> OC Slamjam - Round Three
>  by OC Slamjam
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Vanilla Skies vs. Luster Lock - Winner: Luster Lock (by Vote)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vanilla and Luster - by Vanilla Skies' Author

Vanilla Skies was sitting on a bench, waiting. For what, she didn’t really know. She guessed it would be for something interesting to happen - because she was bored, really bored. 

She sighed and slumped down the park-bench watching the ponies go about their daily business. It was interesting to watch for a while, but it wouldn’t amuse her forever. She snorted and crossed her hooves. Days off weren’t fun. They all told her to go out more, but they really, really weren’t fun.

She watched the ponies go by, a bit grim-faced, until, by chance, she saw a dim-grey pegasus mare trot up to her and plop down unceremoniously. 
“Hello! Why the long face?” She grinned teasingly. 

Vanilla Skies just sat there and gave here a stink-eye. “Mind yer own business.”

The grey mare rolled her eyes, her steel-blue curls bouncing up and down with her every move. “Well, that’s not very nice.” She smirked. “My name’s Luster Lock.”

Vanilla sighed. “Vanilla Skies.”

Luster Lock grinned. “Nice to meet you, Vanilla.”

Vanilla nodded, looking out over the park again. Luster Lock hummed, thoughtfully. “So, Vanilla… what are you doing here, so alone, on this day?”

Vanilla looked at her. “I’m on my day off,” she said, emotionless. “I don’t know what to do with that time.”

Luster nodded and thought for another moment. “You know, when I have too much time on my hooves, I practice my lockpicking skills.” She pulled out a bobby pin and a screwdriver. “I’m a locksmith.”

Vanilla snorted. “So you basically don’t ever do anything besides your job?” She sighed and looked forward. “I work for the weather factory… making scheduals, supervising shifts, stuff.”

Luster nodded and lifted an eyebrow. “So, you were responsible for the thunderstorm last night?” 

Vanilla frowned. “What, no! That’s not even my field…”

But Luster laughed. “Just messin’ with ya, Van - can I call you Van? - cool!”

Vanilla sighed. “You haven’t even told me what you were doing here.”

“Me? Pfsht,” Luster rolled her eyes and huffed. “I was just walking by until I saw you moping around.” She poked Vanilla in her side. “Moping around isn’t good for you.”

Vanilla frowned and swatted Luster’s hoof away. “Get off of me…” she said, silently, but didn’t object any more. Luster smiled. 

“So, Luster,” Vanilla continued. “You still haven’t told me what exactly it was before you decided to… cheer me up a little.”

Luster gasped. “Oh, yeah! I was going to teach you how to have fun beside your job.”

Vanilla frowned. “And you’re the one to teach me that?”

“Of course! Did you know I once travelled with a mare that was the defenition of ‘fun’?” she said, smiling. 

“Who?” Vanilla said, deciding to humor her.

“Why, the Great and Powerful Trixie, of course!” she said, making great moves in her hoof. “She loved performing. And after she saw my absolute awesome lockpicking skills, she immediately hired me!” 

Vanilla nodded, not really believing it. “Do go on.”

“Well, so here we were, travelling together. We had loads of free time - time that I had to spend by myself, though, because she was always busy with preparing her next show.’

Vanilla nodded. “So?”

She grinned. “So, I started to lockpick!”

Vanilla groaned. “You know that’s illegal, right?”

She shook her head. “No, trespassing is. Just picking a lock isn’t. It was my job, after all! So I made locks that only I could break and could easily teach to Trixie how to break. And so, we travelled and travelled - until she became too Great and Powerful and had to send me away.” 

She closed her eyes and put her hoof over her heart. “I regret it, but I’m okay with it.”

Vanilla smiled and rolled her eyes. “You still haven’t told me how to improve my spare time.”

Luster Lock stared a bit in front of her, into nothing. “Oh, right… there’s supposed to be a punchline… uuh…” She thought for a bit and shook her head. “What do you like most? And then, do that!”

Vanilla narrowed her eyes. “Seriously?”

Luster grinned, sheepishly. “No… this is like that old riddle… Why is a raven like a writing desk?”
Vanilla frowned. “I have no idea.”

Luster laughed. “Exactly!”

She looked at the sky. “Ooh, look at the time. I gotta go. Bye!” 
She stood up and flew off, leaving Vanilla to just stare after her. 

“What just happened?” she said to herself, but she found that her foul mood was gone. Maybe she should talk to ponies a bit more, she decided and stood up and left the park. Maybe she should visit some friends, see if they would do something nice with her.









Supercell - by Luster Lock's Author

It was a dark and stormy night, flying in the face of any concept of scheduling. Either Manehattan’s weather ponies were playing hooky, or it was that plus the maritime wild zone a few dozen miles off the coast was acting up again. And Vanilla Skies was lucky enough to be responsible for both.

Which wasn’t to say that she oversaw pony resources, per se, and neither was she one of the veteran weather-busters on retainer for situations as dire as the storm heading towards the city late that afternoon, with the lighting and the hail and the not-quite-tornadoes and all the rest of the sensational schlock better suited to a copper dreadful. No, Vanilla was merely the dusk-dawn shift change coordinator—the might-as-well-be-lone steward of those most woeful times to which all Tartarus seemed honorbound to gravitate.

The day pegasi were good, sensible, hard-working sorts, and the night pegasi their polar opposites—the dawn shift change at least tended to be manageable. But dusk? The day pegasi were tired and the night pegasi were useless even when they weren’t absent. And for that particular shift change, it also happened that one veteran weather-buster had just the week previously celebrated his retirement, while the other was the recent victim of a crippling bout of hypochondriasis.

Thusly, it had fallen to Vanilla, as it so often did, to pick up the slack and push others to do the same. But there was one miraculous fact of the antiquated Manehattan weather division that worked in her favor: the shape of its funding.





Not a day in, and Luster Lock’s latest attempt at a vacation was already looking pretty cruddy.

Why had she decided on Manehattan? It was a big, active place, yeah, but was the point of leaving Hoofington for… a bigger, more active version of Hoofington? Cities were just cities, at least when earth ponies had made them. But there she was. At least the skyscrapers were cool. Big.

‘Active’ didn’t really apply, though, or not right then. Luster half cantered, half danced right down the middle of a lamplit street, with no carriages in her way or pedestrians on the sidewalks telling her to stop. Where was everypony? Thinking back, the reason Luster had settled on Manehattan was probably that it couldn’t be uneventful. But lo and behold…

Was it the storm? In the middle of executing a perfect cartwheel—balancing with her wings was probably cheating, but whatever—she looked up to the sky. Dim and gray, like her coat. Dreary. Little bit rainy, which felt nice. Looked pretty windy up above, where the buildings stopped. And the thunder was kind of exhilerating.

It looked… bad? Luster wasn’t a pro at weather stuff. Give her some tools and Ol’ Downy and Mr. Tickle could crack a safe or pop a padlock like lifelong felons—her wings alone had earned her a stint in escape artistry, even—but they never could handle themselves so well in the air. Pro or not, though, the storm wasn’t the worst she’d ever seen, she didn’t think. Didn’t seem like enough to bring a place like Manehattan to a halt or anything. So…

Luster cut the prancing and eyed the surrounding buildings. The alleyways. If it wasn’t the storm, had she just gotten off the train in a bad neighborhood? Now that she’d thought of it, that storefront off to the left was definitely boarded up, and there were an awful lot of cracked windows around. And—and was that a shad—

“Hey!” called a voice from above.

“Wagh!” Luster jumped out of her skin. Or onto her back, more like.

Four hooves smacked down onto the pavement. “You okay?”

Getting back up, Luster got an eyeful of a crazily orange-and-yellow mare who stood out sharply from the dark street. “Long as you’re not gonna try to rob me,” said Luster, “I’m perfectly fine.” The mare’s cute little messenger bag and short, pretty—if a bit naturally windswept—mane definitely didn’t make her look like a thug, but you never know.

“What?” The mare shook her head. “No, I’m wondering if you aim to help.”

Luster quirked an eyebrow. “With what?”

The mare gave Luster a look like Luster had just punched her in the gut and asked what was wrong. She pointed up.

Luster tracked the hoof up to the swirling clouds above. “Oh, right. You don’t have ponies for that?”

“Not tonight we don’t,” said the mare. “Not enough of them.” She opened up her messenger bag and drew out a piece of paper, shielding it from the rain with a wing. “If you sign this and I confirm that you helped out, you’ll get a flat fifty bits when the storm’s over. Of course, the Manehattan Weather Cooperative won’t be liable for any injuries, though it shouldn’t be that dangerous once we’ve got enough wings in the air. Interested?”

Slowly, Luster approached and began looking the form over. Fifty bits was a nice chunk of spending money, and it would probably be more fun than just heading to her hotel. Weather, though…

“Miss,” said the mare, “I hate to rush you into a decision, but it’s rather urgent that I go and find willing pegasi. If you accept, you’re not bound to do any work—you just won’t get paid if you don’t.” With her free wing, she drew a pen out of the bag’s side pocket. “If you’re unsure, you can sign now and then think about it while I get back to my job.”

Luster bit her lip, but nodded and took the pen in her own wing. She signed her evening away with a nice little flourish.

The mare smiled. “Thank you…” She looked down. “Miss Lock. We’ll be meeting in about twenty minutes above Dame Harmony.” Form tucked firmly back into her bag, the mare held out a hoof. “I’m MWC Overseer Vanilla Skies. If you do wind up contributing, we’ll notice, so just come find me after the storm for your pay.”

Luster shook the offered hoof, saying, “Can do.”

“Alright,” said Vanilla, taking to the air, “I’m off to find others.”

“Good luck,” said Luster.

They smiled to one another, and Vanilla flew off.

Luster watched the bright speck of a mare disappear over a rooftop, and her eyes lingered on the sky. She felt her smile die.





The air there was congested with… well, cumuli congesti. They were swirling and pouring, no doubt, but they weren’t yet cumulonimbi, so it was about as safe a spot to talk as they were all going to get.

“Alright!” called Vanilla. The other pegasi—about thirty-five of them in all, counting the MWC weather ponies—cut their side conversations and turned to her. “First, a quick thank you. I know not all of you are residents, and Manehattan appreciates your assistance, paid or no.” That brought smiles to some of their faces, where before there’d mostly been worry. Vanilla made sure to dial up her own smile as she continued, “With that in mind, some of you need to be informed of our general process.

“Manehattan has a sophisticated lightning protection system, grounded rods and charge negation charms on most every building—we’ve got all the time in the world to handle the basic storms, even if the potential for hail could become an issue. Our big worry is the possibility of a tornado. You see any mesocyclones forming in the cumulonimbi, you dissipate them. You see a supercell going full force, you block the wind shear, kick down through the anvil, cool the air around any striations in the base and collapse the updrafts—whatever you’re capable of doing. After that, we clear up the simpler thunderstorms. Any questions on technique?”

The roughly two dozen pegasi Vanilla had approached to volunteer, she’d approached because they’d seemed capable at a glance. Big wings, slim enough frames, good balance. It looked to have paid off: nopony’s eyes had glazed over during her speech, and there were no questions, but for a single exception. “Yes, Miss Lock?”

Miss Lock lowered her hoof, saying, “Um, yeah…” There was some definite tension in her hover, and not any good sort. “What do we do if we don’t know what any of that means?”

The encroaching thunderclouds had the decency to balk, refraining from any dramatics, but a far less modest gust whistled by.

“I…” said Vanilla. “I suppose you should just follow somepony else and try to do what they do.” Hopefully Miss Lock just didn’t know technical terms. Either way, Vanilla needed all the wings she could get, and it was doubtful one pony could make things very much worse… Though, that sounded dangerously like an open challenge to fate. “Better come with me, in fact.”

Miss Lock nodded, and her movements were a bit surer.

Vanilla looked over the group at large. “Any other questions?” No hooves. “Okay, everypony. If you’re a volunteer, speak with an MWC officer”—she motioned to the ponies at the group’s center, and they hovered higher—“to be put on a sub-team and given further priorities. We all do this right and you’ll have your pay in time to enjoy the sunset.”

Chattering began once more as the ponies organized themselves. Peals of thunder rang out all the while—seemed the storm had decided it was time for drama.





Wow!

Luster had been up in a storm or two before she’d won her padlock cutie mark—even a ground-born pegasus always gets to thinking they might be destined to go get struck by lightning—but they didn’t even begin to compare. Not to a full-on, ice-cold, bare-ankled, absolutely massive, wilderness-spawned monstrosity of a real storm.

And she’d thought the thunder from before was exhilerating.

Luster did her best to follow after Vanilla—hooves down the better flyer—as they punched through banks of clouds and out into the open air. Only to dive right back in, towards whatever the biggest cloud in sight was. Luster dutifully kicked and flapped and corkscrewed whatever bit of heavy fluff that Vanilla pointed her towards.

It was around the sixth trip back to the clear sky above the storm that Luster was beginning to feel the burn in her wings. She looked over to Vanilla, wet with what had to just be rainwater—the mare looked like she hadn’t used up an ounce of energy yet. Vanilla’s head snapped suddenly off to the side, and the break was apparently over.

“These have all just been cumulonimbi,” she called, her voice carrying to Luster over the rushing wind in her wake. “Stormclouds. But that”—she pointed a hoof forwards—“is a supercell! It’s a stormcloud, a cyclone, and a lot of other things all rolled into one. We have to focus on it, or there’s a chance it’ll form a tornado.”

Luster looked ahead, at an utter mountain of a cloud. Bigger than a pegasus apartment complex. It had a wide, fluffy-looking base that curved up and in, and then mushroomed back out again—the top looked almost like it was reaching towards them as they closed the distance.

“How?” yelled Luster.

Vanilla didn’t answer for a moment, but then said, “Nopony else is on it yet, so we don’t have many options. The wind shear—the wind coming at it—is what makes the air inside spin, but the two of us alone can’t stop that.” Another beat of wind and wing flaps, and then Vanilla turned her head back to Luster. Her brows were knitted and her eyes unsure. “Two pegasi can cool air around the base to keep it from getting sucked upwards, but it’s dangerous. Are you up for trying that, Miss Lock?”

Dangerous? Luster wasn’t afraid, but… “Is that the only thing that’ll do any good?”

Vanilla frowned, saying, “If I’m being frank, I’ll say that we’d have more options if you were a stronger flyer. Creating opposing air currents, for example.” She shook her head. “No, it’s our best option for making a difference together. Even a foal can cool air.”

That was true—it was one of the few pegasus tricks Luster had ever managed to grasp, apart from cloud-walking. Just a matter of sucking heat into your feathers. “Let’s do it, then,” she said, and they turned forward again.

They were coming up on the supercell’s bottom, and Vanilla led Luster down below it. Fat raindrops buffeted them, to the point that Luster was having trouble seeing even the brightly colored mare in front of her—until lightning flashed from elsewhere on the cloud, highlighting Vanilla, the eerily flat bottom of the supercell, and a little bunch of clouds sticking out of one spot. It was to there that they were apparently flying.

“Is this dangerous because of the lightning?” yelled Luster.

“No,” said Vanilla. “The updrafts.”

They reached the cloud-blob, and Luster could feel what Vanilla meant; the air around was getting pulled towards it, up into the supercell. It was… pretty strong, actually. The burning in Luster’s wings flared up as she fought back.

Vanilla came to a halt, saying, “Alright. You cool the air, get it to be low pressure, and that’ll weaken the updraft. Meanwhile, I’ll be in the cloud, ready to rip the channel apart when that happens. Then we’ll move to the next one. Ready?”

Luster grunted, “Ready.”

And Vanilla took off, tearing a hole into the supercell’s bottom that quickly filled itself back up. Luster took a deep breath and focused on her wings. Thinking them cold, thinking them empty. Thinking just how warm the air was. And… there.





The clouds were pressing in on Vanilla. Heavy on her wings, making it hard to hover, and thick in her ears. But she couldn’t have missed it when the roaring, spiraling wind nearby started dying down to a relative whisper. Miss Lock had had it in her, it seemed.

Vanilla burst forward and into the weak updraft—still enough to send a less experienced pegasus tumbling and spiraling upwards, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She tore into the wind of the channel, flapping hard downwards, in a reverse spiral. It didn’t take, and the channel’s currents just picked up again.

She flew up and tried again, moving hard and fast against the current, and this attempt bore fruit; the current was weak enough by the time she reached the bottom that the updraft collapsed, thickening the clouds of the channel and killing the last of the spin.

Flying down and out through the base of the supercell, Vanilla took a breath and reoriented herself. She spotted Miss Lock and headed over. “Good work,” she said over the rain.

“Thanks,” said Miss Lock. Vanilla noted the other mare’s light panting, and the way the rain hissed and sizzled against her steaming wings. “So, um. More of that?”

Vanilla nodded. She scanned the base, spotting at least two more striations, and asked, “Think you can handle it?”

Miss Lock took a deep, closed-eyed breath and tried visibly to relax her hover. She opened her eyes again, her look not quite resolute, but much better than worried. “Sure thing.”

Good enough.

They made their way to the next striation, Vanilla making sure to charge the air with every flap of her wings. If she was going to wake up in a hospital tomorrow, it wouldn’t be because of anything as amateur as lightning.

At their destination, Vanilla spared one more glance towards her comparatively haggard companion.

“Good luck,” they said at once.

They both smiled, and Vanilla flew up into the roiling cloudstuff.

A few moments in, she settled on a spot to wait, and that damnable fluff set about muffling all her senses again. It condensed on her coat, her body heat the only thing keeping it from freezing, and that heat was getting sapped all the while.

Vanilla’s head jerked back, and she sneezed. And now it was in her nose and mouth! Smelling of ozone and tasting of gobby nothing. Her ears were a lost cause by that point, the cl—

Her ears twitched forward. Was that… a shout? Or was it just more of the same wind, rushing p—

That was definitely a shout!

This wasn’t good. It had to be Miss Lock in there, and the volume of the wind’s movement meant she hadn’t cut its speed down much, if at all. Vanilla couldn’t go down and do that herself—it would take time, and every moment the other mare was left spinning out of control was another chance for her to go unconscious, and if that happened… there was every possibility she could be flung from the mesocyclone, free to fall to the ground.

Vanilla revved up her wings. The only option was to power right through the channel before the current could get a hold on her, and either spot or hear Miss Lock on her way through the thinner cloud there. Then do it again, but grabbing Miss Lock as she went.

She shot forward, pumping with all her strength, ears on alert for any more shouts.

She failed to swerve out of the way when from out of the haze came the shocked face of Miss Lock.





Vanilla’s groans rung out from the other side of the cloud, and Luster let out a long, satisfying breath. “You okay, Vanilla?” she asked, turning.

Vanilla raised her head, eyes all but spinning, and asked, “What happened?”

Luster chuckled. “You smacked your head right into mine right after I escaped that updraft.” She turned back to the nearly clear skies, and the sunset over the bay. Tangerine and royal purple reflected by skyscrapers and glassy, lapping waves. She wished she were a better painter. “You fell unconscious,” she continued airily, “and I brought you to your weather friends, and a medical guy looked you over and said you just needed some rest.”

Groaning some more, Vanilla sat up. “How’d you manage to get out?”

Luster shrugged, saying, “Mostly luck, I guess. And probably a bit of escapology experience.” The wind in the updraft had started to feel an awful lot like chains once Luster’d been panicking hard enough. Instinct had definitely kicked in a little. She turned to Vanilla once again. “Again, though, you okay?”

Vanilla nodded, and she gave her wings a little flap. “I think so.” She flapped in earnest, rising up from the cloud and moving out towards the sunset. She turned her body, flying easily upside down, like she was reclining.

For the first time, Luster noticed what looked like a little sunset cutie mark on Vanilla’s flank. And the mare’s whole body was like a few extra shades of orange and yellow melding into the real sunset’s colorful display.

“Yes, Miss Lock,” said Vanilla, a happy sigh in her voice, “I’m perfectly fine.”

Luster put on her best grin. “Does that mean I can get my bits now?”
> Wispy Willow vs. Lilligold - Winner: Lilligold (by Vote)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

For a Lily - by Wispy Willow's Author

South of Equestria, in the city of Elmshire, one could find a relatively unassuming shop with a simple sign stating it to be the Glimmering Gardens. Despite the elegant title, the building was small, out of the way, seeming no different from any of the other shops within the city’s limits. There was little in the way of ornamentation, and, while it wasn’t displeasing to the eye by any means, its overall design was not intended to necessarily draw in customers. Those who needed it knew of it and knew where it was. All in all, it seemed to project an aura of relaxed quiet.
An aura which didn’t seem to penetrate its walls, as inside, the owner of the Gardens was anything but relaxed. Lilligold stood behind her counter, the sheenflower--a modified sunflower designed to give off a pleasant glow--she’d been tending to all but forgotten in her hooves. Her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open in pure disbelief at what the smiling mare across from her had just said.
“You did what?!” Her voice was shrill and breathy, unease and anger pulling it taut, like a violin string about to break.
Jelly Bean’s smile faded as she tilted her head to the side, confusion evident across her features. “I sent one of your water lilies to the Manehattan Horticulturist’s Showcase?” She waited, but Lilligold said nothing. Realization struck. “Oh, but don’t worry! You don’t have to be there. I made sure that wasn’t necessary, since I know you don’t really like to travel and—”
“Wh-wh-what made you think that was a good idea?”
“Hrm? Whaddya mean?”
“What do you mean, ‘What do you mean?’?” Lilligold threw up her hooves. “Why would you take one of my plants and just, just...ship it off to Manehattan? Without asking me!”
At this, Jelly’s smile returned. “‘Cause I knew you’d never do it, Lills. And because you’ll win, for sure. Just think of the publicity for the Gardens!”
“I am!” Lilligold said nervously. “No no no no,” she said to herself as she put the sheenflower back in its place on her sunny windowsill. She rounded the counter, still mumbling and fidgeting as she began putting things away.
Jelly Bean asked, “What are you doing?”
With a quick snap of her head, Lilligold replied, “Apparently going to Manehattan, to get my lily back!”
“But Lills!”
“No buts, Jelly.”
“If you’re worried about the plant, don’t be,” she explained. “I made sure to use one of your carriers, with plenty of water.”
“That’s not the issue, Jelly,” Lilligold called behind her as she headed to her living quarters in the back. There were a few thumps, the sounds of rustling cloth, and the quickstep of hooves as she came back to the front, a small saddlebag on her back. Lilligold herself looked a bit more composed, and even more so as she took one last, deep breath, letting it out slow. She said, more calmly, “The issue is I don’t want all of Equestria to know about my plants.”
“But your business—”
“—does just fine with the population of Elmshire,” Lilligold cut in, a note of exasperation in her voice. “Thank you, Jelly, really, but I have all the business I need here, at an easy, non-stressful pace. I really don’t want that to change.”
Jelly’s face fell, and she scratched at the back of her head in embarrassment. “Well, gee, I had never thought of it like that… I’m sorry, Lills. I just thought I was helping.”
Lilligold gave a small smile as she approached her friend, placing a reassuring hoof on the other mare’s shoulder. “I know, Jells, and I appreciate it, I really do. Just...next time, ask me first, OK? Hey, we can make a trip to a big foreign city of it!”
The mood lightened immediately as Jelly Bean’s typical smile spread from ear to ear. She leaned forward and wrapped her hooves around Lilligold in a tight hug. “Yeah, it’s a deal.”
The pair exited the shop and, as she turned to lock up, Lilligold said, “Where is this Showcase, anyway? I hear Manehattan is even bigger than Elmshire.”
“Some old hotel. They sent a map, actually,” her friend replied. “We’ll stop by my house on the way to the station.”
“Thanks.”
“Least I could do, Lills.”



“What do you mean, it’s closed?” Wispy whined.
The mare behind the counter let out a sigh, saying, “Yes, sir, the hotel is currently hosting the Manehattan Horticulturist’s Showcase. As a result, the Ghostly History tour is closed until further notice.”
“But I’m leaving soon! I wanted to go on the tour today!”
“I’m sorry, sir. The Mustang Pastoria offers its deepest apologies. Perhaps you could explore the Showcase instead? I hear there are a lot of really interesting and exotic plants—even a few magical ones! It should be very entertaining.”
“Uggh!” growled Wispy as he turned, walking towards the exit. To himself, he mumbled, “Stupid plants ruining everything; not like I even wanted to see floor thirteen; it’s probably not even real like that stupid crazy unicorn or those timberwolves. Well, they were real, just not real ghosts and—ugh! Just got to get out of this stupid city, I’ll never find any ghosts at this rate and— “
“Er, excuse me?” came a reserved and quiet voice from behind him.
Wispy turned, a snappy retort ready. But he froze when he saw the pink-coated mare standing alone, her mane and tail an ethereal silvery white. She was...cute. Really cute. Wispy had never really cared much about mares, since so many always laughed at him for his interest in ghosts. But there was a certain feeling about her, or maybe she just seemed nice. He wasn’t sure.
She didn’t look all that sure either, he noted. Before he could get his tongue to work, she asked, “Sorry about this, but this is the Mustang Pastoria, right?”
“Uh…”
The mare looked around, taking a step closer to him. “Where they’re hosting that Horticulturist’s Showcase?”
“Uh,” he mumbled but managed a nod.
She smiled, and Wispy felt his legs weaken just a bit. It was her eyes, he decided. They were bright with intelligence, and, despite her apparent shyness, he could see them looking at the world and finding it pleasing and inspiring. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, relief giving her a bit more confidence. “This city is so big, I was afraid I’d gotten lost even with a map! Do you know where the Showcase is being held?”
Wispy shook his head and managed to say, “I, uh, don’t, no, but the receptionist over there probably does.” He gestured with a hoof.
She turned, nodded her affirmation and, with a quick, “Thank you so much!”, headed over to the desk, determination in her step. Wispy simply watched, his disappointment in not being able to take the hotel’s historic tour of its haunted locales pushed aside by a newfound curiosity. He hadn’t recognized her accent, but she was clearly from out of town. Maybe she could use a guide, in case she has anymore questions?
The thought seemed somepony else’s, but Wispy agreed. His plans were a bust, and, besides, it was the right thing to do. Plus, seeing as she seemed to be into plants, she might enjoy his narrow escape from timberwolves. Yeah, he thought, that’s a plan! Now to—hey! Where’d she go?
The mare behind the reception desk was by her lonesome. The curious, pink mare nowhere in sight. Wispy approached the desk again, looking this way and that.
“Yes, sir, what can I help you with now?” the mare asked flatly.
“Uh, yeah, can you tell me where that mare went?”
“That mare?”
“The one who was just asking you directions…?”
“Oh, right. To the Grand Ballroom, just down the main hall there. The Showcase is being held—OK, bye then...” The receptionist trailed off as Wispy turned away, heading for the named hallway.
Maybe it’d be nice to see the plants after all. And if that mare needed his help with something, so much the better.



Lilligold was becoming increasingly worried for her lily. She’d circled the entire Showcase twice, with no luck. There was even a spot reserved for those entries whose growers were not here, and her own hadn’t been there. Not even a bare table with her name on it, like all the other grower’s seemed to have. She was glad that she likely wasn’t getting any press, but now she was worried about the plant itself.
She began to panic, just a bit, and wondered whether she’d have to go through the postal service to find a most-likely shattered travel case, complete with evaporated lily. It took so long to make those just right, so they held their enchantments for months… Or—a worse thought—what if somepony had stolen it? Or sold it before it got to the hotel? What if they unlocked her secrets! What if—
She forced herself to stop, nearly getting run over by an eager, brown-coated reporter. He apologized quickly, then again when he saw the look on her face, before running off to no doubt report on some other plant. Lilligold, however, walked over to the nearest wall and took several deep breaths. There was no sense getting worked up, she told herself. She knew nothing, not yet. She just needed to find somepony who did.
“Oh, I’m an idiot,” she chided herself, an idea popping into her head. Quickly, she turned around and headed for the judges’ tables, which she had passed just a few minutes before. There sat the three judges. She was pleased to find them alone.
As she walked to the table, all three turned their eyes to her, making her heart skip a beat. Shaking her head, she pushed forward, asking, “Excuse me, uh…”
“Yes, miss, can we help you?” asked the nearest, an older stallion.
“I was wondering, about the entries. Do you have a list of all of them?”
“Why, yes, I believe we do.”
“I need to know, did you get an entry from Glimmering Gardens, in Elmshire?” she asked, hopeful.
“The name doesn’t ring a bell, but let me check…” He shuffled some papers on the table around before finding a clipboard with a thick list. Flipping a couple pages, he said, “Ee, eff, jee… Hrm. No, I don’t see anything from a place like that.”
“And nothing from a Lilligold?” she asked, thinking maybe Jelly had just sent it under her name.
More flipping of papers before, “No, no Lilligold either.”
Another of the judges, a middle-aged mare, asked, “Miss Lilligold, I presume?” When Lilligold shook her head, she continued. “Did you send us something?”
“Well, I didn’t, but a friend of mine did. I actually wanted to withdraw it and go home, but I don’t see it anywhere.”
“How strange,” said the stallion. “You should find String Bean, the hotel’s gardener. He handled all the incoming entries, prepped them for the show. If anypony saw your entry, he would. He should be in here somewhere. He’ll have a staff badge with his name.”
“Thank you,” Lilligold replied, already turning to find her next target.
But no sooner had she began walking off when she was stopped by the same stallion who had helped her out in the hotel lobby. She blinked, not expecting to see him again, but gave him a smile.
He said, “Hey there, uh…” His eyes darted back and forth. “Er, sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”
“Lilligold,” she said, then asked, “Do you need something?”
“Oh!” He looked down at his hooves. “I was just, y’know, walking around here. Looking at the plants.”
“That’s nice, but—”
“Do you like plants?” he asked awkwardly.
“I do, but I’m actually—”
“That’s cool, I like them too. I mean, the one’s you can eat at least…”
He trailed off, so Lilligold figured this was her chance. “I’m sorry, but I’m actually looking for somepony. Maybe after I find him, we can talk more, mister?”
“Oh! Yeah, sorry, how dumb of me. Wispy Willow, but most ponies just call me Wisp.”
“Wispy it is then.” She gave him a wide smile. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Who are you looking for?”
She wondered just what was up with this peculiar pony. He didn’t seem weird or anything, more like he didn’t talk to a lot of mares his age. His cutie mark was a little strange, but he had helped her earlier so…
“The hotel’s gardener. I need to see if he knows where my plant is.”
“The gardener?” said Wispy, getting a little more confident. “I think I just saw him!”
“Really? Can you tell me where he is?”   
Wispy smiled. “Even better: Follow me!”
“I—OK?” she said as Wispy grabbed her hoof and pulled her away from the ballroom back towards the back of the hotel.
They walked down an out of the way hallway, Wispy moving quickly with Lilligold right behind.
“I saw him go this way,” said Wispy, waving for Lilligold to follow her. He stopped in front of an unassuming door.
“But that’s for employees only!” she hissed back.
Wisp chuckled. “Oh, it’ll be alright. This is just the service stairs. They’re pretty much not used anymore, since the hotel was expanded.”
Lilligold wasn’t entirely convinced, but decided the worst that would happen was they’d simply get asked to leave the employee area. And if the gardener knew where her lily was…
“OK, lead on, Wispy,” she replied, her mind set on recovering her plant.
The two went past the marked door and started up the steps as they slowly circled upwards.



After a few minutes, they had seen nothing of the gardener. Though they had passed doors leading out to the halls of each floor, they’d found them all locked. Clearly this place wasn’t used anymore, and if the gardener had come here he had exited higher up. So they kept climbing.
Wispy was just about to break the silence when Lilligold asked, “How did you know about these stairs? With all the dust, it’s clear nopony has been in here for years. Except the gardener.”
“Oh I studied the old plans for the hotel when I was doing research.”
“Research? Are you an architect or something?”
“No, I’m a ghost hunter.”
Lilligold’s eyes widened. “Ghosts? Why would anypony want to hunt them!”
It was a question Wisp had been asked many times. He simply smiled and said, “Because nopony actually knows if they’re real, y’know? And I want to be the first one to do that.”
“So you do research on old hotels?” Lilligold asked, genuinely curious.
“Old hotels, abandoned buildings, graveyards… All sorts of places. Just this month I visited an old asylum and this ancient sawmill up the river from here!” The enthusiasm was clear in his voice, and Lilligold looked at him with some awe. “This hotel supposedly has a haunted thirteenth floor, and it’s been closed for a few decades. Some party that went bad due to a fire.”
“And you find ghosts in these places?”
“Well… No.” He added quickly, “Not yet, at least. I mean, these are just the sorts of places where it might happen. Just got to find the right place, follow the right stories.”
“Sounds scary.”
“It’s a lot of fun, actually.”
“Hey, Wispy?”
The pony turned, seeing that Lilligold was looking at the door for this floor. “Yeah?”
She pointed down. “The dust here has been disturbed.” She pushed at the door, and it swung open easily. “The door is open!”
“Wait…” Wispy looked at the wall behind him. There, in faded lettering, was the number thirteen. “We’re on the thirteenth floor!”
“The closed one?”
“If the dust hadn’t been disturbed, I’d almost think a ghost stole your plant…” Despite the obvious physical evidence, Wispy still wondered: This was where he wanted to go… Could a ghost be involved? With as much confidence as he could muster, he told Lilligold, “Let me go first. If it is a ghost, I’m an expert.”
Lilligold giggled, but said, “Right!”
The pair quickly went through the door. Though the decor was dated and somewhat rundown, there was no evidence there had been a fire.
“Weird,” Wispy said. “I wonder why they closed it.”
“I dunno, but look, there’s tracks in the dust.”
They followed the tracks down the hall, turning the corner to a surprising sight. Where should have been a wall was broken open, revealing two or three rooms. There stood a green unicorn, standing next to a table.
On the table was a brilliant blue lily, which he was watering.
“Hey!” Lilligold cried. “That’s my pure water lily!” She ran forward, towards the lily.
The earth pony turned, dropping his watering can in surprise. He grabbed the pot the lily was in with his magic and pulled it away from the mare. “Hooves off, princess!” he said. “This is a very delicate flower!”
“Yeah, I know it is!” Lilligold said angrily. “Why is it in a dry place like this? It’ll wilt and that shortens the magic!”
The gardener chuckled. “Please. This is my own creation. I know to keep it watered.”
Lilligold’s mouth dropped. “Y-your creation? What?!”
Wispy watched the gardener’s face carefully. The stallion’s brow furrowed in thought and then rose in realization. It was clear: He’d figured out that Lilligold was the actual owner of the plant.
He’d definitely stolen it.
“Well, yeah,” the stallion said, clearly trying to think fast. “I was going to show it in the Showcase, but it wasn’t quite ready and I had another entry that was. So I moved it up here. It can win next time, while my black roses will win this year.”
Lilligold sputtered, shock and rage making her mind go blank.
Wispy had had enough. “So, you took her flower just so you could win?” he asked, his voice quiet.
The gardener cocked an eyebrow. “Maybe I did. What’s it to you?” The stallion pulled the lily tighter to his chest. “And after I win, I’ll figure out how it’s made so I can do it myself.”
“No!” cried Lilligold. “That’s my design!”
“Yeah? And who knows about it? Maybe they do in Elmshire, sure, but not here in Manehattan.” He laughed. “So I’ll be taking this with me, or I’ll smash it on the ground. At the least, I’ll still win. And I’m quite respected in this hotel, and in this city. So nopony’d believe you anyways!”
A part of her wanted to let him do it, but Lilligold just couldn’t bring herself to see her plant destroyed. But what could she do? She had no proof that he stole it, not in the city. And by the time she went to Elmshire and back, it’d be too late...
There was a dull flash that took both Lilligold and Bean by surprise. They turned to see Wispy lowering his camera, a grin splitting his face. The ghost hunter said, “Well, we can’t stop you taking it, I guess. But we can show your bosses proof you stole it!”
“What? What good will that do?”
As Wispy pulled out the picture and waved it in the air, he chuckled. “Oh maybe it wouldn’t do us any good… If the background wasn’t here, on floor thirteen. Who in their right mind would think you had it here for any other reason but to hide it away?”
“I—” String Bean’s mouth caught as his mind tried to think his way out of this one. He began to sweat, nervous at the implications that picture contained. “I’ll… I’ll trade you! The picture for the plant!”
“And an apology!” demanded Wispy.
“Fine, just give me that! If anypony saw it, I wouldn’t get any work in this city again!”
“Give the plant to Lilligold, then you get the picture.”
The old gardener, grumbling all the while, carefully handed the pot to Lilligold, who took it and pulled it away from him quickly, hugging it to her own chest like a mother with her baby.
“I gave her the plant, now the picture!” the gardener held out a hoof.
Instead of handing it over, Wispy took it between his hooves and tore it in half, then in half again and again. “There, that’s good enough. Now you can’t use it for more trouble.”
“You cheeky whelp… Bah! It’s still too late for her to enter, so I’ll win anyway. Good enough for me!” With that, Bean left the two alone, grumbling and swearing the whole way.
Wispy let out a low sigh, relieved his gambit worked. Then he found the rest of his breath squeezed out as Lilligold hugged him tightly.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she whispered, a few tears actually at the edge of her eyes.
“No, ugh, no problem,” he managed to say.
She let him go and picked the lily back up, examining it. “Thank goodness, it doesn’t seem hurt… I know it seems silly, but I personally grow every plant in my shop. So to think of any of them just being destroyed…”
“You love what you do, nothing wrong with that,” Wispy said with a laugh.
“How can I ever repay you?”
“You don’t have to do anything. I’m just glad I could help.”
Lilligold shook her head, still so relieved. “No, I really need to do something for you.” Suddenly, she realized how hungry she was, not having had anything to eat since the train ride. “Would you like to join me for some dinner, Wispy? I’d love to hear more about what you love to do.”
“Only if you call me Wisp,” he replied, trying to be smooth when really he wanted to jump for joy.
“Deal,” she said. Then—before she thought about it too much—she leaned in and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Plant in tow, she left the stunned earth pony sitting in the middle of the ruined floor thirteen, humming to herself.
Wispy rubbed his cheek then headed after her, leaving floor thirteen empty yet again. Oddly, he found he was looking forward to asking her about her plants more than talking about ghosts.
But as the door to the stairwell swung closed behind the pair, they were both too distracted discussing dinner to hear the faint laughter of dozens of ponies and the sound of music.









Cutie-Crossed - by Lilligold's Author

In the convention hall full of plants and gardeners, Lilligold had never felt more alone. She sat against the back wall, staring at her abandoned station—a foal’s lemonade stand among industry titans. Her eyes briefly flicked up to the banner which proudly welcomed her to the 19th Annual World's Garden Faire. She sighed through her nose.

A sharp chirp grabbed her attention. She turned and saw a little potted flytrap looking up at her—well, it would’ve been looking, had it had eyes. It trilled and nudged her hoof with its pod. Despite herself, Lilligold smiled. She lifted the flytrap and hugged it against her chest. It stretched up and nibbled her chin, eliciting a giggle.

“Hey, cool!” somepony said. Lilligold startled. She turned her wide-eyed stare on a colt—strikingly blue, and approaching her at a quick trot. He beamed down at the flytrap and said, “I’ve never seen a plant like that before! Is it magic?!”

Lilligold shrank and clutched her plant tighter. The flytrap, for its part, hissed.

The colt blinked. “Oh! Uh… sorry. I get carried away sometimes. I’ve got a bit of a thing for magic and… er…” He rubbed the back of his head. “Sorry. Name’s Wispy Willow!” He extended a hoof to her.

Lilligold didn’t take it. Her eyes darted down to her flytrap and she mumbled, “Lilligold. Charmed.” She nodded for good measure.

Wispy’s hoof dangled awkwardly between them. He eventually withdrew it and cleared his throat. “Lilligold, huh? Weird name.” Lilligold bit her lip, but Wispy must not have noticed. “Sounds kinda foreign. You from around here?”

Lilligold shook her head. “I’m visiting from Elmshire.”

“Oh! I remember reading about Elmshire at the library a while back.” Wispy’s expression went quizzical. “Your parents dragged you all that way just for this?”

“My… parents?” Lilligold shook her head. “Oh, no. They paid my way, but I’m here alone.”

Wispy’s eyebrows rose, and Lilligold felt a pinch in her stomach. “Seriously? That’s cool, I guess. I just assumed, with you being a unicorn and all. Most gardeners are earth ponies.” He chuckled. “Then again, most paranormal enthusiasts are unicorns. Guess that makes us both oddballs!”

“Mhmm,” Lilligold mumbled. There was a pause, and Lilligold prayed the conversation would die to the background noise.

But it didn’t. “Mind if I sit?” Wispy asked. Lilligold shook her head. Wispy sat down, and Lilligold reflexively shied away. “I was looking for a place to hide for a bit. Get away from the boredom, y’know? My mom dragged me along to this thing. Total waste of my day off, honestly. She wants me to learn the tools of the trade ‘just in case.’” Wispy rolled his eyes.

“Hmm.” Lilligold nodded. Her flytrap growled, baring its teeth at Wispy.

“Oh, yeah!” Wispy grinned. “I forgot about that little guy. What’s the story with him?”

Lilligold looked at the plant and finally found a modicum of comfort. “This is Audrey,” she said. She stroked Audrey’s stem, and the plant purred. “I bred her just a few weeks ago. One of my more complex projects.”

“‘One of?’” Wispy said. “You mean you’ve got other plants like this?”

Again, Lilligold nodded. “It’s why I’m here.” She flicked her eyes up to her stall. Her odd specimens clashed outright with the greenery of the convention. Ponies strolled right by, sparing her plants queer glances. Lilligold frowned. “I’m trying to start my own business.”

“No kidding?” Wispy looked at the stall too. “Mind showing me?”

“You wouldn’t be interested,” Lilligold said. Heat gathered behind her eyes. “Nobody would,” she whispered, nigh inaudible.

“No way! I’m definitely interested!” Wispy stood. “Like I said, I’ve got a thing for magic. Granted, I’m more into ghosts and whatnot nowadays, but it’s still cool. I’m gonna go browse.” Without waiting for a reply, he trotted off and began perusing Lilligold’s station.

Still, Lilligold remained a wallflower. Audrey chirped again. Lilligold brushed her leaves absently.

“Hey, Lilligold!” Wispy called. “These are great! You gotta tell me about this one! Is it made of water? Ectoplasm? What?”

Her heart pitter-pattered. She felt a smile creeping up her face—she tried to fight it down, but couldn’t help it. She rose and trotted to her stall.


***




Hey, Lilligold!

Great news! You know that cross-country trip I’ve been planning for so long now? I finally saved up enough bits to make it happen! So I quit my job last night. No more dealing with Hardback or Dewey Decimal for me! I start my quest tomorrow morning!!
Sorry for going crazy with exclamation points there. I’ve just been planning this trip for so long, and I can’t believe it’s really happening. It’s my life’s dream. Thank you so much for supporting me in all of this. You’re like the only one who has. I mean, my family has too. Kind of. But no one’s ever believed in me as much as you. I plan to do us both proud and be the first pony to prove the existence of ghosts beyond a shadow of a doubt! I’m so excited!
My first stop tomorrow will be the museum in upper Manehattan. You know the one I wrote about a few months back? I’m gonna check it out again with my new equipment. There has to be something there. But if not, you know I’ve got more than enough other places to check out!
And don’t worry, I didn’t forget my promise. I’ve made plans for a trip down to Elmshire a bit later next year. I know I said it would be sooner, but there are so many places I need to visit first. The Manehattan Asylum, Glen Oaks Manor, the Castle of the Royal Pony Sisters, just to name a few. I hope you understand. It’s my calling!
Enough about me though. How have you been? Is business still good? Is Audrey doing okay? I want to hear everything!
I might not be able to write back for a while since I’m going to be on the move so often. I’ll definitely write when I can, though!

Your BFF,
Wisp




***




Dearest Wisp,

Congratulations! I’m so happy for you! I know how long you’ve wanted to go on this excursion, and I couldn’t be prouder. You’ve earned this, Wisp, and I truly hope it yields everything you desire. I do wish you could come down to Elmshire sooner—I’ve missed you!—but I understand wholly.
I’m afraid I can’t say my life has been nearly as exciting. But I am quite content. Glimmering Gardens is doing better all the time. Just last month, in fact, I secured my largest order to date: the Duchess’s birthday celebration! That project has consumed most of my spare time. It’s turning out beautifully, though. I do wish you could be here to see it.
Audrey has been well. She’s grown quite a lot since you last saw her. She’s nearly as tall as I am now! And still growing! I can’t say I anticipated such growth, but nor am I disappointed. She’s the same lovable sweetheart as ever, only there’s much more of her to love now. I’ll need to transplant her to a larger pot soon.
This may surprise you. I’ve been doing some paranormal research of my own! I found a phenomenal book called “Nature’s Haunts,” and some of the descriptions of these places have me enamored. There’s one in particular… well, perhaps I’ll spare the details on that one for when you visit. You won’t be disappointed!
I’ve enclosed the book with this letter in case you were interested. I did tear out one page—to keep you in suspense, of course!—but I placed a clipping from Audrey’s leaves between the pages to make up for it. Now a little piece of me will be with you always!
At any rate, I must get back to work. Keep me informed, when you’re able. Again, I’m so very happy for you! Live your dream to the fullest!

Yours,
Lilligold




***


In the evening’s first light, Lilligold flurried around her bedroom. She plucked things from all over and laid them carefully in her saddlebags. “Map? Check. Water bottles? Check. What else, what else…”

A deep groan sounded from the corner. A massive flytrap sat there—it reached nearly to the ceiling. Audrey reached across the room with a vine and pulled open Lilligold’s nightstand drawer. She pulled a small scrap of paper from within and offered it to Lilligold.

Lilligold grimaced. “No, Audrey, I’m not bringing that. This is not that kind of outing! Just two old friends enjoying each other’s company. Nothing more.” Even in her own ears, her words sounded hollow. She knew it really was more. She had been waiting for this night for years. This night, when she would reunite with the colt she’d spent just a scant few days with years ago. The colt to whom she’d written dozens, if not hundreds, of letters in the intervening time. Her best pony friend.

And nothing more. Lilligold’s eyes glazed over.

Audrey smirked. Her vine pressed against Lilligold’s chest, still clutching the paper. With a little sigh, Lilligold took the parchment in her magic and read the poem.




His face is naught but azure dream,
his voice a song of old.
Still, his presence, ream by ream,
makes warm what once was cold.
I long and scar and agonize,
he has my heart unfurled.
By earthly bonds and spirit ties,
he is my one true world.

♥ Lilligold + Wispy Willow ♥





Lilligold frowned. She’d rewritten it so many times, and still it failed to be perfect. “I do wish tonight could be something more,” she whispered. She bit her lip, then shook her head. “But I can’t, Audrey. I just can’t.” She set the parchment on her nightstand.

The vine wrapped gently around Lilligold and dragged her to Audrey’s corner. Audrey dipped down and nuzzled Lilligold. With a sad little smile, Lilligold nuzzled her back. “Thank you, darling. You’re such a sweetheart.”

A knock sounded through the building. The butterflies in Lilligold’s stomach fluttered to life. She patted Audrey’s pod and said, “Wish me luck!” Audrey smiled and uncoiled her vine, allowing Lilligold to trot away.

She paused as she passed her vanity, looking herself over one last time. She’d done her mane up in a ponytail and had a daisy behind her ear—a look she’d seldom worn in public, but tonight was a special occasion. She smiled at herself and continued downstairs into her store proper.

Weaving between her gardens, Lilligold nearly danced to the door and flung it open. On the other side stood a shock of white and blue—a face she’d only seen once outside her dreams. Wispy Willow stood there, suitcase at his side, smiling at her. “Miss me?” he said.

Lilligold bit her lip. “More than anything,” she said. Against her better judgment, she stepped out and wrapped him in a hug, one which he returned in full force.

“Hey now!” Wisp said. He patted Lilligold on the back. “I missed you too, but it’s not like we’ve been all that distant! What with all the letters.”

Pulling back, Lilligold shook her head and said, “This is different. And… well…” She averted her eyes and brushed a strand of mane from her face. “It has been over a month since your last letter. I was worried that maybe you’d forgotten…”

“Pfft, not in this lifetime!” Wisp said. He grabbed his suitcase and trotted past Lilligold into the store. “I was leg-deep in Mort’s Quagmire for the past month. Didn’t get a chance to write much of anything. Sorry about…” 

Wisp blinked. As though suddenly realizing where he was, he looked around with dinner-plate eyes. The sunset trickling through the window cast the store in an ethereal glow. All manners of strange and beautiful flora moved and glowed and existed harmoniously, like one big, living imagination. “Whoa,” Wisp breathed.

“I hoped you’d love it,” Lilligold said. She walked up next to him and gazed wistfully across the plants herself. “It’s my life’s work! And it wouldn’t have been remotely possible without you.”

That tore Wisp’s attention back to her. “Without me?”

Smiling brightly, Lilligold nodded. “Naturally! Had you not instilled me with confidence in my talents all that time ago, I would never have come this far. Your letters have inspired me greatly as well. So…” The tingling in her hooves grew too great to bear, and she threw them around Wisp again. “Thank you.”

A thick silence brewed, and Lilligold wondered whether she’d said too much too soon. Before long, though, Wisp returned the hug and said, “Yeah, don’t mention it.”

Lilligold pulled back and said, “Well! We’ve been delaying this for years—let’s not delay any longer! I’ll take your things upstairs, and then we’ll head out. I’ve got quite the week planned for us, and it all begins tonight.” Not giving Wisp a chance to reply, Lilligold levitated his suitcase and started up the stairs.

“Right on!” Wisp called. “Where’re we going? My Elmshire brochure said there’s this wicked haunted house out on Augur’s Aisle. We checking that out?”

“It’s on the agenda.” Lilligold settled the suitcase in her bedroom. She looked over and winked at Audrey. “First, though, I’ve got something special in mind.”


***


Only a scarce few needles of moonlight penetrated this deep into the forest. It bathed the surrounding flora an eerie, crepuscular hue. Brushing past yet another bush, Lilligold said, “It should be just around this bend.”

“I hope there’s some light at wherever-we’re-going,” Wisp said. “Don’t get me wrong. The mood is super creepy and everything, but I’d like to be able to see my own hooves.”

The path wound through a dense cluster of trees, then opened up. They came upon a small, moonlit clearing nestled against a cliff face. Thick moss carpeted the ground, and a few esoteric flowers with gnarled petals and thorny stems lined the edges. Just ahead, a jagged hole opened up in the rock. Moonlight reached in barely far enough to illuminate some stubby black liverwort hanging from the cave entrance—like the rotten teeth of some eldritch horror.

Lilligold smiled. “Welcome to Peak Grove.”

“Whoa.” Wisp’s eyes became wide and wonder-filled, like he’d walked in on a beautiful dream. “This place is amazing, Lilligold! How in the world did you find it?”

A coy smile played on Lilligold’s lips. “I read about it in a book once.” A sudden excitement grabbed her. “Apparently the Peak Grove Caverns are some of the most treacherous caves in the world. And also some of the most haunted.”

Wisp’s ears perked. He looked at her. “No fooling?”

Lilligold nodded. “They’re also said to be home to some very exotic, dangerous flora. That’s why I thought this would be the perfect place for us.” She blushed and averted her eyes, and her words came out in a flurry. “Perhaps this sounds a bit cheesy, but I wanted to bring you here because it’s the one place where our passions intersect: yours for the paranormal, and mine for peculiar plants. It… erm, seemed the perfect fit.” Her words sounded painfully stupid in her own ears. “A silly notion, I know.”

A hoof touched her shoulder. Lilligold looked up into Wisp’s warm, smiling face. “No,” he said, “it’s not silly at all. It’s… I dunno. Poetic, I guess.”

Lilligold matched his smile with a goofy one of her own. The silence between them lingered, but not uncomfortably. Cicadas and owls filled it with ambience. For a long moment, the two ponies just smiled at each other.

Eventually, Lilligold pulled out two water bottles and sat in the moss, folding her legs beneath herself. “Come,” she said. “We have so much catching up to do! I want to hear absolutely everything.”

Wisp sat close to her, and they talked. They talked and talked and talked, the moon tracing the time across the sky. They chatted and laughed and smiled, he about his many exciting—albeit fruitless—ghost hunts, and she about anything and everything to do with her plants. The feeling in Lilligold’s heart as they talked was a far cry from anything she’d felt reading Wisp’s letters. It was warmer. More profound. More real.

Swigging down the last of his water, Wisp nodded to the cave entrance and said, “So, that cave’s really haunted, huh?”

“Mmhmm!” Lilligold looked at it. “I considered exploring it on my own—if only to impress you—but I assumed you’d rather investigate yourself. That, and the fact that it’s extraordinarily dangerous.”

“I’m glad you waited. I’ll totally have to come back with my equipment while I’m here.” He turned to Lilligold. “Thanks for showing me this place. This has been one of the funnest nights ever!”

Lilligold beamed. “It truly has. I wish every night could be this wonderful.” Her smile faltered, and an uneasiness wormed into her voice. “Alas, I suppose one week will just have to do, for now.”

“Hey.” Wisp delicately put his hoof to her cheek, drawing her eyes up to his. “Don’t get all mopey on me. We’re gonna make the most of this week! Just you and me, okay? Don’t worry about what’s gonna happen in the future. Just think about… about here… and now…”

He had leaned closer—Lilligold was sure he had. Barely any space separated her face from his. A lump built in her throat, and she pursed her lips as he drew even closer. Everything around them faded, and for a brief eternity, Wispy Willow was all she knew.

He pecked her lips. Quickly—hardly there before he was gone again—but tenderly.

They stared blankly into each other. Fires had lit in Lilligold’s cheeks, and the lump in her throat stopped her from saying anything. Wisp just blinked a few times, the colour gone from his face. Subconsciously, Lilligold leaned towards him again.

Wisp wrenched his eyes shut. He scrambled to his hooves and took off into the forest at full gallop. It had happened so suddenly that Lilligold had to do a double-take. Everything inside her felt numb. The warmth from the kiss still lingered on her lips.

And then she started to crumble. Tears jumped to her eyes. She bolted after him. “Wisp!” she cried.


***


Audrey sat in the stillness of night, as plants are wont to do. Every so often a housefly would buzz through the window and she would snatch it up, but otherwise she simply waited. Waited for Lilligold to return.

A great crash rattled the building. Hooves thundered up the steps and into the room—Audrey sensed the hooffalls were too heavy to be Lilligold’s. She snarled in the attacker’s direction, but when she heard a zipper unzipping, she reasoned it must’ve been Wispy Willow, rummaging in his suitcase. She remained motionless.

More hooves shot up the steps—Lilligold’s for sure this time. “Wispy!” she cried. “Please, stop! Talk to me!”

The air went still. Audrey sensed nothing but the two ponies panting. “I can’t do this, Lilligold,” Wispy quavered. “I just can’t. I have to get out of here.”

“No! Please, Wispy. We need to talk this through!” Audrey heard the tears in Lilligold’s words. She bore her teeth, but didn’t move yet.

“Talk about what, Lilligold?!” Wispy shouted. “What happened back there was a stupid, stupid mistake! This… This can’t happen between us! This can’t happen to me!”

Lilligold sobbed hard before she spoke again. “How can you… What’s so awful about it?! About me?” Audrey’s vines were slowly slithering toward Wispy. Apparently, neither pony had noticed her yet.

“Nothing! You’re perfect! But… But…” Wispy roared in frustration. “But I just can’t, Lilligold! I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” Audrey’s vines lifted, preparing to coil around Wispy like bloodthirsty cobras.

Lilligold sniffled. In her weakest, quietest voice, she said, “But I love you.”

Audrey froze. There was a thick silence, and she reconsidered the situation. Her vines pulled away from Wispy and instead moved towards Lilligold’s nightstand.

“Listen, Lilligold,” Wispy said. The rage had faded from his voice. “My whole life—my whole life—has been dedicated to one thing: paranormal research. It’s my passion, my talent—the one thing I’m really, really good at. And if I want to keep doing it, I can’t focus on anything else. I have to stay on the move. I can’t commit to anything or anypony. Not even you.”

Audrey felt around and swiped the paper from the nightstand. Her vines shifted back in the other direction—toward Wispy’s suitcase, where she would place the poem.

“That’s why I put off coming here so long,” Wispy continued. “I was afraid something like… like this would happen. I didn’t want to have to choose between you and my special talent. Like, if you had to give up your plants, your store—all of it, just for me—could you do that?”

The question lingered for a long while, and even Audrey paused to listen. 

“I…” Lilligold began. She swallowed hard, then moved and laid a hoof on Audrey’s vine. “…I don’t know that I could,” she said. Magic stole the parchment from Audrey—she didn’t resist. Instead, she coiled her vine gently over Lilligold’s hoof.

Wispy’s hoof joined Lilligold’s. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to leave.” His hoof stayed for a brief time. When he withdrew it, there was a little commotion as he gathered his suitcase. Lilligold’s hoof squeezed tighter on Audrey’s vine.

More hoofsteps sounded on the staircase, and Wispy Willow was gone.

Lilligold collapsed into a blubbering heap. Audrey reached all of her vines out and wrapped Lilligold in a hug. 

They stayed that way for a long, long while. So long that Audrey could feel the sun on her leaves by the time Lilligold finally fell asleep. She placed her delicately upon the bed and went motionless once more.
> Haystacks vs. Mango Leaf - Winner: Mango Leaf (by Vote)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Haystacks vs. Mango Leaf - by Haystacks' Author

Haystacks pressed on through the warm night. The skitter of the occasional flagstone on his hoof was enough to mark the way forward, though he could see plenty well enough on such a moonlit evening.

Should he run? Excited was never a Haystacks kind of feeling, but it simmered like fruit moonshine in his stomach, sweet and bubbly and delicious. And nopony around here could brew it like Mango Leaf.

The mere idea of some of Mango's homebrew gave him a queer burning feeling in the back of his throat, and a sweet twinge to the back of his mouth. 

No; walking would do. But trotting a little faster couldn't hurt. There was no reason to keep good company waiting any longer than was necessary, he thought. And besides, it hardly went without saying that he'd been looking forward to this evening for quite a while. Mango Leaf had been a phantasm in his life for what felt like months.

Or was it seasons by now? 

The thought dogged him as he passed by the lit windows of the last row of houses in the village, the gold of their fire-lights and candles throwing shadows onto the road. His mind wove lazy beelines around the last year as he tried to remember what had been.

His birthday was the nearer side of winter. And his twenty-second birthday had been only a little while after he'd seen Mango Leaf – yes, he remembered now. Just before it got a bit too chilly for the apple trees to bear any fruit. Even then, Mango had complained bitterly about how mild winter was down here. 

He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with a clear summer's night.

He was twenty-three now. That would mean he hadn't seen Mango in little over a year and a bit. And that simply made no sense. How could it ever? It felt like only yesterday that he had found himself curled up adjacent to the fire and Mango, drink in hoof, talking about life, ponies, and everything in between. Whateverso fell into his mind.

Thirteen or fourteen months, perhaps. That was long enough to go without seeing anypony just once. 

The line between friend and acquaintance had blurred over the last year, but Mango was a good friend - that much was clear. And barring the reporter mare who had come to the carnival with him, he hadn't really had the heart to call somepony else a good friend in a while. In truth, he hadn't really allowed himself to get to know somepony, or in Mango Leaf's Case, to get to know him all over again. 

Haystacks wondered briefly if Mango had changed. It lingered longer than he would have liked, and some small wisp of emotion stirred within him. It vanished just as quickly as he became aware of his surroundings, and he glanced up. 

Barring a few lonely abodes behind him, the village had finally given way to the fertile fields that surrounded the town, most of them still not quite ready for harvest, and some fallow altogether. Those that were not waved at him as the wind swept silvery ripples across their moonlit surfaces.

Haystacks cast a cursory glance around, and the distant glimmer of the campfire caught his eye. He made a path for it. 

The point where the paved stone of the township dwindled to the sprawling miles of dusty country roads was where he knew his friend would be. Despite repeated offers, Mango never chose to stay at the farm or in town. Perhaps he was more comfortable when he could see the sky. But then, that was Mango in a nutshell. Always stargazing.

As he came nearer the fire, he could make out the familiar blue wagon silhouetted against the flame, just next to the sign that marked the crossroads out to Sweet Apple Acres. It seemed like this time, Mango Leaf had been more careful about where he'd camped out. 

Haystacks smiled to himself. He'd been a little curious about where the unicorn might choose to park his cart this year – and in particular, whether or not it would be on top of somepony's prize flower garden. 

He took a fond moment to remember. Lily had caused such a fuss. The rhododendrons were still delicious, though, and in fairness to Mango, the patch didn't have a fence around it. He had even tried to make amends, albiet by making a rhododendron-flavoured snowcone out of some of the flowers and offering them back to her.

A smirk flitted its way across his lips. Perhaps, all things considered, it was better that he was farther out of town.

As he approached the camp proper, he took the location in. A nice, flat piece of earth just off the road, underneath a few sycamore trees. He could smell the woodsmoke of the fire now, mixed with the pleasantly familiar scent of mango chutney and vegetables. One lone figure lay prostrated by the fire, looking for all the world like the shaggy, mop-headed unicorn he fondly remembered.

“Nice place you got here,” he observed.

The figure by the fire jumped, and clambered to its hooves a little too quickly. It spun around, staring into the darkness. From the glow of the fire, Haystacks could faintly make out Mango Leaf's face, hidden amongst his thick, braided mane of mandarin and orange.

“Did ya finally decide to show up?!” he replied, his voice brashful and melodious. “Haikili save me, cousin, you like to take your sweet time, huh!?”

They took a few cantering steps forward each, meeting close enough to the light that their faces were clear to the other. He'd grown a beard since they last met, Haystacks observed. An uneasy smile spread its way across his face.

“Mango,” Haystacks murmured, proffering him a hoof. 

Mango blinked. He stared at the hoof, and back. The mirth in Haystacks' chest began to spread up and away from his stomach, and now it was at the corners of his cheeks, threatening to burst. He felt like he might, and the thought didn't worry him one bit.

Mango Leaf's response, however, was a forlorn scowl. 

“Haystacks,” he said, desiccating his words. “Hay-stacks. Do you mind explaining to me what in the hay is that supposed to be?” he jabbed his hoof at  Haystacks' own.

The farmpony looked down at his hoof, up at Mango, and down again. Whatever smile had been there before slipped off his face like it was roped to an anchor.

“...What?” Haystacks recoiled, retracting his hoof a slight. “What do you mean, what, I –”

“Cousins don't shake hooves,” Mango Leaf replied firmly. “They hug." his voice softened. "Now come here, you big lump.”

And before Haystacks could think, the Haywaaiin took a half-step forward, reached out, and put a foreleg around his neck, pulling him into an embrace.

After a few seconds of shock, he raised his own foreleg and hugged him back tightly.	

“...You missed me, then?” jibed Mango Leaf, into his left ear.

He'd often thought about how to reply to a question like that. The scene that unfolded before him was one that sometimes drifted through his mind after the evening's work was done, during those precious twilight hours where the small ponies seemed to do their best thinking.

Strange, then, that he could give no reply that felt tough or strong.

“Of course I did,” he said.

The hoof around the upper part of his back tightened sharply. For a brief second, the gentle snaps of the fire and the distant blare of cicadas was all there was to hear.

“Me too, bud.”

They separated to a hoof's length. Haystacks continued to regard the unicorn with a mixture of caution and amusement, but he couldn't help the delight that etched its way into his features. 

“You... surprised me a bit, there,” he mumbled.

“Why?” The unicorn grinned foolishly, and the duo broke apart. “What, did think I'd changed horribly or something?”

“Well, so long as we're being honest with each-other, then yes.” Haystacks replied.

“And likewise, cousin. I thought you might be the one who'd changed, huh?" Mango Leaf said. "Good thing that didn't happen. You're still the ugliest son of a hydra I've ever had the chance of meeting." He turned and trotted to the fireside, leaving Haystacks to snort amusedly to himself. A wreath of emerald magic took hold of a large pot that hung just above the fireplace, removing its lid to stir slightly.

"I'm glad you're here," the unicorn added, his voice taking a fond tone as he worked.

Haystacks smiled. Spices that he hadn't thought he'd ever smell again made his mouth water.

“I wouldn't trade anything for it. Not for the world,” he replied. “I just had some work to do first.”

Now it was Mango Leaf's turn to nicker breathily. “Hah! Just like you. Keep an old friend waiting for your job? What are you, married to it?” He beckoned Haystacks over. “Come sit, so I can hear all about it. My legs are killing me.”

The earth pony took a few strides, bring himself forward to the fireside. In the light, he felt and looked less pale, less the pallid shade of dry grass and more the colour of his namesake. Warmth seeped into his hooves from the dusty earth. Whatever nerves that had dogged him vanished into the night, and as Mango Leaf placed another log on the fire, he forgot ever having had any worries at all.

“I'll trade you,” Haystacks said. “Fill me a glass of that drink you make, and we'll talk.”









	Okolehao. That was what he called it. Equestrian Okolehao, 'mixed with mango juice so it didn't knock you out and send you home, cousin'. That was fine by Haystacks. The last thing he wanted to do was to fall asleep in a field next to his friend and that warm fire.

At least, that was the initial thought.

“To us again! Ōkole maluna!” Mango said cheerfully, his voice slightly slurred.

“Cheers,” he replied.

The liqueur sloshed greedily from the two tankards as they clicked together for what must have been the fourth or fifth time. Haystacks raised it to his lips and allowed the golden, fruity mixture to flow down his throat, savouring every drop.

It went nicely with the stew, a hearty mixture of rice and fresh vegetables with a mango chutney. Mango insisted he was no good with anything hot – still, after all this time, Haystacks said – but that was all fine. He helped with the cooking, and together, they made something that was more than half-edible. 

The tankard was a third empty before he put it down. He continued his story as a fresh buzz of alcohol zipped its way into his stomach.

“...So I'm out in the field, with nothing on me, right? And so I had to get the damn thing unstuck, fix it, while it's raining, and I'm knee-deep in mud, and of course, as soon as I get the plough fixed again, poof.” He swept his free hoof in a fanning gesture. “Sun comes out. Beautiful weather. And here I am caked in mud and Celestia knows what else. And that's when the carriage of tourists rolls by.”

The noise Mango Leaf made was somewhere between a leaky gas pipe and a rusty axle. The tears rolling from his eyes stained his yellow coat a shade darker as he doubled over in laughter that looked almost painful.

Haystacks waited until it subsided, feeling his cheeks ache through his own barely-controlled grin, until the noise of Mango Leaf's occasional hiccuping laughs fell quiet, and nature resumed its dominance of the realms of sound and sight. He felt his head draw itself high to the heavens above, though whether the urge to do so came from the alcohol or the weariness that eked at his bones, he couldn't say.

“...I've missed this,” he whispered, barely audible above the crickets.

And there it was. More than a statement of how pleasant it was to see Mango, it tapped into that strange other, that unspoken-of area that had plagued his mind – how nice it was to not be alone for a while.

He mused about adding more to that particular thought, but decided against it. He was never so good with describing his feelings. They sat best, and most comfortably, under wraps.

“S'been a while since, huh?” Mango replied.

Haystacks blinked. The stars looked clearer tonight.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Haven't seen you in ages.” 

He heard the scraping of a spoon against a bowl as somepony scooped the last of their frozen yoghurt from a wooden bowl.

“That's...” there was a pause as Mango ate more of his dessert. “'At's not what eye meen.”

Haystacks dropped his gaze. The golden pony continued to tuck into his bowl, speaking almost absent-mindedly.

“Well, what do you mean?” the farmer replied, shifting his body against the woollen rug that lay between him and the earth. 

“Eye meen,” Mango said, before swallowing, “That you don't get out much.”

Haystacks nickered indignantly, but made no reply. There was nothing about Mango's attitude, laissez-faire as it was, that showed any sign of a joke. He even went so far as to size Mango Leaf up, only to find that Mango Leaf was looking at him the same way.

“And how do you figure?” he finally conceded.

Mango's head tilted, his lips locked into a contended smirk.

“I mean that the farm is all you do,” he replied.

Haystacks fell silent, watching the fire burn until the absence of a reply began to eat away at him.

“It's just work. Work is something I have to do, and that's all,” he said, taking another sip of his drink. 

“So you don't like it?” came the reply.

He had to think about that one.

“I do.”

That was honest enough. The farm was one of the few things he had in this world. How could he not love it? 

There was a pause.

“...When was the last time you did something like this, Hay?” Mango quipped.

Haystacks didn't have to think to give him an answer. 

“I told you about the reporter mare, right?” he said. “We went to the carnival together?”

“Yeah." Mango wiped his mouth and grinned. "But was that the only time you've gotten out and about? Blown the cobwebs out, so to speak?” 

Haystacks frowned.

“In how long?” 

Another pause. It only took a fraction of a second for the farmer to realise that he'd said more than he'd intended to.

“Uh, I mean...” he picked his words carefully. “Technically, yes. The 'only' time.”

“And do you remember the last time before that?”

Haystacks turned his head away, gazing over the fire and into the darkness.

“It was here,” he replied. “With you.”

“So twice in a year,” Mango said flatly.

“And there was that one time I went down to the tavern and stayed a while.”

“Three times,” he repeated. "And ya folks work there. That's cheating."

“Well, I... I'm sure I'm just not remembering some of them.” he nickered, lowering his hat onto his brow a bit more. “What's your point?”

“My point is, cousin,” Mango Leaf began. Haystacks heard a shuffling, and glanced up to see that Mango was moving his things around the edge of the fire. A small mat rolled itself out beside him, and Mango Leaf lay beside him, facing the fire. They were almost touching shoulders.

“My point is... other then that, all you've done is talk about work. That's fine and all, but... do you feel like that it's all you do, though?” Mango replied. “Don't you think you're a bit... well, lifeless?”

It wasn't really an admission he had ever made to himself. Work had always kept him busy; but that was the beauty of it. Where there was work, there was never much time to do much else. Including think.

“I don't know,” he replied. For some reason, Mango was hard to look at, even though he was only a hooflength to his left. “I just do what I think is right. I don't even think about it much. I just know I have to work hard.”

A silence fell between them. The fire snapped happily, long since having been reduced to a few small branches and coals.

“I wasn't being rude, or anything, cousin.” he sounded concerned. “Maopopo I a'u. I know what you mean. You told me about you having to run the farm on your own. I was just saying that I thought you'd changed, that was all.”

A small coal, seperated from the rest of the fire by a small plain of ash, caught Haystacks' eye. It sat alone, glowing gently.

Mango Leaf would be the only pony who had really seen him before and after his life had taken a turn for the adult. He was the only pony that had snapshots of Haystacks, that went as far back as he himself could remember.

A burning sensation crept into his stomach.

“I mean, have you ever considered that you might not want to be a farmer, Hay?”

He didn't reply. He couldn't.

He wouldn't.

“...Is this about your Momma, Hay?”

A full-body shiver caught Haystacks unawares. While it was easily hidden beneath the rug draped around his shoulders, the shaking breath that accompanied it was, regrettably, left bare to the campsite and its two inhabitants, and the whole night sky.

The tankard, just short of his right hoof, never looked so appealing. He seized it, and took another drink.

It was just the alcohol, he thought. Some Haywaain plant or herb that Mango had brought with him from the far side of Equestria. Surely it was just a side effect. The tears weren't meant to be. He was a strong pony, his father's pony, the farmer.

They burned all the way down.






Nothing ever really needed to be said between them. That was the best part. Whole volumes were spoken in the slow seconds of life that washed away as they sat, watching the fire burn for just a little longer. Catharsis. There was no rush, and nothing more important than each other. 

But all good things had to come to an end sometime.

“Do you remember when we first ran into eachother?” Mango said.

Haystacks nodded, though he was not able to bring his gaze to bear on the unicorn.

He had just been given frozen yoghurt from Mango. The first time was always free, Mango said. It had always seemed bizarre how much attention the cart had gotten from the villageponies, so Haystacks accepted. One bite, and he saw why. 

“I was gettin' angry at the flower mare,” Mango continued.

“...Lily?” the farmpony murmured. 

Mango shivered audibly at the name.

“'Ae, that nag. Terrible temper... but she has a great butt.”

Haystacks snorted with a mixture of shock and laughter. The exertion felt good, an outlet for the pressure in his chest. 

“S-she was paying you out about the flower snowcone, as I recall,” he said. “The one you made from her ruined flower garden.”

Mango Leaf nickered angrily. “But the snowcone was a great idea!”

“Time and place, surely?...” Haystacks murmured.

“No.” The unicorn paused for emphasis. “That's just it, Haystacks. That's just it.” 

He felt a warmth on his shoulder, and looked over to find a hoof there. He looked up.

Haystacks could never recall Mango looking so intense, so serious in all his life. 

“That's the whole point,” Mango said. “Don't you see? You can't compromise on what you feel like you have to do, cousin.” He gave Haystacks a wan smile. “You can't, not even for a second. And in the long run, if you can't meet your dreams halfway, then how are you ever going to be happy?”

Haystacks bowed his head. The shadow of the hat shaded his cheeks from the heat of the campfire.

“When you...” he sniffed, and wiped away the damp at the corner of his eye. “When you have people who rely on you, things change. It all changes.” 

“That's true. But I don't think, even then, that your parents would want you to have anything less then they have. That they would want you to give up on your own dreams. That's why they worked so hard in the first place, right?”

The farmpony blinked, mulling the thought over.

It seemed... right. It made sense. He had never told his parents about Minie Ball's offer, and he had never been able to work out why. Had he thought they would be angry for passing up on the chance to leave? To sell his business and just go somewhere, like Mango?

“Life throws adversity at you.” Mango continued. “But you have to find a way to carry on regardless. I spent too long trying to do things that everyone wanted me to do. Luau and firebreathing and swimming and canoeing, and sweet sun-princess knows what else. And in the end, all I wanted to do in life was just simple. I just wanted to share frozen yoghurt, what I liked the most, with everyone. Sure, it didn't stick too well with my folks at first, but at the end of the day, that's what made me happy, and they helped me with that." Mango Leaf paused a moment. "I didn't compromise on what made me happy. And you shouldn't either."

Haystacks couldn't help but chuckle, just a little. The logic, while classically Mango Leaf, was bizarrely sound. And despite the uncertainty in his heart, the thought of Mango persevering stayed with him, and the more un-knotted his stomach began to feel.

“How, though?” Haystacks said. “I've got so much to do right now, it's just –” He sighed. His shoulders felt heavy. “So much to do.”

Mango Leaf clucked his tongue. “I don't know how, cousin. I'm just a simple fro-yo vendor. But don't worry. If we think about it together, and walk the same road, then I'm sure we'll make some sense out of it. But you promise you'll chase your dreams, right?” He shoved Haystacks lightly. “No matter what happens.”

Haystacks nodded gamely, and dragged the back of his hoof across both of his eyes. The smile slipped unbidden onto his cheeks.

“Whatever they might be,” he said. “I promise.”









Mango Leaf vs. Haystacks - by Mango Leaf's Author

Gillette's wings flexed, stretching out as they reached the top of the overlook. She had to admit that she would've much preferred wing to hoof out here in the country, especially in her condition. But, Mango had been right; southern Equestria certainly was a different place from Canterlot.

The humidity, the way ponies spoke, how the days seemed so much longer and more relaxed… it’d been a wonderful vacation so far.

"There," Mango piped up, pointing a hoof at a distant farmhouse far down the other side of the hill. "That's where we're going." He gave her a slightly worried look. "How are you holding, love?"

She snorted, rubbing her belly and feeling a soft kick. "I'm fine, is that it? That little farm?" Gillette asked, popping her knees in anticipation as she glanced between the fields and Mango. "I know that you've traveled all over, but how'd you even meet a pony way down here? Were you selling froyo door-to-door or something?" She looked at the acres upon acres of cropland. She certainly couldn't imagine the margins would be very high out here in the podunks of Equestria. 

Mango just chuckled, giving her a loving peck on the cheek. "Nah, I've known him for almost as long as you've known Rachis." He smiled, eyes focused on something far away—and apparently invisible as Gillette followed his gaze. "He changed my life. And I think, in some small way, I changed his too."





It all started when the Princesses decided that they needed to reform the reserve guard, just in case one of Equestria's old enemies was somehow resurrected and decided to, y’know, eradicate everypony and the regular guard was not enough. Remember how some ponies received their summons? Well, I got one. I wasn't thrilled, but as you can imagine, I took the punches with as much dignity as I could and rolled with it.

"Get your hooves off of me!" Mango Leaf shouted as he was hauled into the barracks and dumped in front of a group of similarly shorn, washed and uniformed rookies. Mango immediately whirled about, trying to flee, but the two guards that had brought him in glared him down.

"You're staying here until your training is complete!" the pegasus guard, twice the size of Mango, growled. "Do not even attempt to flee. The Drill Sergeant will be here soon."

Mango had barely a moment to open his mouth to complain before his duffle bag was heaved at him.

It didn't take long for another pony to show up, just as they had said. When I looked at him, I knew this had to be the commanding officer. 

He was big and strong, standing proud at the door, looking at all of us as we each tried to stand taller in his presence. He had a buzz cut where a blond mane used to be going by the tail, as well as a wheat-colored coat visible under his uniform. He had a very intense look and carried himself with a dignity that demanded a pony follow him into battle, for glory and honor.

Of course reality had other ideas.

"Out of the way, ya filthy sun-scrubbed maggot!" a voice called from behind the stallion at the door. "What do you think you are? A curtain?" 

The rookie was pushed out of the way by a short, muscular to the point of absurdity, grey-coated minotaur in uniform and a campaign hat. 

He glared at the room and stomped his hoof on the floor, making it crack. "Atteeeen-hut!"

Every pony in the barrack lined up for the shorter creature, who started pacing in front of them.

"Listen up, maggots! I am Drill Sergeant Iron Hammer! I am here to turn you from the good-fer-nothin' bits of masticated barley that you are, into proper! Strong! Loyal! And capable guards!"

Turns out the guy at the door was just another rookie by the name of Haystacks, which would have been obvious if I had taken a second glance at his uniform. But Iron Hammer was a minotaur with a vision: a vision of pain… of anger and fury… and of boot camp being a Dantesque torture risen from Tartarus itself

"You call that a gallop?!" Iron Hammer roared as Mango tried and failed to run a second loop around the courtyard at any speed higher than a wheezing, dragging half-canter while his limbs scraped along the dusty ground.

"No, Sir!" Mango gasped. "I call it 'not being made for this,’ Sir!"

"Do not take that attitude with a superior officer, maggotbait! I don't care what you think you're made of! I will rip you apart atom by atom and rebuild you into a fighting machine so help me, Celestia!" Iron Hammer's face went red as he shouted, "I will make a soldier of you, rookie!" Iron Hammer growled, pointing at Haystacks. "You should follow his example, he knows to follow orders!"

Mango didn't care as his legs finally gave out, rolling onto his back and stretching, accidentally sticking a hoof in the way of Haystacks, who by now was on his third loop.

This had the misfortune of tripping him, and sending the large stallion to crash straight onto the ranting minotaur.

At least it shut him up for a bit.

Iron Hammer wasn’t happy with either of us, although I fully admit it was my fault. And who could blame me? I wasn’t made for half-hour sprints! 

Anyways, he decided to punish us in the traditional manner: cleaning the restrooms with our toothbrushes.

"I'm telling you, buddy," Mango sighed, leaning against the door as his magic forced the toothbrush back and forth against a particularly resilient stain a few feet away. "There are so very few things you can't mix with froyo that don't taste delicious, you'd be surprised."

Haystacks rolled his eyes, dropping the toothbrush from his mouth to indulge the unicorn. "You don't say?"

And then, for no good reason, just because I’d “done something,” Iron Hammer would crack down on us again!

"Yep! You can start with the regular flavors, you know? Kiwi, banana, strawberry, blueberry..."

We’d have to do push-ups in the rain...

"...mango—of course—, dragon fruit, mamey, apples, cherymoya, chayote, duku..."

...sweep the courtyard during lunch...

"...jicama, sweet potatoes, lime shavings..." Mango paused, and Haystacks' ears twitched. "Orange peals..." 

Haystacks' shoulders slumped and he resumed sweeping.

...stand outside all night to “secure the flag.”

Beet root, cardamom, zap apple..." Mango pondered for a moment, glancing over at Haystacks. "...and popcorn," Mango finally said before a silence stretched between the pair.

Haystacks' eyebrows rose when the silence lasted past thirty seconds and he looked to his fellow flag-watcher. 

"Popcorn?" he asked, genuinely intrigued. "In froyo?"

Mango Leaf nodded. "An unusual flavor to be sure, but once the butter freezes and you eat it with yogurt, it's a bit like the food they eat in the minotaur lands. Salty and savoury twists for froyo. I'm telling you, my friend: the possibilities are endless."

Haystacks nodded, conceding the point. "I thought so too. I'm surprised you managed to list all the possible ingredients."

Mango barked out a laugh. "Nah, I didn't want to bore you with an excessively long list, you would have lost interest real quick." He sighed. "At least, getting to know... you…” He paused a moment as if asking, but before Haystacks could respond, he continued, “Anyways, I've started to hate this place less. I don't know about you, but I hate being stuck in one place. I can't wait to get out of here."

This time it was Haystacks' eyebrow that twitched.

Both of them snapped to attention, looking up at the flag as Iron Hammer marched his way up to them, and stopped, glaring at them for a moment, before snorting and walking away. The pair relaxed after a few minutes.

"No, but seriously," Mango Leaf said sincerely, "What's your name?"

Haystacks and I were inseparable from then on, given that we were assigned as battle-buddies. We were both held accountable for whatever the other messed up, no matter how uninvolved either party was.

"I'm really, really sorry, Haystacks," Mango said, looking at the roof from his mattress on the floor right next to Haystacks’, also on the floor. "I really didn't expect to be caught with Recoil Effect under the bed frame."

Haystacks was quiet for a moment. Mango could see his ears twitch, silhouette shifting as he gave a ponderous raise and lowering of a hoof. 

"Mango. You know it's against the rules for mares and stallions to be in each other’s sleeping quarters," the earth pony said with his slow, deep voice. "Why would you risk that?"

Mango shrugged. "I don't know. I’m just... I'm not made for this, and... I don't want to waste an opportunity to meet somepony special, you know? Life is about taking risks, after all. If I just let chance pass me by, I'm going to be stuck in the same place forever." 

Haystacks took a deep breath and let it out slowly, turning to look at Mango, barely visible in the darkness. "Rushing into things like that don't work all the time either, Mango. Sometimes ponies need to slow down and carefully consider the future and those that depend on us."

Mango sighed, hitting the mattress with his hoof, although he wasn't frustrated or upset. "Have you ever... you know, loved somepony?"

The silence stretched for so long that Mango thought for a moment that Haystacks had fallen asleep. But, just as he was about to also drift off, he heard his friend say one name:

"Minié Ball."

Haystacks didn't talk much about his ex. To be fair, I gathered it had not ended well. 

Although when he showed me her picture... I'm not sure what he did wrong, but by looks alone... it was his loss. 

Ouch! What was that for? It's true! 

Anyway, our first week was mostly harmless shenanigans and draconian reprisals. It didn't really get better the second week, but Iron Hammer was mostly done punishing us and more interested in getting us to be "real soldiers".

"Do I make myself clear?!"

"SIR! YES SIR!"

"Mango Leaf! What did you mutter there, you sorry excuse for a fermented tropical fruit?"

"NOTHING SIR! I DID NOT MUTTER ANYTHING AT ALL!"

"Are you playing with me, Mango?!" Iron Hammer roared, standing eye to eye with Mango Leaf. "I saw your mouth move! I want to see it move again, repeating whatever imbecilic utterance at an audible level! Let all the good fillies and colts hear!"


"I MUTTERED NOTHING, SIR! NOTHING WILL MAKE ME MORE PROUD THAN TO BE A SOLDIER, SIR!"

Iron Hammer glared at Mango Leaf before turning his glare to Haystacks.

"Haystacks! Step forward and face Mango Leaf!"

Haystacks followed the order dutifully, stepping forth and turning to face his friend.

"Mango! Tell Haystacks you didn't say anything at all. Each time you lie, Haystacks will do one hundred push-ups!"

Mango's eyes widened, and he looked at his battle-buddy in shock. Haystacks, although externally calm, had a certain pleading glint to his eyes and it was clear that his body was already tensed in anticipation of the punishment.

"Mango Leaf!" Iron Hammer called again. "I thought you hadn't said anything! Why are you hesitating?"

I knew that if I admitted to saying "I'd rather sell froyo to fire elementals" there would be Tartarus to pay. In a split second, looking at those begging blue eyes, I knew what I had to do. There was no other way to deal with the situation, and with the trust Haystacks and I had built... it was no question really.

"I SAID NOTHING, SIR!"

Iron Hammer asked me three more times before he gave up. I apologized to Haystacks every day for the whole week, and although he made it seem like it was nothing, I know—deep down—he was glad to take one for the team.

"Mango Leaf!"

"Sir!"

"Did you just freeze the General's dinner?!"

"Sir! Yes Sir!"

"Why?!"

"Sir! It’ll taste better cold, sir!"

It wasn't much later that we had a chance to talk freely in the mess hall when we were put on late night cleanup duty once more. But, oddly enough, it wasn't until then that I really got to understand Haystacks. It all started with a question.

"Why did you leave Hoofululu?"

"I-What?" Mango stopped moping and looked over the kitchen counter at Haystacks, who was busy wiping the tables. "Why do you ask?"

Haystacks shrugged, moving efficiently from one table to the next, focusing on his work, but still relaxed enough to talk. "It's been bothering me, is all," he said. "We're a long way from your home. Your family, parents... friends... I just don't get how you can be so happy so far away from them."

Mango Leaf frowned. "Well, I wanted to start my own business, you know? Sell froyo. See the world." He leaned against the mop and looked at his friend. "Don't tell me you've never wanted to escape the farm? Maybe elope with Minié, see the big cities, visit Hoofululu, Canterlot, Baltimare..."

Haystacks snorted and shook his head, although constant hanging around his friend had given Mango some insight into his body language, which was at times more expressive than any words the stallion might use. 

His wiping continued, but the strength from before was gone, making it a light sweep rather than a cleansing wipe as he had done with the other tables. His shoulders sagged a little bit, not too much, but enough to draw attention to those that knew what to look for, and his head lowered while his eyes grew distant.

"Haystacks? You okay, buddy?"

"It don't matter," Haystacks finally answered. "I've thought about it, but the farm's my home. My father and mother left it in my hooves and I owe it to them to keep it afloat. Ain’t no mare or no pony gonna change that."

Mango kept mopping the floor in silence for a few moments. "Did they, I mean are they—"

"No," Haystacks shook his head. "They recently left for the city. My dad’s taking care of the farm with help from some neighbors and going down again to take care of my mother while I'm here." He paused and looked over at Mango. "That's why I ask. I'm surprised you left your parents behind."

Mango nodded, having finished the kitchen floor and moving out to the lunch floor, moving through the area Haystacks had already finished. "My parents hated the cold. They moved to Haywaii to avoid it. But I love it. It was my dream to do this stuff and staying there would have..." He sighed, resting his forehead on the mop's wooden handle. "I guess they're confused as to whether they should be proud of me or terrified for my future. But they wouldn't have stopped me either way, what they wanted for me was my happiness and this travelling around and selling froyo is the life I chose. I think they respect that."

Haystacks shrugged. "I don't know if I’d have it in me to ignore my father's wishes," he said, slowly starting to wipe the tables again with a bit more pressure. "And I don't know if I’d want to. My mother and father lived their whole lives there, and I've lived there my whole life too..."

 I guess by then some of Haystacks’ calmer personality had rubbed off on me and I gave it some thought. 

To him, there were many excuses to stay home. His roots were just stronger than mine, and he honestly loved the farm. It made more sense to not let a good thing die than to hope the new thing might work. He loved his parents and was afraid of losing them. 

It was cowardly in some ways, naive in others, and finally noble in a way I simply couldn't be and that probably was killing his mother as much as whatever it was that had landed her in the hospital. But I hoped dearly he would eventually burst out and do something with his life.

We finished cleaning in silence, neither of us wanting to broach the subject again and went to sleep soon after. We only had one week left, after all.

The bells started in the middle of the night. They were the only warning before Iron Hammer burst into the barracks at full volume.

"Wake up, ya dead-like, snoring leeches! It's the real deal!"

As everypony in the room rushed to get their armor on, Iron Hammer called out for them. 

"Mango! Haystacks! You're coming with me! We're on catapult duty! The rest of you go report to Sergeant Stammers for further orders!"

Mango and Haystacks shared a look before falling into step behind the trotting minotaur.

"Now listen you two, as far as I'm concerned, are both expendable. And as much as I loathe to admit, you might be the only ones crazy enough to find a way to deal... with that!"'

Iron Hammer had hopped up onto the catapult for a better view and pointed a finger at a large approaching creature. It looked like a mixture of minotaur and pony as it snatched up struggling soldiers and sucked out their energy before moving on, towards the base.

"You want us to find a way to stop that?!" Mango asked, incredulous.

"You're the horseapple-spewing prankster that don't ever learn and he"—Iron Hoof pointed at Haystacks—"is the best cadet I've ever seen at following orders and staying put, but can't even lick the box much less think outside of it! Unlike you, he came pre-broken and maybe if I smash your heads together I'll get a competent soldier instead of a wandering vagrant and a sissy homebody! Now get to—"

I'll never know why Haystacks pulled the lever and catapulted our drill sergeant straight at Tirek or why he was grinning like that. I asked him later, but he wouldn't tell me. Or maybe he didn't know himself. For my part, I promised myself not to question him ever again on why he wouldn't leave that damn farm.





"Did that slow down Tirek?" Gillette asked as they walked on one of the long, earthen roads that separated one patch of crops from another and turned to face Haystacks home, which now was just a little distance away.

"Nah, not even close. He just caught him and sucked him dry, then us a minute later." Mango shrugged. "We were dishonorably discharged, and never heard from the army again but Haystacks and I kept in touch through letters, and well," he gave her a pained grin. "If all fails, I always know exactly where to find him."

The pair made their way to the door and stared at the sign.


Gone Fishin’


"Well," Mango corrected, arching an eyebrow, "most of the time anyway. Come on, I know where the spare key is."

"He knows we were visiting, right?"

"Of course! I sent him a letter yesterday!"

"Mango!"

"I'm joking! He knows we're coming. I would have told his wife, but he never got married."


The End

> Summer Heat vs. Quick Study - Winner: Summer Heat (by Forfeiture)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Runaway Train - by Summer Heat's Author

“Acting like a lovestruck colt, you say?”

A distant smile spread across Cliffhanger’s face as he stared at the far corner of the ceiling, straightening his neck as if there were an invisible movie camera positioned to capture a low-angle profile of his expression. Quick Study was certain that her old friend was either reliving the events of the previous night, or mentally editing faint shafts of light and slowly drifting sparkles into the scene. He might also have been trying his best to shed a single tear.

“Of course I’m acting ‘lovestruck;’ what other name could I give to the lightning strike that struck my sleeping inner colt in that tiny, smoky tavern?”

Quick Study could hear the low grr-rr-rrk of her own teeth grinding. “Listen to yourself! How are you going to write your book on this trip when you can’t even put a proper metaphor together? Hurry up and grab your bags!”

“My dear friend, I couldn’t possibly write a single word while tormented by the need to learn her name."

He didn't place the back of one hoof against his forehead, but he might as well have.

"Alas, I'm afraid I will not be joining you after all."

Quick Study felt her glare hardening until her brow started to ache from the strain. She pressed her lips together, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. It didn’t help.

“I can’t believe this. You’re canceling your plans, wasting the money you paid for your ticket, and making me explain to the association that they set me up with a double room for no reason, all because of a mare that didn’t even tell you her name?”

There it was again, that ridiculous glassy-eyed look. The look of an oblivious romantic who couldn’t acknowledge the fact that he was head-over-hooves stupid in love with somepony who had probably forgotten all about him by now and was probably named Easy Mark or One Nightstand.

Cliffhanger rolled his eyes, and his tone flipped from brainlessly melodramatic to brainlessly excited. “The passion that flared between us that night revealed far more than words ever could. This is real, Quick Study! She promised me that we would meet again! If I lose this chance at true love, I may never—”

“That’s enough,” Quick Study snapped. “I have a train to catch. Go ahead and ruin your life by chasing some tart who doesn't give two horseapples about you. I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me all about it when I get back from Canterlot.”





The train was a smog-belching dinosaur that smelled like old wood despite the new carpet and thin coat of fresh paint. It also had walled compartments instead of rows of seats, and Quick Study was lucky enough to find an empty one and claim one side with her saddlebags. Then she sat on the bench herself--uncomfortably, because the cushion was thin from age--and used the moment of privacy to slump against the window and let out a growling sigh.

The cool glass felt good against her face. When the spot she was resting against got warm, she leaned back by an inch and thumped her head into a different spot. Her horn tapped against the glass with a light click, and when the train jolted into motion, it vibrated against the surface with a rattling noise.

Quick Study didn't realize that she had dozed off until she was woken by the low rumble of the door sliding open.

“Other side's empty,” Quick Study grumbled.

Outside, grassy suburbs had turned to craggy mountains, and the train was tilted in an uphill climb--they would be arriving in Canterlot soon.

The door rumbled shut again. "Sorry to intrude," said a mare's voice, from inside the compartment. "They told everyone in my car to find different seats. Figured it was best not to ask why." There was a pause. “You look like you could use a drink."

Quick Study peeled herself away from the window and righted herself against the backrest. "Do I, now?"

The pony who’d joined her was a young mare, pink, with a warm chocolate mane. She had already taken her seat, and was busy digging through a pair of reinforced, multi-sectioned bags that looked to be nearly as heavy as their owner and twice as old.

"Sure do. I know that look. Here. Trust me.”

The mare pulled a metal flask from her pack, flipped the cap open with her teeth, and extended it across the gap between seats. Quick Study picked it from her hooves with magic and levitated it closer, peering at what she had been offered as if it were a puzzle box.

“Don't worry; I don’t have Whinnybola. Unless that's why they chased us out."

“Very funny. Whinnybola is only contagious once you start displaying symptoms anyway."

Quick Study lifted the flask parallel to her muzzle as she tilted her head back--and then she coughed, hard, when the liquid within rolled over her tongue and into her throat, burning the whole way down. Drinking cider now and then at the occasional book club social hadn’t done a thing to prepare Quick Study for whatever had been in that little metal bottle.

She could hear chuckling coming from the other seat, followed by a “Feel better?”

Quick Study swallowed hard in an attempt to quench the chemical sizzle. It didn't work. Still, she forced a smile as passed the flask back; the gesture from a friendly stranger was quite welcome, even though it had been the wrong one. 

“Well, no. I appreciate the thought, though. My name's Quick Study."

A nod. "Good name for an academic."

Quick Study folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I'll have you know that thirty seven percent of unicorn names are not explicitly descriptive of cutie mark identity."

That just made the other mare smile wider. “Pfft. Am I wrong?” 

“I’m just saying--”

“What, is the book on your cutie mark not explicitly descriptive of your cutie mark identity either?"

“Well, for your information, as many as forty five percent of unicorn cutie marks are symbolic instead of explicit!”

Quick Study folded her arms and frowned as her fellow traveler giggled.

Maybe it was the liquor, or maybe the stranger's special talent was an infectious laugh, but eventually Quick Study couldn't help but laugh along despite trying to pout. "Well. Well, I'm only a scholar on my own time. My official title is 'Scribe and Keeper of Books.'"

"Sounds important," the mare said, only a little teasingly.

"I like to think so," Quick Study said. "They’re bringing me in for a restoration project. How about you? What’re you doing on a train to Canterlot?”

"For now, what I'm doing is getting to know another traveler on a train to Canterlot." She grinned at the way Quick Study rolled her eyes, then cleared her throat and continued. "Honest answer, though? Not sure whether I'm staying in Canterlot for a while, or just taking a pit stop on the way to Los Pegasus."

"Los Pegasus, huh? That's... very far away."

The other mare shrugged, seemingly undaunted by the prospect of crossing the entire continent by train. 

"Nowhere is 'far away' once you get there. Besides, I’d been in Baltimare too long. It was starting to feel like home."

Quick Study tilted her head. “So... where's home for you, then?”

There was a brief pause.

“My home’s wherever I can find good drink and good company.” As if to illustrate, she took another pull of booze, or tried to--the bottle turned out to be empty. With a click of her tongue, she started to dig through her pack, pulling out the odd article of clothing in search of, presumably, something to refill her flask with.

Quick Study abruptly straightened as a glint of metal caught her eye.

"Oh! Is that a… fencing blade?"

“This? Yeah.” she said, pulling it from the deep bag that it had been wedged into.

The object in question was a thin metal shaft that came to a point, covered by a rubber nub. At the base was a scratched and pockmarked steel dome—perfect for protecting the hoof, but positioned in a way that would make standing on all fours impossible.

“Met a stallion in Prance who fancied himself a ‘master equuscrimeur.’” The word master had audible quotation marks around it.  “Nice enough guy. Bit self-absorbed. Wanna hold it?"

Quick Study’s voice leapt at least an octave. “Aah! You trained with a real Equuscrime master? I’ve been meaning to learn more about Equuscrime for years!” Already she could envision crossing out one of the oldest entries in her ‘learn-about-later’ notebook, and the idea made her giddy. She leaned forward to grab the weapon with her hooves instead of her magic. It was surprisingly heavy, and the guard's dull steel surface was covered with scratches, no doubt from use in many furious battles.

The already comely mare sitting across from Quick Study suddenly looked very attractive indeed.

“Do you know any of the history? Which styles did you learn? Was it anything like in The Alicorn Bride? I mean, of course it wasn’t all that much like the movies, but—“

Quick Study cut herself off only when she noticed that her would-be source of knowledge was laughing again.

“S-sorry. I get excited. I really do want to hear about it, though.”

The mare shook her head. “Nah. Never asked him that kinda stuff. I just learned enough basics so that I could play around in practice bouts. Was fun, but I'm no expert."

“Oh.”

Quick Study sagged slightly. 

"Sorry. Know what, though--you should hang onto that, since you're interested."

Quick Study’s heart jumped as she looked with widened eyes at the weapon she was holding, then at the one who had given it to her, then back down to the weapon.

“I... no, I couldn’t...”

“I insist. Haven’t used it at all since then anyway.”

Quick Study turned the little metal tool over and over between her hooves. It felt both right and wrong to hold it as her own; every scar and dent was evidence of an unspoken story that Quick Study wasn’t part of.

“But... you said it was a gift from that stallion in Prance..."

“So now it's a gift from me to you. Like I said, I don’t need it, and memories weigh less than souvenirs."

“Memories weigh less than souvenirs,” Quick Study echoed, still examining her new possession. “Ha. You sound like my novelist friend when he’s feeling philosophical at three in the morning.”

"Novelist friend?"

Quick Study grimaced darkly. Talking to this stranger had been a such a welcome distraction.

“Mm. He's a really old friend, actually. Even if... even if he’s a real idiot sometimes. His name's Cliffhanger. I wouldn’t expect you to know his work."

The other mare reacted in the most unexpected way imaginable: with a sudden burst of laughter. 

“Knew your name sounded familiar! Hold on. It's in here somewhere."

From the depths of one of her bags, the mare unearthed an all too familiar looking yellow hardcover.

"This is him, right? Damn if that ain't a coincidence! Haven't started reading it yet, but here, look."

The mare pulled back the front cover and leaned forward to offer the book as she had done with the flask and the blade. Quick Study craned her neck to look without touching or lifting it this time.

The book was open to the dedication page, which was supposed to read "with thanks to Quick Study and Soft Spoken, for all that they did to make this book possible." As for this copy, though, everything after 'they' had been obliterated by the start of a whole paragraph of heavy black marker. Most of it was illegible—even more so than Cliffhanger’s usual hoofwriting—but the last line made the message clear enough.

As long as Celestia’s sun burns in the day, as long as Luna’s moon guides us through the night, as long as the world gives us earth and sky, let our love never die.
-Cliffhanger

Quick Study leaned back in her seat, pressed her lips together, and placed her hooves in her lap, calling upon every lesson that Soft Spoken had ever given her on managing impulses. Breathe deep. Don't jump to conclusions. Stay rational. Irrationality is the mind-killer. Maybe this mare just met him at a book signing. Yes, that’s it. There was that book signing two weeks ago, and--

“Yeah, met him at the bar just last night! Really sweet guy, liked him a lot. Can’t hold his liquor, though.”

Soft Spoken's rules and mantras were instantly purged from Quick Study's mind.

“You! You’re her? He wouldn't shut up about you! He was a good writer until you came along and now just look at that drooling nonsense that he wrote for you! I’ve been talking to you this whole time and riding this train with you when the whole time it was you!”

Quick Study realized that she was on her hooves, and that her volume had risen to a full-scale bellow, and that she was glaring down at a seated pink pony who was leaning away with an almost comical expression of wide-eyed shock.

The pink mare’s blue eyes flicked toward the window, then the door, then back to the window. “Uh. Gonna have to slow down for me. Sounds like some kind of mistake.” She sounded confused. To Quick Study, her confusion sounded like a sham.

“You’re the one who—who did whatever you did with him last night, and you promised you’d meet him again, and here you are on a train, skipping town for Los Pegasus! He deserves better than you! Better than somepony who’s going to stomp all over his heart like that!”

Cliffhanger’s mystery mare put on a glare of her own. “Hey! I was nothing but good to him! Matter of fact, I gave him the time of his--”

The practice blade rolled off of Quick Study’s seat and onto the ground with a gentle clatter. Quick Study picked it up with magic and threw it down onto the bag it had come from, hard enough so that it bounced and nearly fell onto the floor again.

“No wonder you keep moving all the time! You had one in Prance, you had one in Baltimare, and now you're off to add Canterlot to the list, you sleazy, cheap--”

There was a loud knock at the door, and then it opened to reveal the frowning face of an attendant. "Is everything okay in here?"

The object of Quick Study’s fury, who had been trying to avoid eye contact, immediately looked up with a charming smile as if nothing more serious had happened than a dispute over seat space. She reached for her bags and started to close them up. "Yeah, we’re all good in here, I was just about to--"

Quick Study fired a searing, lethal, evil glare at the attendant.

"We are perfectly fine. Now GET OUT."

The door handle glowed briefly, and then the compartment’s door slammed shut with a BANG that left Quick Study’s own ears ringing. For a moment, she just stood facing the door, trying not to tremble with anger.

“Nice try,” she said icily.

The reply came in an insultingly disarming lilt. “Look, I’ve seen enough to know for a fact that he's fine. Even if it seems like he’s going to have trouble...”

Quick Study whirled, reared up, and all but exploded with anger. "Don’t you dare tell me that you know more than I do about my foalhood friend!"

“I didn’t say that. I just meant--”

“You think you know about him and ‘getting over it?’ Well, I know that the last time a mare dumped him, he didn’t do anything but listen to sad songs for months. He wrote poetry that even he’s embarrassed to show anypony. And he still avoids so much as walking past the cafe where he met her. Two years later."

Now the other mare was the one wearing a grimace. "Everyone has to deal with--you know, with loss, and painful memories. That's just his way of showing it. His way of dealing with it, you know?"

“And just what does that have to do with you toying with my friend and then walking away like nothing happened?"

The mystery mare didn’t reply to that, except by staring out the window while Quick Study glared at her.

"Well..."

A whistle sounded from the front of the train as it started to slow down.

“I’m going to send him a telegram saying that you'll meet him at the park next to the library. Four o'clock tomorrow."

Silence again. Outside the window, the platform was coming into view.

“Did you hear me? I said, you are going to meet him at the park and fix this.”

Quick Study thought she saw the mare's shoulders move in a sigh.

"Yeah, I will. Promise.” She was still looking out the window.

“Really. Is that the same kind of ‘promise’ that--”

The train came to a stop, and the whistle sounded again. Before Quick Study could get another word in, she was alone in the compartment. 

It took a few moments of and seething for the realization to strike: she hadn't gotten that mare's name.





At four o'clock the next day, a pink mare with a red-brown mane was standing on a platform and waiting for a train. 

The familiar rumble of an incoming engine didn't give anything like the feeling of relief that it usually did. After all, the last train ride she'd taken had included being trapped with an angry and persistent scholar-librarian who refused to relent on something that was supposed to have stayed in Baltimare instead of following her all the way to Canterlot.

Well. But now the train was here, and with it, a chance to put that mess behind her as well. 

She had made a promise, after all.

The train screeched to a halt and the doors opened, letting out a load of passengers. Cliffhanger, that was his name--he was the first one off the train and onto the platform. He found her eyes almost immediately, and all but sprinted the short distance between them.

"It's... it's you! It's really you!"

"Sure is," said Summer Heat, forcing out a sad smile. “C'mon. Let's go somewhere we can talk."









Heat of the Moment - by Quick Study's Author

The night was young in Baltimare’s waterfront district, and it was alive with activity. Ponies were out enjoying the nightlife with exuberance and elation as they went bar hopping or clubbing to dance the day’s troubles away. The air was fresh with the smell of fallen rain and the ground was still wet from the late afternoon shower. For two ponies walking down one of the streets this was a night to relax, unwind and party. Well, for one of them at least.

“Come on Quick,” chided Cliffhanger, a navy blue Earth Pony stallion, “I thought this was supposed to be a night of cutting loose and having fun, not a night of getting cold hooves and going home.”

“Hey, home sounds wonderful. I think there’s a mare-athon of Star Trot starring Hammy Acting playing tonight. That show is a classic.” replied Quick Study nervously.

“Quick,” said Cliffhanger as he put a hoof on her shoulder, “You’ve spent the past two weeks doing nothing but go to work and hide in your home. You need to get out, live a little. I know these past few months have been stressful for you.”

“If by stressful you mean destroying an entire archive and being haunted by the world's dumbest ghost, then yes, ‘stressful’.” Quick Study snarked using her hooves to add air-quotes. Cliffhangers response was a swift and deadly noogy to the cranium.

“Come on, you can’t beat yourself up over a few small problems.” Cliffhanger sagely advised. Quick Study questioningly mouthed the words ‘small’ before she broke out of the hold and gave Cliffhanger a sock to the shoulder.

“Ugh, fiiiiiiine. Though to be fair, the last time I entered a bar, things didn’t go well.” she added with unease as she looked at the many establishments up and down the street.

“And that’s why I’ve brought us here!” Cliffhanger said with a sweeping motion to the large building around the corner. Before them stood ‘The Chameleon’, one of the hottest dance clubs in the entire town. Ponies had formed a line that reached down to the end of the block and around the corner.

“Should have brought us here a few hours ago buddy,” suggested Quick Study as she crained her neck to see the end of the line, “cause we’ll be standing out here till the sun rises at this point.”

“And that,” stated Cliffhanger as he flashed a VIP pass to one of the bouncers, “is why you are with me.” After the Bouncer closely scrutinized Cliffhanger’s pass, he motioned the two of them to enter, much to the chagrin of the other patrons still waiting in line.

“How did you-?”

“The perks of being a famous writer.” Cliffhanger answered with a smile as they entered the main room. Ponies and many other races could be seen sitting around the many tables or dancing on the dance floor to the beat of pulsing music. A DJ was stationed on the second floor who controlled both the music and the lights for the enthralled patrons enjoying themselves shuffling about. Cliffhanger noticed an unoccupied table and pointed it out to Quick Study over the loud music. Sitting down they found themselves thankfully far enough away from the speakers to be able to talk to one another without yelling.

“So what’s the plan, sit here and drink while our earbuds rapidly deteriorate?” asked Quick Study.

“Maybe!” Cliffhanger answered with a grin. “Let’s see where the night takes us!”

Soon both of them were enjoying themselves with some drinks, Quick Study’s however was non-alcoholic. She insisted that she’d rather not chance it, since last time she got drunk, it rained books. Soon they were catching up on what had happened in life lately for the each of them, but their conversation ended when the crowd of dancers began to cheer.

Across the room on one of the raised platforms stood a lone mare whom the crowd was going crazy over. It was soon apparent why as the beat increased and she began to dance to the music. Her movements were graceful and powerful at the same time. Not a single motion was wasted, nor an individual step out of place. She danced with the flow of the music following nopony but her own self. The crowd ate up every second of it and hollered and roared with applause at her moves.

“Dang,” commented Cliffhanger who was completely enraptured by the mysterious dancer’s moves, “I wonder if she does that for a living?”

“Hrm, she is quite good.” added Quick Study as she closely watched the dancer’s steps. “But she doesn’t have any form to her dancing, she’s just improvising the whole way.”

“Oh ho ho, is that jealousy I sense, Quick?” asked Cliffhanger smiling devilishly.

Quick responded with a roll of her eyes, “Jealous? Of what? She’s obviously has been practicing for years, she has a lot of skill with it. I just don’t think she does it for a living. Professional dancers even when dancing for fun, still show some of their training subconsciously. And I didn’t see any of that while she-” Quick Study was interrupted by a wadded napkin bouncing off her horn. 

“What did I say about relaxing, Quick?” admonished Cliffhanger with a wagging of his hoof.

“I wasn’t working, I was just-”

“Doing that weird thing where you use that freaky head of yours to know everything about something.”

Quick Study just laughed in response, “Know everything? I highly doubt there's a single pony who knows ‘everything’.”

“I don’t know about that,” interjected a new voice, “There are some pretty smart ponies out in the world.” The two of them looked over and their new table companion to see that it was the dancer they had seen earlier. On closer inspection her coat was a hot pink that stuck out even when not under the darklight on the dance floor. Her mane was a wavy red brown that offered a deep contrast to the rest of her color. But by far the most striking part of her was her oververt personality. Even after dancing as hard as she had, she still leaned on the edge of their table bobbing to the music as if she would tear off again to the floor and begin her own personal waltz.

“Oh, hello?” questioned a confused Quick Study.

“Hi, I’m Summer!” she announced with a toothy grin.

“Well greetings Summer,” spoke Cliffhanger, “She’s Quick Study, and I’m Cliffhanger. Your dancing was quite something.”

“Oh, why thank you. I’m quite proud of it myself.” Summer replied with her own smile. “But while I was dancing, I couldn’t help but notice that everypony else was having a good time either dancing or partying it up, except you two. And I thought, ‘Wow, they must be having one amazing conversation to be having that much fun.’ So, I thought I’d come over and check it out.”

Quick Study didn’t know what to make of this mare, while her words and intentions seemed honest, it really felt spontaneous, and/or a completely ludicrous excuse. However if she had to judge by words alone, maybe this mare was just the overly friendly type and a few moments of hyperactive interaction would be all that was needed to continue with her night uninterrupted. When Quick turned to look at Cliffhanger however, those thoughts were shatters at the sight of a droopy eyed stallion as he smiled lackadaisily at Summer. ‘Oh great’, Quick Study thought to herself, ‘He’s soshed and crushing on the pretty mare. Celestia tell me this isn’t going where I think its going?’

“So Summer,” asked Cliffhanger, “You much of a reader?”

‘And it is going where I thought it was. Thanks Celestia, see if I ever pray to you again.’

“Oh, I read a few things here and there,” she spoke with a wave of her hoof. “I’m more interested in going out and experiencing things for myself, rather than reading about them.”

‘I wonder if she means the same thing for venereal diseases.’ Quick Study wondered darkly before her own thoughts slapped her in the face. Why did she think that? Was she really feeling jealous of this mare? Summer so far had been nothing but nice, maybe a little invasive, but still nice enough. Quick Study soon noticed she hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation and only caught the tail end of it.

“-its just great to be able to create whole new worlds as a writer you know? Stuff no pony has ever seen before, and probably won’t ever see!” finished Cliffhanger excitedly.

“I don’t know, I think its kind of sad really.” Summer countered. “I mean, I know it probably is entertaining for a lot of other ponies, but if I were to hear about a place as fantastical as that, but then learn that I could never see it with my own eyes, it would make me feel rather down.”

“Well its not like the real world is that fantastical in comparison.” added Quick Study joining the conversation, “I mean, we’ve explored most of the whole planet, the ocean is now traversable in a matter of a day or two. What else is there left to really see that hasn’t been seen?”

Summer looked thoughtfully at Quick Study and then she scanned around the dance club. “You would call all this,” she said with a motion of her hooves, “dull and boring?”

“Well, not so much in those words…” sighed Cliffhanger. “More like…”

“Monotonous and unchanging?” suggested Quick Study.

“That’s even worse Quick.”

Summer tittered for a moment before clearing her throat. “You know, what you describe reminds me of a sultan I met in Saddle Arabia.” Both of her table mate’s eyes shot up at that and she took it as a cue to continue. “He had spent so much of his wealth maintaining this lavish garden of his, but he was never satisfied with how it looked. Every time he would come out he’d have the gardeners rearrange the flowers positions, move a tree, and even once divert a whole river in the opposite direction.”


“Pretty soon his demands became more and more lavish, and his funds started to dwindle. He confided in me one night, saying that he just wished to see something new for once. Every day he walked the same path, and saw the same plants, but nothing felt fresh and alive to him anymore. I told him, ‘go to sleep, and in the morning, you will find what you seek’. While he slept that night, with the help of his wife and a few palace guards we moved the sleeping sultan out of the palace and into the nearby residential district. When he awoke the next day, well he was furious. He thought he was either the victim of an elaborate joke, or that he was being overthrown.”

“However, that was the exact moment he decided to step outside, and what he saw, caused his mouth to hang wide open in shock. Its well known that space was always tight in his city, so much so that ponies had started making their own rooftop gardens so they could have extra food and decorations. Soon it became such a popular pastime for many residents that if you looked out from the tallest house in the district, you could see all the interconnecting roofs and the greenery that connected them. And it was this sight that had driven the sultan to silence. His palace was situated low to the ground and his garden hidden behind stone walls, but this? There was beauty growing from the top down of his very city, and he had never known.”

“From then the sultan started visiting all the different gardens each week, and since the gardens changed so rapidly, and new building sprouted up, he never was given the same view twice.” Summer told them as she began to wrap up her tale, “So in the end, there are plenty of amazing things around you to see. You just might have to shift your perspective to see them.”

“Wow, that was pretty c-” began Quick Study.

“So, coooooool.” sighed Cliffhanger as he gazed at Summer with a dopey smile on his face.

“Aw, well I’m glad you think so, that’s one of my favorites to tell. Well, that and how I dated a kelpie for awhile, now that’s a story.” Summer wistfully remembered.

“Well, it will have to be a story for another time.” stated Quick Study as she got up. “Twinkle hooves here has a deadline at the end of this week, so I’d better take him home before he knocks himself out until then.”

“Hey, I am perfectly-” objected Cliffhanger as his legs gave way beneath him and he was performing mouth to mouth with the floor.

“Drunk off your flank is what.” quipped Quick Study as she picked up with her telekinesis. “Thanks for the story Summer, but we must be heading out.”

“You are very welcome Quick, and I must be honest, I’m quite envious of him.” Summer admitted pointing to the stallion now asleep in Quick’s telekinetic grip.

“You, envious?” Quick Study asked disbelievingly. “Why?”

“Because he has a good friend like you looking out for him.” she smiled softly, “I’ve seen many things, but true good friends are among the rarest.” With a short wave goodbye, Summer disappeared back into the crowd of dancers to fanfare, and the dancing continued with much rejoicing.

Quick Study walked out of the nightclub carrying her friend in her magic. Cliffhangers soft murmuring were ignored as the events of the evening played out in her mind again. Quick Study after some thought, decided maybe it was time to get Cliffhanger and herself back to their proper homes and get some well needed rest. She had some plans, she needed to get working on.

It was a week later that Cliffhanger was laying down on his couch exhausted from writing, his hooves hadn’t felt this sore in any recollection of his life, and he nearly vowed to never touch another typewriter as long as he had lived. When at that moment, a knock came at his door.

“Ugh, unless you’re giving out free pizza and ice packs, I’m not interested!” he shouted out. The door then opened in response and there stood a happy looking Quick Study with a knowing smile on her face.

“Well I may not have either of those, but I did bring some stir-fry, from the Fillypino restaurant down the block.” she stated as she set down her food package on the end table in front of Cliffhanger. Quick Study took a moment to examine her friend better as tisked at what she saw, “Ah, racing to finish before another deadline again? How much did we cram this time?”

“20,000 words, in six hours.” Cliffhanger lamented into the couch cushions.

“Ouch, that’s a new record isn’t it?”

“I want to never write another thing as long as I live.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.~” Quick Study sing songed to her friend.

Cliffhanger shifted his weight so he could look Quick Study right in the eyes with sheer exhaustion. “You only sound like that when you are doing something weird.”

“Its not weird, just… different.” stated Quick Study as she pulled out some paperwork. “These are forms for signing up for skydiving lessons, I originally asked Soft Spoken, but she was going to be busy a few days from now. You however…”

“Just got done with a major deadline and want to hurl myself into the ground at high velocity?” finished Cliffhanger, “Aw Quick, you shouldn’t have.”

“Well, what are friends for, right?” she snarked in response.

“Yeah, but its kinda weird, I never thought you’d want to go skydiving of all things.” Cliffhanger responded confused at his friend's recent actions.

“What can I say,” replied Quick Study, “Maybe I’m just trying to see things from, a new perspective.”

> Loud Mouth vs. Ace Artisan - Winner: Ace Artisan (by Vote)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Lady and the Architect - by Loud Mouth's Author

“Who in Celestia’s name designed this room? It looks like Discord had a case of food poisoning.”

“Shut up, Ace.”

“Plastic chairs, wooden tables; nothing matches! It’s a shame, honestly. This is such a well-designed building, otherwise. Coltbusier did this one, I think—ow!” Ace yipped, jumping in his seat. He reached down to massage his now-throbbing fetlock. “What was that for?”

Sitting next to him, Nocturne glared. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe you shouldn’t be spending the day insulting the place where I might end up working?”

Ace opened his mouth to argue—but all that came was a sigh. “Point taken,” he said, looking away. “Sorry.”

Nocturne kept her glower steady for a few more moments before letting a smile break through. She sat back in her seat and murmured, “It’s no problem, Artie. Thanks for coming with me. I know how much you hate traveling.”

Ace shrugged. “Eh, it’s only an hour train ride from Canterlot to Manehattan. Nothing too serious.”

“I guess. It’s weird to think I’ll be taking that train twice a day from now on,” Nocturne said. “At least, assuming I get the job.”

“You’re not exactly applying to become the next Princess,” Ace said with a smirk. “It’s just a secretary job. It shouldn’t be hard to get.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Mr. ‘I’m the Only Earth Pony in a Field of Unicorns.’” Nocturne cast a wary glance across the waiting room, over to the hallway that she knew would lead her to her interview. “This is the biggest radio station in Equestria. The pony who runs this place is important, y’know? I do well here, that means a job with Galactic Records sometime down the line. And a job at Galactic Records means money.”

“Since when do you care so much about money?”

“Since you started buying the cheap toilet paper ‘to cut costs.’”

Once again, Ace opened his mouth, but closed it just as quickly.

The sharp sound of hoofsteps echoed from the hallway, filling the room and making Nocturne go rigid in her seat. “Here we go,” she murmured to Ace, her words accented by a giggle. “It’s showtime!”

As she tittered on, a pegasus entered the room, staring down at a small clipboard she held in her wing. The mare was tall, almost gangly, and she walked with a flinching gait, as if her toothpick legs were ready to snap under her at any moment. To Nocturne, this pegasus was most certainly not the kind of pony she pictured when she thought of the word “boss.” Rather, this pegasus screamed “intern.”

Nevertheless, Nocturne put on her best smile and sat up a bit straighter, waiting for her name to be called. For the slightest of moments, she looked to her coltfriend—only to frown as she saw his pale, frozen face.

Still reading the clipboard, the pegasus walked a bit further into the room, headed for where they sat. “Um, ‘Nocturne?’” she read. She looked up. “Is there a Noc—“

Silence. A thick, horrendous silence descended upon the room as Ace Artisan and the pegasus locked eyes, only a few steps away from one another. Their eyes were wide and their jaws were slack, as if they had both just witnessed a massacre of the highest order.

As their staring contest went on, Nocturne threw her gaze between the two, waiting for something, anything to happen. When a full thirty seconds had passed with no movement—not even a breath—from either side, she cleared her throat. “Uh, are you—“

“Loud?” Ace choked out.

The pegasus squeaked and flared her wings. Without another sound, she spun around and sprinted away, back down the hallway she had come from. A familiar quiet flooded the room as the intern’s hoofsteps faded into the distance.

Ace looked like he was still recovering his ability to breathe, taking deep, shuddering breaths. It certainly didn’t help that Nocturne had leapt onto his chair, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck with her magic, and lifted him into the air.

“What did you do?!” she screamed.

Ace shook his head. “That was Loud Mouth.”

“Who?!”

“Loud Mouth,” he repeated, voice shaking. “Loud Mouth.”

Nocturne clenched her teeth and prepared a torrent of curses—but froze as the name bounced through her mind. She weakened her hold on him. “Wait, wait,” she said, jumping off the chair. “That was Loud Mouth. The Loud Mouth? That mare you dated all through college?”

Ace nodded. “Yep.”

The hairs on the back of Nocturne’s neck went stiff. “The mare you broke up with in front of all of her friends and humiliated?”

“Also true—ow!”

As he rubbed his fetlock, Nocturne paced in front of him, wisps of smoke trailing from her mane. “You, you… do you know what you’ve done? You just cost me a job!” Nocturne turned to face him. “They’re never gonna hire me when they find out I brought a pig like you along!”

“Hey, that’s racist—ow!” Ace swore and curled into his seat. “Okay, okay, I get it! I messed up. But Loud isn’t the type of mare to just out someone like that. Back when we were dating, she was the kindest mare I knew!”

“And you broke her heart.”

“Hey, if I hadn’t done it, we could have never gotten together!”

Nocturne rolled her eyes and walked away. “And what a tragedy that would have been.”

“Where are you going?” Ace asked, hopping out of his seat.

“I’m going to find this Loud Mouth mare so you can apologize to her, and so I can get my job!” Nocturne called, across the room at this point.

“Oh, come on!” Ace groaned. “Do I really have—“

Nocturne shot him a glare that could have set a timberwolf ablaze.

He scrambled to catch up with her.







He found me.

A thin sheen of sweat wrapped around Loud Mouth’s forehead as she tried to stuff her lunch into an already-full saddlebag. Her cheeks burned, and her mane looked like it had just been through a wood chipper. She shoved her daisy sandwich into the bag, not even caring as it was crushed against her clipboard.

She had to leave. She had to. There was no other choice. Not as long as he was out there, speaking with his stupid voice, and walking around with his stupid mane, moving his stupid abs…

She banged her canteen against her forehead, trying desperately to knock the thoughts out of her mind. And yet, they remained, scurrying through her brain like rabid mice. Memories of long walks on the beach; romantic moonlit dinners; endless piles of architecture magazines, stacked so high that her dorm room floor had begun to buckle…

“Yo, LoMo!”

Loud Mouth shrieked and threw her canteen into the air, only just barely avoiding it as it came crashing back down. She shook as she turned around—only to let out a relieved breath as she saw who was behind her. “Oh,” she said, smiling. “Hey, Whammy.”

Whammy Bar walked past and flumped into a seat across the table from her. Groaning, she let all of her limbs go slack, hanging off the chair. “Ugh. Neon Lights is out sick, so the boss had me take over for his electronica broadcast. Never heard such annoying music…”

Although her teeth still clattered, Loud allowed herself a giggle. In the year she had been working at 103.4, Loud hadn’t made many friends; most ponies there were too busy with their own lives for Loud to really get to know. And yet, here was Whammy. She ran her own radio show, was constantly getting interviewed, was a big star… and yet, she still had time to talk to Loud.

 “What’s up with you?” Whammy asked, raising a brow. “You seem jumpy.”

“Nothing!” Loud said, looking away. A cloud of pink swirled through her cheeks. “Nothing, really. I’m fine!”

Whammy lidded her eyes. “It’s a stallion, ain’t it?”

Loud nodded.

“I knew it,” Whammy said with a smirk. She sat up a bit straighter and cracked her neck before putting on a coy smile and leaning over the table, taking Loud’s hoof in hers. “I wanna hear everything. Who is he? Is he cute? Does he have a brother?”

Loud rested her head on her hooves, a deep frown on her face. “His name is Ace Artisan. We both went to Canterlot University for the Arts. He was my last coltfriend,” she squeaked.

“Ooh.” Whammy’s eyes went wide as her smirk disappeared. “That’s hard. You liked him?”

“Totally,” Loud said, sighing. “We met Freshman year, and it was like love at first sight. We did everything together! Went to movies, listened to the radio, went to all his favorite museums… He was studying to be an architect, so he used to spend hours showing me all of his ideas and sketches. He was always so good at it.” 

As she spoke, the smallest of smiles danced across her lips—only to die within seconds as she muttered, “Then it happened.”

Whammy was on the literal edge of her seat. “What?”

“It was the day before graduation,” Loud said through a gulp. “I was out spending time with my friends, and everything was perfect. Then, without any warning, Ace walks up to me and tells me that we’re breaking up.” Loud crossed her forelegs. “No explanation. I didn’t even see him the next day, at graduation.

“Hay, I almost didn’t go; I spent most of the day crying in my room. But Dad told me he wasn’t paying forty-thousand bits a year for me to miss graduation, so I just went and cried there.” Loud shrank into her seat. “Mom didn’t take a lot of pictures that day.”

“Mhm,” Whammy murmured. She scrunched up her muzzle and tapped her chin a few times before nodding and leaning back in her chair. “Yep. I’ve seen this kinda thing loads of times.”

“You have?”

“Yeah! I saw a movie last week with the same exact story.” Whammy grinned and shot Loud a mischievous glance. “I have the perfect plan.”

Loud returned her smile. “Does it involve me working past my fears and anxieties so that I might reconcile with Ace, and maybe even rekindle a sort of friendship, rather than avoiding him and harboring regrets for the rest of my life?”

Whammy stared.

Loud looked away, cheeks pink. “Motivational speaker.”

“Right.” Whammy shook her head and leaned into Loud’s ear. “Here’s what you’re gonna do…”







It had been nearly half an hour since Ace and Nocturne had left the waiting room, and Ace was sure that he was about to throw up. Never in his life had he seen so much awful interior design—and that was quite the feat, considered he was raised in the Upper East Side of Canterlot, a neighborhood known for gaudy houses and even gaudier furniture. And yet, for fear that he may simply lose his fetlocks, he pressed on, through the valley of radio broadcasting.

It was a good thing he had his flask with him.

The two of them had walked through offices, through cubicles—they had even stepped into a radio studio, at which point the fair citizens of Equestria had been given the chance to hear Nocturne scream a particularly harsh curse word.

Nocturne took quick, jerky steps as they walked down another long hallway. “Oh, we’re never gonna find this filly! I’m never getting this stupid job.”

Ace took another swig from his flask. “It’s just a secretary job, Noc. Nothing to pull your mane out over.”

“I’ll be pulling your mane out in a second,” Nocturne muttered, speeding up a bit as she turned a corner into another hallway. “But seriously, where is—“

Nocturne skidded to a stop, and shot a foreleg out to stop Ace, too. Pursing his lips, Ace followed her gaze.

Loud Mouth was standing a few yards away from them, a saddlebag slung over her back. Her face was concealed by a dim shadow.

“Miss!” Nocturne cried, waving. “Over here! We’d like to talk to you!”

A quiet moment passed. Loud walked toward them.

Ace balanced his flask on a nearby potted plant and put on the warmest smile he could muster. In the time they had been walking, he had practiced this. All he had to do was apologize. Just say that he was sorry, that he was an idiot… the works. They would make up, and everything would be fine. They’d make up, and Nocturne wouldn’t make him sleep on the couch.

It only took a few seconds for Loud to reach them. Her wings were raised high, but her mane drooped over her eyes like a dying willow tree.

“Hey?” Ace tried.

Loud Mouth slapped him.

…Or, at least, tried to. Her trembling, skinny hoof barely made a sound against his cheek. Nocturne stared, jaw slack. Ace just stood there, eyes wide, head tilted slightly.

“That’s for breaking my heart?” Loud yelped, sounding more like she was asking a question than making a statement.

“Hey!” Nocturne sputtered, snapping out of her stupor. “You can’t just slap my coltfriend like that! Only I can slap him like that. And only when he eats all the cookies without telling me.”

Loud gasped and took a few steps back. “Your coltfriend? Goodness, sorry, I didn’t mean—“

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ace said, rubbing his cheek. “I probably deserved that.”

“You did?” Nocturne and Loud asked in unison. Loud had started sweating again.

“Yeah.” Ace took a deep breath and looked into Loud’s eyes. “Listen, Loud. I didn’t come here to embarrass you, or to open old wounds, or even to talk to you for very long, really. I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for what I did, all those years ago.”

“Really?” Loud asked, her frown weakening. “Wow, that’s really—I mean, no!” Loud scrunched up her muzzle and turned away. “I’m not forgiving you, and I don’t accept your apology, because, um…” She reached into her saddlebag with a wing and pulled out a huge stack of index cards before cycling through them, eyes moving faster than rockets. “Uh, just give me a moment here…”

Ace sat down and waited for Loud to find her answer. It was only once Nocturne elbowed him that he realized just how ridiculous the scene was.

“Loud, stop,” Ace said, rubbing his head. “I’ve got something to say.”

Loud was on her third round through the pile. She gulped and put them away.

“Again, I’m sorry for treating you the way I did,” Ace said. “I mean that. When we broke up, I was young, and stupid, and, to be honest, I was kinda jealous.”

“Huh?” Loud frowned and took a step forward. “But you used to be so good at… well, everything! How could you have ever been jealous of me?”

Ace took a deep breath before pointing at Loud’s still-flared wings.

“My…?” Loud blushed and folded her wings. “But why?”

“I’m one of the only earth ponies in a city of unicorns. I’m one of the only earth pony architects in the world. That’s not easy.” Ace shook his head, glaring at the ground. “It’s never been easy. You remember how insecure I used to be about my race. I was always scared that everyone else thought they were better than me, that I was inferior to them somehow.

“And that included you. You were a pegasi, free to roam wherever you wanted, while I was an earth pony, stuck on the ground. Do you know how much it hurt to see you fly away with your friends, off to some cloud that I would never be able to see?” Ace snorted. “That was why I broke up with you. I was so caught up in not having wings, or a horn, that I let my anger get the better of me.”

Ace’s glower softened. “I was so stupid. You never thought you were better than me, and I don’t need anypony else’s opinion to feel better about myself. I get that now.

“So, I’m sorry. Do you forgive me?”

Silence. Loud’s mouth hung. Biting her lip, Loud glanced down at her index cards—from where Nocturne stood, she could see that the topmost one read “DON’T FORGIVE HIM”—only to drop them, letting the cards scatter across the carpet.

Loud leapt forward and pulled Ace into a hug. “Of course I do, Acey.”

Ace hesitated for a moment before returning the gesture. He held Loud close to him, enjoying a special sort of warmth that he hadn’t felt in ages. As she pressed her head into his broad chest, the familiar smell of cinnamon wafted past his nose—

Nocturne cleared her throat.

Ace let go. Loud snapped back, cheeks bright. “Oh, uh,” she stammered, rubbing the back of her neck. “Sorry.”

“Uh-huh. Can we finally get to this job interview?” Nocturne asked. “I swear, I’ve been preparing for this thing for weeks!”

Ace smirked. “It’s still just a secretary job, Noc. It’s nothing—“

“Shut up, Ace.”

Loud frowned at Ace. “You say ‘secretary job’ like it’s a bad thing.”

Ace blinked. “Well, I—“

“Just because a job isn’t extravagant doesn’t mean that it’s not important,” Loud said, taking a place at Nocturne’s side. “We need secretaries! Without them, businesses couldn’t function! No lack of glitz or glamor will change that. As long as you enjoy doing something, it’s worthwhile.” She turned to Nocturne. “Have you had secretary jobs in the past?”

Nocturne was beaming. Turning up her nose, she said, “Yes.”

“And have you enjoyed them?”

“I have,” Nocturne said, shooting a pointed glance at Ace. “And I’m also very good at it.”

“Well, there you go!” Loud said, grinning. “You love doing what you’re doing, and you shouldn’t need anypony else’s opinion to feel better about it.” She winked at Ace. “Right, Acey?”

Ace opened his mouth, but no answer came.

“All those self-help books I used to read paid off,” Loud said to him, stifling a giggle. She walked away, headed to the end of the hallway. “Now, let’s go get you that job!”

Ace watched her go, jaw hanging. Smirking, Nocturne elbowed him. “What’s up with you? Still reeling from getting totally schooled by your ex?”

Ace shook his head. “Just remembering why I fell in love with her—ow!”

As he jumped around, massaging his fetlock, Nocturne rolled her eyes and walked away. “At least I can have that interview now…”







“What do you mean he’s not here?!” Nocturne screamed.

The secretary sitting outside the radio executive’s office took a moment to wipe the spittle off her face before saying, “He left five minutes ago. Perhaps if you hadn’t been nearly an hour late to your interview, you would have seen him.”

Nocturne spun around and shot a burning glare at Ace and Loud, who were sitting a few yards away. Ace threw up his hooves defensively. “Hey, I’m not the one who ran away!”

Loud gave a weak laugh. “Uh, sorry. Again.”

Nocturne kept her glare up for a few seconds before groaning at the ceiling and stalking away, tail dragging along the ground, leaving Loud and Ace to sit alone.

The two of them exchanged a silent glance.

“Do you happen to know who did the interior designing for this place?” Ace asked.

“I dunno,” Loud said, shaking her head. She smiled. “Isn’t it horrible, though?”









Foundations - by Ace Artisan's Author

The stairwell seemed so much larger at night. Loud Mouth was halfway down – only four floors left – but it still felt daunting. Her hooves landed heavily on the steps, and she walked slowly, promising herself that no, really, tomorrow she'd tell Whammy Bar the truth: that she'd let that grey unicorn stallion steal Whammy's necklace without so much as a fight.

But that was for tomorrow – it was already two in the morning. Loud Mouth had run out of ways to distract herself, so she continued the trudge back home to another sleepless night spent fighting the pillow.

She was deep in thought, pondering her the advice from one of her workshops (It's never too late to make things right!), so she didn't notice another set of hooves clacking against the steps a few floors below. However, as soon as Loud Mouth set hoof on the landing for the third floor, she spotted a large stallion with a grey coat at the bottom of the next flight.

"EEK!" Loud Mouth jumped back against the wall and froze, her thoughts racing. It's him! He's back!

The stallion barely reacted. He slowly lifted his head toward Loud Mouth.

As she stared, the icy terror in her stomach was replaced by a warm blush of her cheeks. This stallion's mane was dark blue, not brown, and he didn't have a horn. It wasn't the same pony.

Loud Mouth took a tentative step forward. "I-I'm sorry. You… You startled me."

The stallion was an earth pony, and a large one at that. He wore a light blue collared shirt, but it was a complete mess. It was wrinkled and smeared with dirt, and his coat looked no better. His deep blue mane wasn't combed, either. In fact, he looked like he'd just woken up. He frowned. His eyelids drooped, and the color had drained from his face. The eyes seemed hollow and dull with nothing behind them. Looking into them, Loud Mouth felt a wave of sadness wash over her heart – they were just like her own eyes these days.

"I apologize," he said in a low, raspy baritone, devoid of energy.

"It's…" Loud Mouth took a deep breath (It reduces stress!). "It's alright. I-I just thought you were somepony else."

The stallion didn't respond. Instead, he climbed to the third floor and fished some keys out of his pocket. "Excuse me." Loud Mouth stepped aside, and the stallion sluggishly unlocked the door and trudged in, letting it close lazily behind him.

Loud Mouth stood paralyzed for several minutes. His eyes had bothered her. Nopony should look that way, she thought. Maybe he needs somepony to talk to? Oh, but of course I didn't speak up when I had the chance. You could have finally done some good, Loud, and you blew it. You're such a–

She glanced to her side and saw that the door had caught on the latch.

For just a moment, her heart fluttered. She looked down the stairs and thought about the futility of pretending to sleep. Yes, he certainly needs somepony to talk to. She knew it was an empty gesture, an excuse to distract herself just a little longer, but it was enough. She slipped through the door.

Inside, she found herself in a dimly-lit reception area that smelled of stale air and too much cleaner. A large logo of a building with the words "Build It Higher!" was fastened to the wall. Her eyes adjusted to the dark, and she peeked around a corner to see a soul-crushingly grey cubicle farm. Only one cubicle had its lights on, and from it, she heard a sound like rattling wood.

Loud Mouth walked slowly into the maze of grey offices and called out weakly. "Hello? Sir, are you all right?"

The clacking wood stopped for a moment, then continued. 

"You looked a little rough. Is everything all right?" She stepped around the corner of the cubicle and looked inside.

Blueprints littered the floor. The stallion sat hunched over a low table, and on it was a large wooden crate. Inside were colorful wooden blocks in many sizes and shapes, their paint showing wear from years of use. The stallion was examining the edge of a red rectangle in his hooves, slowly turning it over right in front of his face.

"Sir?"

He set the block down in a neat little row with a few others. His voice was shaky, tired. "Please excuse me, ma'am. I'm… I'm very busy."

Loud Mouth took half a step forward and cocked an eyebrow. She said flatly, "You're… playing with blocks." 

The stallion stopped and sat motionless, fixated on the blocks. He stared at the crate for a long time, then looked at Loud Mouth. After a beat, he looked back at the crate, then back to her. He examined her up and down. 

"Would–" He cleared his throat. Even with his low baritone voice, he still sounded like a foal when he asked, "Would you like to play?"

Loud Mouth paused. He's clearly unstable. 

However, something inside her took pity. She nodded. "Sure." Stepping over the blueprints, she walked to the opposite side of the little table and sat down.

The stallion didn't say anything. He just continued taking individual pieces out of the box, looking them over and separating them, though Loud Mouth couldn't discern what made each row distinct. They seemed to be sorted randomly.

Loud Mouth fidgeted in the silence. "So… what brings you to the office so late, mister…" She glanced around the cubicle, spying a nameplate hanging on the wall. "Mister Artisan?"

He didn't look up. "Call me Ace."

"Sure thing, Ace," she said with some artificial bounce in her voice (Everypony loves positivity!). "You look like you've had a rough day, but maybe I can help. What happened?"

The stallion didn't acknowledge her. He reached into the box and grabbed another rectangle, testing its weight.

"You can talk to me, Ace. Strangers make the best confidants."

Ace's eyes flickered up at Loud Mouth, almost like he was glaring at her. However, he quickly resumed his work.

Her heart skipped a beat at that look – far too much like a certain security guard for comfort – but she maintained her composure. Handle emotional situations delicately. Oh, and remember that proper posture shows respect! 

Loud Mouth sat up straight. "It's a very nice block set. I must admit, though, it's a bit strange to see it in such a professional setting. Not many–"

"My little brother gave them to me after graduation. I'm an architect." He nudged a block slightly to bring it perfectly in line with the others. "They help me think."

"Oh? About what?"

Ace paused, then slowly pushed a few blocks to the center of the table.

Loud Mouth tried to keep eye contact, but the coldness in Ace's expression kept her turned away. Instead, she ignored the tightness in her chest and focused on the blocks.

It seemed foalish to her at first, a grown stallion playing with toys, but the more she watched, the harder it was to look away. Ace's hooves moved slowly, but with great purpose. He set two blocks side-by-side very precisely. They appeared flush, but Ace gave a few quick taps to the block on the right, moving it almost imperceptibly closer to its mate. He then tapped the opposite side twice, and the blocks somehow seemed closer than they had been a moment ago. Loud Mouth blinked a few times – they were perfectly aligned.

She watched as Ace made a large square of red, blue, and yellow blocks with seemingly no gaps between them. His dexterity stunned her, hypnotized her, and she felt herself leaning in more and more as Ace stacked blocks along the outside edge, interlocking like bricks. He chose each block carefully, and soon, he'd made a cube, complete with long blocks to enclose the top.

Loud Mouth nearly complimented his craftsponyship, but Ace quickly reached for more. He methodically built a second cube on top of the first. His structure was two stories tall, and he carefully lined the top with triangular blocks, setting them in place and nudging them with only the slightest disturbance to the base. 

She saw it now: a picture-perfect house. He'd used every block that he'd set aside.

Loud Mouth leaned back. The lamp on Ace's desk shone down on a perfect little wooden home, square in its design and as solid-looking as the building they sat in.

Ace let out a slow breath, leaning back from his hunched position. He cleared his throat again. "I should have added another layer of bricks to the first floor. It would have opened up the entryway. There's some space at the southwest corner as well, too, and that won't do if disaster strikes."

Loud Mouth blinked and shook her head. She craned her neck and examined each of the corners. "What are you talking about? It looks perfect!"

Ace frowned. "It's not good enough."

Cocking her head to the side, Loud Mouth asked, "Why not?"

Ace blinked away a tear. "Because it's not perfect. It's never going to be perfect, and I promised…" He slumped. "I promised Nocturne I'd build her the perfect house."

Oh, dear. I know that look. She spoke softly. "I'm sorry. Is she… all right?"

Ace shrugged. "I suppose. She's… angry, though."

Loud Mouth thought back to the relationship seminar, a well-attended talk she'd given about three weeks prior. What was the advice? 'Relationships take time, and that means time together!' Yes, that's it. Now, make sure he knows you empathize.  She nodded and put on a showy, plastic frown. "Ah, I've seen this before. Too much time at the office, maybe?"

Ace looked up for a moment, the hint of scowl on his face. "I was out late tonight." Under his breath, he mumbled "again" before continuing. "Something important came up at work, and I had to help a friend. Or… she had to help me, rather." He brushed some of the dried mud off of his shirt. "Loam helped me straighten out my priorities, and I felt terrible, so I rushed home to tell Nocturne how much I appreciate her, but when I got there…" He trailed off.

He's opening up. Well done, Loud. "It's okay. Go on."

"She was… sobbing." Ace's lip quivered, and his voice cracked. "I-I never wanted to make her sad. And then I tried to tell her, but she said I was making excuses again, and I told her I'd fix it, but she just kept crying." His words came out faster and faster. "And then everything gets hazy and she's shouting and I'm shouting and telling her that I love her and she's shouting that she loves me but she doesn't feel like she's worth anything to me and she says–" Ace swallowed and blinked rapidly. He said, more slowly, "She says she wants to take a break, and she leaves with a small bag of her things." He looked down at the house of blocks. "And it's because I'm not good enough."

Loud Mouth felt a swelling in her chest and only a small pang of guilt at her internal glee. Finally, she'd be able to help somepony. She could make a positive difference.

She took a deep breath. First, mirror his feelings. "It sounds like you really care about her, and you're afraid that this little break might turn into something bigger." Don't forget to ask questions. "Is that right?"

Ace's expression twisted into something like a weak snarl. "Yeah."

Open-ended questions. Keep him talking. "What would you like to happen?"

Ace sighed, still looking at his creation. "I want to be with her, and I want her to be happy with me." He half-chuckled. "And I want to keep my promise and build her the perfect house. Home. The perfect home."

Loud Mouth put on her warmest smile and nodded slowly. "That would be very nice." Now, connect it back to what's important. "And what do you think Nocturne wants?"

Ace pursed his lips, and his tone got a touch sharper. "She wants to feel supported. Nocturne has a career to think about, too – she's a singer at the Conservatory, and I've only ever missed one of her shows."

Ah, now we're getting to the root of it. "And why did you miss it?"

"Work." Ace glared, and Loud Mouth felt a chill in her heart. She shrunk back, and something ate at her insides. Ace was giving off some kind of vibe, something she didn't like.

Never get angry when you're listening. "Well, then I can understand her frustration, but you know, everypony makes mistakes. In time, I'm sure she'll understand that."

"That's the thing, though." His voice had gotten softer, and he traced little circles on the table with his hoof. "I'm not entirely convinced it was a mistake." His shoulders sank. "At least, I didn't think so at the time. We both know how important this project is for me, for us." He moved his hoof to a corner of the house. "But I let that get in the way of what was important. I don't deserve her." 

With a flick of his hoof, he knocked away a corner block.  It slid over to Loud Mouth's side of the table with a hollow scratching noise. Loud Mouth snapped her attention to the block house, but it remained solid.

She frowned. Don't think like that, Ace. It only makes your life miserable. I would know. She forced herself to smile and look up at him. "Ace, we both know that isn't true." She didn't, but her training and experience told her that this was what ponies needed to hear. "You sound very devoted, both to your work and your marefriend. You just need to prioritize." She fished around in her mind for something to lighten the mood. "Unless you really want to marry your work!"

Ace rolled his eyes.

Everypony loves a good laugh! She giggled with a little, "Hm-hm!"

Ace ignored her. "There's more. Her friends…" His hoof moved toward the northeast corner of the house.

Loud Mouth started to reach out a hoof to stop him, but she hesitated.

"Nocturne's got so many friends. She says they like me, but I'm… They always seem uncomfortable when I'm around, like I'm a pariah. Like I'm…" His eyes flickered up to his forehead, then back to the table. His body sagged. "Like I'm not really one of them." He flicked away another block, which tipped off the edge of the table and knocked against the floor.

The house had shifted slightly. Loud Mouth could see a few spaces between the blocks.

She cleared her throat, and nodded. "I know what you mean. It can be tough to fit in. I'm certainly not the prettiest mare around, and I'm too gangly, and things haven't always gone my way, but it doesn't get me down."

Liar. She shook off that thought and tried to replace it. Remember, relate your advice to something they can– 

"Oh!"

Ace's head snapped up, and his drooping eyes shot open. "What?"

Loud Mouth smiled wide. "It's like your house!" She pointed down to it. "You've built a strong foundation, and look! It's survived some pretty big blunders. You just need to repair it, and it will be good as new." 

Perfect! Loud Mouth smiled from ear to ear.

Ace's eyes narrowed, and he spoke with hardly any inflexion. "Yes, I am aware that it's a metaphor. Why do you think I'm finding it so cathartic to take apart?"

Loud Mouth felt a lump in her throat that made it difficult to speak, and her smile quickly faded. "Uh, well… still…"

Ace's voice was even, if a little rough. "I'm not an idiot, and I would thank you not to talk down to me so much."

He doesn't understand. These techniques really work! She leaned forward with a hoof on the table. "Ace, I'm sorry if I've offended, but you really should listen to what I'm saying. I've got lots of experience helping ponies." 

Well, trying to help. 

When Loud Mouth didn't get a response, she said, "Let's start over. I don't think I've even introduced myself. My name is–"

"Loud Mouth."

She sat bolt upright, eyes wide. "O-oh! I'm sorry, I guess I must have forgotten that I'd… already told you?" The conversation replayed in her head, but she couldn't remember doing so.

"You didn't."

"Silly me, then." Loud Mouth looked down at her body. "Did I leave my nametag on myself again or–"

Ace spoke in rapid, clipped words. "You're a public speaker. You give talks in the auditorium downstairs. Three weeks ago, you spoke about mending relationships."

His tone didn't register, or perhaps it did and she refused to acknowledge it. In either case, she allowed herself a glimmer of joy as she imagined Ace and Nocturne leaving her seminar hoof in hoof. "Oh! Did it help?"

Maintaining eye contact, Ace reached over to his left, and knocked away the third cornerstone.

It took a moment to sink in, but when it did, Loud Mouth felt herself collapse. Her muscles went slack, and her head hung low.

"Heh-heh," Ace chuckled bitterly. "See? Cathartic."

The office was quiet, save for the buzz of the desk lamp and Loud Mouth's increasingly heavy breathing. 

She tried to recall some piece of advice that could save the day, but her thoughts kept looping over and over. This was foolish. I'm a failure, and I've never really helped anypony. I just take up space and make things worse. I'm a failure.

Loud Mouth tried to speak, but only a squeak came out.

Ace mumbled something.

Loud Mouth managed to look up for a moment to see Ace blushing, his head turned away. "I said I apologize. That was unnecessarily cruel."

There was a long, uncomfortable beat, one that Loud Mouth felt she had to break. "It's all right," she whispered. I deserved it.

She waited. She wanted him to say that it was okay, that he was wrong and that she'd really been able to help him. She held her breath.

Ace didn't respond.

Loud Mouth, with creased brows and desperation in her voice, leaned forward. "But… it was at least a little helpful, right?"

Ace flicked his tail. "I'm sorry, but no."

"N-not even a little?"

Ace chewed on his tongue for a moment. "I know you mean well, and I can't imagine your work is easy, but we spent a lot of bits to hear rehashed platitudes and clichés. It was clear to me, at least, that your heart wasn't in it, like you were just parroting advice you'd rehearsed a thousand times."

Loud Mouth tried to will herself out of existence. She went rapidly over her most recent speeches: the relationship seminar, the time management course, and even this very conversation. Her eyes stung. "I'm… I'm sorry."

Ace continued, a slight edge to his voice. "I told Nocturne I didn't think it had been worth it, and she got angry. She thought I didn't care enough about our relationship to at least try to fix it, but everything you told us was, frankly, tired advice."

In any relationship, both parties need to talk and listen. Her thoughts were automatic, but she felt grateful that she couldn't bring herself to vocalize them. Grateful, and sad.

Ace snorted, looking like a guard on his third consecutive shift. "Look, you've clearly had a bad day as well, and I'm sorry, but I'm no therapist." He roughly ran a hoof through his mane. "Trust me, there are ti–"

As he set his hoof down, he knocked the table. The house wobbled for a moment, then clattered down into a multicolored pile with very little ceremony.

A moment later, Ace's forehead met the tabletop with a thud, and after a groan, he mumbled into his chest, "Yeah, it's always the little things."

With Ace's eyes off of her, Loud Mouth felt safe enough to wipe a tear from her eye. "I'm… I'm sorry that my seminar was no good."

Ace brought his head away from his chest and rested his chin on the table. He looked at the pile of blocks, but his eyes didn't focus. They still looked cold and lifeless.

"I-I wish there were something I could do to help, but I…"

Ace stared at her with his dead eyes. He grumbled, "I said I'm not your therapist."

Loud Mouth felt cold. "No," she said mechanically. "No, I suppose not. I'm…" She stood up and looked around, quickly mumbling, "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

Ace sighed. "It's alright. Sorry for being such an ass. It's… been a bad day."

Loud Mouth took one last look at the blueprints scattered around her. She felt empty. This was the time that the advice she'd memorized was supposed to matter most, but try as she might, she couldn't recall anything. What do you say when your words don't mean anything?

She settled on, "I hope things get better." It would have to do.

"Thank you."

As she turned to leave, her eyes fell on a blueprint on the floor. Much like the block house, it was elegantly designed and looked very solid. 

She didn't know why – maybe she didn't care, maybe she still wanted to make it right, or maybe she was just being honest – but the words fell out of her mouth. "I'm sure you don't want to hear anything else from me – heck, I wouldn't – but for what it's worth, I think you're a great architect."

With his chin still on the table, Ace raised an eyebrow. 

"It's sad to see one of your structures collapse, yes, but… well, you can always rebuild it."

Ace sat up, though his head still hung low. "Maybe, but… It wouldn't be the same."

Loud Mouth blinked a few times, then shrugged. "No, no it wouldn't, but maybe you can make it better this time." She looked over to a picture on his desk: Ace in a tuxedo, smiling next to a purple unicorn mare in a lovely black dress. "Maybe you can make it perfect."

Ace's eyes opened a little wider, and just for a moment, she saw a small glimmer within.

It was enough. Loud Mouth, stepping over the papers on the floor, said a quiet, "Good night, Ace, and good luck." 

Loud Mouth walked out of the cubicle. She made her way to the reception area, and she yawned. No, she didn't know if she'd sleep that night or be able to tell Whammy Bar the truth in the morning, but for a moment, she didn't feel quite as bad. 

As she lifted a hoof to the exit, she paused. A small, tired smile spread across her face as she heard the faraway sound of wooden building blocks gently knocking together.
> Redwood vs. Evergreen - Winner: Evergreen (by Default)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Maniac Morass - by Evergreen's Author

"So, this is a bit of a bad sitch, eh?"

Redwood looked over her shoulder at the green pegasus strapped to her back. The motion made the ropes binding them squeeze tighter against her chest. "That’s an apt description, yeah."

The both of them swayed as Evergreen squirmed. “Well, any ideas?” she said.

“I’m working on it,” she said, chewing her lower lip. “Let’s just hope they don’t decide to drop us in the meantime.”

“Yah, and in the meantime, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“How’d we manage to mess this one up so bad?”

Redwood glanced upward; a long rope, attached to the coils keeping them in place, extended up to one of the lower-hanging boughs above, where it made use of a crook in the branch as a makeshift pulley. It was barely visible, given how dark it was in the clearing. The stars overhead barely shone above the thick canopy, and the moon was hanging somewhere near the horizon, obscured by the tangled branches of the surrounding trees. The only source of light was the great bonfire below, and even that barely reached up to their position dangling from the tree.

Still, it was enough to see the bubbling cauldron directly beneath them, and the ring of ominous, cloaked figures circling it.

"I’ve been asking that myself this whole time."





“Agent Redwood?” The mare stuck out a hoof. “Sergeant Evergreen, Royal Equestrian Rangers. How ya doin’?”

Redwood extended her own russet hoof, meeting hers in a firm shake. “Quite well, Sergeant.”

“It’s not often we get one of you Canterlot types up in this neck of the woods. Didn’t think our message would get answered so quick.”

“Well, the EIA aims to please.”

Which wasn't exactly true. The Equestrian Intelligence Agency had pegged this area of the backwoods as a potential hotbed for criminal activity, given its remoteness, but it was hardly high on the priority list. In fact, it was pretty much at the bottom. Were she not a green field agent, she might have considered the assignment an insult.

No need to let her know any of that, though.

“So, Sergeant, I understand you’ve been having some troubles with… What was it? Taps being stolen from?”

Evergreen bobbed her head. “Oh yah. Folks all up and down the foothills have been finding the buckets stolen right from under their maple trees.”

“Such a nefarious crime,” Redwood deadpanned.

“You betcha,” said Evergreen, her brow furrowed. “And it only gets worse. Come on, I’ll show you what the lab boys have found."

She raised an eyebrow. “You have a lab here?”

“Of course,” Evergreen said, leading her through a nearby door. “What, didja think we were too small-time for that?”

Redwood cast her gaze around the Ranger station, with its thick log walls, its high, vaulted ceiling, and the red-coated figures milling across its musty oak floors. In terms of floorspace, it was not much bigger than the average Canterlot office, and seemed to be straining to keep even its small clientele contained. “No, not at all.”

Smaller still was the sterile room Evergreen led her to, and inside was a pale blue unicorn and a kettle over which he currently seemed to be obsessing.

“Perry?” said Evergreen. “Got somepony for ya to meet. This here’s Agent Redwood, our EIA liaison.”

He looked over at her, adjusting his spectacles. “Oh, hallo. Periwinkle’s the name. Pleased to meetcha, ma’am.”

“Likewise.” She peered at the kettle. “I assume this is what I'm out here for?”

“Oh yah,” he said. “This stuff may just be the biggest offense against nature I've ever encountered.”

Redwood cocked her head at the... slop resting in the kettle. To her, it looked like... “Oil? Is that what it is?”

“If only.” Periwinkle took up a long, metal rod, and dipped it into the mix. The liquid inside squelched and stuck to it, seeming to climb up its length as he drove it in deeper. He gave it a tug, but it barely budged. “This is a monstrous adhesive.”

She peered closer at the bubbling mass, and immediately regretted it. “That's something nasty, all right. Where did it come from?”

“From those taps I mentioned,” said Evergreen.

Redwood rounded on her. “Wait, you're telling me this stuff is… maple syrup?”

“Smell it.”

She inched a reluctant nostril over the kettle, and sniffed. Sure enough, it carried the unmistakable sweet scent. “You've got to be kidding me.”

“Wish we were, Ma’am,” Periwinkle said. “And whoever’s behind this has got some dark designs for it, too.”

Evergreen nodded. “We’ve been finding patches of the stuff in the woods. A family of moose got caught in one a few weeks back, and we had to shave their fur to get the stuff out. And it seems like the spots are getting closer and closer to Vanhoover.”

“In my forensic opinion,” Periwinkle continued, “all of this indicates somepony is testing their methods before launching a major attack.”

Redwood blinked. “So, let me get this straight. Somepony’s stealing maple syrup in order to weaponize it with the end goal of covering the landscape in slimy, sticky goop?”

Evergreen nodded. “That’s aboot it, yah.”

Redwood looked between the two, finding the same, quiet fury on their faces. Slowly, carefully, she adopted one of her own. “How… nefarious!” she cried.

“Oh, you betcha!” they said simultaneously.

Redwood sighed.





“Sucidus, diffusilis, oblimat. Sucidus, diffusilis, oblimat. Sucidus, diffusilis, oblimat...”

“So, they’re chanting now,” said Evergreen.

“Yep,” said Redwood.

“Chanting’s usually a bad sign.”

“Yep.”

“Any idea what they’re saying?”

“Nope.”

“Then that’s really bad.”

“Mmhmm.”

Why they’d only just decided to strike up a chorus, she hadn’t the foggiest. Maybe it was all a ploy to sabotage her thought processes; it was certainly doing a good job of that.

“So, I don't know aboot you,” said Evergreen, “but having to shave all of my fur off isn't seeming like the best end to this story.”

“No, it isn't to me, either.”

There was a silence, such as it was. The pair swayed in the slight breeze.

“Ya know, I really am sorry aboot all of this.”

Redwood craned her neck again. “Sorry for what?”

“Getting us caught. Thinking I was sneakier than I really am.”

A bitter frown settled over Redwood’s features. “No, it’s my fault. I bit off way more than either of us could chew here. The least I could’ve done is whistle for some backup.”

“So could I.” She chuckled. “Guess we’re both a couple of hosers, eh?”

“I have no idea what that word means.”

“Well, you see, it’s a—”

A figure emerged from the shadows of the clearing. It wore a brightly-embroidered cloak of shimmering lavender. Coming to a halt, and raising its hooded head high, it struck out a foreleg and cried in a thunderous voice, “Silence!”





If there was one thing to be said about the wilds of the Unicorn Range, it’s that they were very pretty.

Pine trees as tall as the towers of Canterlot surrounded them, casting the forest floor into deep shadow, save a few golden shafts of light. Patches of green ferns flourished beneath them, the air thick and close with the sweet odors of leaves and sap. Everything seemed quieter in here, as though it was shut off from the outside world.

That was precisely why they’d picked this particular part of the woods, in fact. After poring over various maps, marking the locations of purloined taps, and cross-referencing them with the locations of the gunk attacks, Redwood had started seeing a pattern. Combined with Evergreen’s on-the-ground knowledge of the terrain, they’d narrowed things down to just a few potential hiding spots, buried in the thickest parts of the woods. Places one could hike easily enough, and be hidden from aerial view.

“So,” said Evergreen, “sorry if it’s too personal, but can I ask aboot the brace?”

She glanced back at the metal frame and quietly creaking springs attached to her back right leg. “It’s not a big deal. Got it caught in a carriage wheel when I was young.”

“Ouch. Really?”

“No. It’s actually from my days in the Guard. Fought a couple of minotaurs, and one of them speared his horn clean through my leg.”

“You’re pulling my leg on that one.”

“You’re right. The truth is, it’s classified.”

Evergreen stared at her. Redwood hid her grin by stepping out in front of her. There weren’t a whole lot of benefits to being in the EIA, but being gleefully cryptic was one of them.

“How much farther are we?” she said.

Evergreen shook herself. “Another mile or so. In fact…” She came to a halt, and started undoing the buttons of her scarlet uniform.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m not aboot to waltz into the site of an illegal sap-scumming operation wearing this.” Folding her jacket into a crisp square, she doffed her campaign hat and set them both at the base of a nearby tree. “There we go. Now I’ve got my all-natural camouflage, eh?”

Redwood looked her up and down. She certainly did blend well with the surrounding greens. “But how are you going to find the uniform again?”

“Easy,” she gave a cheeky grin. “I just remember I left it under an evergreen.”

Redwood was just about to point out that they were all evergreens, but stopped herself from walking into that verbal trap. “Okay, then,” she said, continuing onward.

“You might do well to give yourself some camouflage, too. You stick out like a timberwolf among squirrels.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“You sure? With that brace of yours clicking with every step, you need all the help you can get.”

She smirked. “What’s life without a bit of risk?”

“Suit yourself. Me, I’ll stick with what I know. And what I know is how to move unseen and unheard through the—”

Both of them came to a halt. In front of them stood several figures in green cloaks. The shadows of their hoods stared at them implacably. With a start, she realized there were more of them to their right and to their left.

“Uh… Hi there,” she said. “We were just leav—”

Both her words and her consciousness cut off as one of them struck her over the head.





Like a bank of fog descending on the surroundings, quiet settled into the clearing. Quiet, save for one still-chanting voice.

“Oi, Fudge Sucker!” The lavender-cloaked figure doffed its hood, revealing a brown-coated stallion of middling age and shifty eyes. “When I say ‘silence’ it means be silent!” 

The voice shut up. For just a moment. “Sorry, Jack.”

“Address me by my proper title when I reprimand you!”

“Sorry, Grand Sludgemancer Flapjack, Supercilious Spreader of the Supreme Slime.” He bowed his head until his hood brushed the ground. “Please, forgive me.”

Flapjack huffed. “Honestly, it’s like you don’t even know how this whole cult business works! Anyway!” He threw a hoof out to his side, causing his cloak to flap in a reasonably sinister fashion. “We’re here to venerate His coming, so we’d better get down to the whole sacrifice business, eh?”

The cultists murmured an assent.

“Okay, then.” He turned his attention to Evergreen and Redwood. “Well, ladies, sorry for all of this, but it’s time we sacrificed you to our lord and master, okay?”

Redwood opened and closed her mouth a few times. “Uh… can you not?”

“Nope.” He blinked. “I mean, nope, we can’t not do that. See, we went to a lot of trouble here. You know how many buckets of sap it took to fill that big pot?”

“You buncha hosers!” snarled Evergreen. “Stealing all of that, just to waste it like this?!”

“Hey now, Sister Savory Leaf worked right hard on that brew.” He pointed to one of the cultists, who gave a merry wave. “You know how many ponies would’ve thought to mix sap and twelve different glues together like that? I sure wouldn’t.”

Redwood slid back into the conversation. “Now, look, Mr. Flapjack—”

“Sludgemancer!”

“Right, sorry.” She rolled her eyes. “Sludgemancer Flapjack, I’m really sorry my friend and I wandered in on your little party here, but is this really any way to treat some random passers-by?”

“Maybe if we were one of those lesser, nicer cults. But we’re in the super-secret sect kind of business, here. I mean, we’ve got cloaks and everything!” He held up a hoof-ful of his cloak to demonstrate.

“Okay. I get that you need to maintain your confidentiality, but surely you can let it slide just once? I mean, think of the infamy you’d stand to gain by letting us go to spread some horror stories?”

“Appreciate the offer, Miss, but we’re covered there. In fact, all of Equestria will soon be covered. For you see, our Lord’s coming has been foretold in ancient prophecies from generations past!” He reared up, spreading his forelegs wide. “Yes, and as prophesied, the Smooze has returned to spread His great goopiness across the land!”

Distantly, Redwood realized her jaw had been hanging slack for the past fifteen seconds. She finally found her voice. “Really?”

“Really what?”

“The Smooze? The big blob thing that showed up at the Grand Galloping Gala this year?”

“Yes! His mucus is made manifest! The world shall be sundered beneath His goopy mass!”

“Uh… You know that whole situation got resolved, right? The Smooze was taken care of.”

“Nonsense! Nothing can stop the Smooze!”

Had her hooves been free, she’d have brought one to her forehead. “Except it was stop—okay. Yeah. His gunkiness is great and grand and… grandiose. I can see that now. Say we were interested in joining up? I mean, you could at least give us a chance, right?”

“What?” hissed Evergreen. “Joining up with these sap-stealing sons of—”

Redwood jerked her shoulder back, cutting her off. “Come on, think of how much easier it’d be to spread this wondrous gunk if you had a couple of pegasi among your ranks? Wouldn’t that venerate His Most... Omnipotent Ooze?”

Flapjack raised a hoof to his chin. “Well, I can’t fault you for inflection. It sure seems like you’re passionate about the Lord Smooze. You’d have to go through our vetting process first, though. We start with a basic background check, see if you’ve got any previous cult experience, stuff like that. From there, we’ll have to test your slime skillset. It’s a standardized thing, only fifty questions.”

“You really sure about this, Sludgemancer?”

“About what, Brother Fudge Sucker?”

“Do we even want to give them a shot? I dunno if they really love the Smooze or not.”

“Now look, we’re all equal in the eyes of the Lord. That means we give the benefit of the doubt, right?”

“I’m just sayin’, there’s our image to consider, is all.”

“Okay, apparently we need to talk this over. Cult huddle!”

As one, the cultists shifted to one side of the bonfire, reforming into a new, tighter ring around Flapjack. Their discussion quickly turned into a maelstrom of goo-centered terms which all sounded highly technical in nature.

Redwood shifted her shoulders, giving Evergreen a slight nudge. “Okay, while they’re distracted,” she whispered. “Ideas?”

There was a pause, and more fidgeting. “I’ve got plenty, but I need a bit of slack to make any of ‘em work.”

“I can help with that.” Redwood tucked her wings in close, and quietly exhaled. The ropes sagged, creaking as they cinched up close to her throat.

Evergreen gasped, startled by the sudden shift. “What’d you just do?”

“Rule one of being tied up. Flex your muscles and inflate your chest. Give them something big to wrap the ropes around. Then you can shrink at your leisure.”

“Well, it certainly worked. I can move my forelegs again. Give me a second.”

Redwood felt herself swaying back and forth as Evergreen shifted her limbs around. She tilted her head back, keeping her chin from slipping any further. Casting her eyes and ears around, it seemed the cultists were still in heated debate over the intricacies of cult membership, and how exactly to verify one’s proclaimed love for tree sap.

“Got anything?” she whispered back to Evergreen.

“Feels like they tied us up with a big ol’ granny knot. Amateurs.”

“Can you untie it?”

“Yeah. It’ll come apart easy enough if I can get the right leverage…” She paused. “Your leg brace.”

“What?”

“Can you reach your leg brace up to me? I might be able to use the springs to force the knots.”

She fidgeted a bit, and drew her back right leg up as high as it would go. “There’s a strap just above my fetlock, and one on the hock. Just unclip those, and it should come loose.”

“Gotcha. Buy me as much time as you can, and as soon as I’m set, I’ll give you a signal.”

“Make it quick. I think they’re wrapping up.”

The cultists were indeed exchanging a series of nods. Flapjack took a step forward, placing himself in front of the group. “We’ve come to a decision.” He looked around at his compatriots. “Right? Everypony’s happy?” Hoods bobbed in response. “Yes, we’ve come to a decision.”

“Great! So, you’ll let us join the cult?”

“Nah, we’ve decided to just sacrifice you anyway.”

“What? Why?”

He shrugged. “Because according to the Book of Gunk, Chapter 36, line 27, ‘The Smooze doesn’t let anything get in the way of a good sliming.’ If we’re going to be serious about this whole business, we need to follow that example.”

Sweat trickled down her back. “But, surely there’s more sliming to be had with more members?”

“We thought about that, but I’m afraid we can’t spare the expense. I mean, you know how hard it is to find new robes out here in the woods? They don’t grow on trees!”

“But, what if we did it without the robes?”

“Can’t be in a super-secret cult without proper robes.” He frowned. “Sorry, but this is aboot the only way we can venerate the Smooze and keep our little cult secret, and we’re all feeling pretty good about this arrangement. It’s a win-win.”

Redwood felt a rapid tapping at her back. Checkmate. “I can’t say I agree, Mr. Flapjack.”

“I told you, my full title is—”

“There’s got to be a loser if there’s a winner.” She grinned. “And I love winning.”

Evergreen needed no further prompt. With a click, a sproing, and the tearing of rope, their bindings all but burst asunder. Redwood felt her stomach do a somersault, and she spread her wings on instinct, feeling the free air rushing through her feathers. She guided her descent, landing on the rim of the cauldron, and Evergreen touched down beside her.

They shared a glance and a nod, and with one final, predatory look at the shocked faces of the cultists, pushed off with all their might.

Groaning, the cauldron tipped off of the bonfire. Its contents spilled over the burning logs, dousing the flames in a hissing cloud of steam and smoke. The torrent poured outward like a sticky tsunami, engulfing the cultists one after another. Hooves adhered to the grass, tails and robes became matted into the syrupy mass. Flapjack managed to trip and stick the side of his face to the ground; the remaining cultists pulled in vain, the goo stretching and sucking their hooves to the ground.

Redwood and Evergreen slowly fluttered down, hovering just above the overturned cauldron. They surveyed the struggling cultists like a pair of foals overlooking a destroyed anthill. 

Evergreen glanced at her. “You want to say it or should I?”

She shrugged. “Technically, the EIA doesn’t have the authority.”

“Well, all right, then.” Taking a deep breath, she barked, “Royal Equestrian Rangers! You’re all under arrest!”





The dawn was just creeping over the horizon as the last of the cultists—a rather incensed Flapjack—was finally dug out of the ground and hauled to a waiting chariot like a transplanted sapling. The whole clearing swarmed with red-clad ponies, some hauling away pieces of syrupy evidence, others with shovels digging up the gooey grass.

Redwood watched it all from the edge of the clearing. Not quite out of sight, but far enough removed to be out of the minds of everypony present—just how an agent like her ought to be. It wouldn’t do to step on the hooves of the pony in charge, anyway.

Evergreen was taking a moment to converse with the pegasi hitched to the chariot. She was back in her uniform, and looking properly official as she talked. There was an exchange of nods, and a grin or two, and then the vehicle took to the sky. With one last word to another of the assembled Rangers, she floated over to Redwood and alighted in front of her. She took a moment to doff her hat and wipe her brow. 

“Well, we’re just about done here. Lucky for us, the stuff doesn’t seep too deep into the ground, so hopefully it won’t do the woods any lasting harm.”

Redwood nodded, a slight smile creeping onto her face. “Good to hear. I’d hate to end on a bad note.”

“How’s your leg?”

She shifted her back right hoof. Of course, her brace had been lost in the rush of slime. “It’ll be fine, just so long as I keep the weight off of it until I get back to the capital.”

“So, that’s next for ya? Back to Canterlot?”

“Yeah. This case is going to cause quite a stir at headquarters, I think.”

“The good kind, I hope. I’ll make sure to include you and your assistance in the arrest report.”

Redwood wiped her face of emotion and deadpanned, “No. By protocol, the EIA will deny any involvement in this whole affair. If you ever breathe a word of it, we’ll have you tried for treason.”

Evergreen took a step back. “Really?”

“No.” Her grin exploded back onto her face. “Please, use all the glowing adjectives you can. I need every bit of help looking good for my supervisor.”

Evergreen smiled wide and white. She tipped her hat. “You betcha. I’m sure I can find a few nice things to say.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

“Oh, I think we’re past titles, eh?” She held out a hoof. “You ever need help in this neck of the woods again, just ask.”

Redwood took her hoof and gave it a firm shake. “Always nice to have a friend in the field.”

She nodded, a quirky smile on her face. “Friends in the field. Evergreen and Redwood. It’s like—”

“Like two trees swaying in the same breeze?”

Evergreen laughed. “Well, if you want to be corny about it, yah.”
> Firefly vs. Mild Manners
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Artifact - by Firefly's Author

Whirligig was the very emponiment of her name: a blue-coated pegasus filly with a red-and-white striped mane, unwilling – perhaps unable – to be still. She was making it very hard for Firefly to teach her anything. His ears and limbs hung limply as he hovered in the sky, waiting to get a word in between Whirligig's aerobatics. Why me?! He sighed.

He’d asked Rainbow Dash that very question when informed that she had selected him to tutor the newest addition to Ponyville’s weather brigade. He'd flicked an ear. “You do recall complaining about how lame my flight skills are, don't you?”

“Aw, don’t be that way, Fly!” she'd replied. The dreaded nickname made him wince.

She draped a foreleg over his slender orange withers. “Besides, the kid’s already a topnotch flyer.” She gave him her best Trust me, I know what I’m doing look. “No, what she needs is to learn the local topology, its affect on weather handling, the prevailing winds and precipitation corridors, danger areas, and hazardous wildlife. You know, that kind of stuff. In that department, you’re second only to yours truly!”

He’d been too stunned at the offhoof compliment to do anything other than stutter incoherently.

And so here I am, trying to pin down the shortest attention span in Equestria! He sighed again as Whirligig maneuvered three clouds into a huge fluffy sandwich.

At the end of his patience, Firefly rubbed the pendant on his chest. The engraved unicorn head glowed golden. So did Whirligig, all six limbs flailing as she was suddenly immobilized mid-flight, hanging upside down.

Firefly approached with a few gentle flaps.

“Are you going to stay still for a minute, or do I have to keep the brakes on?”

Whirligig glared at him. “How did you do that?! You’re not a unicorn!”

“Oh, hey, you are paying attention,” he deadpanned. He pushed a cloud under the filly, landed on it, and released the spell. She fell gracefully next to him and eyed his neck-piece suspiciously.

“That thing glowed, and then I was like, furniture or something!” She stared in awe at the amulet. “Say! You’re the flying magician! The others told me about you!”

“Is that all they said?”

She laughed. “They said a bunch of other things! But I only remember the magic part.” She chewed her lip. “Oh, and that it was eally naïve for your parents to name you Firefly.”

He rolled his eyes. “Well maybe they had good reason!”

She bent close to the pendant. “So this thing lets you do magic. Where’d you get it?” She sat on her haunches, looking up expectantly.

Omigosh! She’s sitting still! Careful to avoid any sudden motions, he sat down. “A friend at Canterlot University made it for me.” He smiled as he recalled meeting the quiet, brilliant unicorn in the tweed jacket.







Firefly stood in the Canterlot University library, in a section strictly reserved for ponies authorized to study advanced thaumaturgy. He had two documents in-hoof, both from Princess Twilight: a royal decree granting him access to the section, and a map showing where to find certain books. In his saddlebag were additional documents she had given him: a list of Canterlot attractions;  guided tour brochures; a request for two dozen donuts from a place called Pony Joe’s; and a detailed itinerary that let him do all of the above with entire minutes to spare before boarding the last train back to Ponyville.

Following the map, he discovering an imposing shelf of dusty tomes. A cream-coated unicorn stallion approached, wearing a tie and tweed jacket. They traded glances uncertainly. In his experience, many unicorns found it odd for a pegasus to be so interested in magic. He nodded and turned his attention back to the books.

He reached out to grab the one the princess had recommended: Dynamics and Applications of Mana Storage Systems. Pulling it from the shelf, he pivoted and went to find a reading table. Hooves clip-clopped behind him as the unicorn followed close behind. 

Uh, oh! Bogie on my six!

“I say, sir!” called the unicorn.

Firefly stopped short and turned slowly. Unexpectedly, the stallion was smiling.

“My own specialty is power dynamics for enchantments and spell amplification,” he said enthusiastically. “Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

A volunteer! Creepy, but still, a volunteer! He nodded. “Perhaps you could at that, mister...” He offered a hoof in greeting.

“Oh! Forgive my impropriety! I so rarely find anypony else interested in mana storage that I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Mild Manners, but do call me Manny. I’m a graduate student at the university. It is indeed a pleasure to meet you!” Blushing, he grasped Firefly’s hoof with his own.

“Name’s Firefly. I’m part of Ponyville's weather brigade. I'm doing personal research on autonomous magical devices.” He glanced down at the book. “Er, Princess Twilight Sparkle recommended I read this.”

The unicorn did a double-take. “I suspect there’s a story behind all this!” He gestured to some doors lining the wall. “Shall we take one of the study rooms?”





During the next two hours Mild Manners taught Firefly more about mana storage than he had learned in months of self-study. It certainly helped having somepony to answer questions. Finally out of things to say, the scholar sat down primly opposite the pegasus. 

Firefly grinned. “You know, Manny, this reminds me of when I was in college.”

The unicorn’s eyebrows rose. “You’re the same age as I am, and your math skills are way above those of most ponies, certainly beyond what one would expect is needed for weather duty. Why didn’t you continue your studies?”

Firefly’s ears drooped. “I had... family issues, so I left Cloudsdale and college.”

Manny’s own ears dipped in sympathy. “I understand about family problems. I’m the third – and quite superfluous – foal of a rather well connected family.” His hoof swept the library. “This is my refuge, and academia my destiny. Here perhaps, I can do something worthwhile to improve the lot of my fellow ponies.” He blushed and laughed as if caught boasting.

“Your ambition does you credit, Manny.” Making a sudden decision, he flipped open his saddlebag. “I have something I want to show you.” He pulled out a notebook. “I have a few ideas on making a more general purpose magical enablement device.”

Mild Manners paged through the notebook. His eyes grew bigger and his heart beat faster with every page. “A command interpretation matrix! With a self-reconfiguring thaumatic sequencer! A massive mana store! This...” words failed him.

“I call it the Thaumatical Engine,” said Firefly. “If we can build it...” he started.

“... anypony could cast spells...” continued Manny.

“... as if they were unicorns!” finished Firefly.

The unicorn stared down at the final diagram in the notebook. Awe and desire charged his academic soul.

“Count me in!”







Firefly was describing the local topology as Whirligig sat in attention, when a shadow passed over them. With the speed of reflex he bucked the filly off the cloud, propulsing himself in the opposite direction.

“Hey! Whadidja do that for?” she spat, ears back and head low as she hovered a short distance away.

“Manticore!” shouted Firefly. “Sometimes they leave the Everfree Forest to hunt, and they'll happily munch on a lone pony. Keep your eyes peeled!”

“A manticore?” The filly's muzzle split into a grin. “I've seen them at the zoo, but I'd love to see one up close!”

“Trust me, you don't want to!” replied Firefly. “The protocol is to stick with your wingpony, back-to-back. They won't attack groups.” He turned and scanned the many clouds dotting the skies. Too many places for a predator to hide! By the time he turned his head back for a glance, Whirligig was gone.







Mild Manners shook with excitement. He spread the blueprint onto the table in his trendy, yet modestly furnished, flat as Firefly looked over his shoulder. “The design is brilliant! Where did you get the idea to use the pattern interpreter loop from a weaving spell as a way to sequence magical commands? And using binary logic for decision making?”

“Oh, the weaving spell was from a seminar Princess Twilight gave on applied enchantments in industry. The logic gates came from looking at how the glow-bulb switches in my apartment work.” Firefly grinned. “None of this is new, I just put together a bunch of things that aren’t usually combined into a single spell matrix.”

The unicorn looked the pegasus in the eye. “You know, a classically trained mage would have never thought of doing things this way. Most unicorns don't see beyond the more mundane applications of magic.”

Firefly nodded. “Maybe that’s why Princess Twilight is the only pony in Ponyville who shows any enthusiasm for discussing my ideas.”

Manny raised an eyebrow. “Were it otherwise, you might never have come to the university library, and I wouldn’t have been able to propose these few modest improvements to your design!”

“Improvements!?” Firefly bent over the document. “What's that small tubular shape attached to the mana core?”

“That's a Bevelmeiter tube. It will allow the core to tap directly into any pony’s ley lines!”

Firefly’s jaw dropped. “You mean, with this tube I could power spells...”

“... using your own pegasus mana field, yes! Goodbye bulky mana stores!” the unicorn smiled.







Firefly panicked. There was a manticore about and Whirligig was missing. He flew straight up to gain altitude and perspective. Unfortunately, the many clouds in the area obscured his line of sight in almost every direction.

Ten minutes of futile scanning later, he had calmed sufficiently for his brain to re-engage. If she had fallen you would have seen it, he told himself. And Dash did say she was an ace flyer, so she probably would be safe if she kept her distance.

His pulse began to accelerate again. But she said she wanted to see a manticore up close!

Absentmindedly, his hoof brushed his pendant. That's it! He looked down at the amulet. Locator spell! Focus on what you want to find. Whirligig and the manticore. He closed his eyes and concentrated as he rubbed the pendant. When he opened his eyes three bright sparks flashed in the distance below him. One was smaller and two much larger. There's more than one manticore! His pulse raced as he dropped into a power dive.







Firefly focused his thoughts, and mentally reached for the Bevelmeiter tube. Inside the pendant that housed it, he felt the device engage his ley lines. There was a buzzing in his bones that extended into his wings and all the way to the tips of his feathers. He touched the apparatus to activate it and visualized the spell.

Mild Manners had made major improvements to the design, now small enough to fit into a large amulet. He had been working furiously day and night for much of the past week to complete it. His apartment was a mess, and his normally impeccable starched collar was stained and bent out of shape. He grinned as the amulet came to life on Firefly’s chest.

It flashed golden. A feather Firefly had plucked from his own wing levitated into the air in front of him and hung suspended in a golden halo of magic.

“Hurrah! It works! You did it!” Manny pounded Firefly on the back.

The pegasus stopped focusing on the spell, feeling it dissipate as the connection to his mana field cut. The feather wafted down to the tabletop. He smiled. “Yeah. It does.” He wiped a fetlock across his eyes, his vision blurred. “We did it,” he added with a sniff.

Manny looked at him. “You know this could change everything.”

Firefly nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Uh-hunh.” He’d barely whispered the words when the world started to spin and he blacked out.







Whirligig spun incredibly intricate patterns, always just out of reach of the two manticores. Firefly might even have called it beautiful, if his stomach hadn't been trying to escape his body via his throat.

He only noticed how tightly packed the clouds had become when he was in the thick of them. You have to separate the manticores before they manage to corner her.

“Over here!” he shouted, waved his forehooves, and flew in loops. The predators ignored him.

Then the inevitable happened. One of the beasts clipped Whirligig with a massive wing. The filly dropped onto a cloud in a tiny heap. One manticore descended to deliver the coup-de-grace. The other turned around to face Firefly.

He fought the overpowering urge to flee. You've no alternatives, and no more time!

He focused his thoughts, and rubbed the amulet. It glowed golden.

The wings of the manticore facing him were crushed flat against its sides. It began to plummet. Firefly watched it until it fell out of sight, breathing hard. The edges of his sight had started showing veins of black. He relaxed his magical focus, shook his head, and flew towards the filly and the remaining beast.







Mild Manners had placed Firefly in his own bed when he had fainted. For the umpteenth time, he mentally went over what could have gone wrong. It's all my fault! His thoughts looped and his gut clenched tight. A sound drew his attention.

“I have... the most horrible migraine,” whispered Firefly. His eyes opened a sliver. “Where am I?”

“My bedroom. You passed out.” There was a knock at the door. Manny felt his gut slightly unclench. There was only one pony expected. “Please come in, Your Majesty.”

Princess Twilight entered, concern showing on her face. “I left Ponyville as soon as your messenger arrived. It's good to see you awake, Firefly.”

“Thank You, Your Majesty.” When he tried to rise to bow she put a hoof on his chest. “You'd better just stay in bed. Consider that a Royal Decree!”

Firefly lay back down. “So. Does anypony have an idea what happened to me?”

The princess nodded. “I've had the flight here to think about it, and I have a theory. It has to do with brain plasticity and how unicorn foals grow into their magic abilities. It usually takes them many years to master the use of their mana fields. The Bevelmeiter tube connects your pegasus mana field directly to a part of your brain never before exposed to such power. It's likely your brain will develop the neural pathways to control this, but just like with a unicorn foal, it might take a while, years even. Would you allow me to scan you?”

“Certainly!” Firefly agreed.

She closed her eyes and her horn field reached out to encompass Firefly's head, then his entire body. It lasted just a moment. Then the princess opened her eyes and smiled.

“It appears there’s no permanent damage.” Her expression grew serious. “However, there are signs of weakness in certain ley lines, as swell as slight swelling in your brain's corpus arcanum. I suggest you lay off the amulet for a few days, then start small, only progressively increasing the complexity and energy requirements of your spells, so your brain can adjust naturally.”

Mild Manners felt a major weight depart his withers. Still, the dread he'd felt in the last few hours lingered. “What would happen to him if he overdid it, Your Majesty?”

Princess Twilight frowned. “He could irreparably disrupt his ley lines, and maybe damage his corpus arcanum. If that happened he could be rendered totally magicless. That includes permanently losing his pegasus abilities!”

Mild Manners locked gazes with his friend lying on the bed. “From now on, you only use the amulet under supervision, just in case. Agreed?”

Firefly nodded hesitantly. “Okay, for now.”

The unicorn smiled, but the knot in his belly wasn't entirely gone. He'd have to keep a close eye on his friend.







The compression spell didn't work well on the cloud's surface. The manticore was way too physically powerful when he had a surface against which to brace his legs. Inexorably, he drew closer to Whirligig. Firefly staggered, trying to keep the spell going. He made it past the monster and slumped down next to the filly. Unconscious, she bled heavily from a slash across her side and flank. A wing hung at an awkward angle.

There was a sour taste in his mouth as Firefly realized he wouldn't be able to carry her and fight off the manticore at the same time. The beast huffed as it laboriously approached.

Desperate, he looked around to see if anypony had noticed their predicament. He felt a stab of hope as a winged shape banked in from behind a nearby cloud. His heart dropped. Too big! The other manticore is back!

The realization hit. We're not both coming out of this alive. He looked down at the young mare. My responsibility.

He dropped the magic field constraining the first manticore, and placed a hoof on Whirligig's back. This will kill me, he had time to think, before brushing the amulet on his chest with his other hoof and focusing his thoughts on the spell.

Warily, the manticores approached.

Firefly pushed.

The filly disappeared beneath his hoof. He had time to smile before the universe spun and he dropped into dark oblivion.







Flowers... disinfectant... 

Firefly’s awareness slowly expanded, one sense at a time. His entire body felt numb. A loud buzzing filled his ears. As it slowly faded, thoughts came in to fill the void.

The... hospital? How did I get...

Memories returned. Mantincores! There was a fight! And a last frantic effort to save...  

The filly!

The image of Whirligig bleeding out on that cloud pushed all other thoughts away. Tears pooled then leaked from his eyes, laying damp tracks down the sides of his head. He fought to open his eyes. Finally, he succeeded.

Mild Manners stared down at him, haggard and concerned.

“Firefly? Firefly! Can you hear me!?”

Firefly’s nod sent waves of pain through his head. “The filly,” he croaked.

Manny swallowed. “It’s been three days, Firefly. The doctors are still working on her. She’ll live, but she was grievously hurt. There were internal injuries, and she might not fly again.” He sighed. “But, if you hadn’t teleported her straight to the hospital she’d be filling a grave.”

More tears traced their slow way down his cheeks.

A vision of teeth and claws flashed through his mind. “How am I still alive?” he whispered. “I thought I was manticore lunch for sure.”

The unicorn cracked a crooked smile. “Rainbow Dash caught you plummeting to earth. To hear her account, you were out like a light and weighed half a ton!”

“I... don’t understand. I passed out practically in their clutches.”

“I can explain that part,” said a familiar voice. Princess Twilight walked into the room looking somber. “I’m so glad to see you’re finally awake, Firefly!” She tried her best to look fierce. “If anypony in this room tries to bow they'll get latrine duty at the castle for a month!”

The corners of Firefly’s lips turned up ever so slightly.

“When you teleported Whirligig you burnt out the amulet and completely drained your mana field from the bottom of your hooves to the tips of your wings. You had nothing left.”

“I’m not following...?”

“What happens when a non-pegasus pony tries to stand on a cloud?”

“He sinks right through it.” Manny answered for him.

“That’s why Rainbow Dash found you dropping like a stone underneath the clouds,” added the princess. “It was as if you weren’t a pegasus anymore. Thank goodness she was looking for you!”

Not a pegasus anymore? A cold feeling spreading through Firefly's chest.

“Yeah. I owe her big time.” Not a pegasus...

“Firefly,” said Princess Twilight gravely, “you can never use a Bevelmeiter device again. Doing so will likely result in irreversible brain damage.”

Her expression softened. “But I can see that your ley lines are already healing. You should soon regain your pegasus abilities.”

The cold knot in his chest melted. I can still fly! He was amazed to realize how important that was. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The princess nodded to them both. “I have duties to attend to. I’ll check with you later.” With that, she turned and left the room.

“I'm sorry to have put you through all of that,” Firefly said to Manny. “I’ve been selfish.”

“No you haven’t. Firefly, we did this together! And you have been a good friend. Nothing changes that.”

Firefly smiled sadly. “We did have fun building it.” He sighed. “Too bad it's over.”

The unicorn arched an eyebrow. “What do you mean, over?” His horn glowed and a large square device with straps dangling from its corners floated out of a saddlebag propped against the wall. “Meet the Mild-Fire Industries Personal Caster. This thing is going to revolutionize magic for all ponies.” He grinned. “It doesn't use Bevelmeiter tubes, and it could use an experienced beta-tester.”

Firefly’s vision blurred. It took him a moment to compose himself. Finally, his face lit up and he grinned ear-to-ear.

“Count me in!”









The Forest Festival - by Mild Manners' Author

The first words out of my mother’s mouth that day were, “Make sure you’re on your best behaviour, Mild.” 

We were on the train when she said it, about halfway to Ponyville. The last hour or so had been spent in near-total silence, save for the sounds of my father smoking as he stared out the window at the passing countryside. 

I looked up from my textbook, stared at my mother, and went, “I’m sorry?”

“This festival is really very important to us, darling,” Mother said. She sniffed once, frowned, and reached for a pre-emptive handkerchief. “Especially to your father. We’d rather appreciate it if you didn’t… didn’t..” She sneezed, rather elegantly, into her handkerchief. “Oh, confound this cold.”

It wasn’t a cold, I wanted to remind her. It was hay fever. She’s the only earth pony I’ve ever met who has hay fever. Needless to say, it wasn’t something she liked to talk about.

So I didn’t mention it. “I’m twenty years old, Mother.”

She gave me a look. “And?”

I sighed internally. “Nothing. I’ll be on my best behaviour, Mother.”

“Good.” She looked at me a tad more warmly this time, and I even thought she was going to ruffle my hair or pinch my cheeks or something, but she just walked over to my Father and began to speak with him, just quietly enough that I couldn’t hear the words.

I glared down at my book, closed the cover, and dropped it onto the floor next to my bed. I stretched out on the mattress and felt like punching something. Doing so would probably end up costing my parents a lot of money – we were in a private carriage, reserved for the occasional noble customer, and it was far from cheap. It was exactly like my parents’ home, which probably explains why they insisted on hiring it despite it being kind of against the spirit of the whole “being in touch with our humble roots” ordeal.

When I was much younger, on my first trip down to Ponyville for the Forest Festival, I’d tried to complain to my father that I didn’t want to go. That I’d rather stay in Canterlot and play with all my friends there.

Father just said, “Sometimes family is more important than friends.” I don’t think I ever really understood what he had meant by that. My friends were, well, friendly. My family was just… there. I told him that, if family was so important, he’d let me stay in Canterlot. I don’t really remember what happened then. Perhaps he just ignored me. Moving out as soon as I was able was one of the most refreshing moments of my life, in any case.

Whatever. I asked my parents how long it would take until we were there.

“An hour,” Father intoned, before plugging his pipe back between his teeth. Mother was humming a little song to herself and rubbing her husband’s withers. Lost in their own little world.

I was wondering if I should attempt a conversation, but I felt, rather bizarrely, as if that would be intruding on something. So I turned over, away from the light, and tried to sleep.





The Forest Festival is an earth pony tradition which nopony knows who, or what, actually started, but has existed for as long as anypony can remember. Many scholars make the rather reasonable assumption that earth ponies brought it with them all the way back when they helped found Equestria. 

It’s a very simple affair, which some ponies might say is quite befitting of an earth pony festival: singing, dancing, drinking, and more drinking, often outdoors and amongst Mother Nature, naturally.

Really, I had nothing wrong with the idea on paper. I mean, I enjoy a nice party as much as anypony else. But it’s different when you’re there in person, in a way I can’t really put my hoof on.

Anyway, we arrived into Ponyville station precisely one hour after I took my nap. My parents gathered their luggage and we stepped out onto the platform. It wasn’t long before somepony noticed us waiting.

That somepony happened to be wearing a crown. “Excuse me, sir,” Princess Twilight said as she approached us, with an infectious smile. “Are you Sir Temper, from Canterlot?”

Father nodded brusquely. “Yes,  your Highness.” He gestured to us. “My family and I are here for the Forest Festival.” 

Princess Twilight nodded excitedly. “Yes, of course.” She caught Mother staring at her with open surprise. “I’m, um, sorry if I surprised you, ma’am. Applejack asked me to help organise the Festival this year, as a favor. And how could I say no?” She laughed, kind of nervously. “So, shall I help you with your accommodation?”

Father tilted his head at her, not unkindly. Mother beat him to the punch: “Oh, no, your Highness! We wouldn’t like to take up your precious time, after all.” 

Princess Twilight waved a hoof. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. This is my job, after all. Please, just follow me.”

Mother hummed happily to herself. “Hmm, well, if you insist.” 

“I think I’ll go explore Ponyville first, actually,” I said. I didn’t really want to listen to Mother trying to butter up the princess for the next half hour or so. “It was an honour to finally meet you in person, your Highness.” I bowed as best as I could without looking silly. 

Mother looked almost disapproving, for a moment, before she gave my words some actual thought. “Good idea, Mild. You’re old enough to look after yourself, after all!” she said, smiling at Princess Twilight all the while.

I turned to leave, but Princess Twilight stopped me with an, “Oh, Mild Manners, is it? You go to Canterlot University, right?”

I looked back at her, again, trying not to look stupid. “Oh. Um, yes, I do. Why do you ask, your Highness?”

She smiled. She seemed almost conspiratorial. “The castle library is open to the public. My assistant Spike is looking after it while I’m organising the festival. I think you should go there if you’re looking for something to do.”

I smiled. My final exams were right around the corner. She knew. “Thank you, Princess,” I said, and I meant it.





About a year ago, after Tirek’s brief reign of terror, somepony mentioned Princess Twilight’s new palace to me, and I didn’t believe them – a crystal castle, just growing out of the ground? It sounded like some enormous exaggeration, or a joke, or any one of the endless stories that ponies like to produce about the youngest princess. But then I started seeing pictures of it in newspapers, and later in photographs taken by waves of tourists, all of which seemed to only confirm the rumours.

Today marked the first time I’d seen it with my own eyes. And it was… really impressive. If a bit garish. It was a sunny day, which only made the massive crystalline structure difficult to look at without hurting your eyes.

The doors were wide open in welcome, with a few ponies standing around outside, taking pictures or chatting with one another. Most of them were earth ponies – they were probably in the same boat as me, or at least a similar one. Canterlot didn’t really have much of an earth pony tradition, while Ponyville was literally founded on it. 

A few of the ponies outside seemed to come to the same conclusion about me, and smiled my way as I walked past. It was strange. I mean, I’ve lived in Canterlot all my life, and that’s a unicorn city – being an earth pony had precisely no impact on my social life, but at the same time there was never this implied feeling of… solidarity, that only ever seemed to occur here. Maybe there wasn’t, and I’m just imagining things, but it certainly felt that way.

The castle library was, thankfully, a tiny bit more subdued in design than the exterior. Despite being relatively new, the room was clearly well lived-in – amidst near piles of books, you could see used coffee mugs, paintings of Ponyville hanging lovingly from the walls, and slight soot-stains in the empty hearth. 

I wandered between the shelves for a long while, just kind of thinking. Honestly, my upcoming exams were far from my mind right then. The library was weirdly hypnotic – it was pleasantly quiet, with the distant sounds of rustling pages and the ticking of a grandfather clock. It didn’t have that same feeling of sheer age that many of the archives of Canterlot shared, but it was infinitely more homely. 

After about… I don’t know, maybe half an hour or so of aimless wandering, I found a little seating area, tucked away into a corner of the library, with a table and some comfy looking chairs. That’s where I met this particular pegasus. It was really hard to ignore him – his orange coat and flaming mane were almost garish, or at least noticeable enough to snap me back to the real world. He was currently curled over his book. I couldn’t see the title. 

I wondered if I should bother interrupting him. Absorbed would be a good way to describe him – his wings were flat against his side and his eyes were open wide, as if they were trying to optically consume as many words as possible. I think it was both that and his appearance that made him stand out to me, in the end.

“Hello?” I whispered. The pegasus’s ear twitched, and he peered up at me, blinking rapidly, as if he’d just woken up from a nap. “Hey. I was just wondering what you were reading.” I pointed with a hoof at his book, which, when I got closer, seemed to be pretty huge, like an old textbook.

He blinked at me. Then he smiled, albeit hesitantly. “Oh, it’s uh…” He stood the book up, so I could read the title: ‘A Brief History of Magic’. “Just some light reading.”

I raised an eyebrow at the thick tome. “Heh. Sure.” I slid into the seat next to him. “So, you’re interested in magic?” I propped up my head on my hoof, inviting him to speak. Small talk tended to be a good way to pass the time, and, if nothing else, there was some stuff I wanted to ask about.

He blinked at me again, his eyes flicking up to my forehead for a moment. “Oh, um, I guess I am.” He shook his head. “Sorry, I just need to ask… you’re from Canterlot, right?”

I blinked, looked down at myself. I was wearing a jacket, as most ponies I knew were wont to do, and a very fine one at that – cut to my size, in fact. “I am, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Miss Twilight mentioned to somepony that ponies would be coming from Canterlot today, for the Festival.” He shrugged, and looked somewhat bashful. “I, uh, actually thought you would be unicorns. But I guess that doesn’t really make sense, does it, considering you’re probably coming here for the Forest Festival….”

I frowned. “Are you… disappointed, that I’m not a unicorn?”

He looked surprised, and shook his head rapidly. “No, no, nothing like that! I just... Miss Twilight told me stuff about Canterlot before, and apparently it has a stronger unicorn heritage than Ponyville has an earth pony one. I wanted to ask a few questions, is all.” He rubbed the back of his head. “I’m a bit of a magic buff, see. I just think the whole thing is fascinating.”

“Well, I know plenty of unicorns, and I go to Canterlot University.” I felt my chest push itself out a bit. “My name is Mild Manners, pleasure to meet you. So, what did you want to ask?”

He tilted his head and looked uncertain. “I’m Firefly. Are you… sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to take up your time, if you’re here for the Festival.” He scratched at his chin, then, and fired out another question before I could get another word in. “But why?”

“Why what?”

“Why come here?” He looked genuinely confused. “Ponyville’s an earth pony town, historically, but surely it’s a long way to come for what I’ve always thought was a national celebration.”

I blinked at that. “Well, Canterlot has plenty of earth ponies, but they’re not really… it’s just not a big thing back home.” Though it did make me wonder. I think Mother would much prefer it if there was something a bit closer to home, but then, Father likes to stick to traditions. 

Firefly gave me a confused look. I snapped back with, “I could ask the same of you, you know. Pegasi stay in Cloudsdale, historically. Why are you living in an earth pony place?”

Firefly shrugged. “We all have places where we belong. I’m a pegasus living groundside. You’re an earth pony who lives among the Canterlot nobility. Maybe it isn’t the norm, but I don’t see why it shouldn’t be, y’know?”

I blinked. I hadn’t even intended to get into this discussion, but I found myself lost in thought. I didn’t like my family. Sure, I loved them – they were still family, after all – but there’s a reason why I was so reluctant to get on that train ride – Canterlot politics doesn’t infect ponies with the same simple optimism that seems to pour out of everypony in Ponyville. Quite the opposite. Even then, I couldn’t picture any of us living here, away from Canterlot and high society, even if we would be away from it all.

I didn’t really know what to think. I glanced at the clock, realised that the Festival was starting soon, and left Firefly to his books.





The Forest Festival went by in a strange blur. The Apple family, the hosts of the event, invited the numerous guests into a rolling meadow, which had fire pits, a stage, numerous stalls selling snacks and drinks, and an enormous tree standing tall atop a small hill, which had been decorated with ribbon and filigree.

There was a speech or two, I think. They were short, and they probably talked about earth ponies being great, and I’ve forgotten what words were said. I was mostly just watching my parents out of the corner of my eye. Mother, despite her sneezing, seemed at least somewhat content. Father, though, just stood silently, his expression unreadable.

I tried to distract myself, for a while. I joined in on the dancing, and drinking, and I played games, but in the end, I found myself wandering over to the fire pit where Father sat, drinking cider and speaking on occasion.

I sat next to him, holding my own mug. “Hey.”

He raised an eyebrow at me, sipped at his drink, and asked, “What is it?”

I just shrugged. “Nothing, really. Just saying hi.”

He nodded. We sat there, quietly, and we drank. Talking was an easy thing for me – I was good at. I think my father is as well – he’d have to be – but most of the time he just chooses to be silent.

The question burned inside my chest. “Father?” I said. 

He looked at me.

“Why do we always come here?” I gestured to the party going on around us. The sun had just set, but the fires burned brightly enough to light up the night. “Every year?”

He tilted his head. “Did the idea that I might just enjoy this Festival not occur you?”

“Well, I mean.” I waved a hoof. “I get that, but if you enjoyed celebrations, you could just… make your own. Canterlotians held plenty of parties.” I should know. University life had its benefits. 

He looked down at his cider. “This one is special,” was all he told me. I think I knew why.

I put a hoof on his shoulder. “Did you used to live here?”

He glanced at me. “Hmm?”

“You told me once that family was important. I didn’t get it at the time, but this is family to you isn’t it?” I sipped at my cider. “More than just us. More than just me.”

We lapsed into silence, for a time.

Then, “Mild.”

“Yes?”

“I know how you feel.”

“About what?”

“About us. I was the same, once. I wanted to strike out. I wanted to be me. My own father and I grew distant, eventually. I moved to Canterlot, eventually. The rest is history.” He sighed. “But I forgot myself. I woke up to it eventually. You wanted to be your own pony, so I let you be that, even if it meant parting ways.” He rubbed his chin. “Nowadays, I just keep coming back to this, and I keep dragging you along with me. Maybe so you can understand.”

“There’s always a place where we belong, you know,” I said. “Maybe at heart, you’re no Canterlotian, just like I’m no Ponyvillian.”

He looked at me, then. “Perhaps,” he said.

The rest of the night? We just sat, and sipped our cider, and watched the fireworks, and thought.
> Tidy Till vs. Falcata - Winner: Falcata (by DQ)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Struck-Through - by Tidy Till's Author

Finally! Those two mares have been an irritation for sure, but...ahh, yes, that's over now. 

Waiting for them to part ways after I engineered their meeting was definitely the wrong choice. Stubborn mares never left one another's side! I had to work in a way for both of them to meet with the ponies from the next branch of the bracket, but it was worth it. 

They met, they fought, they all had dinner and got to know one another, and then she took him home. Now, I can just get rid of all of them while the winner's back is turned and move on to cleaning up the last branch! 

Wow, I've lost a lot of time. I'll have to move all four of them into an encounter together with her, now. Shouldn't be too much of a hassle with how similar two of them already are. After this, though, no more idling. The only ones making it past tonight are the winners.

No exceptions.

I just have to tend to these first.



Dawn Gleam
Merry Weather
Tidy Till
Bibidi Boo



So long!



Dawn Gleam



Goodbye!



Merry Weather



And good...



*Tidy Till



...riddance?

Huh.

Out of ink.

Heh. Heh-heh. Ooooh-heeheeheehee!

I guess I'll just have to go and get some more.

I'll just set this little thing in motion for the next round and drop him in right...here! Perfect!

Those events will practically work themselves to my desired conflict on their own, leaving me to give this little loose end...

...my personal sendoff!

YAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!

Let the games begin!





There was darkness all around me, and I tumbled without reason. Formless shapes shifted about in all directions...

...my entire left side felt fuzzy. Then...

“TIDY!”

“Gah!”

...suddenly, floor.

I twitched for a few seconds, then, with some difficulty, I shook myself awake...

“Get it together, Tidy! Tight Shift needs you at the Front End, pronto!”

Only to become even more confused.

The red-orange pegasus mare frowned down on my prone form. Her messy, blond bangs bobbed as she heaved in and out, and her Rich's Barnyard Bargains uniform looked slightly rumpled from a recent hurried run. However, that wasn't the confusing bit.

“Rollback? Ugh, why're you...?”

“Lemme guess: you thought you had more time to nap on your lunch. Well, time's up. I don't care how much longer you've been working here than me. Tight's not gonna overlook you being half an hour coming back! Now get up!”

Defeated, I obeyed. She was right, and I was the one who was supposed to be training her, not the other way around.

We trotted up the aisles to the front in focused silence, and it wasn't long before I had taken my place at register #8. I settled into a comfortable stance and gave my register's conveyor belt a test crank with my magic just to be sure. As I flicked my sign around to show that I was open, I realized my head still felt a little foggy.

A stimulating shake later, which I felt from tip to tail, I tried to purge the last of my sleepiness from my system.

“Wow, I feel woozy. What day is it?”

Over on #6, Rollback stepped forward.

“Tidy. No. Don't even joke like that. Nightmare Night's already bad enough.”

That woke me up!

I looked to my right and finally noticed the time of day.

Or, should I say...night.

“What the...?!”





The main thoroughfare of Ponyville was decked out in full Nightmare Night spectacle. Spooky decorations, festive game booths, myriad costumed ponies, the whole shebang. The stage in front of Town Hall was a buzz of activity, as the pony in charge of delivering the Legend of Nightmare Moon to kickoff the event prepared her entrance. Naturally, all the town's little Fright-or-Biters were lined up front and center to enjoy the show.

Occupying a bench a fair distance from the edge of the crowd were two mares. One a gold-coated pegasus whose silvery mane and tail were buttoned down into a bun and a braid respectively and the other a reddish-purple earth pony whose beige mane was cropped short with a bobtail to match, the two looked on as the foreign celebration kicked off.

They sat in companionable silence, neither having much to comment on the sight before them...

...that is, until the storyteller took the stage.

A series of small explosions released a blackened mist that hovered low, adding atmosphere, as a silhouette slowly materialized. The first, most immediately recognizable feature was a tall, pointed conical hat. Then the mare stepped forth from the obscuring smoke, showing off the dark blue, pumpkin-patterned cloak covering her deep violet coat; a tall, dark blue hat to match; and a black river of a mane that hid the upper half of her face and flowed down on either side of her muzzle.

The dark mare's horn lit up a bright amber as the legend came to life in her illusory floating images.

It was a few lines into the Mare of Ceremony's tale that the pegasus leaned forward and squinted, having finally found her voice.

“No...no, I must be dreaming.”

“What's going on, Kitty?”

Falcata, or “Kitty” according to her friend, let out a well used groan.

“Lucy. You know how I feel about that name.”

Loosestrife, otherwise known as “Lucy”, just chuckled and countered with a scoff.

“The day I stop calling you “Kitty” is the day the Witch of the Everfree rises from her accursed grave. Also, you'd have to stop calling me “Lucy” first, and we both know how likely that I- Whoa!”

Loosestrife suddenly found herself hooked around the shoulders by Falcata's good foreleg and tossed behind a nearby bush. She was joined shortly afterward by her scowling aggressor.

“So it is to be a duel, is it?! Come at me! You will see the full worth of my tribe brought to bear! I shall-”

“Loosestrife! Stay your hoof...lower your volume...and take a long, hard look at that mare on the stage.”

Loosestrife's mouth flew shut in an instant, and she quickly and silently righted herself and obeyed.

It wasn't long before her eyes began to widen.

“No...it can't be.”

“Despite our best efforts, it appears to be so. I don't know how she escaped that cave, but knowing her...and seeing this mare...”

“...around foals, no less!”

“Indeed. I don't dare doubt for a minute that she could've survived, even this far into the future from our time.”

“Neither do I. My old team never fully discovered the true extent of her capabilities. Nevertheless, this sort of unnatural longevity does certainly fit to my memory of her.”

Falcata nodded.

For a time, the two watched the familiar dark mare's performance intently, studying her actions. Falcata unconsciously squeezed the stump of old left foreleg.

“So, Strategist, what's the plan?”

Loosestrife smiled.

“Separate her from the foals, take her down, capture her, bring her to the regal authorities of this land, and politely insist that she be given her due for her crimes. However, none of that will be possible without a certain measure of stealth.”

“THERE YOU ARE!”

The two scheming mares jumped straight up from the shock, Falcata's wings affording her slightly more hang time than her co-conspirator. They turned to face the unexpected interruption, only to find a unicorn in a very loud, very pink, blocky costume.

“There's my two favorite time-tossed titans! Happy Nightmare Night! I see you're enjoying the opening ceremony! Why you're watching from behind a bush is beyond me, though. I mean, it's almost like you're- OH MY GOSH!”

Her second outburst caught Loosestrife and Falcata, as well as her own piebald-coated earth pony shopping buddy off-guard. Though that was probably more due to her horn sparking off a neon blue burst of aimless magic than from just her sudden rise in tone.

The mare's Shocking Pink Joy Boy Hoof-Held Gaming System™ costume squeaked and rattled about, not lending its owner any subtlety as she dashed a few paces forward and gawked at the dark unicorn conducting the ceremony. It was at that moment, as the black and orange image of Nightmare Moon dived into the crowd, that the mare running the show leaped up and began floating in the air in a grand display of magic to cap off the legend.

“WOW! Minnie, did you see that! This is way better than last year, and that zebra was no slouch! And I just love her costume! She's really got the 'Evil-But-Not-Really-Evil Witch' motif nailed down! I wonder what she'll think of mine!”

With a flick of her muted pink magic, the grayish unicorn flipped a sliding switch on the left shoulder of her garish costume, and a screen on her chest lit up with a two-toned green tint. After a few seconds, a lively tune trickled out of a speaker on her right shoulder.

“It even plays 'Tetrominix'!”

There was a beat of time where the only sounds to be heard were the ones from the over-excited unicorn's costume. It was ended by the sound of Minnie's facehoof and a single copper-toned ring.

Minnie was decked out in blue-collared cowbell. the source of the ring, and a novelty cow-horned hairband. She stomped her hoof back to the ground and voiced her opinion.

“Caps Lock, I'm sure she's quite busy being the Nightmare Night Legend Giver for tonight. If you run up to her now, musical as you are, you'll just break the atmosphere of the holiday for the foals. I'm sure she'll be here later on tonight.”

Falcata took the opportunity presented her to drop an unsavory bombshell.

“Minnie, there's a possibility that those foals might not be.”

“WHAT?!”

Caps Lock's costume let out a sorrowful sound.

“Falcata, this isn't funny! This is not the way to play a joke, or...or a prank or anything lighthearted of that nature! I've known you for a few months now, and you've always been terrible at it, and...”

Minnie froze for a fraction of a second before slowly gasping as her blue eyes shrank to the size of pinpricks.

“...and you truly believe this is going to happen, don't you? That those foals are in danger?”

Falcata nodded.

Minnie nodded back, albeit more slowly.

She then stepped over to Caps Lock and put a hoof on the bulky costume's left shoulder, turning off the game sounds before turning back around to face her friend.

“What can we do to help?”





I shouldn't be here.

I may not know what my true Special Talent is yet, but I know for sure it isn't this.

It's a fact that I've been acutely aware of for a long time.

It's a feeling that never goes away, a sense of wrongness that follows me every day I'm building a talent that isn't my own Special Talent.

It's incredibly stressful, feeling utterly wrong every minute of the work day and not reflecting that emotion to my customers.

Even more so, to prevent them from seeing my stress, managing said stress, and still provide to them the best customer service experience of their day, Celestia knows how I've not been reduced to a quivering wreck after these eight years.

Just about the only thing that's made it possible is a skill I've had to develop and constantly rely on throughout my time here.

Retention.

Product Codes, Customer names and faces, conversations, Clock In and Clock Out times; I've had to keep it all locked up inside my head. I've had to be ready to rattle off anything at a moment's notice with a smile on my face.

“Hey, Tidy! What's the code for cucumbers?”



Ho there! 4 a sight's divine!
Bibidi spies an 0-ty line!
You! Cashier! I've 6-ed your shelves!
Now, these pumpkins won't 2 themselves!



And then things like this happen.

“It's '4062', Rollback.”

I know for a fact that I've never met anypony named “Bibidi” or heard any of that conversation before, but there it is, mingling with my other memories.

I'm just glad that was an easy one.

“Hey, Tidy! How about beets?”

Horseapples.



What is this look upon 4 face?! Am I...not welcome in this place?
M-MM! Delicious~! Oh, yes 5-deed! I believe I have found...all I need!
Oh! You're up! Good 3-ing, there. I've had just enough time to prepare!
You've been a great help to me, more 9 you know, so since I've had my dinner.....IT'S TIME FOR THE SHOW!!



Well, whoever she was, she's a whiz with a rhyme.

“That's '4539'.”

“Thanks!”

“No prob'.”

Though, I admit, her voice isn't bad to listen to. Whoever this was, she sure styled herself as a total ham, but in a good way.

I kinda wish I could see her again. That is, if she's really not just in my head.

But I can't leave here now. I've got a job to do.

“Hey, Tidy! Granny Smith!”

“Where?”

“Gotcha! Haha! I mean the fruit, silly! What's the code?”



I've been belligerent, vile and sore; against your sanity I waged war.
I pondered what would bring you tears after I spied the first of your fears.
In line, I gave you much to endure, to draw out all your terrors pure.
But in my haste I failed to see. What frightened you was not just me, but what I then did represent. All this, to you, I now repent.



A-

“Tidy?”

Is that?

“Hello~! Equestria to Tidy Till!”

Who was she?

“Tidy, what's going on?”

Where is she now?

“Tidy, I need that code! I don't remember it!”

Was she really real? And if so, did something happen between us?

“You know what? Fine! Don't help me! I'll just look it up on my own! Thanks for nothing!”

Nothing?

No, that can't be it. Something happened.

Something definitely happened for her to have said that.

“Uh, sir?”

But what? What am I missing?

“Sir, could you please ring up my pumpkins?”

Pumpkins?



...pumpkins?
“BOO!!”



“Whoa!”

In an instant, my back was on the floor once again.

That moment happened after I clocked out for Nightmare Night!

But it's still Nightmare Night.

But I'm still scheduled to continue working.

But I already clocked out!

…

I gazed around me at the stunned faces. All of them looking in my direction, as if I were some madpony. I realized in that moment, that I didn't recognize any of their faces.

Not a one.

They're all strangers.

I suddenly realized that no amount of internal monologue could do this justice. 

“What am I doing here!?”

This feels wrong!

I shouldn't be here!

Without another word, I turned and galloped away from my register!

“TIDY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!?!”

A not-so-jolly green giant of an earth pony stallion, clad in a navy suit, white undershirt and yellow tie, blocked my path to the exit.

“That's my thought exactly, Mr. Tight Shift, Sir!”

I quickly dislodged one of the large panes of glass that made up the long front window of the store, pulled it in front of me, and plopped it down right in my Supervisor's path.

He balked, and I jumped out the window!

Once out and into Ponyville proper, a flood of memories washed over me. The scare, the castle, the mage, the brawler, the fight and the dinner with all those viscous, black animals. All of it rushed back in an instant, and I knew I had to find her.

If this weirdness was happening to me, I couldn't begin to imagine what was going on with her.

“Hold on, Bibidi Boo, I'm on my way!”





It had been a simple matter for Miss Caps Lock to distract the foals away from this witch, and with Miss Minnie Milk watching for anything suspicious that might interrupt us and Loosestrife watching her back from the shadows, Falcata had a prime opportunity to confirm her suspicions.

"So, Mistress of Ceremonies, or should I say 'Bibidi Boo'? Let's not have any games, now. Are you or are you not the Witch of the Everfree Forest?!"

The dark mare smiled.

"That is quite the brazen claim. Might I have the accuser's name?"

"I am Falcata of the Curved Blade. If you are indeed the Witch, then you have much to answer for, none the least of which is this."

Falcata presented her useless stump of a leg for further emphasis.

"Hmm~ Nope! You don't ring a bell! So why don't you just go to-"

"THERE YOU ARE!!"

Mane wild, clothes torn, and covered in minor cuts and bruises, a unicorn stallion threw himself into the clearing.

"Bibidi Boo! Am I glad to see you! Do you remember? It's me! Tidy Till!"

Falcata stood stock still, slack-jawed and buggy-eyed, and she couldn't bring herself to change that. Here was something so unexpected, so against her vision for this meeting, that its very existence threatened to bring her mind to a standstill.

Who was this stallion?!

What was he to the Witch?

Who cares?! He's in danger! Get him out of there!





I found her!

I found her, and she was so surprised that her hat fell off!

She pulled her bangs away, and I saw glorious recognition in those brilliant orange eyes!

"T-Tidy?"

"Stallion! MOVE!"

Uh-oh, somepony's not happy!

I turned and saw the tall, gold-coated, three-legged pegasus advancing on Bibidi and I. A highly intimidating curved sword glinted in the moonlight, and ill intent was practically written all over her face.

"H-Hey! Hold on! Let's all calm down here."

"You dare to advise anything of me!? You are in danger, colt! Back away from her!"

"I'll say we're in danger!  Why don't you just put down the sword, and-"

"I WILL NOT STAY MY BLADE FROM ITS PURPOSE!"

Okay, now, she's seriously scaring me!

"I have been taunted, beaten, maimed, cursed, torn from my time, and brought into this backwards world where mares and stallions alike fret over the most frivolous of things! All! Because of that! Accursed! Witch! If she will not see justice, then I will show her my wrath!"

This is not good! C'mon! Think of something!

"Hey! I mean, this time can't be all bad! Maybe she did you a favor...?"

"Favor?! SHE TOOK MY LEG FROM ME!!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the slightest of frowns on Bibidi's face.

No good! Think of something else!

"Okay, so she's done some bad things, but she's not the same mare now as she was then! Can't you see that!"

"I see nothing but a blight on all ponykind, and a fool. If you will not remove yourself, then you shall surely share her fate!"

Oh, come on!

"Isn't there anything good that came from you coming to this time?! New friends? Kindred spirits? Even just a pal!?"



Minnie Milk



"No!"



Loosestrife



"NO!"



Caps Lock



"NO!!"

Suddenly, I saw a drastically different mare before me. Gone was the dutiful warrioress barely holding herself back. Now the only thing I saw in her eyes was a murderous glare.

She snorted aggression every breath now, and she renewed her advance.

I looked to Bibidi, and saw in her a mirror to my own confusion.

Her eyes met mine.

I've known her for a day at most, and here I was, risking my life for her.

She offered me a break from my boring routine.

-SLICE!-

...and I paid for it with my life.









Falcata and Tidy Till go Diehard - by Falcata's Author

It was an ordinary afternoon in Ponyville, and Tidy Till was enjoying it immensely. The tedium of cashiering was tiring for the purple stallion, but his grey-blue eyes were bright as he bagged the produce for his current customer. The unicorn thanked him, and Tidy responded with a smile and a wave.

        Humming softly, Tidy ran his hoof through his almost completely white mane, excepting for a single black stripe running through it, and awaited for his next customer to come to his register. Barnyard Bargains had quite a lot of ponies today, but most of them were still picking out their various items.

        Just then, a female earth pony with a coat of orange and wearing a black cloak trotted up to his counter. Tidy blinked. Oddly enough, the mare didn’t seem to have anything. Did she want to ask for help?

        Oh dear.

        Tidy swallowed. He hated moments like this, for secretly, the stallion was a blank flank, without a talent to call his own. While he was good at cashiering, it was not his area of expertise. He had only managed to keep his job through long hours of practice, and often took too-long breaks, just to get away from the stress of dealing with customers.

        Steeling himself, Tidy deployed his practiced “tactical smile.”

        “Miss, how may I help you today?” asked Tidy, his tone the definition of pleasantness.

        The earth pony didn’t respond and Tiny blinked again. Okay, this was bizarre, Tiny thought: Why was she reaching under her cloak? Why was she producing a crossbow from under her cloak? Why was she pointing the weapon at my head?

        She is pointing a crossbow at my head.

        “This is a robbery! Show me the money, and the Zap Apple Jam!”

Tiny kept smiling. In fact, his smile widened to almost disproportionate widths, even as ponies around him began to scream. 

Inside he was panicking.

What do I do what do I do what do I do? Tidy couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. Fear suffused every part of his being. All he could do was what he had trained himself to do.

“Is there anything I can do to help you, miss?” squeaked Tiny helplessly.

The earth pony’s dark eyes somehow turned cold as ice. “Wrong answer, buddy.” With that she pressed the firing lever—

Except that the string of her crossbow was cut, causing the coiled steel wire to whip back and slash the pony across the face. Tidy’s eyes widened as the robber mare howled in pain.

“Serves thee right for trying to disrupt the peace of this time,” spat a cold voice. Tidy turned from the writhing robber to the speaker. She was a lean and muscled gold-yellow pegasus, hovering slightly above the ground. Her silver-grey mane was crafted into a bun, while her tail was braided. Her blue eyes were hard as she watched the robber whimper.

Oh, and she was holding a really sharp and shiny sword in her right foreleg, which was the only foreleg she had.

“Are you well, sir?” asked Tidy’s rescuer, glancing at him with bright blue eyes. Tidy nodded numbly, and the mare smiled. “That is good.” Turning to the now moaning robber, the mare grimaced. “Get up thou filthy swine, lest you wish to taste the sting of my blade.”

The earth pony, an ugly bleeding gash across her nose, sneered at Tidy and the pegasus, and yelled. “GET THEM!”

Eyes wide, Tidy turned around to see several other ponies in the store throw off their cloaks and produce swords, clubs, and crossbows. Everyday shoppers that had been frozen as the three-legged pegasus had apprehended the first robber now screamed and ran for their lives, only to be caught and herded by other robbers.

“By Starswirl’s flaming pants,” cursed the three-legged pegasus. Sheathing her sword, she lunged at Tidy, who “meeped” and froze as she picked him up with surprising strength and dashed through the store.

“Clerk! Tell me where we can hide!” demanded the pegasus as she swerved down the dairy section. They were met by two pegasus stallions with crossbows. Eyes wide, Tidy’s carrier folded her wings and the pair dropped to the ground, as crossbow bolts whizzed over their heads. Tidy screamed as they fell, but his “rescuer” opened her wings at the last minute and they took flight again, racing down the opposite direction from the robbers.

When he had finally caught his breath, Tidy screamed. “I don’t know!”

His rescuer grimaced. “What dost thou mean by “I don’t know?" Place of safe refuge, tell me!”

Teeth chattering, ears flattened against the heart-rending screams in the grocery shop, Tidy wailed.  “The staff bathroom! Turn left here, go up the stairs and turn right!”

        The pegasus swerved, then abruptly pulled up and swerved again. Tidy whimpered as his world briefly turned sideways and his stomach took a plunge, followed by another world tilt. But now, straight ahead, not far away, was the red windowless door to the washroom. 

        Upon seeing the stallion’s symbol on the bathroom door, something clicked in Tiny’s head. “Wait! We can’t both go in there!” he protested.

        “What? Will it not fit us?” asked the mare gruffly.

        “Not that, you’re a mare!" A rather pretty one, in fact. Tidy shook his head. He had to focus on the important stuff! “That’s the stallion’s washroom. We can’t both go in there!”

        Panting, the mare narrowed her eyes, but to Tidy’s horror, she did not stop and kept flying straight.

“Oh by Princess Platinum’s shining flank, why are modern ponies such prissy-pants?” hissed the mare as she smashed through the bathroom door.

Tidy screamed as he was unceremoniously released, his momentum carrying him head over hooves to the other side of the bathroom. His “rescuer” dropped to the ground in a fighting stance and galloped back to the door, opening it a crack.

“We are lucky. It appears nopony is following us,” said the mare in a hushed voice.

Rising his his feet, Tidy straightened his navy blue vest and white shirt, his eyes wild. “LUCKY! WE—” Tidy found himself promptly tackled to the ground, the mare standing over him, with narrowed eyes.

“Quiet! Dose thou want us to be found?” hissed the pegasus.

Tidy shook his head fervently, and the pegasus hopped back over him, and scooted back to the door, where she resumed her place, looking through the crack between it and the doorframe.

“We will have to rescue the prisoners the robbers have taken. What is your name?” asked the mare.

“Tidy Till. What do you mean we’re going to rescue—”

“My name is Falcata, and of course we shall rescue the prisoners.” Falcata frowned at Tidy. “You are a stallion of Equestria, correct?”

Tidy spluttered. “Well, yes—”

“Then surely thou does not wish thy fellow ponies to suffer, right?” asked Falcata, her eyes shooting Tidy an armor-piercing glare.

Tidy swallowed, and his gaze dropped to his hooves. There were mares and foals in the superstore, and he was almost certain that the robbers had taken them as hostage. Sure, Ponyville’s shoppers annoyed him most days. They were quirky, had hair-trigger tempers and were prone to bouts of silliness which all worked to make his job all the harder, but he liked to see their smiles as they left all the same.

But he also knew he couldn’t do anything to help them. He was just a blank-flank cashier, not like the dashing, sword-swinging mare in front of him. She was brave, and had no fear, unlike him.

“Of course not.”

“Then thou canst help.” Tidy glanced at Falcata, who had trotted up to him. “Tell me, what is thy special talent?”

Tidy stiffened and unconsciously pulled up his khaki pants with a hoof. “Nothing that would be useful.”

Falcata hop-stepped forward, her single hoof landing on the floor with a clack. “We will never know if thy talent is useful if thou keepest it hidden. Tell me, Tidy, we do not have much time!” 

Tidy shook his head and looked away from Falcata. “It’s no use, Falcata. Let’s just wait until the authorities arrive. Even with my help, you can’t take on ten robbers.”

“There are twenty. I counted,” said Falcata in a deadpan tone. Sighing, Falcata used her wing to push Tidy’s face to face her, forcing him to look at her. “Tidy, you are being very brave stallion now, simply by daring to hide thyself from the brigands. I simply need thee to be a little braver and tell me thy talent.”

Shaking, Tidy found his eyes drifting back to his flank, where he knew his bare fur was hidden only by a layer of khaki colored cloth. A mark of his uselessness, his inability to even attain the most basic sign of growth that everypony past adolescence had. He couldn’t tell Falcata, she’d just point and laugh.

“But...  I can’t!”

Falcata exhaled exasperatedly and took a deep breath, momentarily closing her eyes. “All right, can thou  at least answer questions about thy store and its produce?” asked Falcata.

Tidy blinked. He could do that. He answered questions about their products all day. He could do this. Taking a deep breath, Tidy nodded.

“What is this Zap Apple Jam that the brigands were demanding from thee?” asked Falcata.

“It’s our special product. Only Barnyard Bargains stocks it, and it’s wildly popular.” Tidy frowned. “Wait, they said they wanted Zap Apple Jam?”

Falcata nodded and Tidy felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh no.”

“What is the trouble?”

Tidy, pale and shivering, turned to Falcata. “We don’t sell Zap Apple Jam in this store!”

Falcata’s eyes widened. “What?”

Tidy Till nodded, and got up, pacing around the bathroom. “Ponyville is where Zap Apple Jam is made by the Apple Family. Therefore, as part of our boss’s Filthy Rich’s deal with the Apples, our branch will never stock it so the shoppers will go to the Apple farm to buy it! If the robbers find out—”

“They will become very angry,” finished Falcata, every word ringing like a death knell.

        Tidy cringed and whimpered.

        “Oh dear.”

        “Oh dear? This is a disaster! We must rescue the prisoners now!” Falcata dashed behind Tidy Till and pushed him to the door. “Where are the weapons in this store?”

        Tidy shook his head rapidly, “We don’t have any weapons in this store!”

        Falcata stopped and glared at Tidy. “Thy store’s sign says 'Barnyard Bargains, Everything you Can Ever Want For a Bargain Price,' do they not?” Tidy cringed as she bared her teeth, and snarled. “Is that a lie, Tidy Till?”

        Tidy Till had turned as white as the walls in the washroom. His mind supplied him with this equation:

Loss of confidence in customer = loss of revenue = loss of job = homeless = starving = I’M SCREWED!

“Barnyard Bargains has something that every customer wants. We definitely have weapons in this store!” stammered Tidy, not knowing what in Equestria was he saying.

Falcata grinned, even as Tidy  “Then lead me to them!”





        “These are not weapons.”

        Tidy blanched as Falcata replaced the plastic-encased kitchen knife back onto its rack. The pair were in the storage rooms of Barnyard Bargains, where Tidy had been certain Falcata would be able to find some weapons she’d like among the kitchen appliances. Turning to Tidy, Falcata frowned. “Where are the weapons, Tidy?”

        Spluttering, Tidy pointed to the boxes of sharp and deadly kitchen implements. “But how can these knives not be considered weapons?” asked Tidy.

        Falcata pursed her lips. “They may be called such, but they are too flimsy for our need.” Falcata sighed and picked up a knife. “I suppose we must make do with them — what is that?”

        Tidy turned around to follow Falcata’s hoof and found it pointing with her wing to the cast iron frying pans wrapped and ready to be hung on racks in the main store.

        “Falcata, those are frying pans,” said Tidy.

        A smile making its way to her face, Falcata pointed down further the storage shelves. “And those?” asked Falcata as she pointed further down the aisle.

        “That is where we store spices. Barnyard Bargains offers a wide range of seasonings that include everything—”

        “This is excellent, Tidy!” exclaimed Falcata softly, as they still were on alert for the robbers.. Trotting over she grabbed a frying with her mouth and turned to the very puzzled Tidy.

        “Mmftake eet,” mumbled Falcata. Tidy, frowning, took the pan and wiped the saliva off of the rim with his shirt.

        “But these are just kitchen implements and seasonings, Falcata.”

        The three legged pegasus shook her head. “No, these are arms that an army, particularly an earth pony one, would yearn to have.” Glancing around, Falcata whispered to Tidy. “Now just follow my lead, and take as many spices as you can.”





“We want Zap Apple Jam and a million bits, or we start tickling these ponies to death!” roared the mare with the orange coat.

Deep inside Barnyard Bargains on the first floor, beside the manager’s office, ponies quavered as the leader of the robbers shouted into the microphone.

The Ponyville police, despite being horribly outmatched, were up against the exterior walls of Barnyard bargains, crouching behind riot shields. Despite being brave enough to poke their heads into the window, they were basically paralyzed. The Elements of Harmony weren’t available to help, not even their baby dragon. Ponyville was such a small town, nopony had really thought a hostage crisis would develop here of all places.

To put it simply, the police were helpless.

“Thy town's militia have guts as soft and feeble as a newborn foal’s bottom,” quipped Falcata, as she peeked over the edge of the overhanging second floor, which the robbers had not occupied. “At least the brigands are not expressing their anger on the prisoners.”

        Tidy poked his head out and cringed as he took in twenty ponies of various species crouched or scattered throughout the aisles. Now that he had the time to examine the band that had done this, Tidy’s could now see the array of weapons they were armed with. They had crossbows, daggers, swords, maces, axes… all of which were gleaming brightly.

It was enough to turn his insides turn to mush.

“We can’t do this! We just can’t do this!” stammered Tidy, squeezing his knees together out of sheer terror.

Turning around, Falcata jumped up slightly, grabbed Tidy’s shoulder with her remaining front leg, and looked him in the eye.

 “Tidy, I need thee to aid me!” hissed Falcata.

His eyes flickering left and right, Tidy backed away, but Falcata didn’t let go and walked with him.  “Can’t I just sit this one out?” he begged.

Her eyes wide, Falcata pushed her face so close to Tidy’s they almost bumped noses. “I cannot do this alone, Tidy, I need thy help.”

Tidy shook his head. “No you don’t! You’re a soldier who’s probably faced a cockatrice and killed a couple of witches in your heyday!” To Tidy’s puzzlement Falcata flinched and turned away from him when he said that.

Confused, but thinking the crazy pegasus would relent, Tidy continued. “I’m just a cashier, and not a great one at that. Just go out there and be the hero. I’ll just find a corner—”
 
Falcata slowly turned so that she faced Tidy, who found his voice trailing off as he met her moist eyes.

 “Tidy, I cannot save them.” Falcata wiggled the little stump of her left leg. “Not like this.”

Tidy swallowed and his eyes dropped again. Okay, she had a good point, but he didn’t know. He’d never done anything like this before, and he was scared. They had weapons, but how were he and a crippled swordpony going to defeat twenty brigands?

“Tidy, please?” whispered Falcata. 

Tidy looked up and stared. Falcata looked… vulnerable. He suddenly could feel how heavily she was leaning on his shoulder, due to her missing leg. He could also see her pursed lips and pleading eyes.

It then hit Tidy that Falcata, swashbuckling pegasus soldier and improviser of weapons, was afraid, too.

Somehow, that comforted him.

“I’ll try,” replied Tidy, not quite recognizing the words that came from his own mouth.

A small smile burst onto Falcata’s features. “Thank you. Now, um, do you mind helping me down?”

“What?” asked Tidy.

A light blush came to Falcata’s cheeks. “I will not be able to set my hoof on the ground without tripping, unless thou holdest me up.”

Tidy’s face started to burn.

“Oh um, okay, just let me…” Tidy pressed his right leg under Falcata’s chest, allowing her to release her hold on him and put her right leg down.

Falcata smiled. “Thank you, Tidy.” Then her lips hooked in a cunning grin. “Now, here is the plan…”





The leader of the group, the orange mare, winced as she rubbed her bandaged nose. She was feeling rather tense, but pretty good in general. The police were still pinned down and it appeared the mayor of Ponyville was acquiescing to their Zap Apple Jam demand, but they apparently were having trouble getting a million bits.

There had been the complication of that annoying pegasus who cut her crossbow and ran away, but her minions couldn’t find her, so they must have left. Still, this operation was going quite smoothly. 

Any satisfaction the brigand leader had felt, though, was instantly vanquished when a massive red cloud began to descend over the ground floor of the store.

“What in tartarus?” snapped the robber leader. Turning her head upwards, her lips curled back in a menacing sneer.

There was that blasted three-legged pegasus, her teeth clenching a sackcloth, from which the red powder poured. Oddly enough, she was wearing a makeshift cloth mask that looked like it had been ripped from a cloak, and cheap swimming goggles.

At this point though, the robber did not care. Grabbing her re-strung crossbow, the mare yelled.

“Get her!” 





Falcata grimaced and dived as soon as she heard the yell. Dropping the bag, Falcata rolled over reversed her direction and dived away from the hostages. Crossbow bolts and thrown javelins cut through the air behind her as she tore down toward the ground.

A robber met her as she leveled off. His axe raised, the stallion leered at her. Falcata raised her sword, prepared to block.

But then the stallion sneezed and as he blinked his eyes watered. Rubbing furiously at his eyes, the robber howled as hot cayenne pepper, black pepper and all manner of irritating spices got into his eyes, stuck up his nose and inflamed his taste buds.

It made him very easy prey for Falcata, who delivered a ear-ringing blow with the pommel of her sword. Not stopping, the pegasus tore onward to the next robber.

“Tidy, where art thou?” muttered Falcata as she came up to the next robber.





There were six robbers guarding the hostages. It was a fair number, but now they were under assault from the highly irritating dust cloud. Half-blinded, crying, and truly regretting their involvement in this, the ponies were scratching at their eyes.

They didn’t notice Tidy Till peeking out from behind the aisle, wearing goggles and a makeshift mask, and raising his frying pan.

Trembling, Tidy swallowed hard, and hesitated. Could he do this? The robbers were helpless right now, so he could save the hostages, but doubt filled his mind.

Then one of the robbers noticed him, “Oi, who are you—”

CLONG! Went the frying pan as Tidy, in a fit of panic, knocked him out. This galvanized the rest of his companions, who came charging at the cashier. But blinded as they were, they seemed to totter and move about in slow motion. 

This let Tidy deal with them rather easily. With five more hits, the ponies were down for the count.

“Go Mister Till!” cried one of the foals happily.

Tidy found himself grinning under his mask as he trotted forward and grabbed a knife to free the ponies. Somehow, in spite of his fears, things were going to plan.





Falcata charged through the spice cloud, her eyes scanning the aisles. She had taken out thirteen ponies through various means, but the leader was still left. Where was she?

Suddenly, pain exploded in her wing, and Falcata cried out as she saw the crossbow bolt in her wing. Her teeth clenched, the pegasus tried to land, but her high speed and missing leg made it impossible. She hit the ground, fell onto her stump and skidded along the waxed floor.

Groaning, Falcata struggled to get up, but her missing leg made it impossible to do so, and she was forced to drag herself along the floor, hoping that the robber leader wouldn’t be able to find her.

The crossbow tip that appeared in front of her eyes banished that hope.

The orange brigand leader sneered. “End of the line, you three-legged cripple. Any last words?”

Falcata froze but for a moment, before she took a breath and closed her eyes.

“#$&@! thou,” spat Falcata.

The robber mare snarled and squeezed the trigger.

        CLANG!

        Falcata’s eyes shot open as she saw the robber mare waver and fall over, to reveal Tidy Till, a frying pan in his hoof, panting through his mask.

        “Falcata, you’re hurt!” gasped Tidy, dropping his weapon and kneeling at the pegasus’s side. Police and first aid attendants, wearing masks as well, were behind him as they surrounded Falcata.

        “A flesh wound,” croaked Falcata, but she was smiling widely.  “Thou art a hero, Tidy.”

        The stallion rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Who, me? I’m just a cashier.” Lowering his hoof, Tidy clasped Falcata’s remaining forehoof.  “It was you who helped me find my courage,” he spoke in a tender tone.

        Falcata felt her cheeks warm up, and swallowed. “We were glad to be of assistance.” Averting her eyes, Falcata glanced back at Tidy. “Will thou visit us in the infirmary later?”

        Beneath his mask, Tidy beamed and nodded. Of course he would.


The End

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