay, Poet," he said. "Watch this." Flip winked at me, and stepped fearlessly out into the open. A tap dancer in the spotlight, he reared up, forehooves on hips - his tiny form casting a long, tall shadow over the valley before us.

Every muscle in my body tightened at the sight of it. Cliff too. His eyes were great big dinner plates that took up half his face. Even Foster and Misty drew closer to me. Concernitty that Flip had just violated, like, every single Super Sneaker don't-see-me rule.

"It's safe here," said Iris, also standing in the light. "At least for a time."

The kids all murmured to one another - even the ones who weren't new initiates like my friends and I.

"There is one final challenge that ye initiates must face," said Iris.

Grumble grumble grumble, I grumbled. These stupid challenges were getting old! But Foster gripped my shoulder in fear.

I couldn't smell feelings the way that she did, but a quick glance around the herd revealed a whole bunch of awkward Super Sneakers, shuffling their hooves and looking away. They didn't like the final challenge.

Flip gestured with his head. "Come see." He ambled out. Further into the open. And looked to me with eyeballs of steel. "Rose Petal, come on. It's cool."

I stuck a hoof out into the light. And zoink! Retracted it the second I saw how bright it shone.

But then a cool wind blew. And all the other blotchy shadows danced across the valley. Chaos moving over the plain like bubbles rising and bursting to the surface of a boiling stew.

Foster stepped into that stew. And Misty. And Cliff.

So I did too.

"Hehe," I giggled at the sight of it. We blended into the chaos. Perfectly! No matter what we did!

We coulda put on a grand Bridleway Chorus Line, complete with tap dancing, and it still woulda looked totally normal against the unearthly fritzing of light and dark that the Marble Notebook Valley made.

The only oddities were small structures scattered around the valley way off in the distance. A shack-shaped thing. A house-sized edifice. A tent-a-majig. They didn't move. And neither did their shadows. They were like rock solid leeks poking out of the stew. But those were few and far between.

The herd crossed half the valley.

Iris and Lucky had flipped their cloaks back around to the polka dotted side again. More tricks of the light.

We advanced, without incident, past the final roots of the hill that divided us from the land of happy fire.

Till finally, the source of the moving shadows became clear. Red Eye's troops had erected a flimsy makeshift barbed wire fence that walled off an entire section of the park. A gigantic spotlight flooded the valley from behind it. And the whole thing went fucking crazy every single time the barbed wire so much as fluttered.

My friends and I all looked to one another. Spontaneous-like. A nod from Foster. A nod from Cliff. A nod from me. This was the perfect place to break free, and sneak away from the Sneakers.

But Misty Mountain flung his eyes all over the valley. Panic-stricken.

"You don't know the way," whispered Foster.

Misty shook his head. "Not to bumper plows, no."

"Can you get us to the other side of the fence at least?" Foster said. "You'll have time to figure out the details in the sewers."

"Yeah, like it could jog your memory or something," squeaked Cliff, fighting to swallow the uncertainty in his own voice.

Everything depended upon Misty - his ability to find the slave pen. To find the zebra. To make our rescue mission, you know, an actual fucking rescue mission. Rather than a blind and aimless trek into deadly territory.

Misty Mountain took a great big deep breath, and surveyed the whole valley.

"Eeen old country," he said with a faint little smirk. "There are sewers twenty times more labyrinthian than here. I'll find the way."

"Good," I said.

A cloud of smoke rolled over the plain. Perfect cover. It stank of stale lantern oil and burned popcorn.

My friends and I all huddled close. Drifted with the cloud. Slowed gradually as the herd danced - literally danced - ahead of us across the shadow-spattered plain.

My friends and I all looked to one another. Nodded in unison. Counted to three. Together. Without even saying a word.

One…

Two…

"Hay there!" Flip popped in from out of nowhere.

"Ahhh!" I replied.

"Shh!" Said Misty.

"It's okay," Flip replied with a wholly unnecessary cartwheel, and a smile. "Lalalala!" A stunning operatic voice burst out of his tiny little chest.

He paused, clownishly cocking his head to the left, then the right. Listening for attackers.

"The generator they use to power that spotlight is really fucking loud," said Flip.

"So are we," said Misty.

"Relax," said Flip. "We're almost there."

Suddenly, the earth rumbled beneath our hooves. And the Pinkie balloon made a terrible sound - like a locomotive engine coughing and hacking and choking on its own coal.

Cliff Diver threw me a what the hell look.

I shrugged in reply.

Another fog-smoke-cloud rolled over the valley, and swept over us. It stank worse than the others. I felt sticky just being near it. Like that time Roseluck and I tried to cook french fries from scratch in a vat of corn oil, and our wallpaper ended up getting all tacky and yellow and gross, and our manes smelt like potato chips for a week.

Foster coughed. And Misty too. While I just reared up on my hind legs. Whinnied and flailed. As though swatting at the nasty potato fog would somehow make it go away.

"She's pretty loud too," Flip snickered, pointing to the great big Pinkie Pie balloon.

It towered. Lit from below by a faint but ever-burning flame. Pinkie was firmly anchored in place by chains, but the closer we got, the more it felt as though the balloon were
advancing on us.

Somehow.

"Almost there," said Flip. "Remember: nopony - and I mean nopony - can see us from all the way back there. But if you're nervous, just dance and skip and jump stuff. The crazier your motions are, the more you blend in. Even up close."

I pried my eyeballs away from Pinkie Pie, and watched the light and shadows do-si-do over the valley once again. They moved like dancers in a grand cotillion. Except for a two solid blocks of pure black up ahead.

Lonely leeks piercing the surface of the bubbling stew.

"Are you sure nocreature can see?" Said Misty, flinging his eyeballs waaaay over his shoulders to steal a glance or two or three at the spotlight at our flanks.

"I toldja," said Flip triumphantly. "The key to sneaking…is not to be anticipated in the first place."

He busted into a breakdance - certain to emulate the strobing jiggly chaos all around us - and flashed me a giganto-grin, complete with missing teeth.

I smiled meekly in return.

We moved forward through the marbley valley. Towards one of the few stable structures that didn't ebb and flow with the barbed wire winds.

The sight of it made my heart buck at me from inside my chest.

We were running outta time! Luna-only-knew how many breaks we would get - how few chances we'd have to sneak away and disappear.

With every wasted moment, all of those opportunities slipped from our grip like sand pouring out of a polished hoof that had…like, opportunity-repellant wax all over it.

Flip was right by our sides, herding us the whole way. It sucked. A lot!

But just when I thought we'd never catch a break, the fog parted, and showed us a lone filly, looming between us and the rest of the herd.

It was Scribbles. Her eyes were like grappling hooks slicing into mine. Eyeballs o' rage n' sadness n' shame n' fear n' hope. Eyeballs that refused to look away.

She was on to us. She knew we were gonna get all slave-liberatey. And she wanted to join. Or stop us. Or yell at me. I couldn't tell which. But she moved with a determined gait.

"You're going the wrong way!" Said Flip, who somersaulted into the Marble Notebook Stew O' Light n' Shadow to go chase down Scribbles.

"Now now now now!" said Cliff and Foster in unison, as if of one mind.

And all of us veered off in the other direction. Together. As a team.

We broke into a gallop. Well…a sort of jittery spastic gallop anyway, as Flip had just taught us moments ago that that was the key to not being seen - even up close.

But then Pinkie Pie belched, and her flames lit up the night - scattering all of the shadow blotches - flattening the marble notebook stew into a field of furious fiery orange.

In the fresh light, I saw it. A crooked old shack. Big enough to swallow my cottage back home. The Safety kids were gathered 'round its graffitied ruins, filing behind a chain link fence that - through some unsavory miracle or another - still stood upright.

Misty threw his forelegs around me tight.

"What?" I whispered.

The fires faded. Misty stretched out a hoof and pointed at a totally different structure - now just another stubborn potato that refused to spasm dance in the stew.

It stood halfway betwixt us and that uninviting shack. A map. A great big giant map. The kind that says, YOU ARE HERE.

Misty's eyes sparkled with wonder. Hope.

"We can't risk it,'' said Foster.

"We cannot make risk of getting lost either," Misty retorted.

"There could be another map," said Cliff Diver. "It's a park, right? There's gotta be hundreds of–;"

"I am not knowingk where we are," Misty snapped.

Suddenly, silence between us.

More smoke rolled over the valley. The wind whistled against the barbed wire. The marble shadows danced.

I pleaded with Misty, "But you told us you could–;"

"I'm lost," he said. A squeak pierced his baritone voice. "Please."

We all stopped, and turned, and gazed drearily upon that freestanding map. And the Safety Sneakers maybe fifty yards beyond it, gathering 'round their creepy party shack.

The final challenge.

The thought made my stomach twist itself into a pretzel, and my heart scream at me from deep inside my chest.

"Something isn't right," I said.

"Shadows?" Cliff gestured at my hoof.

"No."

An unexpected cheer ripped out of the Safety Sneaker herd. It made my hairs stand on end.

"They'll notice we're missing soon," said Foster, throat full of dust.

"Yeah," I replied.

Another hush fell over all four of us. My friends' eyes were on me now. Foster's unease. Cliff's uncertainty. Misty's anguish. All pointed my way. Waiting for me to make the call.

"Fuck it," I sighed. "Let's go."

We all slid over the valley of dancing shadows - each of us, galleons slashing away at haunted waters. Making for port at that great big YOU ARE HERE sign lurking on the periphery of the Secret Society's shindig.

Every step awakened more and more Rose Voices.

"Huh? What?"

"You're headed where?????!!!!"

"Are you crazy??????!"

I didn't say a word out loud. But Misty looked to me, and I, to him - even as we ran. Our throat apples gulped our dread down. In unison.

His fears were the same as mine.

In a final burst of courage, Misty Mountain bolted ahead anyway - galloping full speed into danger. Eager to study that map. Dying to save that zebra. Desperate to figure out where the fuck we were.

All four of us dashed through the shadow and fog too, but Misty came to the YOU ARE HERE monolith before any of us.

We found him frantically wiping away the grime. He lit up his horn, ever so faintly. And studied the map - what remained of it. Misty's hoof traced a line over the corroded patches that time had gobbled up.

All the while, he fixated on the parts that were legible, and mumbled to himself in concentration. Mumble mumble mumble mumble mumble, he said again and again and again. Until at last, he burst into laughter. And turned to the rest of us with a teeth-itty grin.

"I know!" He whisper-shouted. "I know where to go."

He chuckled and bursted and heaved and glowed with warmth and mirth and cheer.

Till a figure emerged from the drifting smoke. Dark and tall.

It was a grown-up. Dressed in brown, fitted with some kinda gun-saddle - huge, portable armaments draped in a harness that hugged his sides.

His face was riddled with the kinda pock-mark craters you could bury treasure in. A scar ran from cheek to ear.

Cliff and Foster did as previously instructed - they sat on their flanks and raised their forehooves. But I stumbled backwards. And Misty lit his horn up. Ready for battle.

I didn't know whether to throw dirt in his eye, or run, or kick him, or step back and let Misty Mountain blast him to a million trillion smithereens. So I dug my hooves into the flour-white sands, and waited for gunpony to make his move.

Flip somersaulted in from outta nowhere, as only Flip could. "Stay cool, stay cool, stay cool, stay cool, stay cool," he said. Flip gestured with a laugh, enthusiastical-like, at the soldier. "It's Meadow Blade!"

Bananas Foster twitched her hindquarters.
Shuffled in place. Tensed till every muscle in her body tightened around her vigilant bones. But still, she kept her forehooves raised high.

"Whoa there, hay now." The soldier dropped to his knees. "It's alright, my little ponies."

Cliff blink-bloinked his eyelids so hard, they made a xylophone sound.

Meadow Blade shifted his weight, and the battle saddle thingamajig swung back and forth and wriggled with his every move.

He was top heavy.

A little Rose Voice inside of my head yelled at me, 'Rush him! Rush him! Rush him NOW!'

And I could see it in my mind's eyeballs. Me. Tackling Meadow Blade all by myself. Tipping him over. Leaving him helpless like a turtle. Belly up.

I would zip away heroically with all of my friends - leaving the Safety kids behind - vanishing into the strobe light valley.

Off we would go! To save Xenith the Zebra! To get back home. To maybe - I dunno - liberate all the slaves of Fillydelphia or something while we were at it.

'Do it! Do it! Do it! Do it! DO IT!!!' My brain screamed at me in frustration.

Till HoOoOoOOonNk! The soldier snorted out a dorky little laugh. And woke me right outta my trance.

"Huh? What?"

Meadow Blade smiled and peered deep into my eyes. "There's no way I'm gonna miss out on the sacred initiation of a whole new generation of Super Sneakers," he exclaimed. "What kinda monster do you take me for?"

Cliff Diver shrugged, uncertain of what exact kind of monster Meadow Blade happened to be.

Flip threw himself at Meadow. Hugged his face. Like a kid brother, overjoyed by an older sibling's return from summer camp.

And the great big soldier did tip over! Just like what I saw inside my head!
Flip climbed on Meadow's neck and they both just sorta…rolled over to one side.

In that moment, I spun around, thinking, this is it! Our last chance!

My friends all did the same. An about face - like some kind of choreographed dance move, readying us to spring into action.

But none of us ran.

'Cause we were surrounded. Encircled by Safety kids on all sides. Lucky, and, like, a dozen strangers had flanked us from behind.

Meadow patted Flip until the little acrobat let go of his neck. Our Brave Troop shimmied back into an upright position, and rose to his hooves.

There was no escape now.

As he drew closer, I saw the patch sewn onto his overcoat - a red eye, framed by seven unicorn horns, shooting lightning out of all sides. His wide saddle-thingy stretched out on both sides - all the better to herd us along.

"Come on," Meadow Blade chuckled. "Check it out!"

Next thing we know, my friends and I are heading toward that final leek in the marble notebook soup. A boxy structure that cast a long, unflickering shadow toward the Pinkie Pie balloon.

Instinctual-like, I checked my hoof. But no shadows were in there. It didn't freeze - didn't twitch or shutter or spasm in pain. Nope. Just a regular old blackened hoof - with the normal amount of evil inside of it.

But the rest of me freaked the fuck out.

The closer we got to that…structure-majig poking out of all the boogieing shadows - the more my heart sank. The more my liver turned itself inside out and squeezed bile into my guts like a soggy towel getting rung out. The more my bones chilled, deep in their marrowy goo.

I once read that the equine spine is full of thousands of noodles - tiny hairs called nerve-ons that would fly out in a spaghetti explosion if ever you cut into the spine-column - you know, for surgery or whatever.

Every single one of my nerve-ons was tingling now. They felt like they would fly out all by themselves, and spill spine noodles all over Wasteland Equestria. Just to avoid having to get any closer.

That building seemed to stretch and twist itself as it bent over us. It was wrong somehow. Like a lopsided piece of scenery in a school play.

"Hay, Poet," a voice cried out.

"Hay, Feathers," said another.

"Hay, Wizard," said a third.

"Hay, Foster!"

A bunch of Secret Society kids were already up ahead, gathered 'round the haunted leek. They saw us and waved their hooves enthusiastical-like in the air. Shadow puppets beckoning us closer.

Misty clung to me - gripping my shoulder with his hoof. Watching the Final Challenge Building the whole time.

Whatever was going on over there, he felt it too, and didn't like it.

"Don'tcha worry, my little ponies," said Meadow Blade. "It's just the final challenge. Everypony gets nervous outside the final challenge."

Once again, I looked to my friends. And they to me. All of us, hopeless.

There really was no way out now. The fog and smoke drifted over the fields behind us. Their convulsing shadows faded away.

The herd up ahead stood waiting.

Meadow Blade nudged us forward. The barrels of all the guns strapped to his weird mechanical saddlebag may have been pointed upwards for safety's sake, but he was still, like, six-hundred-forty-seven ladders wide, and he used his girth to corral us.

Lucky and a hoofful of her friends did the rest. We were flanked on all sides, and led into an enclosure, cut off from escape by some twisted chain link fence bits, and, of course, the building itself - short and boxy, but wide enough to fit three little red schoolhouses in.

I didn't have a Luna-damned clue what we were headed toward. But my brain was screaming at me about it. One by one, the Secret Sneaker Society parted before us - a red carpet path leading straight to the weird building. The final challenge.

Me, and Cliff, and Foster, and Misty, and Scribbles, and Lime-0 all stood before the leek now - a beat up old building. The shape of a cardboard slipperbox somepony had stomped on and bent. Three long, wide steps led to an entrance platform. And arching over everything was a sign covered in graffiti and bullet holes. I could still make out the two-century-old words under all the damage: HOUSE OF MIRRORS.

My brain screamed.

There was a presence inside that mirror house. Not just ominous interplay of light and shadow. Magic. Real magic. A kind I'd never sensed before in any dream or ducky or vision - a force neither fate nor shadow, but something else entirely. A third thing. A bad thing.

Hard as flint, I felt that presence, scratching at the inside of my skull, trying to get a flame going. I heard it.

Calling me. Like a whisper in my ear. But without words.

"Go on, now," said Meadow Blaze in a gentle, almost grandfatherly tone.

The very dirt beneath my hooves seemed to pull me forward. Like some kinda undertow.

I reached out and grabbed Misty. Wrapped my forelegs around his neck. Clutching him, I looked around. But nothing around us had moved or changed at all. The dirt. The herd. The creepy house of mirrors. It was all normal.

The wind blew silently, with nothing to whistle against but the insides of our ears and a few broken fragments of chain link fences.

I spun around. Found myself facing a semi circle of safety society super sneakers.

"What's in there?" I said.

"Pinkie Sorcery," answered Flip, voice cold as a winter stream. "She shows you who you are."

Author's Note:

PATREON

If this story, or my Heart Full of Pony essays have touched you, please consider supporting me on Patreon.

For those of you who already are pledging, seriously, and for real, thank you. Your support means a great deal to me. /]*[\

SPECIAL THANKS: As always, I would like to thank Seraphem for his tireless assistance providing feedback during the editing process, and Kkat for writing the original Fallout: Equestria story that inspired me to write Hooves of Fate in the first place.

This chapter has involved a lot of editing, so double thanks to Seraphem this time around!

DEDICATION:

Happy Lunar New Year! Praise our glorious princess. May she reign eternal.

THOUGHTS:

Those of you following my blog saw that this chapter was a lot of work in the making. Discovering the inside of the park involved a lot of topographical world building, and unlike Rose's previous adventures, this is well-known terrain in FoE canon.

I'm very pleased that every character really had room to grow in this chapter - and that was, of course, the most important thing.

Big stuff ahead for Rose n' Friends. I'm very excited for everything that happens next, but that will have to wait for the next chapter. Thank you all for your continued support.

I can't wait for your comments.

Comments

[Munro]

oh gods of mercy i totaly forgot about that fucked up mirror till now xD

sneaky sneak sneak

[earth]

Oh, come on, what a cruel cliff hanger to end on!

[Sprocket Doggingsworth]

11485531
I'm sorry. I had intended to go further, but the chapter had already gotten unwieldy. Had I tried to make any more scenes fit, I'd have simply torn my hair out.

[Madmadmad123]

Awesome cant wait for the next chapter its amazing that this is still being updated so many fics just get abandoned

[Reese]

The panicked glances? Delightful. :D
Of course, that's common for phrasing and such in this story, but that one stood out to me as particularly so. :)

""Rule Number Two," she said. "We move with the light, not against it. That means warm-colored ponies go when it's pink out there. Cool colors when it's blue." Lucky flipped her own polka dotted cloak inside out and draped herself in its blue lining."
""Rule Number Two," he said. "We move with the light, not against it. That means warm-colored ponies go when it's pink out there. Cool colors when it's blue." Lucky flipped his own polka dotted cloak inside out and draped himself in its blue lining."?

"Lucky looked like she'd seen a damn dragon. "Rule Four," she repeated."
"Lucky looked like he'd seen a damn dragon. "Rule Four," he repeated."?
...Also, I'm not sure what looking like he's see a dragon actually means here, sorry.

"Scribbles shuttered at the thought."
"Scribbles shuddered at the thought."?

"to make damn sure that every single eyeball was fixed on her - Scribbles' included"
"to make damn sure that every single eyeball was fixed on him - Scribbles's included"?
...Or at least, Lucky used male pronouns at the start of this chapter, and in at least one previous one? Were those the errors?

""The name's Flip," Formerly Upsidedown Boy introduced himself properly at last."
""The name's Flip," Formerly Upside-down Boy introduced himself properly at last."?
It was hyphenated earlier in the chapter, at least.

"just as we were passing under it's ruins."
"just as we were passing under its ruins."?

"Lucky perched herself atop a modest ledge at the base of the 'mountain'"
"Lucky perched himself atop a modest ledge at the base of the 'mountain'"?

"But if you're nervous, just dance and skip and jump stuff"
"But if you're nervous, just dance and skip and jump and stuff"?

"in a grand cotillion. Except for a two solid blocks of pure"
"in a grand cotillion. Except for two solid blocks of pure"

"didn't twitch or shutter or spasm in pain"
"didn't twitch or shudder or spasm in pain"?

"Lucky and a hoofful of her friends did the rest."
"Lucky and a hoofful of his friends did the rest."?

"Me, and Cliff, and Foster, and Misty, and Scribbles, and Lime-0 all stood before"
"Me, and Cliff, and Foster, and Misty, and Scribbles, and Lime-O all stood before"?

"Found myself facing a semi circle of safety society super sneakers."
"Found myself facing a semicircle of safety society super sneakers."?

Thank you for writing!

"Those of you following my blog"
I'm still so behind on blog posts, sorry.

[Sprocket Doggingsworth]

11487589
Lucky is a filly, not a colt. If I used masculine pronouns for her earlier, those were the mistakes.

[Reese]

11488109
Ah! I'll see if I can track down some of those for you, then...

Chapter 61:
"Lucky clopped his forehooves together for emphasis."

Chapter 60:
"Lucky used his spookiest, wobbliest voice."

Ah, and looks like I did miss some pronoun inconsistency in that chapter (that is, there're also instances of her being referred to with female pronouns); sorry about that.

...Okay, so it looks like it was actually just those two, as far as I'm finding now, but unfortunately the first was the first I saw in this chapter, I didn't remember for sure one way or another once I found the first use of a female pronoun for her in this chapter, and then the second was the first one I saw when I checked back to find out what'd been used before. Prior to that one instance in Chapter 60, as far as I saw in this search, she was properly referred to as female.
Sorry about the bother!

[Just_Me123]

I'm always glad when this story gets new chapters. Thank you!

[Isenlyn]

Yes ! The mirror !

BTW in my headcanon I linked your story with FoE : PH : Speak and other fics from Heart shine.
Your approach of psychology over action did complement each other well.
And the mirror !!!
Can't wait to see what Rose looks like. (I'd say a twitching body next to a 2 by 4. ^^ )

Good to have you back for more Rosepetalin' you continue to surprise with how cute she can be in her descriptions. ^^

[Screw]

Spent a long time to catch up after the initial reading spree and I got a theory that has been bubbling around my mind way before reading this fic.

Time is fundamental and it is impossible to cause a paradox. The culprit for the popular paradox idea is from Back to the Future and the "grandfather paradox" (kill your younger self).

The universe will right itself one way or another, as with mother nature and natural selection. It could cause a False Vacuum, an expanding all-destroying bubble, sure... or it could create a paired timeline, or a couple, that are separate from each other.

This Rose travelling to the future to affect and learn all these events won't necessarily be set in stone for her timeline. Her Equestria might not even result in this wasteland, with or without her influence. Rose's timeline could potentially be adjacent to a timeline when the war happened.

I truly believe this should be true, if, unlikely, that we humans got some kind of time machine. The universe hates bending backwards on the rules set by them.

In short: I hope that Rose's timeline will not lead to the Wasteland path, regardless of her actions. Except, maybe because of shadow reasons.

Ps. I feel like Misty is alluding that his and her timeframe isn't exactly matching up but Rose hasn't caught on yet

[SkyArrow]

Scribbles is getting me very worried of how she might act out. Like Foster said, she's unpredictable. And now with the distance between her and Rose after her comment, she's left to have her thoughts stir and stir in her head.

Then again, they need to break from the herd, and a wildcard might be just the cure for that.