Diprosopus

by WritingSpirit

The Manehatten Cataclysm

"Get it back, Pound!"

Pound Cake snorted mischievously with laughter, wings buzzing rapidly as he soared into the boundless expanse of the blue sky, his sights set on a cyan, heart-shaped balloon aimlessly floating in the distance, tossed about only by a few brief gusts of wind. Aside from the clouds drifting along like fluffy sailboats, there were flocks of birds encouraging him in his bolstering chase; one he was sure his mother would completely reprimand him for.

He had always enjoyed the prospect of flying. Rumble did tell him it was the nature of a pegasus to develop a fondness of flying, though Aunt Fluttershy proved to be an exception, saying it otherwise. Nevertheless, despite his heart always pumping full of adrenaline and his body working up a sweat, there was a strange, ethereal sense of serenity that always stirred within, even when he was performing the most complicated of stunts.

Whatever the reason, it gave him the motivation just like it calmed his schizophrenic fears back when he was starting off on flying with the help of the older colts, such as Rumble and his brother Thunderlane, Cloud Kicker and in a few occasions, Soarin' himself. Never had he been more fearless than now, with his mobile target just out of his reach. All he had to do was stretch his hooves out a little more...

"Got it!" he cheered happily, tying the string of the balloon around his hoof. With a cheerful, triumphant grin, Pound soon zoomed back down, the prosperous buildings of Ponyville greeting his eyes as he dashed through a layer of clouds, swerving about a few roads before slowing down at the sight of the apple trees of Sweet Apple Acres. What made his smile wider was the pony waiting at the end of the dirt lane, waving her yellow hoof into the air.

"You got it, Pound?" she asked.

"You betcha, Pumpkin!" came his cheerful answer, waving the balloon about his hoof before handing it to his griping sister. Just as she did so, Pumpkin suddenly gripped onto his hoof, hoisting it up and biting it whole like she usually did when she was just a month old, the result of which made him yelp out aloud in pain.

"Ow!" he yelled, yanking his hoof back and trying to shake away the fading agony.

"What was that for?"

"Don't ever do that again!" she scolded.

"You know this isn't just some balloon, right?"

"I know..."

Pound never meant to lose it. Once her mother told him about his sister heading off to help Braeburn with a few chores around the farm, he couldn't help but zoom out and do the same. It just so happens that he bumped into Pumpkin while speeding through the trees, the balloon she sometimes carried around flying out her hoof as a result.

The balloon was what they, along with their parents, had come to call as a memento, for it was the balloon that Pinkie gave them on their birthday when they became a year old. Even though they were admittedly too young to recall it, their mother did say it was one of the few tangible memories they had about their former babysitter. Neither could forget about their loss last year, as if the light of their lives weren't there anymore.

"But at least you saved it," Pumpkin muttered, hugging her brother with a smile suddenly forming.

"Aunt Pinkie would be pleased to know that."

"I guess so..." was all he could say, ending with a sheepish chuckle.

"So... um... what's Mr. Braeburn doing?"

"Finding you guys, f'course!"

The voice of the Stetson-wearing cowpony of Appleloosa made them turn, their smiles widening at his own. He was sweating from head to hoof, no doubt having been gathering apples ever since the first rays of sunlight broke out from the horizon. Of course, Braeburn wasn't the only one helping out: he had invited many of his friends from Appleloosa prior to their arrival in Ponyville, one of whom the twins knew he was closely acquainted with.

"Ya guys saw Lil' Strong?" he asked, to which they both shook their heads.

"Huh. Been thinkin' she shoula been herdin' them sheep 'bout now. Not even a single speck, Cakes?"

"Nope!" Pumpkin replied, starting to grin.

"Come to think of it, why do you want to see her so badly?"

"You know how it is. The things yer parents ain't want you guys to poke your noses around 'til yer older."

"Which means she said yes, right?"

"No doubt 'bout it, kid," Braeburn answered gleefully, playfully scratching the giggling colt's head.

"Tonight, it's just her and me, hav'n a little stargazin' and cruisin' through the fields together, talk'n 'bout how we met way back then and all. Y'all should've seen her, how much she had grown from the first time we met. Shucks, she was no bigger than the both of you now at that time!"

His words were never truer. Millaray 'Little' Strongheart was considered the Mona Lisa of the Appleloosan Buffalo Herd, somehow retaining her slender figure she possessed when she was young, having only grown in height. Despite looking somewhat frail compared to her bulkier counterparts, she still had her species's strength, displaying it when she starts helping him in applebucking and plowing the land. Being both graceful yet athletic, her given name had never been more perfect; in her tribe's language, Millaray means 'golden flower'.

Of course, Braeburn had been admiring her from afar back when he had a marefriend (whom left him months ago for another unlucky colt) and was thoroughly surprised when she volunteered herself to help out in Sweet Apple Acres when his cousins are away. Time passed and sure enough, when he revealed his affections towards her just a week ago, the buffalo couldn't help but give him a hug, admitting that she too secretly had feelings for him all this time. Then came yesterday, when he asked her out...

"Do you need Mommy to make some sort of cake to make it more... you know... romantic?"

"No worries, Pumpkin," he said with a laugh.

"Ah got this all under control. Just need to remind her, that's all."

"Braeburn!"

The sound of somepony shouting the stallion's name in the distance prompted them to turn, with Braeburn himself stopping at the recognizable voice slightly distorted in its anxious tone.

"Milla?" he mumbled, face paling.

It took another shout from Little Strongheart for him to spring into action, the stallion galloping across the orchard, unwillingly followed by the curious Cake twins. All that stirred in his head were the horrific thoughts of what would've happened to the buffalo, from spraining her hoof to the most serious: being slaughtered by the rumored invaders that had already started to attack cities without warning.

Those thoughts ebbed away when he spotted the slender, dainty silhouette of the buffalo in the distance, strangely, along with the remaining workponies that he had brought from Appleloosa. His realization came when they got closer, his eyes spotting a bleeding pony limping right beside her, her hoof supporting the pony's shoulder.

"Get some help, Brae!" she yelled.

"We need everypony in town!! Now!!"

With a frantic nod, Braeburn immediately rushed off, leaving both Pound and Pumpkin to stare in disbelief at the ponies all around, with possibly thousands more snaking down from the paths in the distance. It would've been a stampede if it weren't for their sluggish speed, and both of them would've been confused as such if they had not seen the shocking and sickening scene of burnt flesh and streams of blood from gaping wounds.

"Wh-What..." Pumpkin could not finish her sentence, having been overwhelmed by disgust. Her brother just looked in horror at all the injured ponies, holding back a gasp aching in his throat. It was too much: the pained moans of ponies half dead, the appalling sight of lacerations and soot-covered faces devoid of happiness... neither of the twins had ever seen ponies in such a desolate state, nor did they expect to.

"Wh-Where did they all come from?" Pound asked Little Strongheart.

The buffalo just grimaced, chest heaving from lifting the now unconscious pony. She turned back to face the distant mountains and the trail of fugitives that stretch across the plains, the skies beyond darkening from a growing, fearsome storm. There had never been such an evacuation at this immense of a scale, and with the clear answer in her head, she too will never believe it to be true: how could such a big city be destroyed? Just like that?

"Manehatten..."

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"State the details."

"Eyewitness accounts reported it to be an air raid, coordinated to target on every district in Manehatten. The survivors all fled to the towns in Central Equestria, especially Ponyville."

Princess Celestia leaned closer, her head attentively focusing on the dubious cause of the Manehatten Cataclysm; the destruction of Manehatten that had killed hundreds in mere seconds. She could not fathom how such an attack occured, nor how it was carefully executed. Now, with the ministry pressured to investigate by the citizens of Equestria, she couldn't help but reveal her anxiety and fear at the next possible city the enemy would strike.

What baffled her was the fact that Manehatten was completely obliterated and bombarded by an air raid. She had been through a couple of air raids before, usually manned by elite pegasi teams with their bombs and their guns, but what kind of flight team could raze such an advanced city into the ground?

"Are you sure it was just an air raid?" she asked, doubtful of the facts.

"We're not sure, Your Highness," one of the ministers replied.

"There had been speculations that this wasn't an ordinary pegasi raid. Many of the guards reported that the raiders have something more. Some sort of craft, they said."

Much to the surprise of the ministers, Princess Celestia's eyes widened immediately, almost as if in shock. She slowly rose from her seat, leaving the rest of the ponies to watch in fear as she stared down at each and every single pony in the room. Never had they seen the alicorn so fearful before and, as they say, one can do many things out of fear.

"What... sort of craft?" she asked.

"Airborne, Your Highness. Slightly large, with approximately enough space to fit five ponies. From the destruction done, there is a possibility that it possesses heavy weaponry."

"It couldn't be..."

The alicorn glanced down, scrunching her forehead in deep thought with her gaze stuck to the papers on the table, all reporting about the unexpected invasion of Manehatten. She had a few speculations in her head on what this so-called 'craft' could be, but if it were true, to which she hoped not, that would mean that the whole of Equestria and the rest of the nations is in certain danger.

"If it were true..." she muttered softly to herself.

"No... it's impossible...... they couldn't have..."

"Pardon me, Your Highness, but did you say something?"

"Nothing," she quickly replied, before turning back to the rest of the cabinet.

"Captain Shining Armor."

The stallion immediately marched forward, giving her a salute before bowing down.

"Yes, Your Highness?"

"Tell every division of the guard to double-- no, triple their numbers in every major city, especially for the night sentries. Move the curfew times for all cities forward to nine at night. Any pony caught outdoors after curfew hours must be arrested on spot."

To Shining himself, it was a bizarre, not to mention preposterous, idea. There was no way the Royal Guards could bolster their numbers: they had not even arranged their duties in the smaller towns yet! Glancing at all the ministers' faces, he could know that they were sharing the same thought that the Princess's orders were, for once, frenzied and a little irresponsible, perhaps mostly from her gathering anxiety.

He had to admit, there had never been more of a time that she was more fearful of something than now. It was almost as if their enemy possessed some sort of extreme power which was enough to agitate their ruler to the point of frantic hysteria; a deep contrast from her usually calm, thoughtful and knowledgeable self. In his judgement, he would never carry out such a reckless order, but with the recent disaster in Manehatten and the fact that the order comes from the highest power imaginable in the whole of Equestria, he doesn't have much of a choice.

"Right away, Your Highness," he answered after a brief moment of unsure silence.

Just as Shining left the room, Princess Celestia turned to one of the ministers, who immediately sat up straight in attention with a bow.

"Where's Sir Praeclarus?" she asked.

"In the royal basilica, Your Highness."

With a thankful nod, the Princess strode towards the doors of the council room, her stern eyes ordering all of the ministers to hasten their work as she stepped out of the room and into the hallways of the palace. The atmosphere of Canterlot, apart from its usual freshness and flair, was now tingling with a sense of insecurity. Anytime now, there would be something or somepony waiting patiently for the right time to strike; to topple down her subjects' spirits with bombardments or brutal assassinations. Pendant Lakes, although being the worst catastrophe so far, was just the tip of the iceberg.

Sure enough, she reached the ornate doors of the basilica, its panels carved with the shapes of the sun and the moon, all arranged in the form of an arch. With a hesitant sigh, she pushed the doors apart, revealing the glorious nave that awaited within, her hooves graciously welcomed by the soft fabric of the red carpet across the rhombus tiles of the marble floor. Sunlight dipped in from the upper aisles at the side, yet its filtered dimness, joined by lit candelabras standing like lampposts in a row, only glorified the melancholy of the abbey rather than diminish it.

At the end was the domed apse, its columns like wide-open hooves to present a statue of the alicorn herself, one hoof raised with head high and both wings unfurled, all carved in pure white stone with utmost diligence and a stickler in details, from the amount of ridges around her horn to the curved feathers in her wings. Right at the base, kneeling with eyes closed, were a couple, the one she recognized as the esteemed Fancypants and Fleur De Lis.

They were praying, from what she could hear underneath their shuddering breaths. The mare of the duo was almost on the verge of collapsing with tears, while her husband trembled, suit turned raggedy from dread. She knew who they were praying about: she could hear them, not physically from her presence there but in her head. Soft echoes, bereft of the harmony that once flourished; stricken croaks of unwanted grief and understandable fear, representing the turmoil churning in both their hearts.

"Would she be safe, Your Highness?"

Fancypants's suddenly-cold voice caught her off guard, the Princess stepping back just as the stallion turned to her, glaring at her with such morbidity in his demeanor, it would've even been on par with her sister's rage. His grimace turned darker and darker, making her gulp as he asked again.

"Would... she... be... safe?"

Princess Celestia had no idea what to say. After all, he was one of the most dignified ponies of the whole of Canterlot, a trustworthy subject to rely on and like many before, one of the most prominent ponies to ask if she ever needed help. Never did she saw him resort to praying in even the most dire circumstances, but this time was different.

"Sir Praeclarus," she began nervously.

"I can't guarantee that--"

"That what? She's alive? She's alright?"

However frustrated he sounded to be, there was also that underlying tone of disappointment in his voice. The alicorn knew she was expected to give the answer; even in the ancient days, many had ventured from far and wide to seek the truths that only her and her sister would know. When it comes to life and death, however...

"Have faith."

"But what if she..." Fleur suddenly spoke, stepping out with her demeanor as cold as her husband's.

"What if she... didn't make it? How can faith help us then?"

Again, Princess Celestia could not muster up the confidence to give a response. Faith is, after all, a mere speck of dust when it comes to the life of a pony, and in her manifold years as the Princess, she had seen life come and go enough to know how precious family was to even the most faithful of her subjects.

"Your daughter will be safe," was what she could only think of a response.

"I'll see to that."

"And if she's not?"

The alicorn just turned towards the exit, trotting out and leaving the devastated couple behind, puzzled in her actions. She stopped only when she reached the door, turning back towards them with no less of a grimace; a sight that caught them off guard, the both of them backing down out of fear.

"If you don't have faith that your own daughter is still alive," she continued with her voice almost as cold as theirs.

"She might as well be dead."

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"Beyond the balcony we're standing upon, what do you see...?"

"I see... I... I don't know..."

"That's because you haven't looked hard enough. Try again..."

"It's a town... but I don't even know what town it is!"

"Now that you mention it, this town, indeed, has a lot of relevance about your past..."

"But what?! How is it related to me! Why is it related to me?"

"Nevertheless, what's important is that you figure out which town it was, alright?"

"Why can't you just tell me? WHY CAN'T YOU JUST TELL ME?!!"

Her scream spiraled down into a twister of silence, just as Pinkie Pie opened her eyes, finding herself lying on a bed yet again in a strange room. Unlike the last time she woke up, the first thing she saw was the ceiling of white rotten wood, its stripped surfaces chiseled by the claws of time. Lichen had already swarmed across one section of it, and she would've missed it if not for the vibrant sun shining through the shutters of the window at the side.

She was still in Valewood or, more accurately, Saturn's plantation; the smell of fresh fruit was too familiar for her to forget. Of course, she had expected Phoenix or Velvet to be downstairs now, having lunch with the owner of the estate and waiting for her, although she couldn't exactly remember what she was doing before all this. Everything was a blur, though she could at least scarcely recall the Firewalker's Mirror and the baroque town she saw with that ghostly friend of hers. Maybe he and the town were connected together somehow?

"Maybe..." she muttered, clenching her hooves.

"Maybe... that was it?"

Shuffling to the left, she lifted herself up and climbed off the creaky bed, only to yell out in pain before falling onto the floor, her jaw slamming onto wood. Cringing from the suddenly harrowing agony, Pinkie gritted her teeth as she hesitantly glanced backwards, her horror meeting her at the sight of her left hind hoof, bandaged up with stains of yellow mottled all around it.

The scurrying of hoosteps caught her attention, the door squeaking loudly once it opened to reveal Phoenix and Velvet, both equally shocked when they saw her on the floor, clutching her bandaged hoof in pain.

"W-Why..." she whimpered softly, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Celestia, Pinkie..." Phoenix muttered first, the two stallions proceeding to lift her up.

"Come on now. Get up... and one... two... HUP!!"

With lackluster effort and a little squeak from the pain, Pinkie pushed herself back up onto the bed, her gaze frozen at her bandaged hoof. She couldn't understand what happened to her, yet as her memories started to flow back in, it all became clearer and clearer.

"But how?!" she asked out of agitation.

"This wasn't supposed to happen! This wasn't supposed to happen!!"

"Just calm down, Pinkie," Phoenix replied, turning to Velvet.

"I'm heading to town and get some more antiseptic, alright? You know what to do."

Velvet simply nodded, prompting the caravan leader to slip out of the room, leaving them both behind. With a sigh, the gray stallion's horn lit a pale red, carefully gripping an exposed corner of the bandage as he began unwrapping it. Although being slow and steady, Pinkie could not help but hiss slightly from the stinging pain, prompting him to stop after a while.

"Try to relax, Pinkie," he assured softly, hoof on her shoulder.

"Just... breathe in deeply. Try thinking of some... happy thoughts..."

With a gulp, Pinkie did as he asked, gritting her teeth once he began unwrapping the bandages again. She could only reminisce of the times she had fun with the caravan and honestly, there really wasn't much to begin with. The most she could think of was the day they jogged around some sort of wheat farm a week before stumbling upon the pilgrims, but otherwise there was only those dull days of pointless boredom. Happy thoughts, she scoffed.

The pain suddenly struck her, almost to the point where she briefly yelped just as Velvet undid the last layer of the bandage. Her horror soon met her when she saw, instead of what had been her healthy pink hoof, one of burnt skin, flesh forming horrendous-looking yellowish pores with blood drying up into crooked, dark red paths, branching out until the very edge of her knee, where her pink coat was still intact. Her throat gagged from the revolting stench of burnt meat, the sight managing to force out horrified tears from her eyes.

"H-How...?" she squeaked, tears immediately springing up as she choked out a sob.

"How... How did this happen?! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!!"

"Just calm down now, Pinkie--"

"NO!! TELL ME HOW IT HAPPENED!! JUST TELL ME!!!"

Before Velvet could reply, Pinkie suddenly wrapped her front hooves around his neck and, despite the hellish pain from her hind hoof, she immediately stood up and slammed him onto the floor, pinning him down with her weight. She was about to deliver a blow to his face when his horn lit up suddenly, his magic yanking her back and smashing her into the wall, the boards cracking right behind her, the pain from her burnt hoof jolting up to her head.

The stallion suddenly pounced towards her. With a metallic whiz, Velvet unsheathed one of his hoof-blades, raising it up to her neck, its edges barely touching her skin. Pinkie knew how skillful he was with his blades, having heard of his reputation of slitting throats in his assassination duties from Phoenix, though she found his piercing red eyes more harrowing than even the sharpest blade he could've conjured.

"You listen to me, and you listen to me straight, Pinkie," he growled.

"You know what happens when ponies mess with me, don't you? Do anything funny again and I swear, even without Phoenix's consent, I'll kill you if I want to. Capiche?"

The pink mare, fear strung up from those exact words, nodded slowly, before Velvet's horn stopped glowing, the stallion prompting to lift her back down. His distrustful glare still remained, though it softened by a little once she started whimpering, her gaze still frozen in horror at her severe burns.

"H-How..." she sniffled, turning to Velvet, who was performing some sort of spell, his horn just right above her hoof.

"How did this happen...? Please tell me......"

"And here I thought I would listen to Phoenix's advice."

With a disgruntled sigh, Velvet's horn suddenly emitted a minuscule red spark, the singeing feeling in her hooves surprisingly reduced to numbness, pain receding into the sensation of naught. Slowly, he helped her back up onto the bed, settling her hoof carefully onto the sheets as he explained:

"It was while you were standing in the flames, when Saturn told us that you were in the deepest end of your memory stream. Somewhere somehow, we saw your expression of panic, as if you were running away from something, then you suddenly just... fell into the fire..."

"Thanks to your hoof being covered in oil, it was the first to catch on fire," he continued, grimacing as he sprinkled cold water from a bowl onto the burn with his horn.

"Soon after Phoenix and I rescued you, Saturn immediately called the doctor over. Said it was a third-degree burn and advised us to tend to you daily and such. He also discouraged for you to do major exercises, especially anything to do with hopping, jumping and bouncing, which is something I know you prefer over walking."

Pinkie quietly nodded, trying her best not to tear up. Velvet, however, knelt down in front of her suddenly, reaching up with his hoof and, much to the mare's surprise, helped her wipe her eyes. It was the first time she had ever seen the assassin being so tender to her; he usually wouldn't bother giving a glance at her, and wasn't what she had come to call the friendliest of the group.

"You know you really need to get that temper of yours in check," he spoke softly.

"I don't know if you realize it, but judging from what you do every day, you're not the type to get angry easily."

"But it's not like I want to..." she mumbled.

"Sometimes, I wondered if that's who I really am: some angry grump who just knows how to scream at her friends. Do you think that anger is... something that makes a part of me?"

"For you, anger is purging."

Of course, Pinkie could only raise an eyebrow at his complex words, to which Velvet couldn't help but chuckle at her befuddled expression. It was understandable in a conversation between the archives keeper and the happy-go-lucky mare of the caravan, though the interest sparkling in her blue eyes was enough to convince him to go on.

"Perhaps some time ago, you held emotions back. Dark ones, of fear and suffering; of hopelessness and unforgiving. You often hid it with a bright smile and, suffice to say, if I saw you back then I'd thought it would be hard to break. But it doesn't make it impossible, and now something triggered your head to open them up again."

"So you mean something happened before this that caused my amnesia and my tantrums?" she asked, to which Velvet nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"But what could it be? What could be so... so harsh to me that... that I..."

"Something in your past, perhaps. Like Phoenix mentioned, you made each day seem better than before and, I agree completely, there must be a point in time where you've done the same in the past."

Gently placing a hoof on her shoulder, the stallion stifled a small grin, prompting Pinkie to do the same. She was, and had always been ever since Phoenix found her, the personification of the caravan's happiness, and she had intended for it to stay that way. She never thought that Velvet had acknowledged her for that, though it seems even a professional assassin can have a craving for happiness from time to time.

"The rest of the caravan will try to visit you when they have the time. As of now, I suggest it's best you rest that hoof of yours. Saturn and I were thinking of ways to hasten the healing process, Until then, Phoenix will be taking care of you until your hoof gets better, alright?"

"But when will it get better?"

"Just be patient," came his calm reply, the stallion striding towards the door.

"I can promise it will be soon, but for now just wait, Pinkamena Diane Pie."

"W-Wait!!"

Velvet abruptly turned back in surprise, half of him already slipping out through the door before he came to a halt. Of course, he didn't know what was so important, nor why did it necessarily involved him, though he had enough tolerance to pull through; there were some contracts in the past that he required a span of days for him to fulfill. Compared to that, another five minutes was nothing.

Pinkie was already halfway out of her sheets, almost as if she would lunge at him if he left instead. Her eyes were suddenly sparkling with tears, her heart curling up inside out like a frightened millipede. Melancholy whizzed around her like a firework, ricocheting past every nerve and fiber in her head, before settling down slowly, the sizzling feeling of loss and despondency already overwhelming that of pain from her hoof.

"S... S-Say that again! Say my name again!!" she demanded.

"Um... Pinkamena Diane Pie?"

"No! Just the middle one!"

"D-Diane...?"

That was it, she muttered to herself in her head. Her middle name had always flicked something within her; some sort of nostalgic ambiance that beseech her eyes to release its reservoir of tears. There was that familiar twitch in her hoof, albeit faint, yet it by itself had already made a grand impact than it probably should. What was the most engaging was that her head always ached a little, swaying between her moods like a pendulum as it sank deeper into her innermost core.

This time, however, was different. Instead of a flick, it was a yank; instead of a twitch, it was a violent tremble; instead of an aching head, it was a deafening screech; instead of a pendulum, it was a wrecking ball that charged through every single boundary of her emotions. When Velvet said her middle name aloud, the tears she held back just trickled down her cheeks, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Are you alright?" Velvet couldn't help but ask.

"Y-Yeah...!" she stammered out her badly-improvised lie.

"Just... wanna... you know..."

The gray stallion just blinked for a moment, before he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

"Phoenix was right. You really are a random pony, Pinkie," he continued with a grin.

"Remember: try to have a good rest. You'll be better in no time at all."

"A-Alright..."

The door shut silently with a click, the sound of hoofsteps and its partner of creaking wood fading into the distance. Immediately, Pinkie buried her snout into the blankets, finally breaking her restraint of the tears and dampening her blanket. Every turbulent emotion she could ever think of wracked her, shattering her conscience completely as she tried to think back when Velvet said her name.

The way he said it... it was one of a kind. That word by itself has had enough strength to make her crumble to her knees, but somehow, with Velvet's voice, it crushed her mind instantly. She had never heard her middle name being said with such sincerity and intellect before; a feature which managed to make her blush, unbeknownst to the mare herself. Solemnly, she glanced out at the audience of orange trees gathered outside the window, sighing deeply as she mumbled softly her middle name out again, trying to visualize Velvet's mysterious voice saying it out once more:

"Diane..."

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"B-But... but other ponies would see me..."

"Well, you are heading to Canterlot, after all," Spike affirmed.

"You know how the city's crawling with ponies all the time."

Inkie Pie just quietly shuddered, with Rarity shooting a look of displeasure at the shrugging teenage dragon. If there's one thing that the fashion designer knew about him from her discreet relationship with Spike, it was that he was utterly horrible at encouragement speeches. Sometimes, she wondered how he managed to coax Sweetie Belle into singing for the school contest, which resulted into the Crusaders getting their Cutie Marks.

Twilight would've gave a glance as well if she wasn't so focused on the research she had to do on the cryptic poems in the diary. The lead that Inkie gave her, although questionable, was promising, yet she knew finding more of these so-called 'prose of simple wisdom' would take a longer time. How the mare relates it to be some sort of prophecy, the lavender unicorn didn't know, though she personally wished for it to be just some recital. Yes, she assured herself. That must be it.

They were trotting through the branching mazeways of the gorge, guided by their newest companion, on their way back to the camp. The mudslide from yesterday had receded, leaving lonely puddles of mud around that presented for Rarity an obstacle course, to which she could only scrunch her snout up high with disgust. There were numerous boulders around, some almost as if teetering dangerously towards them, but otherwise it was safe.

Inkie herself was slightly excited at the prospect, having joyously packed four bags full of luggage and leaving some for them to carry. She had been whistling happily ever since they left her home, stopping only when Spike mentioned they had to pass through Cirrus Deep to reach their camp. They understood her hesitance; to step back into the town that labeled her as a stranger of bad intentions wasn't exactly the most comfortable position to be in. Of course, they don't really have much of a chance.

"I don't mind talking to ponies," the gray mare clarified.

"It's just... the ponies of Cirrus Deep... they keep stirring up these so-called 'legends' about me, saying how I'm one to practice forbidden magic and heretic rituals."

"And do you?"

"Not in that sense," she explained, turning towards Twilight.

"Despite the fact that, yes, black magic can bring harm, there are many forms of black magic that can bring good. Sadly, many ponies misunderstood that and, for the ponies of Cirrus Deep who believe strongly in the authority of the Princess..."

"I don't think the Princesses did this intentionally."

Twilight's interjection was reasonable enough. She was the personal, most faithful student of Princess Celestia herself, and to hear even one of her friends voicing out their disapproval of her actions was comparable to the delusional rants of a complete fanatic. Neither Rarity or Spike dared to question their friend's judgement; a fact that Inkie, being a smart mare, seemed to have deliberately neglected, for some reason.

"Princess Celestia banned black magic because most, if not all, of the wielders used it for harm. Many of the statistics had proved it--"

"Statistics only from her ministry's sources. They never accounted for the remaining majority that had to use black magic in secret to help local ponies with their problems. Why ban the whole field of black magic when there is only a certain few that can subdue her? Wouldn't you say she's hiding something aside from her decisions?"

"Alright!" Spike interrupted before Twilight could make her comeback.

"Anyways... how does it feel like, living in Cirrus Deep?"

"Um... well..." Inkie fumbled, scratching her head.

"Life was pretty quiet, though it's not really surprising, considering that Cirrus Deep was extremely remote in Equestrian standards. Aside from the usual mudslides in the rain, the weather's pretty fine most of the time. I like it here, how the air's so cooling and relaxing compared to Canterlot. I'll miss this place, that's for sure."

"We'll be heading back to Canterlot by tomorrow, so you'll still have plenty of time to wander around and meet up with some of the ponies of Cirrus Deep," Rarity suggested.

"Perhaps you can convince them that you're not that bad of a pony as they think you are. Who knows? Maybe they'll look at you in a new light. Maybe they'll accept you as one of their own."

"Yeah... maybe..."

Their short journey came to a close as the town of Cirrus Deep came in the distance, the streets filled with jubilant ponies going about their daily activities. All Inkie could do was glance about with slight uncertainty as they stepped into the town, fidgeting her hooves once some of the residents spotted her amid the trio guiding her back to the camp. Surprisingly enough, there weren't any attempts to slander her whatsoever, though she suspected it was more because of Twilight's presence in the group.

"It's alright," Rarity quietly whispered.

"There's no need to be nervous, Inkie dear. Go on..."

With an audible gulp, Inkie gave a meek wave at two mares standing at the side; in response, they quickly huddled away as if in fear, much to her and the rest of their disappointment. Similarly, the gray mare tried to obtain the attention of an old colt flinging breadcrumbs for a swarm of pigeons pecking aimlessly at the ground, though his resulting scowl was enough to spur her off.

"Their minds have been made," she concluded with a sigh.

"It seems I'm an outcast in this town..."

"Cheer up, Inkie," Spike muttered, crouching down towards her.

"They'll come to their senses one day. I mean, look at me. I was a dragon and yet I was accepted by my friends in Ponyville. They just need a little bit of time."

Before Inkie could respond, a patter of hooves rushed in front of them, the four of them turning to see a small pink filly, estimated to be a mere age of six. She raised her pale milky-pink hoof, clutched within it a little white daisy, its petals outstretched as if wanting a hug, exposing its pollen-filled center.

Everypony else just looked in surprise as the filly reached upwards, standing at the tip of her hooves with her bright smile strained from trying to balance. It was a sight unbelievable to many, for a young foal like her to simply stride up to the infamous mare of Cirrus Gorge and bestow to her a simple gift, yet she did it. Even the gray mare herself had trouble acknowledging it, kneeling down and asking her:

"What's your name?"

"Truffle Puff!" she squeaked happily, waving the flower about her hoof.

"Here! I brought you something!"

Inkie just stared at the flower. No doubt, it was quite pretty and healthy looking, if she must say so herself. The filly, of course, was somehow enthusiastic about giving it to her despite the shocked stares of everypony else.

"Well..." she began nervously.

"Why would you want to give me a daisy?"

"Because you're nice! I like nice ponies!"

Before the older mare could respond, Truffle suddenly hugged her hoof, cheeks bulging happily with the hairs of a puffy mane. It was then that Inkie's heart stopped beating, the sight of the pink filly too similar to somepony she knew; somepony she had longed to meet, though she knew she might never, ever had the chance to again. Small drips of tears sprung from her eyes, though she held them back, instead wrapping the filly in her hooves.

Strange, she thought to herself. A child would dare talk to a feared stranger when her elders dare not? She always find it funny how many stories in her childhood portrayed a foal to have the courage to negotiate with even the fiercest of dragons, though she knew now it wasn't courage. It was something else that she herself has possessed, just like the dainty tips of its plain white petals and thin, fresh stalk of the daisy in Truffle Puff's hooves.

It was innocence.

All Twilight, Rarity and Spike could do was watch the sweet sight from afar, just as some ponies started coming up to her and beginning to smile for the first time in her presence. To Inkie, there had never been anything more joyous ever since she stepped into town; to the rest of the group, it was a heartwarming and defining moment that every pony had or will go through.

Twilight could only smile at that sight. Before this she seemed like Zecora; now she's more like the lavender unicorn herself instead on the first day in Ponyville, as if she was new to Cirrus Deep and recently making new friends. Even in the remote north, she guessed, where the terrain was harsh enough to wear one's hooves, the weather violent enough to break one's soul and the creatures wilder to send many scurrying away in fear; where hearts need to be steeled and emotions need to be cold, especially in the midst of a coming war...

A pony needs friends.

Author's Note:

Again, apologies for the long time put into this.

Apparently, the last few weeks of a semester in college are a heavy workload.

Hope you guys liked it!

Comments

[Fury of the Tempest]

Might just be because I came from something that has an average chapter length of 39k words, but this chapter seems rather... short.