> Happiness Is What You Make Of It
>  by Nameless Narrator
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I must admit I'm a pretty lucky pony.

I like wandering around. I like strolling through the streets and watching ponies pass by. White unicorns, grey unicorns, horny unicorns, all of them have important lives and stories to tell. They make this world a place to live in. In short, all those around me are amazing and admirable.

I'm glad I like walking, otherwise the trip through the grand mountainside fortress of Canterlot would be incredibly irritating. For an earthpony like me, the city is sort of a dream come true, the mix of magic and technology rarely seen elsewhere. On the right side of the half circle carved into the southern face of the mountain - the castle itself, white, shining with magical lamps, torches, and electrical lights undoubtedly brightening some soiree or garden party.

Did I say it's night? Yeah, the skies are dark, and most ponies who bump into me are unicorns returning home after a hard day's work. Why unicorns? Well, I've already left the place I live in, the part of the city close to the mountain itself where the less-wealthy live. Now, I'm walking lazily through the rich part, the unicorn part, where white mansions sit and where anypony can see the clear sky or take a short trip to the city walls and gaze into the distance upon large stretches of the land of Equestria.

Well, they could... if it wasn't so dark that one couldn't see few steps ahead without street lights.

Some unicorns gag a little as I walk nearby, and cross the street. I can't be mad at them, I smell a bit... a lot. There is little I can do about that before I get to the castle though. They might have been a little too vocal in saying words like 'trash', 'hobo', 'parasite', and in one case even 'waste of oxygen', but I've given them a good reason to be like that. Not to mention they aren't too far away from the truth. Compared to them, my importance in the grand scheme of things is minor, even insignificant. They are unicorns, thus they are responsible for running this land, working the complicated machines no other ponies can, and using magic to keep the world turning.

Metaphorically, of course.

Despite that, I somehow got lucky enough to find my place in this city of gold and glimmer. On the way there, I overhear few more unicorns mutter under their breath, but at least there are no calls for the guards this time. Perhaps I should find some more covert route through the city, even if it might be a bit longer. But hey, I like walking. Perhaps I could try the sewers? Nah, not again, the bug-ish ponies who live there don't like me wandering around.

The castle comes to view, mostly because I pass the high walls separating the gardens from the rest of the city. I beam at the guards recognizing me and letting me inside. They look away, but I know they're just doing their job, scanning the area for potential threats to the city's royal ruler. The reason for doing so is beyond me, as princess Celestia is supposed to be omnipotent and perhaps even immortal. But hey, if she thinks she needs them then it's not my place to question her.

I slink by the garden walls. There's no reason for me to go to the castle, that's a place for important ponies. Several visiting ambassadors in the long queue leading from the castle grounds gate to the castle gate itself look at me, noses scrunched in shock. It's a more distilled version of looks I got in the city, but this time they come from even more important ponies. I wonder if they can even spot me from their noble height, not just smell me.

It doesn't take long, and I'm out of sight. Granted, I'm pretty sure seeing me wasn't exactly the problem.

The shadows of the castle gardens swallow me, and I can finally breathe freely. Well, not too freely, at least until I have a shower. A large, two-story building by the side of the castle facing the mountain greets me. Quite a few of the windows are lit up already, so I try not to disturb anypony. The Royal Guard recruits need their rest after a hard day of training. Thankfully, nopony is wandering the entrance hall, so I can just slip inside and go down the stairs where the boiler room and some other facilities are. First of all, I check whether there is somepony in the common showers. I heard that the castle itself has separate showers for mares and stallions, but out here, in the barracks, there is no such thing, presumably because all guards are, first and foremost, guards.

A bar of soap hits me in the head.

"Ow!" I yelp, and add in a quieter voice, "Soree, Ai ken wait."

"Don't loooooooook!" the mare's voice is followed by a flung plastic box.

Funny, they never do that when showering side by side with guard stallions. It's probably because I'm not a guard. Fortunately, there's only one pony inside, which means I won't have to wait too long to become a marginally presentable pony again. Putting the bar of soap into the plastic soap box, I slide the package back inside.

"Soree for meiking yoo use dis, mem," I wave my hoof inside apologetically.

"Just go away!"

Yeah, that might be a good idea. Good thing there are toilets on each floor, even here underground. I don't really have a bathroom at... my place, so the visit takes me a reasonably long time. At least I can drink from the washing basin as much as I like. See? Free fresh water! Am I a lucky pony or what? Thirst sated, I carefully peek into the showers again. The nice mare is gone and the place is empty. Time to finally stop being repulsive for few hours again.

Shoot, I forgot my soap. Oh well, I can always shower again when I'm done for tonight. I might have to wait until the Nightguards are done, but time... time is something that matters little to me. Without soap, it takes a lot longer to wash the stench out of my coat, so I stare into the puddle of dirty water under me. A grey earthpony stares back at me with grey eyes. He doesn't have a mane, only few short purple strands remaining, a sign he did a poor job cutting it. I couldn't risk anything being too difficult to clean up, so I cut my tail short two days after I started working here, only a little purple duster remains now. The mane was more difficult to get rid of using a shard of broken glass, so I spent most of my shift working on it. The underground bathroom doesn't have a mirror, so a pool of water in the sink had to do.

Considering my limited options, I think I did a good job. I must admit though, maneless ponies look a bit weird. The pony in the pool is a bit chubby, but that's fine, I've started an excellent diet recently. At this rate, I'll be thin in no time. Not that looks matter, but it's something.

I blink, he blinks. I poke the puddle, he pokes back. I splash around, he goes away for a moment. He comes back soon though, he never leaves me alone for long. My best friend, my reflection. Granted, he's my only friend, so there's little competition. It's either him or the cleaning trolley, and the trolley wobbles. I go for a hug and slam my face into the tiled floor.

"Ouch," I chuckle.

Fun is where you find it.
> 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Heyyy, I'm clean again!

With the guard curfew coming, my 'day' is just starting. As I walk out of the showers, there are three guards standing around holding their washing thingies. They must have noticed I was in there a moment ago, and given me my privacy. Since I don't belong to the Guard, they are super nice to allow me to use their showers. The Guard really employs the best of the best.

"Tank yoo for yor pay-shence," I say, walking away while accompanied by their scrunched noses. I must still smell a little. My bad, I shouldn't have forgotten the soap.

"Go away..."

See? Not even a snarky remark about my mistake.

Humming to myself, I enter the boiler room again. If things go as usual, I should have about an hour before all the day guards fall asleep and the night shift ones leave for their post.

"Bed soap, sliping mai maind laik det!" I shake my hoof at the small package under a wardrobe full of cleaning supplies. It doesn't respond, but it gets the message. Since I don't really have any other place to store my things, and the supply wardrobe belongs to the barracks, not me, the niche under the wardrobe is the only safe spot for what little I have.

I should just appreciate my luck that I don't have anything else then. Soap, ten bits which will have to last me until next week, few shards of glass serving as a makeshift mirror or knife, and few bits of string I scrounged from a pizza box somepony threw out. String is always useful.

I recount the ten bits. It's all still there. The guards must be doing a great job keeping thieves out then. Still, it's not much, but all that means is that my diet will be super effective. I can feel the pounds on my stomach melting already.

*Knock knock!*

Huh? It's not locked, and the boiler room isn't off limits. Does somepony know I'm here? Did I forget anything in the showers? Are they mad I used them?

"Its not lokd!"

The door opens and a dark blue lunar pegasus mare with white mane carefully leans inside.

"Hello, mister janitor guy?" she asks slowly, unsure if she wants to be here or not. Most ponies avoid me. It can't be intentional, though, I just don't really do anything worth mentioning, and they have their hooves full with keeping the peace. 

"Yes?" I push my meager belongings back under the wardrobe, "Do yoo need anytink?"

Stupid, of course she needs something. Why else would she be here, to make conversation? There are tons of interesting ponies out there to talk to. So I correct myself:

"I meen, wot do yoo need?"

"Hey, erm, my name is Eclipse, and I live in room twenty-six," she extends her hoof.

I look at it.

I poke it.

Sure enough, it's a hoof. Nice, well-maintained hoof adorned with the night shift silvery horseshoe.

She seems to be waiting for something.

"Preety neim and a preety huf?" I try.

Her brows raise a little.

"What's YOUR name?"

Oh? RIGHT! She has to have some sort of an official cleaning request, and needs to know who's going to be handling it. 

"Greyscale, I kleen dis pleis... I meen, yoo alredy knou det. Soree 'bout d huf tink."

She is so cool! She doesn't just wave it off but actually follows up on what I said. Ponies rarely do that. Can't blame them, I am sort of difficult to understand when I open my mouth.

"Sooo, you didn't mean it when you said my hoof and my name were pretty?"

"No, yes, I meen no, I meen somtink, I meen," my ears droop and I try to make myself as small as possible, "Aim bed at dis... 'mong other tinks. Do yoo need to use dis room? Should Ai leev until yoo're done?"

"Wha- wait- why- what? No, I just wanted to ask if you could repair my bunk bed. Some of the woodwork broke, and my mattress keeps slipping out."

"Aim not shure, Ai just waip d floors. Aiv never dun eny ree-pears. Ai don't eeven know were too bai d small beem thinks, whatevr dey arr kold."

"Oh, well, that sucks. I'll ask elsewhere then."

"Weit! Umm, Ail trai to tink of sumtink. I tink I saw a pleis were I kud get sumtink at dis taim of dei, or nait. Wen das yor shift end?"

"Eight in the morning."

"Okey, if its not dun bai eit, it meens Ai didnt come up with anytink. If Ai ken do sumting 'bout eet, Ai wont bother yoo in your off taim. Twenty-six, wos eet?"

"Yeah. Thanks!"

"No reeson, Ai didnt doo anytink yet."

She gives me a surprised look, but in the end she smiles and leaves. Strange mare, asking for my name as if it mattered. This isn't my job, but me and my ten bits might still be able to help. There is a place I go by every night which sells general supplies. Perhaps I could find something there. Not a plank of wood, obviously, but something tough enough to serve for few weeks before she finds somepony to do the job right.

It doesn't matter whether I clean the floors now or later. The official request is just that I have to be done before the first day guard shift starts at eight, which means that I have enough time to look around and do all I have to.

I grab my keys and the bits, and sneak out of the barracks. I pass few returning day guards on the way, but I must be getting really good at keeping out of the way, because none even glance at me. I'm like a shadow, a well-lubricated ninja.

As if I didn't even exist.

The general store is open twenty-four seven, although the clerk seems very unhappy about it. Just tired, I guess.

"Um, sir? Soree to bother yoo, but Ai need sumtink too ree-pear a bunk bed."

"What's wrong with it?" he gradually chews through my request. As annoyed as he looks, he doesn't tell me to go away and actually tries to understand me.

I knew I forgot something.

"Ail bee RAIT bek!" he facehoofs as I run out of the store.

"Retard," I hear and agree. I missed the most important thing.

The 'right back' turns into about forty minutes, during which I once again infiltrate my workplace like lightning crossed with a hedgehog, make sure my assumption about just one broken plank under the mattress was correct, and walk back to the store.

"Uan wooden plenk," I spread my hooves, "'bout DIS long, plees."

"Those comes only in stacks of five. Ten bits."

"But Ai onlee need uan."

"Ten bits."

"For d uan?"

"For all five."

"But-"

"Listen! These things go in bulk, is that clear?"

My lip wibbles as the last of my bits leave the small pouch hanging around my neck. I could say the unicorn clerk wasn't acting too friendly, but as he looks at me trying to balance the box on my back, he offers me a bag. 

FOR FREE!

"Tank yoo!" I mumble with my mouth full of plastic.

Ponies are really nice if you let them. I now have a plastic bag and a small cartboard box to add to my possessions. Plus, a way to solve tonight's problem which leaves me with FOUR spare planks of wood. Granted, three days without food will be a challenge, but I have all the fresh water I can drink, and my diet will just be that more effective. Soon, I'll look fit like a guard and nopony will be able to tell that I just wipe the floors.

Half an hour later, the bed is fixed, although I made a mess of the clothes randomly strewn around the room.

"Ouch!" I hiss, as my splintered hoof touches the floor again. Having no real equipment, I had to use it to hammer the plank in place, and must have messed up. Oh well, I should be able to use some of the rougher flagstones in the city as a file. I am a genius.
> 3
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm a little dizzy. Not eating anything for two days would do that to a pony. Still, my diet is progressing perfectly, and now I have a batch wooden planks stashed in the boiler room as well. Once the week rolls over, then I'll be paid my precious twenty-five bits, buy some cheap food, and I'll have gained the planks for basically free. The good thing about little discomfort now is that I have a mop I can prop myself with so that I don't fall. I dropped it few times when my head spun too hard and my stomach cramped, but thankfully there was nopony in the barracks hallway at the time. I would not want them to think I can't do my job. There aren't many positions a pony like me can do properly and I like this one, so I have to be careful the guards don't realize they can easily find somepony much more skilled to clean their place.

The guards don't like it when I look at them. I think they believe I should focus on the floor so I don't miss anything. See? THEY are smart. and I can learn a lot by just hanging around. Oh, hey! There's a muddy hoofprint I covered with my trolley. I would have missed it if I was looking anywhere else than at the floor.

"Bluuh..." my head spins again and I have to sit down for a moment.

Damn, somepony is coming. With a wall to keep me steady, I reorganize the cleaning supplies on the trolley and wait for the ponies to pass.

"Oh, hey!" a mare's pleasantly surprised voice greets me as I focus mostly on my hooves shuffling the various bottles of stuff which I use basically randomly as I don't really understand most of the labels. I shouldn't be here to distract others, but since I already am, I ought to be polite until they get bored with me and do their more important stuff. Still, ponies never greet me or anything, do they need something? 

"Helou, mem," I bow to Eclipse and a strong earthpony mare, yellow with rusty mane.

"Who is this?" the earthpony asks, "Never seen him here before."

"Greyscale, the... caretaker. Sargeant Grey Shrine pointed me to him when my bed broke. He fixed it pretty fast," Eclipse explains.

"Ooooh!" the other mare smiles in my direction. I quickly check if there is somepony behind me. There isn't, so she has to be smiling at me! Wooow!  "So this guy is responsible for your ass not hanging two inches from my face every morning?" she raises her hoof, "Not sure if I should thank him or punch him," she grins and Eclipse blushes, "Name's Piercing Hit. Nice to meet you, Greyscale."

"Nais too meat yoo," I shake her hoof after some hesitation. Since she's with Eclipse, I decided to repeat the previously successful gesture.

"You talk weird," she comments, eyebrow raised.

"Ai em dum," I scratch my head. It feels strange to say it openly, but I can't lie. I'm not smart enough to keep a lie up, so it would only bite me in the butt later, "But Ai dont talk mush, so its fain," I beam at her. Situation solved! A little compliment can only make things better, "Yoo ar smart and yoo ken undrstand mee."

"Uhh, yeah," she shifts on her hooves, giving me an unsure smile. Thankfully, more ponies are coming so the mares will likely leave and won't have to be uncomfortable around me anymore.

"Hey, girls!" a white unicorn with blonde mane and a crossed swords cutie mark greets the girls and gives me an annoyed glance. Do I still smell bad? I sniff around. Nope, only desinfectant and a hint of sweat. Perhaps he is just annoyed that I am disgracing the barracks with my presence. He looks like a highborne unicorn, so it is possible. They are kind of elitist, but they can use magic and stuff, which I can't, so he is probably right. It's not my fault no unicorn with high education wanted this job. The employment lady told me nopony took the offer for months.

"Oh hey, Crest!" Eclipse smiles at the unicorn while the earthpony gives him a well-hidden frown.

"Hi," Piercing Hit answers the greeting with no enthusiasm.

"This guy doesn't even know what a mare is," the unicorn introduced as Crest smirks, "Ditch him and let's go out! I know a batpony bar that's open this early in the morning."

That's not true! I know basic anatomy.

"A mare ees a laydee ponee," I show that I know at least something.

"And you are a lazy pony, now shove off!" he doesn't even look at me as he waves me away.

Oops, he's right! I've been standing here and not mopping for too long. The night shifts must be ending and the guards are returning to the barracks. On the positive side, the exhausted ponies barely give me a glance as I clean their dusty hoofprints off the floor. With the constant bustle of changing shifts my job is an endless task, but nopony has complained during the week I've been doing it. In the end, the night patrols arrive, the morning ones leave, and all three floors of the barracks are in a presentable shape. Now I can have a rest or wander around the city until late afternoon when I'm going to do all this again.

My stomach rumbles. Perhaps I should leave the wandering for later. Alright, time to sleep! The more I sleep the closer I get to payday and the less hungry I'll be.

"Huh?" I mumble to myself as I spot Eclipse waiting in front of the boiler room underground, "Hai?"

As I mentioned before, nopony comes here, ever.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to ask what I owed you for the repair. You know, new materials and stuff."

"Notink. Its mai job," I shrug, "Ai hed sum bits left, so Ai could doo eet."

"Wait, what?"

"Ai get twentee-faiv bits a week to doo wot is needed and get food. Nopony told mee more asaid from d moppink."

"You have no resource budget? Wait, you get only twenty-five bits a week AND you have to pay for the supplies yourself? That doesn't sound right," she leans back, blinking.

"Ai dont knou."

"Nevermind," she shakes her head, "I've got something for you. The showers on the upper floor stopped working yesterday."

"Ken eet wait teel next week? Ai haev no bits."

"Actually, no. Most guards would be pretty pissed if they had to march three floors down to the basement over and over for two more days."

"Okey," I mumble. I'll just have to think of something, "Ail look at it toomorrow."

"Not so fast," she smiles, "For big repairs like these we always have to send out stupid amount of paperwork and wait for days until somepony fixes it. If you can do something about it, even make it somewhat work until we can get a real plumber to have a look at it, I think I can persuade others to at least pay for the expenses, if not something more for your time."

"Ail trai," I bite my lip, "Aiv never dun anytink laik dis."

"Alright, think of it like this - a bunch of dripping wet ponies walking from the basement showers up to the third floor and messing the floor up something fierce. How would you like that?"

Wet floors already? That would be amazing.

"Ai wouldnt have too poosh a trolly with full bukkit aneemore," I smile, finally having an answer.

She facehoofs.

"Just have a look at it, will you?"

"Yes, mem."

"Thanks," she walks off towards the staircase leading up.

The last thing to do is check the big trash bags from each floor for something useful.

Hey, somepony threw out a metal cup. It's scratched and there is no handle, but there are no holes or cracks. That's one good find.
> 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The promise to Eclipse burdens me. I haven't told her I would totally for sure one hundred percent fix anything, but if I have a look at it and just say I have no clue what is wrong then the guards might get the right idea that there should be somepony better taking care of the barracks, somepony who can wipe the floors as well as repair things. Still, no reason to give up early. Perhaps it is just something simple that the guards don't do themselves because they are busy.

The shower room on the third floor is a simple large, square area with nozzles and dials sticking out of the walls. There are several pillars scattered around with wooden planks on them where those showering can keep their belongings. Near the entrance there is a sink and...

...two ponies kissing, their loud moaning dampened by the until recently closed door. As they notice me, they reach for their bags with toothbrushes, smiling as if nothing has happened. I'm not sure why. As far as I know there are no rules against being in company of one another. But hey, they are guards so they know their stuff.

"You spying on us, perv?" the stallion scowls.

"Yeah, can't get any yourself so you have to bother normal ponies?"

Ooooh, that's the issue! Of course not. I'm not interested in such things, those are for real ponies. I've already got all I need - a warm boiler room where I can spend the day. The hugging and kissing is not for me, and going for it would surely only mean trouble.

"No, Aim heer too-"

"GET OUT!" I dodge a thrown bag of washing supplies. Why does this happen every time? Still, all that means that I'm used to these situations. 

"Mem, Ai tink yoo need dis for yor teet," I shove the bag back inside.

Showing my head proves a bad idea as a sharp spike of pain comes from my muzzle. I wasn't expecting the second bag. I should have. Two ponies, two bags of pain - logic.

"Uhhh..." I shake my head and rub my muzzle, "Ouch!" there's a little blood on my hoof.

"You didn't get the message?" the stallion rushes out and pushes me against the wall, "Go back to your underground hideout or something." 

I must have startled them a lot if they are acting like this. My bad.

"Ai ken weit," I try to wave my hooves, but he is holding me too tight, "Ai em soree, but Ai em heer to fix d showers."

"What? You?"

"Uh... yes?"

"Hmph!" he lets me go and walks back inside, "Let's find a more private place. The moron is here to look at the water problem."

"Hey, cool!" the mare answers, "I hate having to promenade myself through half of the building each day."

"I wouldn't get too excited. This guy just wipes the floors. What are the chances he can do something about it?"

I wholeheartedly agree. Sadly, I got asked to do this so I have to do this. Simple.

They walk out side by side.

"Next time don't barge on ponies like that!" the stallion, "And if I find out you're lying just so I don't tan your hide, then..."

"Ai dont lai. Ai ken barelly remember wot is reel," a bit of honesty should reassure him I'm telling the truth.

"Um," the mare looks at the dripping blood, hesitating, "Sorry. I've got a good aim. If you manage to fix the water then I'll think harder before throwing stuff next time, right?" she chuckles. I smile and snort a little as more blood blocks my nostril.

"Dis happens a lot too mee. Its fain, mem."

Simple misunderstanding cleared, they leave and I finally get to see the state of the showers. I sniffle, still dripping red all over. It should stop soon enough if I breathe with my mouth.

Sink? No water. Showers from the left to right? Nothing.

"Hmmm."

That rules out mechanical failure. Pipes then? A leak is likely. What can I do with pipes? There is no way for me to get to them, since they are embedded in the floor, but at least I could find where the problem is to make it easier for a plumber.

Five minutes of tapping on the floor later, I find a darker and colder spot which just might be it. Thankfully, this room is not tiled like the one I saw in the castle once otherwise I wouldn't have found anything. The soggy mess crumbles a little under my hoof. If I had something hard I might dig it out, maybe? Not in my dreams.

So, pickaxe? No, that would break everything and make a mess. Is there a way to cut a piece of floor out without damaging everything around it?

The question plagues me as I take a stroll through castle grounds to clear my head. Fresh air helps me think. 

I find a nearby pony standing on guard and tap on his armor. I doubt he's ever seen me before, but he assumes I belong to the castle because I already am here. Smart pony, saves me the trouble of explaining things.

"What is it?"

"Ai need a pleis where Ai ken borrow tools. Eez dere any?"

He blinks, working through my defective speech. It sounds fine in my head, my mouth just doesn't seem to get the right idea. Luckily, only the best of the best are allowed into the guard ranks, and he quickly gets my meaning.

"On the other side of the castle there is the equipment storage. A big building with a small entrance. Just tell the quartermaster what you need."

"Tank yoo!" I smile at him.

"What is it for?"

"Showers in d barracks, ser."

"Oh thank the stars!" he raises his spear to the sky, "Two damn days and it already feels like eternity," he blinks in realization, "OOOOH! You're the cleaning guy, right? I think I saw you once after night shift, you disappeared when the morning rush started."

"Ai trai not too get in d way."

"Then good luck with the fixing. I hate going half-wet through the cold hallway at this time of year."

"Ail doo mai best."

Well, I wish I could do the plumbers best, but I am only me so my best will have to suffice for now.

As it turns out, the quartermaster is a guard around forty whose bored expression would put a foal learning math to shame.

"Umm, hai," I wait my turn in a queue, "Ai need sum long, thick neils, a gloo or spekkel, and a hemmr."

"Fill in a requisition form 23c, get it signed by your commander, and you can have it."

"Ai just need it for a wail. D showers in d barracks-"

"If it is a short-term requisition, which means less than a day, I can just take your hoofprint, but you will still have to fill the form after you're done. Who is your boss?"

"Umm... enyponee?"

"Where do you work?"

"Barracks."

"Barracks, barracks..." he furrows his brows, then lightens up, "Sargeant Grey Shrine. Fill the form, get her signature, and return the things by tomorrow evening. Understood?"

"Yes, ser."

Magic is amazing. All I have to do is put my hoof on a piece of enchanted paper, and a unicorn will be able to find me anywhere in Canterlot. Granted, it might be too much of a waste just to be able to trace few tools, but order has to start small.

So, I had this idea - why break the floor completely when I can just hammer a long nail over and over into the floor and cut a block out like that? The pipe can't be fully surrounded by concrete. Before I do so, however, I get a piece of cardboard from the boiler room and take a small lump of coal from the storage. Few short moment later, I am sitting in the closed showers with a sign saying "Undr ree-pear" hanging on the door.  

Grab a nail, hammer it down, pull it back out, move it an inch, hammer again.

It takes hours, my teeth and neck hurt, my gums are bleeding because I have to hold the nails with my hooves while hammering them down with my mouth. However, in the end there is a fairly cleanly cut block of floor which I pull out, revealing a crawlspace inlaid with wood and water freely flowing from a cracked pipe. The room under this one must be the second floor showers. I wonder if nopony really noticed a wet spot on the ceiling. Perhaps the guards are just too busy. 

Turning the main water valve by the entrance to shut the water off, I put as much glue and putty around the crack and wait for it to dry. Another half an hour later, the pressure returns to the showers, and after testing each nozzle one by one I glue the block of floor back. It's not a great job, and anypony not careful will likely stumble on the gap, but it will be enough for few days. I celebrate the success by drinking as much warm water as I can handle. I haven't eaten anything in three days, so it doesn't help much. If I could write, I would write a book on the perfect diet.

I did good. I wonder if anypony will ever say that.

Silly Greyscale. It's I am supposed to do. After all, nopony thanks a hammer for hammering.
> 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I returned the used tools to the warehouse, asking the quartermaster how much should I pay for the broken nails when I got my bits for this week. He stared at me a while, eyebrows raised and blinking. Then he asked me some things about how long I've worked at the castle and stuff. He understood soon enough that I had no clue how things worked, and told me not to worry about it and just bring him the filled form. He didn't mind when I took two spare ones in case I messed something up.

Whistling and humming to myself, I come back to the boiler room and wash my face. In hindsight, I should have showered after my successful repair, but since my coat is grey and my mane has not yet grown enough for the purple to look strange covered in dust, I leave it for later. Anyway, I'll get dirty and sweaty enough during my evening mopping, so I'll save myself having to shower twice. When my hooves stop leaving messy hoofprints everywhere, I grab the requisition form and a piece of coal I previously used to make my "Undr re-pear" sign.

The form itself is simple - name, used supplies, division, reason for borrowing, returned supplies, date, signature, superior officer's signature. What is rather more difficult is filling in the tiny slots with a thick piece of coal. I have to sharpen it a little, but it still is not the best. However, I succeed on a second try and stash the one unused form to my hiding place under the wardrobe. Nopony knows when a piece of paper could be useful.

I've done my best, and so I smile while walking upstairs from the barracks cellars. It's not really visible, as I'm carrying a plastic shopping bag containing the form in my mouth, but it is for me anyway, because ponies don't look at me much. A good thing, I look as if I crawled from a recently collapsed building. Nightmare Night is coming, perhaps I could say I'm just practicing my costume.

"Boo!" I mumble quietly to nopony in particular. Some specks of dust litter the floor. I frown a little. I'm just giving myself more to clean later. Oh well. Walking up and down through the barracks, I fail to find any room referencing "Grey Shrine" or looking like an administration office. 

I guess I'll just have to ask somepony. Is there anypony not too busy?

"Looking for something?" a familiar voice portraying somepony who is never far from laughing comes out of an open door when I walk through the second floor for the third time, making sure I didn't miss anything. A red-to-orange-maned head peeks into the hall a second later.

"Yes, mem," I bow to Piercing Hit. She is a guard, which compared to me is like royalty, and she deserves respect, "I hev too faind a ponee neimd Grei Shrain and giv her a re-kvee- uhh... a form." 

"Grey Shrine?" she asks after the usual brief pause of somepony piecing together my broken speech. I nod, "Her office is in the castle. Second floor. Look for a grey unicorn mare with light blue mane."

"Tank yoo."

"Mind if I ask what you need from her?"

"Ai fixd d showers on d top floor. It shud last fyoo deis- AAH!" I am grabbed by two strong earthpony legs and picked up, "Soree?" I apologize preemptively. My muzzle has already bled enough for one day.

While I am taller than the mare, she is definitely WAY stronger. Perhaps I should have noticed that before making her mad, because she is heavily toned. In my defense, I don't look at ponies much, it tends to make them yell or get upset.

"You're saying there's not gonna be twenty ponies yelling at me for taking too long in a shower anymore?"

"Meibee?" I flail a little. She notices it and lets me go. Perhaps she isn't angry? One of my droopy ears perks up.

"Wow, and you did it even before the evening rush. This means I actually have time to go out this weekend," her eyes sparkle, she grins to herself, pats my back, and jumps inside her room.

"Ouch..." I hiss and rub the spot. She's really strong.

Shrugging to myself, I walk away accompanied by her excited laughter. She gallops past me even before I get to the main entrance, wearing just some red straps here and there. She must have forgotten to put on a real dress in her hurry.

"Hev a nais eevnink..." I mumble.

She is far away before I end the sentence. Well, if she doesn't mind then who am I to bother her about it?

Torches and lights from ornate windows light my path through the dark courtyard and castle grounds. There is a queue of visitors standing around and chatting on the long cobblestone road leading from the tall gate separating the grounds and the city itself to the castle entrance. Thankfully, I don't have to wait, as there is a small service door a short distance away through which I slink inside.

I REEEEEALLY should have had a shower. The high, white hallways decorated with pillars, red carpets, and occasional vase on a windowsil make me uneasy. It is beautiful, and I have no place here. Having at least dusted my hooves of before entering, I don't leave too much mess in my wake as I walk, accompanied by stoic stares of patrolling guards, up through the castle and finally find an office with a metal plaque reading: 


Sgt. Grey Shrine

23. Royal Guard division.

Recruit, training, and barracks management. 


In the absence of anything smarter to do, I knock.

A middle-aged unicorn mare, grey just like me but with cyan mane, opens, giving me a curious, yet impatient, glance of a pony ready to take care of business while having a lot on her hooves. She looks me up and down.

"Greyscale, the cleaning guy, right?"

"Yes, mem." 

Wow! She knows me? Why?

"What do you need?"

"Ai borrowd sumtink from d storich and dey geiv mee dis form," I pull out the filled out requisition form and present it to her. 

She levitates it, and narrows her eyes.

"Is this a joke?" the paper flicks through the air.

"Its mai first taim filling sumtink laik-" I try to look as tiny as I can.

Her carefully controlled voice makes my legs tremble.

"Why did they hire somepony who can't WRITE?" she waves the paper looking as if a foal with black crayon played with it for longer than it was healthy. The soft smack of the page on my muzzle doesn't hurt... physically. I know I'm dumb, but I did the best I could. My vision grows a little hazy and I sniffle.

I decide to lighten the mood a little. She asked for a joke, didn't she? Perhaps she is simply overworked and I came at the wrong time.

"Ai knou a joke. A blaind ponee wolks into a bar and seis ouch!"

Her horn flashes.

Can't... breathe...

"Look, I don't know what you and the privates consider a prank, but I'm busy, so shove this," the form smacks me again, "up your ass and don't bother me! The new princess wants me to find all thestrals in the Guard ASAP and send them to get interviewed. I already have captains Shining Armor and Sharp Biscuit on my back and I DON'T have time for this."

The glow fades and I can breathe again.

"But Ai fixd d showers..."

"You what? WHO LET YOU TOUCH IT? We are already over budget with the barracks being overcrowded due to all the bats coming back. If you did something that will make me beg the committee for one more bit, I will shoot you out of a cannon from Canterlot city walls!"

See? She IS just overworked. She must be a nice lady underneath.

"Ai ken show yoo." 

"Just ONE unnecessary bit, and I'm selling you to a griffon restaurant."

I doubt I would taste good.

"Aaaah?" everything turns white and with a thunderclap of reality making space for us, we appear inside the third floor showers of the barracks.

One after one the dials on the walls let water flow out of every nozzle. Grey Shrine looks at me.

"What was the problem?"

"Krekd paip," I point to the block of floor glued back after my makeshift repair. Under Shrine's careful scrutiny, the job I did does not look as good as I previously believed.

She stomps at the floor carefully, it barely shifts. She looks at me, then at the floor, then at me again, then at the floor. Puckering her lips, she re-reads the requisition form.

"Hmmm..." she scratches her head, "This DOES look good. Do you think it will last for one more week?"

"Ai dont nou," I shrug, "Nevr dun aneetink laik dis."

"How did you get into this anyway?" she waves at me to follow her, leaving the showers, "Come to my office, I'm not teleporting us for the second time."

"A betponee neimd Eklips hed a broken bed and Ai fixd it. Ai bought the plenks maiself and evreetink. Eet wont kost yoo a bit," she seems to be calming down, so I throw in the 'no money spent' bonus.

"Why? You just clean the place."

"Shee askd."

"How much did she pay you for the repair?"

"Nothink."

"How much do we pay you?"

"Twentee-faiv bits a week."

"Wow... that doesn't seem worth it."

Oh, damn. She thinks I'm not worth the money. Quick, quick, quick, think! Nopony else will ever give me a chance like this again.

"Ai... Ai tink Ai ken teik onlee twentee if yoo let mee sleep een d cellar."

She GLARES.

"Feefteen?" I shrink even further. It's not going well.

Suddenly, she smiles. I'll have to settle for fifteen bits a week then. I guess I can eat every other day. Diet HO!

She remains lost in thought with me in tow until we are back in her office.

"You know what?" she levitates a new form from a stack behind her which is the now familiar requisition one, "Let me fill this and you just answer my questions."

"Okey," I sit down on the chair on the opposite side of her working table.

"Name."

"Greyscale."

She pauses for a second.

"Date of borrowing."

"Toodei."

This goes on. Every answer is carefully filled in without any unnecessary chitchat. At least until I clutch my belly, groan, and accidentally hit the workdesk.

"What's wrong?"

"Notink. Just... hungree."

She examines me as I try to fight off the stomach cramps.

"You..." she asks carefully, "This isn't a side job for you as it was supposed to be, just an evening cleaning, right? This is the only thing you do."

I nod, wishing to be anywhere else but under her scanning gaze.

"Where do you live?"

"Ummm... Kantrlot?"

"I see," she puts down the filled form, "How would you feel if I took you to the guard canteen?"

"Ai hev no monee, mem. Ai spent eet for d bed."

"Celestia's stars... that was three days ago, right?" I just nod, "My treat. Let's say as a thank you for sparing me more grey hairs in my mane."

"Tank yoo, mem."

She gives me the beautifully filled form, and I follow her through the castle.

I even get THREE free sandwiches. THREE!

I knew she was a nice lady.
> 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thunk, thunk, thunk! Whack, whack!

"Phew!" I wipe my forehead and smile widely. Sawdust and sweat make mess all over my coat, but the reward is glorious, "Tyadaa!"

I raise a thin wooden box up and examine it for any imperfections. There have to be dozens of those, but I'm not a carpenter so as long as it holds shape I'm happy.

The quartermaster's head peeks through the door from the warehouse lobby, one eyebrow raised. It must be a lazy day, because I am here, in the warehouse workroom, completely alone. The middle-aged pony walks over and gives my proud creation a once over.

"A box... without a top," he concludes his exploration, prompting an answer.

"A ree-kvest boks," I beam, "Poneez who need sumtink fixd ken leev ree-kvests een eet."

The weekend is over, and as such I've already been paid my weekly salary. That also means I don't have to sleep that much not to be hungry all the time. I can have a sandwich every day again -yay!- and one full meal twice a week! And since I don't see double from exhaustion and don't wobble anymore while I walk, I can wander around Canterlot again. It's such a beautiful city. Ponies still avoid looking at me, but who can blame them? There are so many wonderful things to see and watching me is a waste of precious time. 

"What if somepony steals it?" the quartermaster asks.

A strange question.

"Wai? Eef dey wont too help dey ken just ask."

He snorts and covers his muzzle with a hoof.

"I guess you're right. That... that is exactly why somepony whould take it. To help you with repairing stuff."

I'm glad he understands. There is no reason anypony would want to steal it. It's just a rather shoddy container made from the wooden planks left over from fixing Eclipse's bed. On top of that...

"Noponee ken steel eet aneewey," I knock on the box meaningfully, "Aim going too put eet een d barraks end dere eez a bunch of gards all d taim. Yoo guise ar awsum at yor job! Aiv nevr lost aneetink."

"Do you actually have anything valuable?"

"Ai doo nau!" I wave the box in front of his face.

He just shakes his head and helps me clean the place up. Good to know that if I ever need to do some work again I can just use the warehouse workshop without having to fill any forms. I'm pretty sure sargeant Grey Shrine wouldn't be happy if I bothered her with more paperwork than she already has.

The final thing to do is to nail a piece of cardboard reading "Ree-kvest boks" on the side. I reused my "Undr ree-pear" sign, because I'm smart like that and I didn't have a spare one.

Few freezing minutes of me carrying my creation through castle grounds later, I let it rest by the door to the boiler room in the barracks cellar. Winter has to be just around the corner. There is no snow yet, but it's getting so cold outside it can't be too long before the white city is even whiter. Thankfully, I have an amazing job where I can spend nearly as long as I like in front of the open grate of the furnace heating the water. Sparks flutter around as the fire crackles, giving me something to watch even down here. Some land on my coat still wet from having a shower after my attempt at carpentry and hiss out.

*Knock knock knock*

Huh? Eclipse is the only pony who has ever come here, is anything broken again? Oh my, I can ask her to tell others about my box! If I become even marginally useful then they might stop throwing stuff at me when I walk where I shouldn't. They might only tell me to go away, or even... dare I dream... send me the right way?

"Stoopid Greyscale," I stick out my tongue at my reflection in the shard of broken glass I use to cut my mane. It waves at me and grins, "Yoo bettr lern too doo dis on yor own, cuz poneez kant weist taim wit yoo."

Fiery mane mixing orange with red cut short not to be a handicap during training, neat brown coat with developed muscles underneath, and yellow eyes looking up at me. That all puts together Eclipse's earthpony friend Piercing Hit.

"Helou!" I bow.

"Heyy," she smiles and looks downwards, "What's with the box?"

"Yoo ken rait sumtink yoo wont fixd eef Aim not heer nau."

"Cool," she looks closely at the cardboard with writing, "Umm... no offense, but can you read?"

"Ai ken reed end count too tausend, mem."

"Good for you," she keeps looking at the box. It can't be THAT poorly done. Well, unfortunately, it can. A guard can probably tell the quality is a little... off.

"Wot doo yoo need, mem?"

"Oh?" she jumps as if I startled her, "Right, right. Grey Shrine was asking about you and I needed few brownie points so I looked around instead of her."

"Ai hev no kookeez, mem. Soree."

"Heh, good one," she chuckles, "No, no, just go and see her. She gets pretty annoyed if things don't go her way."

I noticed...

"Okey," I give her a mock salute, "Ken yoo tell poneez about mai boks?"

"Yeah, sure. The guys will be ecstatic if they can save few bits on minor fixes or at least not have to go buy the new parts themselves."

"Tank yoo. Ail bee going nau den."

"Great! No cleaning latrines for me tonight, wohoo!" Piercing Hit jumps and walks up the stairs back to the main building.

Well, better not keep the sargeant waiting. I trot all the way to keep myself warm. The bustle inside the castle never ceases to amaze me. Servants, visitors, guards, everypony meshing into a tapestry of the grand seat of Equestrian power. At least the lower floors, I mean. From my brief visit few days ago I know that the upper ones hosting Guard offices and less frequented storerooms are not so lively.

"Come in!" Grey Shrine's voice answers my knocking.

"Helou, mem. Yoo askd for mee?"

"I did," she waves me closer, chewing a pencil thoughtfully with a stack of papers on her table, "Sit down. I've got good news for you."

I don't like change. It usually means a new way for me to worry about messing something up. Still, pretty admirable that she can talk properly even with her mouth full. No wonder she made it up through the Guard ranks to the post of sargeant. 

"Yes, mem?"

"As you may have noticed, the barracks are in pretty abysmal shape."

"Ail trai harder, mem," I give her a guilty look. 

"What?" she blinks, "No no, that has nothing to do with you. You're doing a good job. In fact, you're doing such a good job that I had a chat with several residents of the barracks and asked them how they would feel about reinstating some rules from before princess Luna's return."

"Woo eez preenses Loona?"

"Princess Celestia's sister. She came back from her... exile several months ago. As I may or may not have yelled at you before, her return is making me age a year with every new day."

"Soree, Ai forgot," I scratch my head. It always starts hurting when I try to remember stuff, so I just deal with what it shows me when somepony mentions something on the fly, "Yoo ar steel preety, mem."

"Ehm, thank you," she smirks, "Most of us believed it was just an old ponies' tale. Sadly, it wasn't, and now I have my hooves full with all the damn batponies trickling in," she bites through the held pencil, "Aw, crap! Well, in the light of all these new ponies arriving to the castle, the barracks will have to be in a much better shape than now, which is where you come in."

"Aim not det good wit fixing stuff," I have to come clean. My first two repair jobs were more luck than anything else, "Aim not det smart."

"That might be the case, but you have shown you can improvise pretty successfully," she leans towards me and says in a low tone, "Let me be completely honest with you. A real caretaker would cost me about hundred and fifty bits per week, you only fifty. Unless you burn the barracks down you will still be cheaper in the long term than anything I can get on this short notice. I will even overlook that you stay in the cellars for far longer than you are supposed to because I think, correct me if I'm wrong, you have nowhere to return. I don't know where you sleep or what you do in your spare time, and I don't care. You can make home down there through the winter and I doubt anypony will be bothered. Or even if they are, they'll have to voice their concerns to me first."

"Weit, Aim not- FEEFTEE?"

Her smug smile of complete and utter victory when I squeak says it all. I decide to ignore the fact that a skilled pony would be worth three times more than me.  I am neither skilled nor smart, so me being worth one third of a real pony is an amazing upgrade, and overestimation. With fifty bits I could even afford to make the necessary repairs AND eat.

"That's not all, actually. The new thestral recruits and the older residents of the barracks will be docked a small portion of their pay to fill the new repair fund to which I will have access and you will be paying for the materials needed for renovations, upgrades, and repairs from. Now, the last thing - the fund will not pay for you to hire helpers when you have no clue what to do with a problem, there just isn't enough money for trained artisans to take care of stuff even on random basis. To remedy that, you will be allowed a limited access to the 'self help' portion of the castle library which is stocked with guides and manuals."

My head is spinning.

"Aignnnghh..."

Something smells fishy. No, something smells like smoke.

"Doo yoo smell sumtink weerd?"

She sniffs the air as well. Come to think of it, if I focus I can hear voices coming from the outside even in this soundproofed office.

"Is something burning?" she jump to the window and opens it. Thick smoke immediately fills the room, "The hay?"

I peek out, resisting the pungent heat in my nostrils. The office faces the Canterlot mountain, which means it overlooks the barracks right next to the castle wall.

The burning barracks. The only place which has ever found a use for me is turning into a ruin in front of my eyes. 

"OH HECK NO!" Grey Shrine's voice is a mix of annoynce and despair.

I...
I...
I forgot to close the boiler furnace grate when Piercing Hit came.

For a second I had a dream of a life. But that was all it was, a dream.
> 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Damn!" Grey Shrine curses again, watching the small ponies down below rush out of the burning barracks and gather in a wide circle around, "Come!"

I don't have time to recover from my stupor as she puts a hoof on my neck, and teleports both of us into the growing crowd.

"Did anypony call the fire department?" Shrine yells. The guards aimlessly mill around, staring at their hooves and not answering, "Then don't just stand there, you morons!" some of the less singed and worn-looking ones wake up and rush off, "Good, the rest of you, form a bucket chain from," she looks around, despair obvious on her face when she realizes everything is too far to be effective, "uhh... the warehouse to here."

"My cat is still inside in a pet carrier," a guardsmare mumbles. The crushed stares of many paralyzed ponies tell me that many a guard had an animal companion in their room. The fire must have spread incredibly fast for them not to be able to get the pets out as well as themselves.

"A plushie my grandma gave me before she died while I was at the academy," a burly pegasus sniffles like a little foal.

"The fire came from the cellars, do you think he started it?" a quiet whisper comes from somewhere.

"STOP WHINING AND GO GRAB THE BUCKETS, THAT'S AN ORDER!" Grey Shrine roars, making everypony twitch at her magically enhanced voice, "Is anypony still inside, pets and toys not included?"

More shrugging and looking around.

Good. At least nopony is going to die due to my negligence. I still have too much to atone for, though. Broken memories, dead animals...

...all those mementos and little friends mean a ton to their owners. I caused this. I have no job anymore. I am of no worth to anpony now. Using simple logic, a thing of no value can be sacrificed for a chance at saving something greater. Plus, everything I own is in the boiler room which must now be a raging inferno of flames.

I'm not a courageous pony, I just can't live with the knowledge that I hurt this many ponies so much.

"GREYSCALE?!" Shrine screams when I bolt for the main entrance. Several guards look my way but not a single one moves to stop me. Good, no time to worry about me, they should focus on putting the fire out.

"Aaaaaah!" I jump through the burning door and roll on the stone floor to douse the fires in my coat. The long hall leading to the staircase up is fairly clear. 'Only' the doorframes, the rooms, the wooden ceiling, and the furniture in the hallway are bursting with flames. Come to think of it, that's a lot of ouch.

"Uh, ugh..." my mouth goes dry in an instant and my entire chest burns from the inside. Thick grey smoke makes me cry instantly. I shake my head. Staying here and choking to death doesn't sound like the best of ideas.

"Olrait, olrait," I croak, "Daun first."

The stone cellars are in a surprisingly good shape. Some ceilings in storage rooms must have burned through and set the ground floor on fire. Apparently, the stone floor up there isn't all just stone. Smoke bursts out of the boiler room when I open the door.

"AAAH!" I lick my burned underhoof. Touching anything made of metal is bad bad bad.

The furniture is charred, the furnace grate is open, and boiling steam is rushing from burst pipes leading out. Thank heavens for the stone floor! The steel cup is too hot and so is my shard of broken glass. Thankfully, the cloth bag of bits somehow survived under the wardrobe without catching on fire, although the gold coins burn me all the way back up.

Alright, now I have something small to chip in for the damages. It is a drop in the ocean since all this is my fault, but it's all I've got - twenty-two bits. My head spins as I trot up the stairs into the destroyed hallway. I can't stay here much longer. I must, though.

Part of the ceiling caved in while I was retrieving my things, singed beams slowing down my progress. The cracking and humming of flames blocks most of what I can hear, but I have to at least look for the cat. I owe it to the guards who were nice enough to me to let me stay here until my stupidity took the form of forgetfulness and caught up with me.

Room after room, I peek my head in, avoiding open fires. The ground floor yields nothing. Further up it is much much worse. The floor is full of holes, the ceiling is collapsing, and I can barely see through the veil of smoke.

"Ah ah ah ah ah!" I crawl under a fallen beam. My back burns like blazes. 

Breathing in sparks bursting when the floor breaks down in front of me, I fall over, wheezing and coughing with my head dangling down the hole. I hear a creak of metal.

A deafening boom. 

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I roll to the side, narrowly avoiding a geyser of steam so hot it instantly boils the hair off my ear, "Ow ow ow ow ow," I whine as I crawl towards the safer-looking part of the floor.

A dead bird, burned inside its cage. A tank of goldfish, now basically a soup. Magazines, clothes, posters, pictures in frames, toys, everything turning to ash in front of my eyes.

A loud meow.

"Keetee!" 

The little thing in a hot plastic box is somehow still alive among the burning wreckage. If cats have nine lives, this poor thing lost at least two today. I can't let it end badly for it. With the pet carrier in my mouth, I finish the first floor off and rush to the second. Since this one is in the best shape, the fruitless search takes much less time, although I can barely stand.

A shadow in the smoke. A unicorn shadow.

Was somepony stupid enough to try to save me? They can't risk themselves. I just clean stuff, and not even that anymore. They have a life, friends, and purpose.

"Get aut, ser or mem!" I cough.

The shadow comes closer, moving without any problems.

"Don't worry," it says pleasantly, "I will get out just fine. You should focus on yourself."

Who am I to argue with a unicorn?

"Deed yoo see eny aneemals around?" the shadow disappears, "Ser, ser?"

He must have recovered his things and teleported out already. Time for me to get going as well. The cat has stopped meowing, which means I can't dawdle anymore. I'll just have to think of a way to pay my dues to the other guards later.

The staircase leading down to the ground floor has collapsed, probably due to the boiler exploding underground. There's no way I can safely jump down into the mess of sharp wood and burning cinders. So, what now?

This is not a good idea.

I wrap a bed sheet around myself to fasten the pet carrier on my back and look out of the window for a clear place to land. A guard looks up at me and I point at the hump on my back.

"Ai -cough- Ai got d keettn."

Thankfully, the floors of the barracks are tiny compared to the castle floors and the three of the barracks are equal to about one and a half high white hallways. If I jump down on the grass I should survive.

My leap of faith is slowed down, and I see a bright glow of Grey Shrine's horn.

"WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING, YOU MORON?"

"Ai... Ai got d keettn," I breathe out. 

"What?" a guardsmare leaves the bucket line and starts poking my sheet in various places. She can't control her shaking hooves properly to untie the knots.

Grey Shrine's telekinesis rips the sheet open, revealing the pet carrier.

"Celestia's sunlight! My-" the mare stops.

No... please no... tell me I didn't mess even this up.

She starts crying.

"Celestia damn it!" Grey Shrine growls, and picks up the box with the limp furry body inside, and pulls the cat out. She nudges it in several places, and then her horn glows again. I breathe a whiff ozone and hear a crack of lightning.

The little thing starts wheezing and coughing.

"Just unconscious," the sargeant pushes the pet inside and closes the grate, "Give it some fresh air and it'll be fine. NOW STOP BAWLING AND GET BACK TO THE BUCKETS!" 

"Umm..."

A loud creak and crash make everypony freeze. The whole ceiling of the barracks crumbles, taking most of the building with it.

I just lie there, taking in lungfuls of fresh air.

"If there was any justice in this world, then the idiot what started it would be buried there instead of my grandma's parting gift," I hear somepony spit on the ground. 

"Aim soree," I croak, barely hearing myself.

If a guard says justice has not been served, then they must be right. They are trained to be right.

"Shut it!" Grey Shrine, barks his way, "We don't know what started the fire until the guys from forensics are done with it," she breathes a heavy sigh and turns away, "Keep going until the fire is out completely. Whoever can should stay in their friends' apartments in Canterlot or with their family for few nights. If you really have nothing, then report to my office and we will work something out. There should be a bunch of guest rooms in the castle empty."

"Ai deed eet," I whisper to myself. 

Shrine leans down to me and helps me sit up. 

"Ear completely burnt, minor other burns all over, a bleeding front leg," she raises an eyebrow, "You're in a shockingly good shape. Let me just administer minor anesthesia."

Her horn glows and I feel a little lighter.

"Tank yoo," I can even speak easier.

"Well, I don't know what to do with you, but it looks like we won't be needing a caretaker anymore. Rebuilding this will take months."

"Soree."

I can't tell her. She offered me so many things and she meant it. I can't make her feel stupid. I have to fix this somehow. After all, it almost was my job to fix things.

She lets me go, and I slink away through Canterlot. What whould I do?



"If there was any justice in this world, then the idiot what started it would be buried there."

"The fire came from the cellars, do you think he started it?"

"A plushie my grandma gave me before she died while I was at the academy."



Justice.

I can't fix the physical damage I caused, but I can ease the mental.

A dark alley by the side of Canterlot mountain shielded from wind and most rain greets me. There, next to a large dumpster with the metal sliding lid open to make an improvised roof, lie two cardboard crates lodged into one another. I COULD be sleeping on the cobblestones, but those are freezing this time of the year, and nopony seemed to need the boxes when I took them few weeks ago.

I still have over twenty bits to make things right, and now I have a plan.

On the way back to the castle, I purchase few little things and stash them into the double box balancing on my back. Nopony on the castle grounds gives me a second glance, most being too busy either gossiping about the event or doing their business.

The first thing I bought is a pencil with which I write a message on the side of my boxes that I put in front of the now dark ruins of the barracks.

"Dis eez mai houm end stuff. Yoo ken teik wot yoo wont and yoo ken hev reel justeets bai wotching mee end the seim wey yor preshus tinks deed. Ai em reely, reely soree for beeink too dum too bee a kleener."

The second item I bought is a canister of cheap lantern oil. It smells nasty and it itches everywhere I pour it over my charred coat, especially my muzzle. 

"Ouch, ow ow ow..."

The final one is a box of matches. I strike one with my mouth.

"AAAH AAAAH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Justice. I hope the amazing ponies who gave me the chance to be around them for a while can sleep at least a tiny bit better tonight.
> 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

*Beep... beep... beep... beep...*

The high-pitched repeating sound is too predictable to belong to a bird. It's coming from afar. That, or it is dampened by something. Everything is warm, dark, and soft.

Breathe in, breathe out.

My slow breathing feels like hot water trickling and spreading through me, stream by stream filling my lungs, all four legs down to my hooves, and throughout my whole body. The quiet world of comfortable nothingness only punctuated by repetitive beeping is disrupted again, this time by a deeper, hushed noise.

"You have been sitting here every day, miss. I know what's happening is a miracle, nonetheless the chances of him waking up after mere week here are slim to none. If somepony suffered burns like these AND woke up ever before I saw this, I would be hundred percent sure they must have a guardian angel. With recovery like this, at least physical, I am sure magic is at work. Earthpony strength and stamina or not, this is naturally impossible. He was a charred lump when you brought him here. The only reason I bothered to help instead of ending his life out of mercy was because you did such a good job putting all the fires out and he was still breathing." 

"We had all the equipment still ready from, you know, the barracks... so we foamed him, and the sargeant used to be a military emergency medic. She used her magic to at least prevent the foam from poisoning him. Is it possible her spell saved him completely?"

"Such burns would kill a pony, magic or not. Maybe, if princess Celestia herself was there, used a stasis spell on him, and then had days to focus her magic and heal him he would turn out like this."

"But she wasn't, and he is here, breathing and recovering."

"As I said - a miracle. Sometimes these things happen, nopony knows how or why. Patients surviving fatal diseases, survivors of mental trauma returning to the real world, and so on. Although I must admit that living after taking so much visible physical damage both internal and external is something else, regenerating this fast doubly so."

The soft warmth around my leg presses further, as if the comfy coccoon I'm in was pushed from the outside.

"So, you shouldn't be alive," says the sad, contemplative voice coming from a distance.

Strange. Why would anypony say that? Everypony should have a chance. There is nopony so bad that they 'should not be alive', nopony beyond saving. But...

...there are some not worth the effort.

I twitch, and memories start flooding back to me. Fire, fire everywhere. Sobbing ponies staring paralyzed at the burning barracks, their precious memories disappearing in flames. Hundred or so guards losing the place they lived in, the rooms for two each of them made into a little piece of home away from home. All lost because of a stupid mistake by me, not anypony else. I had nothing, and yet I took away so much of theirs.

That leaves me with only one thing to say:

"Ai knou."

"Huh?" the female voice responds to my exhausted admission.

"Ai burnd d barraks," I sniffle, tears stinging salty paths through my sensitive skin, "Ai left d furnes greit open wen Peersing Heet keim. Eet-"

"Whoa whoa, slow down," she says and I hear a chair being dragged away, "The fire didn't start in the boiler room."

What?

Wait, what?

"Uugh..." I open my eyes and moan as white light assaults me. My leg trying to shield me from it is stopped by something wrapped around me. I make a second attempt.

"Stop struggling," says a firm male voice previously talking to the mare, and something cold and wet is put on my face. The warm feeling all over is growing uncomfortable as I wake up further, but the soothing cold draped over the top of my head helps a ton.

I stop moving.

"Did you..." the mare hesitates, "did you really think you caused it? Is that why you set yourself on fire?" slow shock and disbelief creeping into her voice. 

How to explain?

"D gards lost deir importent tinks cos of mee. Ai hurt dem. Ai tought dey wud feel bettr eef d uan woo deed eet ended d seim. Uan of dem wonted justeets and seid eet shud hef been mee on fair. Gards nou wot justeets meens."

A sniffle that isn't mine.

More sniffling as the chair is dragged again, and the mare sitting by my bedside's hoofsteps grow distant until they fade completely.

"That was... incredibly foolish," the stallion who has to be a doctor comments, "Both doing what you did, and saying what you said. It might cause the young guardsmare some issues with her chosen vocation. Guards are ponies too, prone to make mistakes and saying things they don't mean in the heat of the moment."

"Ai burnd deir houm," I mumble, "And Grei Shrain sed she needed moar speis for d betponees or she wud bee een troubl end Ai burnd ol she hed. End rait aftr she sed Ai wos gud enuff."

"Sargeant Grey Shrine. Yes, she came to visit you during the week."

"She shuld not weist her taim..."

"Heh, I know that firecracker. She wouldn't bother with something unimportant. Speak of the devil," he coughs, "Good evening, sargeant."

Multiple sets of hoofsteps enter what I'm gradually starting to believe is a... room.

"How is he, doc?" a voice I can identify now that I'm almost awake is Grey Shrine's.

"About as good as when you asked in the morning, but with more talking now."

"I see," her voice grows colder, "Why did you do it, Greyscale?"

"I said he-" the mare previously talking to me starts, but is cut off immediately. It was Eclipse. She's so nice. I always liked when she said hello while passing by.

"I want to hear it from him," Grey Shrine says through gritted teeth. She is trying to be measured and control herself, but I can feel the boiling anger.

It's time to face the music. The least I can do is admit I did it, because my attempt at appeasing the guards with my pain quite obviously failed.

"Ai burnd d barraks."

"Funny," is her snarky response, "I guess I'm gonna have to kick the ass of some ponies from the forensic team for giving me a false report then."

"Ummm..."

"Alright, now listen, and listen carefully, you idiot!" she leans down to my ear, "The fire started in the storeroom where spare blankets and other cloth, thus very flammable, supplies ar- were. The heat pipes leading from the boiler were older than Celestia herself. Some sparks just went the wrong way and got out through a crappy seal or something, I'm not an engineer. You had NOTHING to do with the fire."

"But Ai left d greit open..."

"Yeah?" she raises her voice, making me flinch, "So what? The boiler room was BUILT so no fire could come from there. There was basically a single piece of furniture in the whole room made of STONE AND CONCRETE. The freaking princess could summon the sun there and nothing would happen!"

"Ai..."

I don't know what to say.

"Who was the idiot that said you should have burned to death instead of the barracks?"

"Ai dont nou."

"TELL ME!"

"Ai dont nou."

"Look at me."

I open my eyes and blink away the tears.

Grey Shrine is scowling at me. Two more faces, one brown rimmed with red and orange mane and one dark blue with strands of shimmering white falling down from her forehead join hers. The white ceiling, soft blanket, and hushed noises coming from outside of the room tell me I must be in a hospital somewhere. The beeping and various wires and tubes coming from under my blanket just polish the image.

"I guessed you were not right in the head," Shrine says slowly, "but I didn't expect this."

"Soree."

"Just... just have a good rest."

Something forces itself to be remembered.

"Wot about d yooneecorn in d fair?"

"Huh?"

"Ai met a yooneecorn wen Ai wos insaid d barraks. Deed he get aut?"

"Nopony went in or out aside from you," Grey Shrine shakes her head, "I think you were just half unconscious from the smoke and fumes."

"Okey," I nod. She must be right, she is not me. So, now that I seem like I should be able to walk again soon I should get back to work... somewhere, "Wot do Ai do nau, mem?"

Shrine breathes a heavy sigh.

"You have violated several castle health protocols-"

"Soree."

"Shut up! Such lapse of judgement coming from an employee of the crown calls for a sick leave."

"Ai just kleen d-"

"Shhh," Piercing Hit's soft brown underhoof lands on my mouth.

"Thank you," Shrine nods, "You are a castle employee, and as such you are entitled to some... things. Anypony questioning the time of me signing your new contract and the time of the fire can talk to my hoof first. You didn't hear anything, doc," she gives the stallion a side glance.

"Hear what?" he chuckles.

"Good," Shrine turns to me again, "Unfortunately, the severity of your actions warrant an indefinite detention in a mental facility."

"Em Ai krayzee?"

"Yes-" Shrine is cut off by Eclipse.

"No! You are just... a little naive. The... vacation will give you time to think about things and pull yourself together."

"Soree for scareeng yoo," I nuzzle Piercing Hit's hoof still brushing against my head. She looks devastated. She must have lost something really important in the fire. I'm glad it wasn't my fault.

"EHM!" Shrine coughs loudly, "The institute where you will be recovering is the Border Glade Home in lower Canterlot. A carriage will be sent for you as soon as your physical health is deemed satisfactory."

"Okey."

"Considering the rate of your recovery," the doctor examines the various beeping machines around, "I think you could leave in the morning. And," he looks at Shrine, Eclipse, and Piercing, "you should let him rest."

They nod, say their goodbyes, and leave, accompanied by the doctor. The room sinks into darkness lit only by the specks of light coming from Canterlot city through the window.

If they say I need rest then I should get some sleep.

There is nopony aside from a nurse waiting for me when I wake up. She helps me wash up, careful not to irritate the now carpet-short hair of my coat. Hey, at least I don't have to cut my mane again since the purple's all gone in the flames. My reflection in the mirror shakes his head and facehoofs.

I agree. All this is unnecessary for me. I can walk and that means I can be useful for somepony. I just need to think things through a little more next time. The nurse leads me out of the infirmary wing of Canterlot castle.

The carriage on the road near the castle entrance lets me in through a door in the back which clicks when I sit on a soft bench inside. It's comfortable, even the walls are padded, and the door is super safe because when I experimentally try to open it it doesn't budge. Amazing, I can't slide out even if I fall asleep during us driving up a steep incline.

I try really hard not to think about the thick bars on the side windows.
> 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A pair of bulky earthponies dressed in white escorted me from the carriage through what could be called a mansion towards a set of two rooms - the head psychiatrist's office and the waiting room. A nurse told me to wait until called for, and went inside the office. A moment later, I could hear the faint traces of a hesitant conversation.

Sitting down on the floor by the door, I perk my ears. I could sit in one of the comfortable armchairs, but I'm sort of used to sitting on the stone floor with my back against a wall. The boiler room was a friendly place. Having nothing to do but wait, I listen and catch what little fragments I can.

"...anything unusual?"

"...recovery...magic..."

"...not enough..."

"...have to wait..."

"...dangerous?"

"...doubt..."

"...nothing special..."

"...anything yet."

They must be talking about me and my quick release from the castle infirmary, but as expected the door is thick enough not to hear anything clear. Without a single creak of the hinges, the door opens and a tall and shockingly bulky unicorn nurse walks out. She looks at me with an impassive face of box-like features a minotaur would envy.

"Come in," her heavy accent coupled with a deep voice feel like a hammer hitting an anvil.

Entering the office, I watch the nurse until she leaves and closes the door behind her.

"She is less scary than she looks," says the head psychiatrist. His tone is warm and understanding, which must be the prime prerequisite for the job, "Now, sit down, mister...?"

"Greyscale. Tank yoo," I plant my rump onto a leather couch so soft I could-

I yawn instantly.

"Soree."

"Hmmm," the doctor keeps watching me while his levitating pencil writes something into a notepad on his desk. His coat is light brown turning to yellow, and both his mane and a bushy goatee accompanied by a moustache are silvery grey. With his thick, black spectacles he completes the psychiatrist stereotype to the letter. All that's missing is a book with unrecognizable pictures and him making a pyramid of his front hooves.

Aaah, here it is.

He props his chin on the triangle of his front legs.

"My name is Clear Insight, and I've been tasked to make you feel better. Nice to meet you, Greyscale."

"Helou!" I beam. He raises his eyebrows and requites my smile, although in a more reserved fashion.

"Now, it is important for you to trust me and tell the truth," he says calmly, as if he'd said this already thousands of times, "I promise nothing you say will leave this office. To help you, I need to get to know you, so I would like to ask you some simple questions during this session."

"Okey," I yawn again and shuffle on the couch.

"That thing is sinfully comfortable. Too bad I'm not allowed to use it since it's only for the patients," he chuckles, "Make yourself at home."

"Tank yoo."

"Alright, can we begin?" he gives me a patient look as I lie down on my back and look at the ceiling.

"Yes."

"First, the short request to accommodate you here in Border Glade came with this," he levitates a dark grey pony shape decorated by accessories in various shades of blue and purple up for me to see, "There's a short note for you here as well."

It's a batpony plushie, specifically an armored Nightguard stallion one with dark blue wings, violet mane, yellow eyes, and all the little bits of official breastplate, helmet, and horseshoes. Everything is soft, but durable and extremely well done, as if meant to be given to a careless foal who would love it, but might inadvertently break it.

A note comes flying to me as well and stops above my muzzle.

"Dis ees comandr Steeches end hee will protekt yoo. Ai got eet wen Ai wos smoll from mai ded end took eet wit mee from d fair. Dont woree about dose morons woo ran away witout tinking about deir stuff - Eklips," I read, more and more surprised with every word.

"Hmmm," the doctor's pen scratches something more into his notepad, "Will you be sending something back? I think we can make sure it gets to the recipient."

I blush and bite my lip.

"Ken yoo... rait eet for mee? Mai raitink ees deefeecult too undrstand. Eet ees as bed as mai speech."

"If you wish, we can do it tomorrow. Today I just want to get to know you and make sure the basic things for your stay here are sorted out."

"Okey," I nod.

"Alright, first question - how old are you?"

"Twentee sevn."

"Hm, you look younger."

"Eet ees d mane."

"You barely have any. Is it because of the fire?"

"Nou, Ai lost most of mai cout een d fair. Ai cut d mane maiself."

"Why, do you like the style?"

"Umm... Aim not shure. Eet felt laik a good aideeya at d taim."

"I see. Now, where were you born, Greyscale?"

"Um, Ai dont nou."

"Huh?" his glasses tilt a little, "How come?"

"Ai reemembr waiking up een an alley. Eet wos reining. Ai crawld undr an overhang. Leitr Ai got bokses so Ai wasnt kold."

"When... when did this happen?" he asks, levitating pen scribbling furiously onto paper.

"Bout a mont ago."

The pen stops and he stares, glasses slowly sliding down his muzzle.

"How did nopony know about this?"

"Wai wud dey? Dey hef deir laivs," I shrug, not really seeing the doc's problem.

"But... but..." he takes a deep breath and calms down, "Nevermind that. So, you don't remember anything past waking up there?"

"Nou."

"Have you tried finding out what happened?"

"Nou."

"Why?"

"Eet ees not importent," I shrug, "Ai em Greyscale. Ai kant doo much so Ai doo wot ponees tell mee. Ai went too d kastle end got a job as a kleener."

"Right after you woke up you went to the castle, KNEW there was a job opening, AND got it without anypony asking questions? All that while remembering NOTHING about yourself?" he sighs, "Did I get it right? No steps inbetween like employment agency, gossip on the street about a job vacancy?"

"Onlee d castle employmeant laydee. Ai got luckee."

"And you are not bothered in the slightest by not knowing how or why you got to the alley where you woke up?"

"Noup. Wai shud Ai?"

"It might help you know who you are."

"Ai nou woo Ai em. Ai em Greyscale. Ai trai too help ponees."

"What about yourself? In terms of finding a place to live or somepony to live with, I mean?"

"Ai hed mai boks, Ai hed fuud, Ai wos kleen, end eet wos warm een d boiler room."

"I see. A simple life. Were you happy with it?"

"Yes."

"Did you want anything else. Let us say, for the future?"

"Nou."

"Were you thinking about what you would do in case you got fired, no atrocious pun intended?"

"Ai hed mai boks were eet didnt rein. Ai woshd maiself een a founteen een a park wen d barraks were clousd. Ai kud work for food."

"I see. Well, no, I need to be open with you. Your point of view is so far from mine I will have to think about it for some time. However, there are some emerging patterns I could grasp from our short interview."

"Ou?"

His pen lays itself neatly next to his notepad and he leans towards me.

"You can read completely fine, but you can't write. You understand things well, can improvise, at least according to the report miss Grey Shrine filed about you, and your grammar is, past some little details, of somepony with high education, yet you cannot talk properly. Your background would drive a normal pony insane with desire to find out what happened, and yet you show no interest in it. In short, you can take things in, but you, and this is just my guess, are not allowed somehow to interact in the... outwards direction."

"Weerd," I shrug, not really bothered.

"One last question for now, if you don't mind."

"Yoo are a nais ponee, ser. Go ahed."

"Can you tell me the names of all ponies you know, just names?"

"Uhm, okey. Eklips, Selesteeya, Loona, Peersing Heet, Grei Shrain, Kleer Insait, Steeches. Dets oll Ai tink."

"And yours?"

"Greyscale."

"Thank you, Greyscale. I hope you enjoy your stay here in Border Glade."

"Eet lookd preety from d autsaid."

"Indeed," Clear Insight nods, "Nurse-"

"Helga d Horreebl?" I take a guess.

"Why does everypony keep guessing that? No, nurse Chiseled Chin will now show you around the asylum. Contrary to the popular belief, she does not eat granite slabs for breakfast, no matter what any witne- gossips might say."

"Owww..."

"She IS, however, our head nurse and head warden at the same time."

"Dets a lot of heds," it all makes sense now, "She ees a haidra een diguis!"

"No."

"Are yoo shu-"

"Yes."

"Ai cud ask-"

"No!"

"Okey," I decide not to torture the poor doctor further.

He smiles as the door opens and the towering head nurse comes for me.

"Helou, mem Cheese-lead Shin."

"Come with me, mister Greyscale," she says in a rumbling voice of an avalanche about to swallow a hillside village, "We will take great care of you here."

Why is my hair standing on edge?

"Yeah, don't trust anything the brick wall with tits says," I hear a quiet whisper near my ear.

There is nothing there, though. Only a stuffed Nightguard plushie nesting firmly on my back.

Well, apparently the guards were right to send me here. I AM crazy. Well, they are smart, and if they believe this place can help me then I must do everything I can not to fail them.

"Did you say something?" the head nurse asks out of nowhere.

"Ummm..." I should be straight with her, she is here to help, "Ai tink mai plushee just tolked too mee."

I give her an uncertain smile when she stops and watches Stitches on my back.

"Can I have a look at it?" she asks with surprising gentleness. I nod.

The soft warmth of the toy hugging my neck disappears as she levitates it to herself and examines it closely, the glow of her horn changing colours multiple times. In the end she sighs.

"No, it is not magical in any way," she shakes her head, "I'm afraid that doesn't bode well for you."

"Soree for beeing trabl."

"We have treated enough patients hearing voices, trust me. At least you aren't trying to run away."

"It's nais heer, warm and drai."

"I'm glad you like it. Your room should be ready shortly, so we can go on a short excursion just so you know your way around. I haven't recieved any instructions to keep you under lock and key, so for now you are free to use any inside or outside facilities we have."

"Okey."

The design of the Border Glade home is simple. It's an airy two-story building with a bulkier central part and two wings, all together forming a U-shape which shields the gardens outside from the bustle of lower Canterlot. Situated on the edge of the city, the entire proper is inside a square of high walls barely letting any outside noise in.

The left and right wing of the complex are merely long hallways with rooms on the sides. The doors are padded and equipped with latches the asylum staff can use for watching the patients. I'm not allowed to look inside many of them so that I don't disturb the residents, but some doors look more as slabs of steel meant to keep ponies inside under all circumstances.

"Some ponies here are terrified of others. They need to be allowed very sporadic contact with outside world to recover, that means even the sounds of the world outside of their rooms."

"Wot will yoo doo too mee?" I ask, curious after passing a half-open door at the central block leading to a room with a group of ponies painting something on large canvas.

"For the first few days the head psychiatrist will simply talk to you to find out as much about you as he can and then he will decide on the treatment. Since you don't seem in a bad shape we will just observe you and give you some pills. Nothing invasive."

Room after room with various instruments and dazed ponies looking halfway in a different reality later, the tour is complete. The distant stares of the treated patients are worrying, but all of the look like they are having fun on some level. She leads me towards a double door in the central part in the end.

"Here is the common room, where we allow the patients who are currently not undergoing any treatment mingle. You can wait for me there while I check out if your room is ready. Don't be afraid. Some patients might seem strange but we let the dangerous ones socialize with others only under heavy observation. The common room is for those in a similar state as you."

"Okey. Tank yoo, miss Shin."

"Be nice, and your time here will just fly by, and you will feel much better in the end," she smiles, "Ah, I forgot," the feeling of a plushie sitting firmly on my back returns, "This is yours, just don't listen to anything it says. The first step to stop hearing voices is not acknowledging them."

"Olrait, mem," I bow to her and open the door to the common room, ready to meet some new ponies.
> 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The common room is simplistic, but made into looking as if it is not so.

In layout it is a simple square of white walls, one of which is made entirely of glass and overlooks the gardens. There are numerous circular tables screwed into the floor by the walls, each hosting three chairs but easily able to accommodate twice the amount. A dartboard hangs on a wall, but in the same way as there are only circular tables and chairs the game consists of throwing small balls that stick to the board rather than sharp darts. The only furniture even remotely resembling something with edges are several armchairs randomly scattered among the tables, and those are so padded they have to be both astonishingly comfortable and about as dangerous as a party balloon.

What contrasts sharply with the idea of this place being safe and peaceful is a bar, completely stocked with various colourful bottles, an earthpony bartender cleaning a wooden mug with a cloth that could likely kill any bacteria as well as dragons, tall bar stools, also padded, and a pegasus mare sitting on one, hunched over a glass of yellow liquid and a melting ice cube. As she stares gloomily into her drink, I give her a short glance, careful not to offend in case she notices me watching. Her coat is sort of light blue-ish grey and fights the midnight blue of her mane and tail. As I look lower to check her cutie mark, the door I came through closes and she turns her head my way. I quickly look away.

She and the bartender aren't the only ponies around. Two more patients and a warden are doing their business, looking fairly busy. There is a young-looking unicorn in shades of red and orange playing with something small on the table. He hides away whatever his toy is when he accidentally looks my way. The warden is occupied with grunting and pulling large potted plants from place to place. Even as an earthpony, he seems to be having problems. I know the feeling of having to lug something heavy with my mouth. It's not the weight that's the problem, it's the friction between the ground and the thing you're pulling. The warden would do much better if he brought a little cart or something. My theory is reasserted when he pulls a little too hard on the flower pot's handle and the thing tilts over, scattering dirt and leaves everywhere. Thank heavens the floor is tiled, and not carpeted. That would be ridiculously difficult to clean.

Heh, I know my improvised mechanical stuff.

The final occupant is a unicorn completely absorbed in his work, sitting in a corner with two pinboards overflowing with pictures and articles, and reading apparently three thick encyclopedias at once, all open on his table. The mumbling and quiet 'ah-hah!' coming over and over from him don't fill me with any reason to bother him in his effort.

So, what to do? Everypony seem busy with their stuff and I really don't want to push myself onto them. I'm not too good with the talky stuff, but I sure as hay can lug things around, so I approach the warden, sitting exhausted on the floor, back against one of the oversized flower pots.

"Ken Ai help yoo?"

"It's -huff- fine..." he gasps for air, sweating a storm.

I examine the flower pots the size of half a pony. The warden must have made somepony really mad to have to do this on his own. Probably the hydra. 

"Eez d too heded nurse mad at yoo?" I ask, sweeping the dirt strewn all around from the toppled decoration into a neat pile using my tail. The dirt is completely lost in the purple hair.

He furrows his brows. I give him time to work through what I said.

"Two headed nurse?"

"D hed nurse end d hed worden. Shee'z a haidra!"

His laughter makes the unicorn in the corner look up from his newspaper clippings in annoyance and scowl at me. I wave at him, he grumbles something, and returns back to his business. 

"She totally is," the warden finally controls himself and just snickers, "You're right. She wants me to move these damn things," he thumps the heavy ceramic pot with his hoof, "to the hall so the gardeners don't have to come inside and bother the patients. She's mad at me because I gave Pyre there the trick matches."

He nods towards the teen unicorn toying with a small package which lights up every few seconds and instantly hisses out in a tiny puff of smoke.

"Ai ken help. Ai ken kerry stuff."

"You are a patient, I suppose."

"Yes. Ai hev a tolking plooshee end Ai set maiself on fair."

"Uhhh," he shifts uncomfortably and tilts his head to see Stitches on my back, "Did the plushie tell you to do that?"

"Nou, a gard deed."

"That doesn't sound right. Anyway, suicidal patients aren't usually allowed to walk around unsupervised."

"Ai em weiting for mai room. Ai knou wot Ai deed wos for no reeson. Ai deed not burn d barraks so its okey."

He stands up and unbuttons his white shirt, an article of clothing common to all asylum employees. It stands out against his dark blue coat and brown mane, and he is careful not to make it dirty as he takes the dirt I swept and shoves it back into the flower pot.

"Alright. I really shouldn't, but I'll take all the help I can get since I've got a lot on my plate for today."

The pots are equipped with two handles, meaning they are either meant to be carried by a minotaur or at least two ponies. The warden looks about my age, but is a little bigger and much less scrawny, definitely earthpony genes at work. With two of us, we easily carry all the plants out of the common room.

"Thanks," he wipes his brow, "My name is Watchful," he raises his leg.

I look at his cutie mark of an eye overlooking several featureless pony silhouettes.

"Nou problem, meester Washfool."

He lowers his hoof.

"And you are?"

"A payshent." 

"I mean, what's your name?"

"Greyscale."

"Well, have a nice day, Greyscale."

"Yoo too, ser," I bow and return back to the common room. I must admit carrying all the heavy things made me thirsty, so I pull myself up on the bar stool and look around for a list of beverages and how much they cost. Then I realize I have no money. I haven't seen my boxes or my money pouch since I passed out on fire.

I sigh.

"What'll it be?" the bartender comes, smiling politely.

"Noteenk. Ai hev no monee," I pout. He chuckles.

"That's normal for patients. Just tell me what you want and I'll pour it for you. I can bring you a list or you can take it by colour, that's more fun. All of these," he waves towards the shelves stocked with bottles of most colours imaginable, "are mostly either juice or flavored water. It's not like serving alcohol to mental patients would be a great survival idea."

That makes sense.

"Ail teik d green uan den," I point towards an exotic curved bottle of thick green something.

"One kiwi juice, coming up," the dexterous earthpony makes a show of juggling bottles, shaking shakers, and adding ice cubes to my drink.

One thing has to be said. For a fake bar, an overzealous bartender, and this being an insane asylum, the drink is delicious.

"Ken Ai hev anoder uan, plees?"

"Sure, you can have as many as you can stomach," he explains while the bottles in his hooves turn to blurs, "We have snacks here too, but those are limited to three a day. Once you get your collar you're free to come here any time and have one."

"Tank yoo," I bury my muzzle into a green glass again. The bartender nods and returns to cleaning the glasses.

"Well hello there, strong guy," a husky voice near my ear says, "Care to buy a thirsty lady a drink?"

I turn my head to see that the pegasus mare moved two bar stools closer, and is now sitting on the one next to mine. Up close, I can identify that her two-toned coat is not really like that, but light grey punctuated by tiny but numerous droplets of white, the entirety looking like a sky during a rain. Her dark blue mane and tail are still the same, though. She is leaning so strangely close that I can smell sweetness of oranges on her breath. Her lidded grey eyes and confident smile make me tilt back under the pressure of her personality.

Still, she looks like a nice mare and she must be new here.

"Yoo can get as many as yoo wont, mem, d bartender sed so," she blinks several times and moves away a little. I must have offended her, so I wave at the bartender, "Ken yoo brink mis -umm-"

"Drizzle," her smile returns and her wing runs over my back.

"Ken yoo brink miz Dreezle d oranj uan, plees?" I point to what I noticed she was having before.

"Sure thing, Cassanova."

"My name Greyscale, ser," I correct him. He rolls his eyes and brings the orange juice mere seconds later. It must be pretty boring working here.

"What a gentlecolt," Drizzle's wing reaches my 'lower back', "and a strong one. I saw you carrying the huge pots with the warden. That just made me so... wet," she breathes in my ear.

"Dey were heavee, Aim steel sweting too."

"No, no. Strong hunks like you make me want... cock... so much," she licks her lips.

"Aim not a farmer, mem, Ai just kleen stuff."

"I want you to eat my pussy like there is no tomorrow, Greyscale."

"Das dis pleis allow pets?" Cool, I have my plushie, but if I'm going to be here a long time I could get a cat. I heard you didn't need money to get those because the pet shelters are always full during winter, "But Ai dont eet dem, Ai em not a greefon."

"I am a dirty ho'," Drizzle leans in and licks my nose, "Fill me, knot inside me, and let me taste your sticky, hot, milk."

Oh, her glass is empty, and the bartender has bundled his cleaning rag and shoved it in his mouth for some reason.

"Doo yoo hev hot chokleet heer, d uan meid from meelk, not woter? End... end...," Drizzle is very confusing. She must have an identity crisis or something, thinking she's farming equipment. But hey, everypony is here for a reason, "sum rope for nots, dou Aim not det good wit mai huufs."

The bartender's eyes bulge and he starts choking. I'm not really sure why he shoved the thing into his mouth in the first place. Falling under the counter, he coughs the rug out and croaks:

"Gimme a second, please..."

I shrug. The stuff probably needs time to prepare.

"Hee will hev eet readee een a moment," I smile at Drizzle, who is grinding her teeth. Patience isn't her strong side, apparently, "Ummm... end yoo r not a hoe, yoo r a mare. Preety pegasoos laydee."

"You're funny," she thaws a little and points to her flank where a cutie mark of two wings wrapping around the universal symbol for males, "Why do you think I'm here?"

She's confused, thinking she's something she is not. Plus, there is the thing about eating meat.

"Yoo tink yoo r a greefon. Em Ai rait? Also, kets r pets, not fuud. Not shure about d roosters."

The bartender happily gurgles and froths under the counter.

"You know, let me show you," she leans too close so I close my eyes. Surprise transformation incoming?

The soft hair on her muzzle touches mine, her warm and sweet tongue enters my mouth, and both her wings and front legs run over my body, kneading and massaging.

Owww, she pushed Stitches off me. I should pick him up when she's done poking me.

"Alright, that's enough," I hear the bartender, now alert and firm, "Hey, warden, Drizzle's at it again."

Few moments of her licking my tongue and teeth later, she goes limp and starts mumbling to herself. A new warden pulls out a needle from her neck, slings her over his back, and carries her away. She must have been super hungry to fish for food this hard in my mouth, especially when I haven't eaten anything today yet.

Sadly, the whole food thing made me realize how hungry I am. I know I'm not a patient yet, but I must ask.

"Ken Ai hev a snek, plees? Ai will bee a payshent soon."

"I really shouldn, but here," he throws me a chocolate bar, "for the hilarity value." 

The ponies here are super nice and friendly. I like this place.
> 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I watch Drizzle's final attempt to nuzzle the warden before she goes completely limp, drooling into his coat. Her happy smile as she passes out assures me the asylum staff don't use drastic measures to subdue the patients. I just run my hooves through my coat to correct the mess Drizzle's exploring hooves made of it.

"You okay?" the bartender asks with concern.

"Shees a veree frendlee laydee."

"Far too friendly. She's a nymphomaniac, can't help herself at all when she sees somepony who catches her eye. Didn't take her too long to slobber all over your face."

"Ai em not too eenteresteeng. Ai tink she wos just hungree."

"Yeah. Not for food, though," he chuckles, "Still thirsty?"

"No, tank yoo."

I jump down from the barstool and look around the common room. The young unicorn patient playing with something catches my gaze and looks back down to his table. As I walk towards the wall-sized window overlooking the gardens, I pass by and feel a poke to my side. The unicorn is looking at me, fumbling with the little box of trick matches. 

"Helou, umm, Payr?" I hope I remember the name Watchful told me correctly. It fits with the unicorn's orange coat and red mane perfectly. Even his cutie mark is a flickering flame. A wave of uneasiness comes over me as I remember the last several seconds before I collapsed on fire. 

"Oh, you know my name?"

"Washfool told mee the haidra puneeshed him for giveeng yoo d mashes."

He smiles and levitates a match from the packet. His horn conjures a spark which fades nearly instantly, but the match lights up. It flares brightly, much more than a normal fire should, and then hisses out. There is a thin metal ring around his horn, probably a dampener, but it is not stopping Pyre from using pyromancy completely. Either he is extremely powerful despite his age of likely fourteen or so, or his special talent is difficult to suppress completely without physically harming him.

"Yeah, Watchful is really nice to me. The others try to avoid me, but he often sits down with me and we just talk. He's the only one not scared. Well, he and Drizzle, but she's nuts."

"Shee smelld nais," I sniff the air and get the feeling her scent still lingers in my coat. I might just be imagining things.

"Can't say I noticed when she shoved her hooves in my crotch the first time we met. I mean, I am a colt and she looks pretty nice, but she could have at least introduced herself first."

"Ai guess," I shrug, knowledge about ponies dealing with one another being out of my area of expertise. I just clean stuff.

"So, what are you here for?" Pyre asks, "I'm here because I love fire. It's my talent. I love how warm it is, how it flickers, how it shows you images of different places if you look into it for too long. Fire is life."

"Fayr hurts," I shudder, "Aim heer becaus Ai set maiself on fayr."

"THAT IS SO COOL!" Pyre's eyes go wide, "I'd love to do that one day, just become one with my true nature. Ever heard about fire elementals? How was it? Why did you do it?"

"Ai wonted to meik ponees hapee. Ai wos wrong end eet hurt a lot."

"Fire wouldn't hurt me. Fire is pretty. Without fire we wouldn't be here. Nopony would."

"Eets posseeble. Eet hurt mee though."

He stares at me.

"You... you don't think I'm crazy? Everypony else said I was wrong, that fire hurts everypony, that it has no mind, that ponies couldn't become fire elementals, and that efreets are just a myth."

"Ai dont know mush outsayd of kleening stuff. Yoo seem smart end yoo have a kyootee mark of fayr."

"Thanks. I was studying in the School for Gifted Unicorns up in Canterlot before I got sent here. In my defense, I banished the fire elemental before it could burn more than professor's beard," he stops and squints at me, "Have you... have you ever worked there? Now that I think of it, you look... familiar."

"Ai dont tink so."

"Don't THINK so?" he gives me a puzzled look.

"D hed doctor sed Ai have amneesha."

"I see. Well, if you get out and want to discover who you are, you can ask around the school. I can't help feeling like I've seen you there."

"Ai em en erfponee. Ai mite have kleend dere."

Pyre pulls out another match, lights it up and puts it out, over and over, thinking about something. I don't interrupt him. A minute of surprisingly not awkward silence later, he mumbles:

"I can show you fire isn't bad."

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea!

But he is smart, he used to go to the most prestigious unicorn school in Equestria.

No. No! NO!

He is a real pony, intelligent, who just got here for making a mistake. He knows what he's doing. I'm just scared because when I did it it hurt.

"Okey," I nod despite everything inside me screaming.

He breathes out and beams.

"You're really cool, ehm... what's your name?"

"Greyscale."

"You're really cool, Greyscale. I'll show you that there is no need to fear fire. Just put your leg on the table."

I comply. His horn glows...

...and my leg bursts into flames.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

"Wait, wait! What's going on?!" I hear Pyre over my screaming, "That's not supposed to be happening! It's my talent! IT'S WHO I AM! LISTEN TO ME!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

I flail my legs and roll over the carpet to put myself out. It hurts so much more than when I did it, it's thousand times worse. Before, it smelled wrong and choked me, but now I'm not passing out. I can feel every little piece of my hair and skin burn.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I hear Pyre break into tears.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" I don't have much to add to that.

Water splashing at my leg puts it out instantly and I stop screaming. It still burns, but it's not the fire anymore.

"Shhh," something cold wraps around the charred leg. The bartender's voice turns from calming to surprised, "Hmmm? That's not so bad. Perhaps the colt's control is getting better."

The pain lets up to a manageable degree. I stop gasping for breath and look at my leg, expecting to see a black, charred lump.

It's just my leg. Hurting like blazes, but only with coat burned to a thin carpet and a stream of blood coming from a deep cut at the fetlock. I must have hit something in my mad flailing.

"Owwww..." I grumble.

"It doesn't look bad," the bartender says, and a medic rushes in. Both examine me, and the bartender explains what happened. 

"Wow, Pyre's treatment must be working or this guy would've been a piece of charcoal."

"Yeah."

I watch crying Pyre being led away by a warden.

"Ai maid him cry," I frown and whisper to myself, "Ai just meik ponees sad." 

"Aaaand... done!" the medic mare stops working on my leg, "Aside from the cut, you are fine. It's going to itch for a day or two, but it should heal completely. I doubt it's going to hinder your movement even now."

I carefully stand up. She's right. My leg feels a little numb, but I can move just fine.

"Tank yoo, mem," I bow to the medic, "Tank yoo too, meester bartender."

"Soothed Thirst," he chuckles, "I know, even the name says it all."

"Soofd Tearft," my tongue knots up, "Soree, too deeffeecult for mee."

"Bartender is fine," Thirst pats my back and returns behind the counter. The medic touches my legs on several more places and goes for the door.

"I'm going to report this. Be nice and don't get hurt anymore."

"Yes, mem," I nod.

"You, hey, you!" a very loud whisper comes from the final unintroduced occupant of the common room.

I trot over and greet him.

"Helou!"

"Not so loud!" he whispers aggressively, "Geez, you're the new guy, right?"

I nod.

"Good, at least a little normal," he mumbles to himself, "Now, if you want to get out of here you better listen to me very carefully!"

"Okey."

"They'll give you medication," he leans so close to me his horn touches me forehead, "Don't eat the yellow pill under absolutely any circumstances. It'll make you docile and then they'll shave your coat, harvest your horn and hooves."

I look at my short carpet coat burned by the fire and its shorter version on my leg burned by even more fire. A quick squint of my eyes up reveals I'm still not a unicorn.

"Ummm... yoo steel have yours."

"Hahah ahahaha! They can't pull one over old Quick Trick," he taps his hoof on his chest, "I used to be a guard, I still have connections. If anything happened to me they'd have the entire Royal Guard on their backs. That's why they can't touch me. And they tried, Celestia knows they tried!" 

I don't look away from his erratic gaze, but notice his long grey mane which definitely needs some grooming. Same can be said about his skin-pink coat. The hooves on his front legs are cracked and visibly lacking any maintenance.

"Maybee dey just wonted too maik yoo look end feel better."

"That's EXACTLY what they want you to think! You got it in one," he grins so wide he shows more teeth than a hungry lion, "The REAL reason, however, is that they use those for voodoo or sell the things as potion reagents. You think this place looks so rich only on government money?"

To be honest, I didn't really think about that and without him mentioning it would never think about it in such way.

"Yes?"

"Alright, you're not the best material I could have gotten, but you'll have to do. Just remember this - the yellow pill makes you obedient like cattle. Chiseled Chin and Clear Insight have this place running exactly as they want it. They seem nice, but when you eat their special pill they'll keep you here much longer for 'treatments' than you would need. They're addictive and dangerous. Even if the ones close to the patients complain and want to take them to another asylum they can't. By the time they notice, the ones locked here are so physically addicted to the pills that their state breaks down in few days without those. Clear Insight uses that as a proof his treatments are the best and the other places just suck."

"Ummm..."

I can't help feeling uncomfortable, both from the presented -and likely completely nonsensical- rumours and from the unicorn spitting so close to my face.

"Look, I'm not asking you to believe me. Do whatever they want you to do, but if you really want to get out of here before they suck all they can out of you then don't eat the yellow pills."

"Ai-"

"Now shove off! I almost have all the pieces," he waves to the two pinboards with letters, pictures, and various pages of something looking like grocery shopping lists, "Then I'll show them."

"Okey."

Checking if Stitches is still sitting on my back, I go back to the bar and order the yellow fizzy drink. It tastes faintly of apples and lemons, but its scent is overwhelming and reminds me of some cleaning supplies I used to use. 

"Greyscale, your room is ready."

I finish the glass just as Chiseled Chin arrives again. She leads the way through the Border Glades Home until we come to a heavy door behind which lies a simple and functional room. Too wide and airy considering how little is inside.

"The basic equipment is just the bed and the table, and there are some clothes in that chest," she explains the only three pieces of furniture in the empty room with lightly padded walls and a barred but large window, "The door leads to a bathroom. Now, it doesn't look like much right at the moment, but once you get to know about everything we offer here over the next few days we'll have more things delivered according to your tastes."

"Laik wot, mem?"

"If you like our library, you can check out some books and we'll install a bookshelf there," she points to an indentation in the wall, "or if you grow to like our painting therapy there is a spot for canvas and other supplies," another indentation, this time on the floor next to a small drain, makes sense now. The room is completely modular, and things can easily be brought to suit each patient's tastes or needs.

My stomnach rumbles.

"Owww..."

"Oh right, you've arrived at an unfortunate time," Chiseled Chin comments, "I think I can persuade our cooks to whip up something for you."

She leads the way to an open room filled with tables on the ground floor and after a quick talk with a mare coming out of a door leading presumably to the kitchen, she brings me a tray of assorted fresh vegetables and various leftovers from lunch. I don't remember ever having a choice in the matter of food, so I scarf down as much as I can, and only stop when my head starts spinning.

"Well, since you have no treatment scheduled yet, you can either have a stroll in the gardens or rest in your room. I'm sure a day like this must be overwhelming."

I stifle a burp and yawn instead.

"Aim taird."

"Your room it is then."

When we're back, Chiseled Chin leaves for a moment and returns with a plastic cup with three small, colourful pills and a bottle of water.

"Take these," she puts the cup on the table.

I stare at the yellow pill.

"Amphetamines on the first day?" whispers Stitches.

"Did you say anything?" Chin asks.

"Nou, mem."

A yell from outside makes Chiseled Chin shoot out of the door.

"Alright," Stitches mumbles to my ear, "The conspiracy nutter might have been onto something. I'm not much of a doctor, but I doubt this combination is supposed to do anything positive other than putting you to sleep."

"But dey wont mee to feel better."

"Eclipse sent me to protect you. Eclipse is a nice pony, right? Guard, smart? She must know what she's doing. Am I right?"

"Yes," I nod. Stitches is correct. Eclipse wouldn't hurt me. She even visited me in the infirmary and she had no reason to.

"Then don't eat the damn-"

Chiseled Chin comes back and Stitches goes silent instantly.

"A patient had an episode," she gives me a bitter frown as I look at the open door, "It's sad, but we can't cure everypony instantly. They'll get better eventually, they always do. Doctor Insight is an expert in his profession. Now, take the pills, please, Greyscale."

"Ou, rite," I empty the cup onto my hoof and arrange the pills into a neat triangle with the yellow one on the bottom. Holding the yellow one with my tongue pressed against my hoof, I pop the other two into my mouth. With a quick movement of my hoof, the unwanted pill sticks to my underhoof long enough for my leg to touch the floor again. With my free hoof and a presented water bottle, I wash off the 'medical' taste off my tongue, "Dere yoo go, mem."

"Open your mouth, please," I comply, and Chiseled Chin carefully but completely examines my mouth, "Some patients refuse to take their medication. Their mental state doesn't allow them to see what we're doing is for their benefit."

"Yes, mem."

"Alright, thank you for your cooperation, Greyscale. Feel free to walk around the asylum as much as you want, just respect other patients' privacy."

"Yes, mem."

"And don't worry. We'll make you feel better and you'll be back with your friends at the Royal Guard soon."

"Tank yoo, mem."

She smiles, which must physically hurt her rocky face, and leaves.

I pick up the yellow pill half-melted from my saliva and sweat.

"Steeches?" I sniff it. To me, it doesn't smell like anything in particular, "Shud Ai put eet in d toilet?"

"Hmmm," the plushie hums, "Just leave it on the table and let me handle it."

"Okey. Weit! Ken yoo moov?"

"I'll... find a way. I'm good at improvising."

"Okey."

Putting Stitches on the table to keep watch next to the pill, I turn the lights off, and go to bed. One thing has to be said - it is about as comfortable as the leather armchairs.

With my magical talking plushie is protecting me and a full stomach, I drift off almost instantly. 
	
	 
> 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't want to wake up, it's so warm and comfy here, and I feel as if I was awake all night. My body isn't used to this new place and so I must have slept super lightly. It'll get better over next few days, I am sure.

The knocking on my door, unfortunately, doesn't allow me to remain in my coccoon of warmth and comfort.

"Steeches? Steeches?"

No answer.

He must be tired from standing on watch the whole night. Even Guard plushies are amazing! On top of keeping me safe from night terrors, Stitches somehow managed to get rid of the yellow pill of the amphora-meta-thingies. My new soft companion is resourceful beyond all measure.

"Wot did yoo doo all nite, Steeches?" I try one more time. When the plushie doesn't answer I sweep him off the table and put him on my back.

Whoever was knocking gives it another try. A quick trot over reveals the worried face of Watchful.

"Good morneenk, meester Washfool," I bow to him, "Deed Ai oversleep or sumtink?"

After all, I have no idea how it works here. Yesterday was fairly eventful, but in the chaos I didn't get any sense for the life of this place.

Watchful leans from side to side, examining me all over.

"How are you feeling, Greyscale?" 

"Okey. Itchee but okey. Taird too," I yawn. It really feels as if I had no rest at all.

"You must be just getting used to a new environment," Watchful walks through my entire room including the bathroom, carefully scanning every nook and cranny, "Looks like everything is alright. Don't worry about feeling a little out of it. I know what'll make you feel better."

"Wot?"

"Breakfast," he gives me a wide smile just as my stomach rumbles.

"But Ai-" I stop, remembering that my stay here is free. I don't need money. I correct myself, "Det wud bee nais."

"Are you taking the plushie with you?"

"Steeches gards mai bek!" I nod. The little Nightguard must be exhausted, but I don't feel like leaving him here alone. Perhaps we'll find out that magical talking plushies can also eat, who knows? Watchful chuckles.

"Then come on, Chiseled Chin prescribed a light breakfast for you today. Since you are new here and we don't have a good grasp on what's ailing you aside from not remembering anything, you'll go through a set of simple tasks that will tell us something. The first one is light exercise that will prepare you for your amnesia treatment. If you choose to keep doing it daily, she'll change your meals accordingly so you're not hungry until lunch."

Wooow, my own meal plan. This place sure is something.

Nodding, I follow Watchful in his white shirt through the clean and fresh hallways of Border Glades. It's barely light outside, but winter is winter. From time to time, I spot a still sleepy patient walking like a zombie towards the cafeteria. It looks like only the new ones like me or the problematic patients need oversight.

"You know, Greyscale, I'm really sorry," Watchful says out of nowhere.

"Huh? Wot for?" I blink. Watchful has been nothing but nice to me when we met yesterday. What would he be sorry for?

"For encouraging Pyre to use his power, to be himself. He clearly doesn't have enough self-control yet, and my wrong advice nearly scarred you for life. I should have listened to doctor Clear Insight who wanted Pyre to suppress anything revolving around his cutie mark until he got his obsession with fire under control."

What? No. Come on, you can't be so hard on yourself. I was the idiot who told Pyre he could try out his power on me. Thanks to your little gift the colt... no, just no.

"Nou!" I frown, shaking my head vigorously, "Payr was super happee wen hee tolked about yoo. Hee deed not laik anyponee else much, but yoo maid him smail. Keep maiking him smail! Just tell him not too yoos his fayr on ponees or himself. Eet hurt but Aim not eevn smoking nau. Eet wos worth eet to see him bee himself."

"He nearly burned you alive. What do you mean by 'worth it'?"

"Ai... Ai..." where are the right words when I need them? "Ai wud bee happee to bee on fayr if eet meant helping sumponee else. Payr deed not laik mee on fayr, he mite not doo eet again to anyponee."

"That's," Watchful sighs, "that's probably right. When I visited him yesterday he was so crestfallen he didn't even play with his trick matches," he shakes his head, "It might help him in the long run, but you can't put yourself in needless danger like that!"

I must disagree. My possibly permanent injury for somepony else's chance for healing is well worth it and definitely not needless. I mean, Pyre is a real, smart pony with a shot at a great future among wizards. The best I can do is clean floors, and I got the job only because I was cheaper than anypony else. The difference in value of life between us is indisputable. Watchful will understand when he gets to know me better. For now I shouldn't pursue a topic upsetting him.

"Soree," I mumble.

Watchful opens his mouth to say something, but decides against it and just pats my head. It feels warm and new, as if I've never been touched like this before. It's possible, who would bother touching me after all?

"I almost forgot," Watchful opens his saddlebag when we enter the lunchroom, and fastens something around my neck. Squinting down and twisting my head reveals it to be a yellow collar with a complicated symbol on the front, "It contains a magical crystal with information about your treatments and requirements. Right now, if you go and ask for breakfast, the serving lady will know what to give you. Give it a try."

I nod and trot over to the counter where two middle-aged mares are giving ponies in queue their morning specials. When I'm up, the collar flickers, some writing appears on a glass panel to the side, one mare reads it and brings me a salad and a glass of grapefruit juice. With a plastic tray in my mouth, I spot Watchful waving at me from a table and his own food.

The salad is delicious.

"I know it's not much," Watchful says inbetween mouthfuls of his vastly more fulfilling breakfast, "but it's just for today. If I were you I'd go get a snack at the common room after your incoming exercise."

"Ouphey," I mumble, one final piece of carrot still sticking from my mouth. I gulp it down and look at my empty tray, "Free food ees free food."

Putting the used tray away into a small window next to the counter for cleaning, I follow Watchful to our next destination. It is an open, airy room on the ground floor of Border Glades. Walls are painted with warm colours of light green and unobtrusive yellow, one entire wall is, in fact, a window leading straight into the gardens, and there are soft mats spread around on the floor in a tile pattern a little distance away from each other. The air smells fresh, although with the barest hint of sweat.

Looking at the mats strewn around, I have only one question:

"Shud Ai put dose away? Ees d treetment me kleening dis pleis?" I smile, realizing what the promised 'light exercise' meant. They made it so that I could feel as if I was back at the barracks wiping floors. These ponies really know what they're doing, I know I'm getting better already. Ehm, I'm still not sure what I'm being treated for, but Eclipse, Piercing Hit, and Grey Shrine wouldn't have sent me here for no reason. 

"What? Of course not," Watchful dashes my hopes and dreams, sort of, "As I said, you and few other ponies are going to do some relaxing and stretching exercises before the amnesiac treatment. If I remember right the first session is hypnosis, so the doctor wants you to be a bit tired so you can go under easier."

"Ooooh. Smart," I nod, "Wen does eet start?"

"In about ten minutes. I took you here earlier so that you could get acquainted with this place. Ponies should start arriving soon."

"Ar yoo exorcizing too?"

"Exercising," he shakes his head, "No, but I'll be around when you're done to show you where to go next."

"Okey."

"See you in an hour, Greyscale."

"Hav a nais day, meester Washfool."

True to what the warden said, ponies arrive one by one and each one sits down on a free mat. There is ten of us, which means everypony can comfortably pick a spot without anypony else being nearby. The pony to arrive last is a yellow, white-maned pegasus mare wearing a scrunchie tying her mane into a ponytail and some sort of extremely tight but stretchy white leggings covering her hind legs and rump with a hole cut out for her tail. 

She gives us a bright smile, and I sit down on my mat when the other ponies seemingly knowing the routine do so too. She plops her plot down on a wider, circular mat in front of us.

"Alright, I see a new face here," the leading mare checks her notepad, "Greyscale, am I right?" she looks at me questioningly.

"Yes, mem," I give her a polite bow. Some of the other ponies give me stares ranging from disinterested to mildly friendly.

"Since you are new here, we're going to do just a simple basic set of moves to get you started. You will progress with the rest of us very quickly, trust me. First, just sit down like me," she spreads her hind legs into a V and lowers her barrel down slowly, reaching forwards with her forelegs.

I put Stitches next to me on the floor and follow her example, but where she got her muzzle easily on the mat, I can barely bend.

"Umm, Greyscale?"

"Yes, mem?" I crane my head backwards to look at her.

"You're supposed to look at me, not at the back wall."

"Uhm, soree, mem. Yoo sed Ai wos too doo wot yoo deed."

She blinks, trying to make sense of what I said. Thankfully, she succeeds and snorts a little while covering her mouth. The ponies around chuckle as well.

"Yes, but you need to mirror what I'm doing. Besides, your neck would kill you if you had to look back at me every time we do a new stretch."

That makes sense. I turn to face her... just like everypony around has been doing since the beginning. Good to know even the ponies with less working minds are smarter than I am. Everypony can be my example and I can improve even faster! One day I might be just like them, or at least a little bit. I really shouldn't aim that high, though.

"Good," the lightbulbs on the ceiling reflect their light off of her wide, joyful smile, "Now follow my lead."

She bends again from the sitting position, this time in a complicated fashion to the side instead of forward.

"Owww!" I try to imitate her but something in my side feels like tearing.

"Don't force yourself, just go as far as you comfortably can, then go back. Slow and steady. Breathe in, breathe out."

Her calm voice leads me through the opening set, telling me when to breathe, when to move, when to relax. It feels so nice to just follow instructions for a while and shut my head down. Bit by bit, I slip into a training trance where the only thing on my mind are the reactions of my body to each new position.

"And now we'll do a final exercise which will be a little more difficult," she stands up on left hind leg and right foreleg, and stretches the other two legs forward and backward respectively, "Go as far as you can and try to hold it."

I wobble like a leaf in the wind, legs shaking and barely keeping balance.

"Nicely done, now switch!" I do so, "Aaaand hold again. It will be tiring, especially for our new member. Just focus and feel the burn."

"AAH!" I drop on all fours with a panicked yelp. I take a deep breath and try again, "Soree."

I would have never guessed simple words would have such effect on me, but just saying feel the burn evoked really vivid, fresh, and most importantly painful memories. Ah well, it's not as if she meant anything bad by it. This close to the end, I realize I'm trembling with exhaustion and that sweat is streaking through my coat. None of the exercises and stretches looked or felt too difficult, but I'm apparently in a sub-par physical shape. 

But hey, the nice mare said I could get better with time, and she knows what she's talking about. In the end we just lie down, breathe regularly, and relax. The leading mare walks over and throws a clean white towel to me.

"For next sessions you'll need yours, but there are spares here in case that's not possible. Just put it in the basket in the corner when you're dry. Hope to see you tomorrow," she nods and leaves. Good news is that it looks like I wasn't the only one without their own equipment.

Soon enough, the hour is up, and I'm greeted by Watchful outside the door.

"How are you holding up?"

"Taird."

"You do look kind of smooshed. Good thing the next part is so relaxing then."

"Ees eet?"

"Yeah, I actually put myself on the list for the therapy once before when I was completely destroyed after moving an entire shipment of equipment to the cellars. I fell asleep right at the start of the session and woke up fresher than ever before. The doctor is really good."

"Wot deed yoo doo wail Ai wos strechink?" I ask as we walk upstairs. The hypnotherapy apparently takes place in one of the offices on the top floor. I'm slowly getting the hang of Border Glades' layout. The ground floor is for utility rooms - cafeteria, main gym, common rooms, any place where patients gather for one reason or other. The floors above house the patients, residents, and workers. The top floor consists of offices. There must be much more to it, but those are the traits I've noticed until now.

"Me? I just checked on some other patients, changed some sheets, and gave few less social patients their medicine. The daily stuff. My job is mostly walking around in case there's trouble and doing whatever anypony higher up on the ladder wants from me," he stops next to a door looking identical to that of Clear Insight's office. The brass plaque reads 'Dr. Expanded Mind Kfc. Lsd. Ddt. Omfg.' which means the pony inside must be super learned and smart, "That's the waiting room. Go in and wait for the doctor to call for you."

So it really is the exactly same thing as with Clear Insight. I nod to Watchful and enter. Yep, same sinfully comfortable leather armchairs, same wooden inlay on the walls, same large window overlooking the gardens.

An aging earthpony stallion in a clean, white shirt peeks out of the door leading to the office itself and waves me inside.

"Mister Greyscale, I assume," he asks, ushering me towards a soft and simple chair which leans back a little as I take a comfortable seat. After that, he wheels a canvas stand over in front of me. It is low, so I can see him over it with no problem.

"Yes, ser. Greyscale ees enuff, doe."

"Greyscale it is then," he takes a seat across from the canvas from me and takes a clear circular crystal out from a box on the table next ot his elevated armchair, "This therapy is very simple, although it might not reveal too much during our first session. All you need to do is listen, watch the crystal, and imagine the scenarios I'm talking about. How about that?"

"Sound seemple," I nod, relax my back, and wrap my forelegs around Stitches. He smiles, presses a button on the table, and a slow, quiet and soothing tune starts flowing through the room, almost physically running through my coat from my head to my legs. I breathe out. 

"Now watch the crystal, Greyscale, and trust me. Together we will uncover what you forgot, and lead you through it," the crystal hanging on a chain fastened around his hoof starts swinging from side to side. Accompanied by the music and the doctor's soft voice talking about a blooming meadow with butterflies flying through it, I-

"Mhmmm."

-I hear a sharp clap and open my eyes.

"That was an enlightening session," Expanded Mind puts away a notepad I don't remember him picking up. Between the medicinal scribbles I spot an underlined word written in capital letters 'FEAR'.

"Wuh, wha?" I mumble in an attempt to unglue my mouth. Stitches is standing on the floor next to my chair and there is a simple drawing of stick ponies on the canvas in front of me. One stick pony in the center is clutching his head with his forelegs while numerous ponies surrounding him have lines coming from their muzzles aimed at him, yelling apparently.

Yes, add 'drawing' to the list of things a three-year old can do better than me. It's a long list.

"Deed Ai draw dat?" I examine the white paper full of lines penciled in.

"Indeed you did. While simplistic, this first session revealed that some event, or more precisely somepony, in your past terrifies you into the point of paralysis. That is by no means a unique circumstance, Greyscale. I have met with this many times before, and in our next sessions we will delve even deeper to discover more details. Don't worry, I will help you."

"Tank yoo."

"You're welcome. That is all for today. I will let nurse Chiseled Chin know when our next session will take place. Until then, Greyscale, take care."

"See yoo, doctor Ekspundeed Mined." 

I fasten Stitches on my back again, wondering about where will Watchful take me next. 
> 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, how did you enjoy the hypnotherapy?" Watchful winks at me conspiratorialy.

"Laik a good sleep."

"Knew it would work," he gives me a victorious smile and nods his head to the mostly empty hallway, "We've got half an hour until lunch. Is there anything you want to do?"

Eat, mostly.

"Ken Ai get a snek at d bar?"

"You didn't take one before the yoga?" he smacks his forehead, "Riiight, we went there early. My bad, the bar is closed an hour before any mealtime so that patients don't ruin their appetite," he thinks for a moment as we walk down the main staircase, "You know what? You've had two treatments already, is there anything you'd like to add to your room? You know, like a yoga mat or... you've had hypno, so... canvas and some brushes?"

That sounds like a good idea. Perhaps if I practice drawing, doctor Mind's therapy will be more effective since my pictures will make at least some sense.

"D drawing teenks wud bee kool, Ail trai to draw moar den stikk ponees."

"Great! I'll bring and install the set to your room before lunch. You can take a short break until then, walk around the gardens or something. It's your free time."

We're on the second floor where the patient rooms are. There's plenty of ponies just sitting around, looking outside, reading, or sometimes chatting in small groups. Most of them are wearing patient collars like I am, but some have the same clean warden shirts as Watchful. I don't feel like taking a nap in my room after the refreshing, umm, sleep I went through with Expanded Mind, and I don't want to bother anypony around.

"Ken Ai help yoo?" I ask Watchful.

"You really do like helping ponies, don't you?"

"Ponees are awsum so Ai trai to bee useful to dem."

He quickly turns around and waves his hoof at me to follow. We take the staircase two more floors down and end up by a large metal door that Watchful unlocks with a key from a keyring he takes out of his saddlebag. The halls that open to us are clean, well-lit, and completely empty. As opposed to patient floors where there is natural light, potted plants, and decorations, this place is being maintained with surgical no-nonsense precision.

"Alright, that way I won't have to go twice anyway. You can take the brushes, I'll take the canvas stand. Chiseled Chin would make me scrub the toilets if I loaded the heavy stuff on you."

Been there, done that. I'm not really sure why that is a problem, though. The guards at the barracks have always kept them decently clean on their own aside from dirty hoofprints. I once saw a stallion snort some white dust from a windowsil there. Unorthodox cleaning method, but who am I to judge?

"Ai yoosed to doo dat too," I nod knowingly.

"With a toothbrush? The head nurse is terrifying when angry. I heard she used to work at some military base for several years before ending up here. Besides, some of the pills the patients take here make hell in their bowels. I've seen stuff that glowed!"

"Prettee. Ai hed to yoos d lantern wen d lites went aut once."

"It crawled up my toothbrush and ate it!"

Watchful, the unlucky PTSD warden, stops talking, glancing at door after door as we pass. Produce storage, lost/found and confiscated, drug storage A, drug storage B, old document storage, loading bay, modules. 

"Here we are," Watchful pulls the keyring out again. The 'modules' door leads to a short hallway with doors on both sides and at the end. We take the door marked 'painting'. Watchful straps a canvas stand with thick, heavy base bearing several holes, likely for screws, on his back.

"Grab a bag from there," he points to a shelf full of small containers wrapped in plastic. They are sets of three brushes of varying thickness packed together with white packages of basic paints. Watchful notices me examining the entire pack from all sides, "The colours aren't top notch because they have to be made from non-toxic things so that patients don't hurt themselves if they eat them."

"Hav yoo ever kleend-"

"Yes, they 'leave behind' rainbows. Enough of that, please."

I shrug, so much for learning more about the craft of keeping things clean. Watchful must not want to share some trade secrets, I guess. With all the things ready, we leave the storage.

"Want the training mat as well, since we're already here?"

My everything still aches from exhaustion. I think one session per day is enough.

"Not nau."  

"Alright, let's get this up to your room."

It's difficult for him to lock all the doors behind us with the burden on his back. I, on the other hoof, am not that troubled, so as I watch him fumble with the keyring at the main cellar door, I offer help as I so often do.

"Ai nou hau too yoos kees."

He looks at me, then at the keyring dropped on the floor, then shakes his head, takes it with his mouth, and balances on three legs with the heavy stand on his back while using one foreleg to look for the right key. He succeeds on the fourth try, and hides the clanking iron ring into his saddlebag again.

"Sorry, Greyscale, I know you mean well, but if anything happened to it for any random reason, it would mean really bad things for me."

"Soree."

"No, no, it's fine, thanks for the offer and such. Chiseled Chin would have me 'pegged' for demotion," he chuckles.

"Okey."

"My ass is on the line."

"Okey."

"Literally, from what I heard from one unlucky young warden."

He winks at me as if I was supposed to know what he's talking about. I don't want him to think I'm too unintelligent to carry a pack of paints and brushes, so I just smile and nod. That way he doesn't have to bring all the equipment upstairs to my room on his own.

Back at my new home on the second floor, I observe Watchful's skillful and practiced process of fastening the thick base of the canvas stand into a deep indend which I identified before as a place where some room accessory would be installed. He wipes the sweat off his brow when he's done, and stretches.

"Phew!" he peeks out of the room into the main hallway, "aaand we still have five minutes to lunch. Don't know about you, but this sure made me work up some real appetite."

My stomach rumbles as he mentions food. A simple salad for breakfast seemingly eons ago is all but a memory.  

"Ai cud eet a hors."

"A griffon in disguise, eh?" he smirks.

"Aim not, but a ponee cold Dreezel mite bee."

"Drizzle, the nympho?"

"Shee traid too eet mai feis and wonted to eet moar."

He snorts, biting his lip.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sure she did. She didn't do anything weird to you, did she?"

"Shee hugged mee. Shee's a nais ponee... or seekret greefon."

"Oh good-"

"Den shee leeked mai muzzel and went all woozy and sum wordens dragged her away. Ai teenk all d hugging meid her sleepy."

"Riiiight, let's keep it at that. Hugging is fine, too much licking isn't. Be careful around her... she... her condition is really bad."

"Aim not leeking anyponee. Ken Ai help her?"

"Good, and no. Doctor Insight is doing what he can, even cooperating with doctor Bright Eye from Ponyville mental asylum who is a specialist, but Drizzle is in real trouble. Even if she gets out of here eventually I doubt she's in for more than a prison."

That super nice pegasus lady? A prison?

"Wot deed shee doo?"

"I don't think you would understand. You seem to be a bit... blank regarding physical contact."

That's true. The guards didn't really punch me much, thankfully, just threw things at me mostly.

"Ai laik ponees being happee. Maybe Ai ken say sumteenk nais to her."

He leans closer and lowers his voice.

"Look, I'm telling you this just so that you don't say something really stupid now that I didn't keep my damn mouth shut. Drizzle's thirty, she didn't realize she had 'a condition' for a long time when she was a teenager, she just believed she was a... party mare. Her uncontrolled... partying left her with a son. Father was nowhere to be found. She and her family took good care of him, but the colt once told Drizzle's parents how things were at home with his mother by accident. He had no idea what he and his mother did together was wrong. Drizzle loved her son very much... too much. Her illness didn't allow her to understand that what she was doing for the colt after he reached puberty was bad for him. She just wanted him and herself to be happy."

"Ai dun understand. Deed shee hurt him?"

"In a way, yes, but she didn't mean it in the slightest. Just be nice to her. She's an extremely kind pony with a bad illness who doesn't deserve what awaits her outside. And please, for the love of Celestia's enormous plot, don't breathe a word about what I just said to a living soul."

"Okey."

She's not a bad pony, she just did something bad on accident. I broke tons of things at the barracks since I'm not too coordinated and while I tried, I couldn't fix them all. Oh well, if Watchful is worried about me talking then I won't. I'll just be nicer to Drizzle even when she's trying to taste my flesh. Maybe she's not a griffon in disguise but she's been bitten by a zombie and now she's trying to keep the infection under control! Probably not, though, she smelled really nice and fresh, zombies are supposed to rot and stink.

"Aaaand just on time," Watchful smiles as we reach the lunch room, "Now that you know how to get your food, just get in the line and go for it. I'll be sitting at the wardens' table."

The queue is long, but the reward of a much more fulfilling platter of food is definitely worth it. With the tray hanging on a strap around my neck, I look around to see the warden table full. Another, much more careful examination reveals an empty corner table. Just for me, yay!

I almost topple the small plastic cup with pills I got along with the pile of pastries, vegetables, and some fruit as I dig into my lunch. I also almost miss when a second tray lands next to mine, followed by a voice dripping like honey and twice as... sticky.

"I just love a pony who knows how to use his mouth."

Looking up with a lettuce leaf sticking out of my muzzle, I quickly munch it down and smile at the sky-blue pegasus whose coat is dotted with white blots of rain. Drizzle chuckles at my display, dark blue, well-styled mane flowing down her neck.

"I lernd to eet wen Ai wos a colt, I teenk."

"Heh heh, how about eating out?" she winks at me, leaning closer and closer.

I look outside through a glass section of the wall leading to the snow-covered gardens.

"Eesn't eet too cold aut dere? Ai meen all d snow end such."

"Honey, you wouldn't find a warmer and more accommodating place then my box," her giggle rings like little bells.

"Oh," I nod in understanding, "Ai hed a boks too. Eet wos worm end aut of d rein. Too bed Ai set eet on fayr end-"

She pushes her chair right next to mine and leans against me. So warm. Then one of her hind legs wraps around mine. Despite what's going on under the table, Drizzle is simply eating her lunch, so I should shut up and do the same. I liked my box, but this place offers free food, so that's a definite upgrade. Speaking of food, time to finish my share.

I feel a hoof running down my neck, barrel, and inner thigh. Drizzle has chowed down her lunch in record time and is getting al pokey again. Well, at least she's not trying to eat my face, for now.

"Wanna keep an old mare company for a while?"

Thirty isn't old, even when she's a mother. The toned pegasus' form is definitely pleasing to look at. I'm absolutely sure that where I'll be a victim of one yoga class per day, Drizzle does a lot more exercise much more frequently.

"Yoo ar yung end prettee, mees Dreezel. End reely frendlee too."

She spins me towards her on the chair and now that my back is turned towards the rest of the cafeteria, she licks her hungrily grinning muzzle. She DID just eat a ton of food, but with her fitness regime it might not have been enough.

"Wanna be much more than friends?"

And here it comes, she licks my nose, pushing herself harder and harder against me.

"Yoo meen laik best frends?"

"Ohhh yesss," another lick, "You, me, and junior here," she slowly rubs my crotch, soft frog of her hoof wet with my nervous sweat, "I want you so bad."

I look down and facehoof mentally. She doesn't want to eat me, she wants to BE me.

"Yoo wud bee a stallien, mem. Wai wud yoo wont to bee a stallien wen yoo ar a prettee maer? I em dum and kleen stuff, but yoo ar fit, frendlee, end smart."

"No, no. I want to ride you into the sunset, honey."

Pushing her away, I drop from the chair and bend my legs. I get it now, she's so tired she can't walk or fly. Silly me. 

"Hop on, mem. Ai ken kerry both yoo and Steeches... wit breaks. Umm, end yoo kant see sun een d wintr enywey."

She stares, biting her lip.

"Ou, soree. Ai haev too teik mai peels. End yoo too, mem," I return up onto my chair.

Hmmm, the yellow one is there as well. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to take it just this one time?

"Don't even think about it," I hear Stitches whisper into my ear, "Hmm, that might work. Eat the rest, then leave the yellow one in your mouth and kiss her."

"Kees?" I mumble.

"Did I hear right, my little draft stallion?" Drizzle's ears perk up instantly, her cup of pills already empty and a dopey smile on her face, "I'm gonna suck you dry."

"Steel tearsty? Yoo ken teik anoder glass of joos at the countr, mem," I swallow most of my portion along with orange juice, then leave the yellow one on my tongue just like Stitches said, "Doo yoo kees a lot of ponees heer?"

"Not enough, hun, they won't let me, but nopony is looking this way, and even if they did they wouldn't see a thing."

"Yoo ar a nais ponee end soft end Ai laik yoo in a wey. Doo frends kees?"

"Friends with benefits, hun, from now on. Kiss and bang."

"Helfkaer end dental? Wait, fayrworks too? Wot?"

She sloppily shoves her tongue into my mouth, sucking on mine and accidentally downing my melting pill along with a mouthful of our mixed saliva. She breaks the kiss, swallowing again. Her eyes unfocus, and a string of drool comes out of the corner of her mouth.

"Oh yes, double yellows. She's gonna sleep well tonight... and tomorrow," Stitches chuckles.

I catch Drizzle before she keels over and breaks something on the tiled floor, and put her on my back. She starts nibbling on the hair of my coat.

"Mom loves you, Raincloud..."

I was right, she WAS exhausted and still hungry.
> 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Drizzle mumbles something again, moves her head, pushes Stitches off of his riding place between my shoulder blades, and quietly giggles to herself. I shake to reposition the pegasus on my back so that she doesn't slide down easily, and pick Stitches up in my mouth.

Three alerted wardens quickly rush from their table towards me, Watchful among them. Good, spares me having to walk to them and ask where the pegasus' room is. Drizzle is light, pegasi always are due to their partially hollow bones allowing them to walk on clouds, but I am still shaky from this morning and in questionable physical state overall.

"What did you do to her-" a warden starts, but has Watchful's hoof shoved in his mouth soon enough, "-mhmm!" his tone is angry. I must admit the situation looks as if I did something bad to my cargo.

Wait... I did, but Stitches said she's just going to sleep for a while, and she did look tired.

"Yoo ar not supposd too speek wit yor mouth full," I give him a helpful hint as he squints at his plugged muzzle. The warden scowls to the chuckling of the other two.

"What happened here?" Watchful starts over, much less aggressively than the other one. 

"Mees Dreezel wos reely hungree end traid to eet mai feis again wen shee wos dun wit her lunch. Shee got reely taird after shee took d peels end fell asleep wit full tummee. Ai tink shee exorcises too mush end eets too leetel. Shee ees sooper lite. Ai wonted too teik her too her room."

"We'll do that, don't worry-" the up to now silent warden starts, but Watchful pats his back, leans towards him, and whispers something to his ear, "Hmm? Old brickface isn't gonna like this, Watchful."

"Does she have to know?" Watchful winks at him, "Young Pyre is much more careful thanks to this guy. Maybe a simple kind word or two can help where psychology failed?"

The unsure warden rubs his chest. As his hoof displaces the unbuttoned warden shirt, I get a quick peek of scarred, pink, hairless skin. Did the pyromancer colt cause more accidents like with me?

"Besides," Watchful hammers the nail of persuasion further after examining our food trays and empty cups of pills, "Drizzle's just had her hormones so she won't be too crazy for the next hour or so and she'll sleep until her treatments. Plus, this guy has actually no idea what Drizzle is trying to do anyway," Watchful turns back to me, "Hey, Greyscale, is Drizzle a griffon?"

In light of today's revelations about her, I rethink my position on the maybe pegasus.

"Shee traid too eet mai cheeken befor even wen Ai deed not have uan. Shee sed mee, her, and joonior wud bee best frends. Ai tink shee meeses her baybee. Shee wonted too becum a stallien too, I dunno wai. Oh, end shee offered mee a job wit too weeks of vaycayshun. Den shee wonted to raid mee. HAH! Shee new dis wud happen end wonted mee to teik her houm." 

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and assume some of it wasn't too precise," Watchful's eyes cross at my description and I almost feel his brain melt. 

"You mean some of it WAS?" the second warden gives him a horrified stare.

"Doesn't matter," Watchful shakes his head, "Look, this guy is harmless. Drizzle has her collar so we'll know where she is whenever or if she's hurt, and if we let him do this we won't miss our 'meetings' while brickface is here. You know how she loves her long lunches."

A creepy smile spreads over the muzzles of the two other wardens.

"You sure the nurses are still up to it?" the rude warden asks, pulling the other two into a huddle all conspirators somehow know.

"Buddy, brickface keeps them on an even tighter leash than us. The ones having to stay here over the week ride the washing machines downstairs like every evening. She checks their bags for anything that would 'disturb them while they work' and keeps the things locked up in Lost and Found. Halfway through the week, the poor mares need this more than we do."

"Fine, but if anything happens, this was all your responsibility, Watchful, and we've never heard a thing. Okay?"

"Sure," Watchful turns around and gives me a wide smile, "Greyscale, I know you are a responsible pony, most of the time, so I'll let you do this to prove me right. Drizzle's room is 203, that means second floor, third room. Take this," he drops a piece of laminated paper on the table, "If somepony stops you, show it to them. Drizzle's room will open if you, screw this you'll work it out seeyoulaterbyebye-"

The warden trio hastily retreat through the cafeteria door. As I carry Drizzle at much slower pace, I recieve more curious stares. Even the more distrusting and alert wardens saw me talking ot three of them, so they don't interfere, assuming everything is alright.

A couple of breaks filled with gasping for breath later, I stand at the correct door. There is no keyhole, strangely enough, but when I turn around in front of it, the door beeps and Drizzle's collar blinks. Clicks like a key turning in a complex lock accompany the door opening. Drizzle's room is exactly the same as mine, only filled with modules I can barely recognize. There are stands with various weights, a yoga mat, a trapeze, even a short rope for climbing.

"Hehe, yoo laik painteenk too," I smile, passing by a familiar canvas stand, although one holding a detailed picture of a stallion. He has three hind legs, though, and a really big flank. I'm starting to think anatomy isn't Drizzle strongest side. Still better than my stick ponies, though.

I lower my back to the bed, and Drizzle rolls over onto it in a brief moment of partial clarity.

"Ah!" her forelegs grab me and pull me down as well. Drizzle starts licking my ear. It tickles.

"I'm going to love you, Greyscale, and do everything that comes along with it."

I freeze. That is not good. I don't know why, but everything inside me is against the idea. I am a cleaner. I don't want deserve anything like this. She can do better, and she WILL once she is cured and gets out. She will see her colt, she won't go to prison, and everything will be just fine.

"Yeah, right..." Stitches mutters.

"What did you just say, hmm?" the frog of Drizzle's hoof rubs my nose.

"Ai weel kees yoo again eef yoo stop trying too bee roumantick end seksee wit mee. Plees? Ai dun now wot to doo wit yoo but Ai now Ai shud not doo eet."

Her grip weakens, and I untangle myself from her legs, sitting up on her bed.

"That makes no sense," she sits next to me, wrapping her wing around my back, carefully this time, "Am I bothering you, do you dislike what I'm doing?"

"Nou, nou, yoo ar soft end worm, but," I wonder how to say it in the right way. There is no future in this with me, there is nothing good at the end of that road for her, "dooing dat ees for ponees, not for mee."

"And what are you, dummy?" she licks my ear again.

Hmm...

A tool? No, tools need somepony to use them. I just, I just am. I do what I'm meant to do.

"Aim... maybee laik a furnishure?"

"Hehe hehehe," Drizzle wobbles, and her wing slips from my back, "you're too nice... and funny to be a... wardrobe..." the springs of the bed creak as she falls down on the mattress, completely limp and drooling again. 

"You should bail," Stitches says sharply, "If the yellow mind melters really do what the paranoid guy said, which I now think they do, she'll be extremely suggestive to anything anypony tells her after the double dose. You don't want to hurt her by infecting her with your simplicity, do you?"

"Okay," is there a lightbulb above my head? "Ken Ai tell her not too bee grabbee end bee normal laik dey wont her too bee?"

"If matters of curing the mind were this simple, I wouldn't be here. If sorting the world out was this simple, you wouldn't be here."

"Wot doo yoo meen?"

"It wouldn't help, otherwise she wouldn't be here anymore. They have a hypnotist, mind-bending drugs, psychiatrist experts, a ton of money at their disposal, and she still isn't cured. They either don't want to heal her, or it is too difficult. I'm suspecting a bit of both."

This is something far beyond my capabilities.

"Sou wot doo wee doo?"

"Leave her. She'll sleep the double dose off eventually. However, we need to find a way to make you immune to the chemical concoction they want you to take. Now that is going to be quite something. We've got until the evening. I suppose it wouldn't really hurt taking one, the regular dosage is what they need you to take. I'm not risking it, though."

I shrug. Yellow pills - bad, the rest - okay. Hey, now that Watchful is attending his meeting, where am I supposed to go?

"Shud Ai faind Washfool?" I scratch my head.

"Wait a second," Stitches stops me from walking out of Drizzle's room, "the enchantment encryption on the collar is pretty simplistic, just a serial combination of several algorithms. The data stored on the crystal in the center should be accessible now that I have a sample size of data about your lunch. If we can find basic input and the resulting output, I might be able to decrypt your schedule for today."

"Hey," I poke my collar, "were doo Ai gou nau, mejic lokkit?"

"Next appointment: fifteen o'clock, doctor Clear Insight's office, top floor, inkblots, " a clear female voice answers, coming from the crystal on my collar.

"The lokkit tolks!"

"My solution was better..." Stitches grumbles.

Well, that means I have two hours of nothing much to do. It's not as if I can help with Stitches' drug immunity project, so... time to go for a walk?

Snack first.

The common room on the ground floor is one of several spread all over the floor. It's full of ponies relaxing and chatting after lunch, and Soothed Thirst is cleaning glasses inbetween taking customer requests.

"Helou!" I jump up on a barstool.

"Hey, Greyscale, right?"

"Yes, ser. Ken Ai hev a snek?"

He looks at my collar and nods.

"You're official now, so three per day at most. We've got sweet things - pieces of cake, candybars, chewing gum, a whole menu of the things here on the wall," he points to a long list of stuff hanging behind him. It's a little difficult to read, but not that bad, "Plus a bunch of fruit and healthy stuff, but nopony ever wants that, since lunch is full of it."

"Ail teik d pek of gummee ponees, det way Ai ken share. And orenj joos plees."

"Right on it," Soothed Thirst's trained hooves blur as he reaches for things and shakes some bottles that have nothing to do with my drink apparently right until their contents are poured together to make a glass of fantastic, cold, fresh orange juice.

The gummy ponies taste good too.

I roam the gardens of Border Glades until I'm too cold even in the grey robe I took from my room's closet. The freezing air and falling snow make my blood flow when I return back inside, and I find myself taking my soggy clothes off and putting them into a cleaning bin outside my room. With time to spare, I try my hoof at some painting. Stitches on the table is my subject, and ends up as a stick pony on a stick something that might be a table or an upturned box. I miss my box.

It passes time, though, and the door to my room clicks open, followed by chipper and smiling Watchful entering. His shirt is a bit off, and there is some pink smudge on his neck.

"It's time for the blob therapy."

"Aim not det fet!" I pout. That said, I am out of shape.

"Good one," Watchful chuckles, "Let's go, doctor Insight hates waiting. Blob therapy is boring as heck, I've never liked it."

"Wots a blob terapee? Not anoder exorcism den?"

"Nah, you just sit down, doctor Insight shows you some weird pictures and asks you what you think they are."

"Wot eef Ai gess wrong? Doo Ai get a fiftee-fiftee or sumtink?"

"You worry too much, Greyscale. Relax. Doctor Insight is here to help you, not test you and try to catch you off guard." 

"That would be the first..." Stitches grumbles.

"Hmm?" Watchful raises an eyebrow.

"Wee shud gou."

"Yeah."

Watchful leads me upstairs through Border Glades. We take a quick stride because even I know where the doctor's office is now.

"This is where we part ways," Watchful pats my back, "You're done for the day. Feel free to walk around or ask anypony what is there to do. I forgot to tell you, but you can just ask your collar when and where your next treatment is."

"D tolking lokkit, Ai nou."

"You found out on your own? Good job-"

"Greyscale, if you please," Clear Insight's head peeks out of his office. I bow to Watchful and follow the doctor.

"Sit down," he points to the super amazing patient couch. I oblige and yawn almost instantly. It's been a long and eventful day, "Today, I will show you various pictures, and you will describe what you think they depict. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ser. Ees dere sumtink wrong wit mai ayes?"

"Not as far as I know, no. Why do you ask?"

"Ai see wot ees in d peekture. Ai see wot ees dere. Ai kant meik up teenks or see sumtink det ees not dere."

He blinks, then smiles and makes a note into his notepad.

"An interesting observation. You will understand soon. So?"

He levitates the first picture. It's a wiggly line separating white part of the picture and black part of the picture in about half.

"Blek end wayt halves wit a lain een d middel."

Insight tilts his head while next to him his levitating pen scribbles away.

"Any... patterns?"

"D wayt sayd looks laik a hed end d blek uan ees a vaas. Eet ees confyoozing a leetel."

Scribble scribble. The picture switches with a different one.

"Very accurately described. The first picture wasn't a part of the experiment, I just needed to affirm something about you, a guess. This is where we begin. What do you think this one is?"

I stare. Seconds drag on. I have no answer. It looks just like what it is. A bunch of blots as if somepony spilled black ink on white paper. I fail to see any pattern or anything worth describing. Cold sweat runs down my forehead. 

I don't know.

I have absolutely no idea.

"Greyscale?" Insight's tone turns worried as I start shaking and breathing heavily while the clock ticks seconds away.

"Soree," I mutter, curling down into a ball on the couch, "Ai dont nou. Soree."

"But it is something, Greyscale. How would you describe the 'something' you see? What is it you see?"

"A blob, blek blobs on wayt bekgraund. Dey ar frakktels, sort of. Blek end wayt, dets oll, ser. Soree. Ai em not a smart ponee, ai dont nou wot eet ees supposd to bee," I sniffle, muzzle buried into the corner of the black couch.

"No shape? No falling leaves? No rabbits? Just black blobs?"

"Yes, ser," I mumble, "Soree."

"I see. Take a quick peek at this one, please, Greyscale." 

Wiping my eyes, I look up at another picture, extremely similar to the first one.

"Blobs, just of deeferent saizes and sheips. Blek spletters."

He goes through a bunch more 'paintings' in quick succession, but I just shake my head at each one. I failed this test hard.

"Do you know what an 'ego' is?" Clear Insight asks after putting the stack of pictures away.

"D self?"

"Exactly. Do machines have a 'self'?"

"Ai dont tink so. Unless dey ar maid to hav uan, meybe?"

"Do you believe ponies can lose their 'self', all their desires, goals, feelings, to truly believe themselves to be just breathing machines ruled by cold logic?"

"Ai dont nou. Ai hev not tolked too too manee ponees."

"Not enough to get an educated guess based on statistics, not feeling. The correct answer."

"Yes, ser."

He shakes his head.

"No, Greyscale, ponies can't lose it, but they can bury it very deep and leave behind a shell, a mask. A mask which, for example, cannot pronounce anything properly... aside from their own name. These regressed 'shells' focus only on their 'designation', refusing any close contact, anything that would force them to feel real."

"Wai? Ponees ar soft end worm."

"You should know better than I do. Your answers are logical and precise, almost too much. Your problem solving, from what I was told by miss Grey Shrine, was very good within possible constraints. I believe even more than before that you used to be an extremely intelligent pony. Not a case of gifted autism, you are too aware for that, but a truly smart and completely normal pony."

"Ai dont nou."

"No, you don't. It is up to us to find out. Do you want a candy?"

"Wot?" I blink, shocked at the change of direction.

"I know all I needed to know from this experiment. Further use of the inkblots would be pointless, and I don't have anything else prepared. Your problem is very simple, in a way. Solving it is the nigh-impossible part. I need time to think."

"Yoo sed sumtink similar last taim."

"And it's been as true as it is now. Catch!" he throws a piece of hard candy at me.

"Eeeee!" I try to catch it, miss, punch it away with my other leg, jump at it to catch it again, hit the carpet with my face.

So much for the smart pony theory. I am just Greyscale. I clean, help, and try not to bother real ponies. There is nothing more to me.

Standing back up, red with embarrassment, I get another piece of candy, this one simply hovering in the air. 

"Tank yoo."

"You're welcome. Have a great evening, Greyscale."

"Yoo too, doktor Kleer Eensaid."
> 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

So... the rest of the day is free. Should I walk around to get a better feel for this place? I mean, Border Glades is a quite complex building, but a very regular and systematic one. Being more familiar with the layout can never hurt. Humming quietly to myself, I take a leisure stroll through the top floor full of offices, and then head downstairs.

There aren't that many ponies around at this time, likely because of afternoon treatments or just having a rest. Very few patient rooms have open doors, but I return a smile to those ponies who throw a glance my way as I pass by. Wardens patrol the hallways, alert but chill enough to stop and chat with one another. Nurses walk around with a sense of purpose, always aiming for a certain room or a patient.  

Somepony's whistling a friendly tune, I notice as I reach the ground floor. It can't be far, because this place is the most lively and thus full of disruptive noise. A door nearby is open, letting out some sort of buzzing and the whistling. I blow a long strand of my violet mane away from my face, and peek inside, ready to leave at any moment in case I'm interrupting something.

A young, pink-maned, white unicorn mare is levitating an electric shaver, putting some finishing touches on a collared grey earthpony patient's mane.

"Aaaand all done," she pats her customer's head, who bows, thanks her, and leaves. After a short while, she notices me still examining the interior of the... manedresser's salon? "Are you here for a mane cut, sir?"

"Umm, meybee?"

My coat hasn't grown too much since I set myself on fire, but my mane is getting unpleasantly long, and was all sticky with sweat after the morning yoga. Better to have it gone.

"I take it you don't have an appointment, then," she smiles, sweeping away the earlier patient's mess, "but if you want I can take you now."

"Shure, mem."

"Don't just stand out there then," she chuckles at my indecisivness, "I don't bite."

The salon is on the small side, offering only two chairs for customers and feeling a little cramped with shelves upon shelves of mane products lining the walls. She stops her sweeping and sits me down on the unused chair. A wide apron-like cloth is tied around my neck to prevent my hair from landing on me, and she circles me from all sides, furrowing her brows and humming to herself. 

"Ken Ai help yoo?"

"Huh?" she snaps out of her examining me and blinks, "No no no, I'm just wondering... who did your mane last time? It looks as if a dog chewed it off."

"Ai deed."

She's taken aback, shoving a hoof in her mouth.

"I'm, erm, sorry..."

"Its fain, mem. Ai just needed a short main den. Eet kept stikking too everyteenk."

Seeing I'm not mad at her remark, she recovers.

"Well then, I... I think I can do some styling. Would you like a ponytail? I think it would suit you, even if your mane isn't overly long."

"Ken yoo just cut eet short? Eet klings to mee wen Aim all sweatee."

"Awww," she pouts but lightens up instantly again, "I'll think of something as I go, hmm? I'm going to feel bad if I just shave it off after being so rude."

I'm not sure why she's making so much fuss about it.

"Yoo were not rood, just rite." 

"Still, my bad."

Shrugging, I relax in the chair and let her hooves spread some liquid smelling of cherries over the top of my head. With my eyes closed to avoid dripping and bubbles, I listen as she starts whistling the tune I caught before again, completely focused on her work.

"So, what are you here for?" she asks as she dries my head and the shaver starts buzzing again, "Something with the way you speak?"

"Wot? Nou, mem. Ai set maiself on fayr."

"Dear Celestia, why would anypony do that?" her implement jerking in surprise takes away a good chunk of my mane at once, "Oh, darn it!"

"Ai maid a meestake... dey keep telling mee."

She recovers, and mirrors the groove she accidentally made on one side of my head on the other.

"Do you think they are wrong?"

If it was possible to hear a raised eyebrow, I would be hearing it now.

"Ai teenk Ai head a good reeson but dey sed Ai wos teenkeeng wrong."

"You must have," her hoof brushes some hair off my head, "I've been here a while, seen some suicidal patients, and they always have the same distant stare. Nothing like you, you feel warm."

"Dets d shampoo end hot water, Ai teenk."

"Oh you," she taps my shoulder, and a mirror levitates in front of me, "So, what do you think?"

"Ai em shure dat ees a meeror, mem."

She snorts and the piece of glass bonks my nose.

"Come on."

It's still me, obviously, but instead of frayed purple mess cut in places almost to the skin and left where I didn't reach in strands, it is a short, even, carpet-like cut ending in a V pointing down my neck at my back likely from her little accident.

"Ai look laik a ponee nau, not laik a swomp monster."

Is that a good thing? Before, ponies would avoid me and not waste their precious time. Now, now they might want to talk to me. What do I do?

I shake my head. No need to stress, my true nature will always surface quickly, and ponies will realize in few words there is nothing for them in my company.

"Glad you like it," she babbles cheerfully, and puts the mirror away, "How long are you staying here?"

"Aid laik to gou nau, mem. Aim getting reelly taird," I slip off my chair, careful to avoid the purple mess of hair underneath.

"I mean here in Border Glades."

"Ou, Ai dont nou. Noponee told mee yet. Dey sed until Ai got better."

She chuckles, helping me take the apron off.

"Alright, then I might see you again in few weeks, especially if you want to keep your mane short. Name's Diamond Edge," she extends her hoof.

Hah! I know what to do with this now.

"Greyscale," I shake the offered appendage.

"Short and snappy, I like it. Have a nice evening, Greyscale."

"Yoo too, mees Diemond Etch."

Fresh and relaxed after the panic attack with doctor Clear Insight, I think I'll have a rest until dinner.

"We've still got stuff to do with the pills," Stitches whispers in my ear while I walk upstairs towards my room, "I've got an idea, but we're gonna need a blood sample."

"Ai kant stab ponees!" some patients turn their heads my way at my surprised outburst.

"YOUR blood, dummy."

"Oh, okey."

The door of my room closes behind me, cutting off most of the outside noise. I'd never notice how loud everything was out there without the soundproofed room.

"Now, what could we use to draw blood we need to make a thing against the yellows?" Stitches asks. I put him on the table to have a clearer view unobstructed by my head.

"A teenk?" I ask, unsure what the guard plushie means by 'a thing against yellows'. Strange expression. Or maybe not, maybe I'm just not smart enough to understand a magical talking toy.

"Yes, a 'thing'."

Perhaps I could break a splinter off of the door separating my room from the bathroom? Several exploratory kicks tell me that's not happening. The door is too sturdy and slightly padded.

"How about the screws holding the canvas stand down?"

Good idea. Their heads are half-spheres, hard but smooth. However, there are grooves for the screwdriver. I try to scratch my leg against it. It irritates, hurts, but I'd have to be doing this for a very agonizing while before achieving any result.

"Yeah, that would be a torture and I have no doubt you would scream. We don't want anypony here for the time being." 

"Oooh," I look at the canvast stand itself. An idea! "How about a peipr kut?"

Not waiting for approval, I start rubbing my fetlock against the paper with stick ponies on it, my last project. Not much happens aside from the paper getting seriously crumpled.

Stitches is watching me, unimpressed. It seems that paper cuts only come when you really don't want them.

"Hey, dis mite work!"

The plastic paint brushes are sturdy, but I wedge one between the bars on my window, and push with all my might. It breaks, leaving a sharp point and a servicable edge.

"Not bad," Stitches admires my work, "Can it actually cut something, though?"

Sliding the polished plastic against my fetlock harmlessly, I must admit it looked better at first than it's performing. Hmm, the tip is still very sharp, though.

Careful... careful... poke...

Stab.

"Owwwwww," I watch the blood stream from my leg. It's a lot... a quickly growing puddle. Everything is getting blurry, "Ai dun feel gud..."

"Crap," I hear Stitches through the gushing in my ears, "That worked well. Too well."

Thud.

Everything goes black.





*BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP*

Not again...

"Just like the report from the castle stated, he heals very fast. That's not the shocking thing, though. I mean, how is he still alive? The damage to his veins, sinews, even an artery, coupled with the amount of blood all around when the wardens found him would kill anypony even before I could stitch him up."

Hmm, a new voice.

"Yes, that is indeed a mystery. However, it does happen, doesn't it... sometimes? Ponies clinging to life through even the darkest of times and through all pain and suffering." 

This one I know. That was Clear Insight.

"That doesn't make it any less miraculous. Some sort of lucky blood clotting around the wound or something. Heck, I'm a surgeon and I have no clue how that could have happened. Still, he's getting better with every day and that's all that matters."

"Indeed."

"Eets all d good food yoo serve heer," I croak. They've been nice to me so far while I just caused trouble. They deserve a compliment. Much more when it's true.

Surprised gasps come from all sides.

"You are awake?" Clear Insight is completely taken aback when I open my eyes. The world is still wobbly, but it's not spinning all around at least. He turns to another pony who is wearing a white overcoat and a stethoscope, "Leave us alone, will you?"

"Sure, if anything goes wrong I'm just outside the door," the doctor walks off, leaving me only with Clear Insight on one side of my bed and the towering form of Chiseled Chin on the other.

I try to turn around to take a better look, but I can't move my legs. Not just the one I stabbed clean through, but all of them.

"Do not thrash around," Chiseled Chin rumbles, "You are bound to the bed for your own protection."

As she said, I can only move my head and neck. All my legs are tied up.

"Wai?"

"That is what I should be asking," Insight frowns, but keeps his voice calm, "Why did you do it, Greyscale?"

"Steeches told mee too."

"The stuffed toy?" he pushes his glasses dislodged when I spoke for the first time back up on his muzzle.

"Yes."

He sighs wearily, looking at the floor with a bitter expression.

"Greyscale, I said multiple times before that I believe you to be an intelligent pony. Let us start with the basic things - plushies do not talk."

"But Ai herd-"

He raises his hoof.

"Please, let me finish. You heard a voice that was not your own telling you to do things, am I right?"

"Yes," I nod.

"Chin," he looks up at the head nurse, "Go to his room and bring the toy here."

Chiseled Chin quickly trots off, and Clear Insight turns back to me.

"Voices of that sort never aim to do you good, Greyscale. They are called hallucinations, and usually come from your brain working through some kind of pressure or stress. Do you trust me?"

"Yes, yoo ar traying to make mee feel better."

"Good," he smiles, "I have met many patients who kept seeing or hearing things. The most important thing is to admit the hallucinations are not real. You might hear the voices, but you need to understand that your judgement is important, not theirs. Don't listen, no matter what. We will adjust the pills you're taking and your schedule to accommodate for new treatments, but I believe in you, Greyscale. I know you can do your best to help us help you."

"But Steeches reely tolked, just laik yor lokkit!"

"My... locket?" he gives me a puzzled stare. I strain against my bonds, but can't move, so I just shake my head and try to touch the collar with my muzzle. It doesn't work that well since I'm not made of rubber, but he gets the idea, "Oh, you mean the patient collar. Greyscale, those are made to inform lost patients about their location, schedule, or diet, monitor their basic vital signs, and tell us of their movements. That is all they do. There is no intelligence in them, just technology and magic. Your 'plushie' proved an intent to harm you."

"Ai... Ai... hee just sed Ai needed a blood sample."

"Whatever for?" his surprise grows.

At that point, the door to the hospital room or whatever this place is opens, and Chiseled Chin returns with my Nightguard plush stained with drying blood. I must have kicked Stitches down from the table when I collapsed or something.

"Meybee... meybee Steeches wos maid too protekt mee. Eklips gave him to mee to keep mee safe. Hee mite bee a Nitegaard on a super seecret misshun end needs to bee sneekee. Sey someteenk, Steeches."

I'm grasping at straws. I had a friend for a brief while. Are they telling me it was just my imagination? Maybe... maybe Eclipse, Grey Shrine, and Piercing Hit knew I was wrong inside and sent me here not because I hurt myself, but so I learned not to listen to the voice inside me telling me to do it again?

Did they all lie to me that I just needed rest?

Silence.

"Steeches? Plees?"

Nothing. My pleading is completely fruitless. Stitches doesn't move or talk.

"It seems the voice you're hearing is focused around Stitches here," Insight levitates the plushie up and looks at him from all sides, "There are no traces of magic, nor any obvious mechanisms, Greyscale. It is just a stuffed pony, albeit a rather well done one. It cannot talk. We're going to have to confiscate it for now."

"Wot? Nou, plees!"

He levitates the toy to Chiseled Chin.

"Let the doctor back in, Chin, and take the toy away for safekeeping."

She starts walking towards the door.

"Eets d first teenk Aiv ever gotten! From d first ponee woo laikd mee! GEEV EET BAK!" I scream, shaking so hard the bedframe creaks, but eventually the pain in my tied up legs forces me to stop, and I just whine, exhausted and crying without having any idea where the outburst came from.

"Greyscale," Insight puts a hoof on my head and I try to move away. He strokes my freshly-cut mane, "We'll give you your friend back, but first we need to fix your head so he doesn't try to hurt you again."

"But hee reely tolked."

He sighs.

"What did I say about denying the voices? Stitches is not the one talking, your insecurities, stress, and fears are. We'll keep you in bed until you're physically better. You recover exceptionally fast, but unless we know what's behind it we're not going to risk anything. I hate to prescribe something as harsh and crude, but you'll be undergoing hydrotherapy in order to assert some negative reinforcement about the voices."

"Laik drinkeeng? Moar joos? Ai laik d orenj uan."

"No, not really. If it makes you feel any better, these voices are often accompanying factors of schizophrenia, of multiple personalities in one mind, and serious cases of such illness rarely remember the periods when their alternate minds were in control. So... maybe this incident will help us in curing your amnesia in the end."

I wish I understood, but I just yawn. Things are blurring again, and it's not due to the tears of loss. From the corner of my eye, I see the surgeon-looking unicorn empty a syringe of some liquid into my flank.

Heh, I didn't even feel a-
> 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The past week has been nothing but boring. The good ponies of Border Glades kept me tied to the bed the first two days in case I tried to hurt myself again. Explaining that I didn't mean it the last time and that I just messed up didn't help too much, considering my history of being sent here for setting myself on fire. However, on the third day a group of wardens accompanied by Chiseled Chin visited my infirmary room and stripped it clean of anything sharp or pokey. Most of the necessary medicinal machinery beepers and clickers were taken away when my checkup showed my condition as good enough. Now there is only one bed here, the blanket is from some sort of weird, firm cloth that is fastened to the bed so that I can't take it away even if I wanted.

After the two days I was unbound and allowed to walk around in the room where I can't really toy with anything, so I examined whatever I could. However, there's a limit to how many times one can observe a chair bolted to the floor before being done with it. I'm smarter now, though, because I learned that chairs and tables are basically the same - bent metal bars with screws inside them holding plastic covering together. I could now make one if I had the parts easily! The window is barred, which ruins a beautiful view of the forests surrounding this part of Canterlot mountain. Oh, I forgot to mention it - it's snowing right now! The gardens are completely covered in white aside from the paths cleared up by the wardens. There's a pegasus being pushed on a wheelchair with a blanket over him or her, can't tell from up here, and a cup of something doubtlessly hot held in hooves right now.

The thing is that I'm bored. I tried to disassemble the clock hanging above the door, but reaching up there was a chore already, and made a nurse really mad. You see, while all other furniture is screwed to the floor, the beds have little wheels that make them easy to move with sleeping or unconscious patients. I pushed it to the door, then bounced up and almost broke my legs. Heheh, I forgot to lock the wheels first and it slid away after I jumped up. Luckily, I only got a bruise from that mistake and discovered the little metal clamps preventing the wheels from moving. After jumping high enough, I took the clock down from the nail it was hanging on. Unfortunately, without a screwdriver my effort was in vain. After that, I couldn't put the clock back because the hole in the covering where the nail should go was too small for me to aim for while bouncing up and down. As I said, the nurse to whom I returned the clock was pretty shocked.

On the other hoof, after that much exhausting activity I was diagnosed with almost complete physical fine-ness. There was a lot more checking up on me, needles and stuff, but in the end they said I was physically okay. I was still supposed to stay here, though. They said it was for observation because of my unnaturally quick recovery. Speaking of recovery, I should be let out today. Doctor Clear Insight is supposed to come this evening to see if I can be trusted to go back to my room.

I wonder if I am, sometimes. After doctor Insight told me that Stitches didn't really talk but instead some part of me tried to hurt me, I didn't know what to believe. I mean, it is my head, right? There is just me there. Why would me not like me? Did I do something bad for which me wants to punish me? Does it have anything to do with me not remembering anything before the day I woke up in an alley? Did I commit a crime? No, that can't be. I found a thrown away newspaper each day to use as isolation in my box and then later in the barracks, and there was nothing even remotely connected to me. Is doctor Insight wrong? But he's a professional, he must know what he's talking about.

Oh well, I am the dummy here, so just thinking about it isn't going to solve anything. I wish I had something more to do than lie here or walk around the room for today. The today's newspaper isn't here yet, a nurse usually brings one in the afternoon. I suppose I could listen to the radio a bit. I tried to disassemble it as well, but ran into the same problem as with the clock. Without a screwdriver I'm out of luck.

"I like big plots and I cannot lie. Yo other brothas can't deny-" the reproductor starts proclaiming happily.

Turning the knob, I tune into a talk radio station I discovered early into my stay here. I quickly found out that those stations which call themselves popular music are something to avoid. I mean, mares are really nice and, I suppose, squishy when poked, but there's a limit to how many songs about jiggling rumps I can listen to in one day. Plus, some famous mare called Sapphire Shores reportedly switched partners four times in past week. She must have really bad luck with stallions and the reporters failed to talk about anything else. 

No, I like those chatty stations where they talk about stuff happening all around the world. Oh, and the ones where they read books on air. Those two kinds are my absolute favourites. Since they didn't offer me any books here, I spent most of my time listening to the reading of 'Thine Magnus: The Golden Thorn'. I really enjoy comedy, probably because I don't get to laugh much on my own. Granted, I'm happy and lucky to be in the company of ponies much more accomplished than I can ever be who care about me, even if it is just their job, but I don't get to laugh with them.

Oooh, one final interesting thing while I'm checking the stations. For some reason this radio keeps tuning out every time it's turned off. One day it caught a strange station called the Enclave. Their announcer John Henry Eden sounded like a nice pony, he talked a lot about justice and patriotism. Or maybe he even wasn't a pony, probably someone from the east. Griffons have unusual names like that.

After short wiggling with the tuning knob, a voice of a calm radio host takes over instead of the distorted noises.

"-of the day concerns our new princess Luna. A report by Canterlot Mirror's correspondent Uncovered Conspiracy speaks about princess Luna being bedridden as just a guise for her relapse into Nightmare Moon state. Upon further questioning, the Nightguard commander and princess Luna's personal bodyguard Sharp Biscuit said," the voice changes into an official-sounding reassuring one, "The princess is only getting used to this new age. Don't forget that her last time interacting with ponies was a millenium ago, and times have changed considerably. Today's Equestria is a peaceful nation with warm diplomatic relations and under no direct threats. Day to day life is different as well. Advancements in technology, culture, and magic require the princess to learn of these changes, and the best way to do it is in private at first. Princess Luna will accompany princess Celestia to the Royal Canterlot Theater over next week to see a series of plays by Manespeare. If either of the sisters decide to allow an interview is only up to them," the voice changes back to the radio host, "Royal Guard captain Shining Armor confirmed the statement during a press conference yesterday. That's it for morning news. This has been your host Double Check, and I'll be back after a short word from our sponsors with Griffon Empire ambassador Rafahm Steelfeather addressing emperor Emhyr's statement regarding griffon-pony tension in the coastline Imperial settlements." 

*Knock knock knock*

The knocker is a white unicorn nurse in a light pink suit levitating a tray.

"Hello, Greyscale. Lunchtime."

"Oh, alredee?" I blink, watching the mare drop the tray with a bowl and a spoon on the table.

"Yes. It's a griffon recipe repurposed for ponies. We're kind of testing it out. You're healthy enough so that if it's bad for you it doesn't actually harm a patient, but you're still in recovery so that if it really works it's going to help you a lot."

Well, no harm in trying. I mean, possibly small harm to me, but if it's really as healthy as she says then it's worth to test it. It's sort of unpleasant having somepony watch you eat, but in my case it's necessary.

I carefully take a spoonful and shove it in my mouth.

"Dis ees deleeshus!" I dig in with gusto. I put the spoon down and drink the bowl's contents, "Wot ees eet maid from?"

"Umm," the nurse hesitates, "It's chicken soup."

"Chikins ken kook?" I ask inbetween mouthfuls of vegetables. I had no idea. But since farmers get milk from cows who are sentient, why wouldn't chickens be useful for more than feathers, right? Hmm, I wonder how they hold the spoons and stuff. Maybe they just make the recipes up and then organize ponies who cook for them.

"Not by chickens," she chuckles, "Griffons make it from chickens."

My stomach revolves and I look at the remains in my bowl in horror. So much for that theory...

"Ai dun wanna hurt aneefink! Nor do Ai wont innosent aneemals hurt so Ai ken bee healthee faster."

"Oh no no no," the nurse waves her hooves defensively, "It's mostly vegetarian. Umm, do you know what tofu is?"

"Nou," I admit, still carefully observing the traitorously delicious bowl.

Fool me once, shame on you, bowl. Ehh, shame on me more like. A smart pony shouldn't get tricked by a container. 

"Well, it is..." she pauses, "It's not meat but it adds the taste and some of its vitamins and minerals if properly made." 

"So nou meet?"

"Look, griffons will be farming animals for meat no matter what. If we can put it to good use then so be it. I take it you liked the taste, though?"

I cautiously nod.

"No feeling sick?"

"Full end a bit sleepee. Were dere anee peels een eet?"

"No, it's just that good. I suggest you go to bed and let it work its magic."

"Okey, mem. Yor a nais ponee. Tank yoo. Noponee needs to waist taim wit mee end yoo ar steel heer even after Ai took dat klok."

She giggles, taking the tray and examining the room for I don't know what.

"Just doing my job, Greyscale. Everypony deserves to be happy for few moments."

With stomach full of delicious, albeit a little morally questionable, warmth my eyes close on their own and I drift off to sleep.
	
> 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The day drags on with me listening to the radio. Tuning through the talk shows, I eventually return to my favourite station because the subject is the same anywhere - the new princess Luna. That is something I can't even begin to comment on, because alicorn stuff is waaaay over my head. Considering all the different opinions I've heard in the past two hours after I woke up from my nap, it confuses even the smartest ponies and nobility who should know how to deal with politics. Everypony is worried or downright scared, though, which makes no sense because princess Celestia who lives in the castle and takes care of her sister keeps reassuring them things are fine.

Oh well, it's not like my mulling over it here is going to change anything. Ponies will just have to get used to new things and changes with time.

Somepony knocks on the door. Maybe it's the nice nurse and it's time for some more tasty liquid crime against nature. I still don't know how to feel about the fake soup.

My stomach gurgles.

Okay, at least it has no moral dilemma with it. Oh, I heard on some nature radio channel that there are more nerve endings in the stomach that there are in most of all other insides? That means my belly is a genius! It gurgles and bubbles, turning grub into stuff that makes me move. Now think about what stomachs of smart ponies can do. I bet princess Celestia's can do its own taxes!

Right, the knocker.

"Cum een!"

It IS the nice nurse.

"Helou, mem."

"Good evening, Greyscale, did you sleep well?" she walks around, withdrawing the curtains, checking the beeping devices, my bed, and the entire room. I was hoping they would realize I have no desire to hurt myself anymore and that the last time it was a mistake, but I guess all change takes time, just like the princess thing. Or maybe she knows that I'm fine and...

...maybe she thinks I'm a sleepwalker. That I sleep-break stuff. I mean, my head turns off, right? But my stomach keeps going all the time, digesting food. Maybe if I don't eat enough it takes over at night and makes me walk around and eat but my eyes don't work so I just blindly gobble anything I can reach. 

As she walks around and peeks into every nook and cranny, I hold my breath and listen as intently as I can. There are no unnatural technical noises coming from myself.

"Ai deedn't eet eny of d beeping teenks," I happily report.

"Uh, what? Why?" she shakes her head, "Nevermind. You've got visitors. Do you want to see them?"

"Woo?"

She levitates a small notepad.

"Two other patients and one warden. Pyre, Drizzle, and Watchful."

Oh... I was sort of hoping they forgot I was around. Especially Watchful after how I repaid him for giving me some more freedom and risking his job.

"Ken yoo... ken yoo tell dem Ai em sleepink? Plees?"

"You don't want to see them? They look worried."

"Ai hurt maiself wit teenks Washfool-"

Her eyes bulge and she covers her mouth with her hoof, snorting. She must have caught a cold outside.

"-Washfool-"

The fit intensifies. I wait a little while for her to stop and wipe her eyes.

"Ar yoo okey?"

"I am absolutely fine. Definitely better than a while ago. Pfff, Washfool," she coughs again, "Okay okay, I think I'm done. Oh he's not gonna forget this one any time soon."

"Well, he aloud mee too get sum teenks laik brushees end den he let mee take Dreezel to her room unsupervaised becuz he trusted mee. And den Ai stabbed maiself becuz mai plushee told mee too. Den doktor Kleer Insaid said Ai just wanted too hurt maiself for sum reeson and det Ai shud not stay unwashed- un- un-wotchd! Ai maid Washfool look stoopid and eencompetent and-"

She raises her hoof and hops onto the bed next to me.

"Come on, you've made a mistake. I doubt Watchful is going to hold a grudge, he's not the type. He might be a little disappointed, but that's all."

"But Ai mite have maid him loos his job!"

"He's not going to lose anything, Greyscale. He's not even on probation or under any restrictions. There's absolutely no way what you did will affect him, alright?"

"Ai look dum."

"Then think about the others, right? Pyre and Drizzle. I had a short briefing about your stay here up till now. After all, I have to know my patients'... quirks. And I've heard talk that Pyre might be scheduled for release early next year if he keeps improving. Some say it is because he set you on fire and the guilt finally broke into his enclosed world. And Drizzle-"

She frowns.

"-okay, if you don't want to see Drizzle I can do something about it."

"Dreezel ees a nais laydee woo laiks huggeeng a lot."

"And showing her wings where they don't belong," she mutters, running her hoof down her short, pink outfit.

"Wot doo yoo meen?"

"I meant that's not how I would phrase it, but if you don't have a problem with her who am I to judge? So, are you still set on not seeing them?" she tries to ruffle my mane, but her hoof just rubs my still mostly shaved head, "Huh, feels like velcro. Anyway, they came to visit because they wanted to see you, if they were mad they wouldn't."

I guess that makes sense. Ponies wouldn't visit me to yell at me. I'm much easier to just forget and don't bother with.

"Okey den."

"Great," she smiles and walks outside.

She returns quickly with the promised trio in tow, whispers something to Watchful who looks firmly at the ground while blushing, and says:

"Fifteen minutes, everypony. I'll give you some privacy."

When she leaves, all three visitors approach me, although Watchful much more apprehensively than Drizzle and Pyre.

I was wrong! He is mad! He is super mad! Sad and mad! Sadmad, madsad! S and M, wait... no, scratch that one. I messed up. He's gonna yell at me. Tell me I'm a dummy and he'll be right. Then he'll ask to be a warden elsewhere which means I ruined his career here in this top notch place and-

"Ooof!" I have the wind knocked out of me by a pouncing pegasus. 

"You're okay!" Drizzle wraps her hooves around my neck, her wings start rubbing my back, then her hind legs clamp around my waist and she starts biting my ears.

Drizzle, you silly, always hungry pegasus.

"Drizzle!" I hear Watchful's stern voice.

"Oh, ehm, right," Drizzle stops her attempts at turning the two of us into one cube of jelly and rubs her muzzle against mine before jumping off and straightening her feathers.

Pyre is just standing there with a shifty grin, eyebrow raised. Now that I notice, it's the first time I see him without any suppression ring around his horn, not even the thin one he wore back when he burned me.

Watchful walks over while I try to look small and give him a guilty look.

He hugs me.

"I'm glad you're still here with us."

"Ai em not going aneewhere. Dey don't let mee aut. Plus, dere's winter autsaid end Ai don't have a nyu boks yet. Ken Ai get a boks wen Ai get aut of heer?"

I'm kind of uncomfortable with all these ponies being so friendly. I haven't done anything to earn it, I just... talked to them a little at some point. Still, I feel like I could melt in their warmth. I don't deserve this, but they seem to think I do, or they are just happy a fellow patient didn't get hurt too much.

I don't know...

"I mean," he chuckles, "You know what? Let's leave it at that. How are you feeling?"

"Aid laik to paint sumteenk or strech mai legs. D radio keeps tolking about Nitemare Moon and prinsess Loona all d taim."

"I'll see what I can do," Watchful pats my shoulder.

Now it's time for the hard questions, I guess.

"Yor not mad at mee?"

"Mad? Why would I be mad?"

"Yoo tought Ai wos trustworfee. Yoo even let mee carry Dreezel off to her room on mai own wail yoo went too play wit wosheenk macheens. Yoo geiv mee d painteenk stand end brushees. End den Ai deed... dis end maid yoo look dum for beleeving een mee."

He stares, blinking.

"You... you thought I would be mad at you... for using you to get some action with the nurs- to play around in the laundry room?" 

I nod. He puts a hoof under my muzzle and forces me to look up at him.

"Greyscale, I'm not mad at all. I'm a little shocked at what you did, but not too much. After all, I know why you were sent here in the first place. I'm absolutely ecstatic that you woke up, and so is everypony here."

Pyre nods, and Drizzle, still sitting on the bed next to me wraps her wing around my back.

"You're a nice kid," she says in a low, warm tone of voice.

"Ai em older den all of yoo."

"Oh, really? How do you know?" Watchful pulls over a chair for himself and Pyre and sits down, "Did you remember something?"

"Ai... Ai..." I have no idea. I just know how old I am, "Ai em twentee-ate. Ai teenk Ai em."

"Dammit!" Watchful frowns, "Twenty-six here."

"Fifteen," Pyre rolls his eyes, "I don't think I'm winning this one any time soon."

Drizzle pumps her hoof in the air, then jumps off of the bed and spreads her wings to reach both me and Watchful.

"Come to mommy, my little colts," a lidded gaze follows her puckering of lips, "Nice and round thirty here."

"Drizzle!" Watchful raises his voice again a little. Drizzle immediately looks uncertain, hangs her head, and her wings droop like a hanging cloak. Seeing the dejected visage, Watchful sits down on the floor next to her, "I'm sorry, Drizzle, I don't mean to ruin the mood whenever you're having fun, but you know how things are when you get too excited. Especially with the little colts thing."

Come on, this can't go on. I know what she did but this is just silly.

Dropping from the bed, I sit in front of both the warden and the pegasus patient and wrap my hooves around them. 

"Yoo ken squeez mee if yoo laik. Just teenk of eet as eef Ai em bubble wrap. The-rap-yoo-tick."

Watchful sighs.

"Fine, but don't tell anypony and keep your hooves off his crotch... or mine."

"Yes. Nou squeezeenk dere, plees. Dat wud reely hurt."

We just sit like that for a while, three ponies on the floor tangled in a complicated hug. See? Hugs can make everything better. Everypony's day can be a little brighter with a little live warmth wrapped around them.

"Ehm!" Pyre coughs meaningfully, still sitting on the chair instead of with us, "Our time's almost up. Can you stop being sappy for a moment and let me say something?"

"Only if you join the huddle!" Drizzle retorts.

"Over my grilled, ungroped body," Pyre sighs, "Pleeeease?"

I wriggle myself out of Drizzle's shockingly strong grasp. She's got quite the leg strength for a pegasus. Maybe she's a secret wrestler! So many theories about her. That's what I like about real ponies, they have so many facets to explore, there's so much to know about them. I'm not going to be like that ever, but maybe getting a little closer might be nice.

Taking her no longer resisting foreleg into mine, I push it down close to Watchful's flank. 

"Dats d squishiest bit, at leest on mee. Keep going end Ail bee rite back. Teenk of d bubble wrap end evereeteenk will bee better."

"You heard the pony," she grins, pushing the warden on the floor and wrapping him in a tight pegasus cocoon.

"Drizzle, I'm warning you-"

"Oh lighten up, I'm just joking. But for real, you are squishy. Been neglecting your physical?"

"I, well, umm-"

Shaking my head, I leave the reddening and stuttering warden. Pyre turns his chair away from the two and beckons me closer. Granted, we're about a pony and a half away from them so the privacy is limited, but better than nothing.

The orange unicorn levitates something he's been messing with all this time - Watchful's gift lighter. He flips it open and sparks a tiny flickering flame. His horn glows like a fireplace coming to life, and the little flame leaves the steel lighter, floating in the air until it reaches Pyre's horn, then it drops like a rock back into the now faded lighter.

The metal square floats over to me. I pluck it out of the air and try to make a spark. I know it should be more difficult using hooves, but I'm unsuccessful even after multiple attempts. Lighters are probably just for smart ponies. 

"It's gonna stay dark from now on, I put an enchantment on it," says Pyre, "They wouldn't let me give you a working one with your history. This one will stay warm no matter what, though."

He nods towards it. Now that he mentioned it, lighters usually get cold quickly, right? This one is warm bordering on hot, but definitely not scalding or anything. Then I realize what he said.

"Eet's for mee?"

He nods, giving me a tired smile. He opens his mouth to say something, but the door opens and the nurse peeks in.

"Time's up, everypony. The patient needs his rest before doctor Insight comes for a visit."

Watchful and Drizzle get off the floor, much to the pegasus' disappointment.

"Can I ride you?" she asks.

"On my back, right?" Watchful frowns.

"That is totally what I meant."

"No, your legs are fine and my coat is wet already from your," he looks at me and Pyre, "... from you."

She drools and bites a lot, that's true.

"Come on, you let me ride Greyscale when I was unconscious before."

"He wouldn't know what do to do with you."

That's not true. I can carry a sleeping pony. I even DID so! Watchful must have completely forgotten due to the washing machine thing. Cats are right when they run away from those loud things, they are dangerous and now I have proof!

Pyre hops off of the chair when the other two are finally outside. He nods towards the lighter still in my hoof.

"Yeah, it's for you. The end of the year is coming closer and they have scheduled me for release in just over a month."

With certainty and determination in his voice, he adds:

"Thank you. I'm not going to need it anymore."

Pretty quickly, I'm left on my own. Strange, I don't feel alone.
	
> 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The knocking on my door is firm and clear this time. Unlike the nurse, the knocker doesn't wait and opens soon after. 

"I'm glad you are awake, Greyscale," doctor Clear Insight levitating a notepad enters. Just like the nurse, he examines all the beepers and boopers around, including taking a quick look at the hanging clock-

"Ai deednt doo anyteenk dis taim."

-and eventually sits down on a chair which floats next to my bed during the doctor's initial observation. Unicorns are pretty amazing with the things they can do using magic. I mean, Stitches is a talking plushie but a unicorn like doctor Clear Insight, I bet he could enchant the chair to take my temperature. 

"I apologize for being overly cautious, Greyscale. I trust you, but there are your parts which make me doubtful. The dangerous parts."

"Ai woodnt hurt a flai," I pout.

"You did hurt yourself."

Oh, right. Hehe, I've completely forgotten, what a silly dummy. 

"Ou. Ai maid a meestake, Ai nou," I hang my head low.

"Admission is an important thing, but I would like to know why Stitches wanted you to hurt yourself. Have you managed to think of something since we met last time?"

As much as I want to lie to him again, I think it would make things worse in the long run now. I mean, he's been nice to me ever since I arrived here. It's his job to help me and everypony else. On top of that, I now realize many patients here are sick like me and don't think properly sometimes. Poor ponies, temporarily dropping down to my level. I've been unfair to the head psychiatrist, and based on what? Only on one confused patient's theory about pills. On top of it, I can barely remember what I said last time and if I try to make things up I'll just tangle myself in lies. I'm not smart enough to do complicated things like keep up a fake reality. The best I can do is be honest and open and hope things work out.

Maybe Quick Trick just misunderstood things like I did. Anyway, with Pyre's release being scheduled, I think I can lay my worries about doctor Insight keeping patients here longer than necessary to rest. If Stitches didn't really talk and some part of me I don't remember is really trying to hurt me then trusting him might be my best chance at getting better.

"Ai... Ai... Ai wos scared of d yello peels," I mutter, making the doctor twitch backwards.

"Bananas? Wait, come again?" Clear Insight pushes his glasses that slipped in his surprise back up.

Alright, time to come completely clean. I just hope he doesn't get mad. Would he get mad and throw me out of this friendly place? I don't even have a box outside anymore, and it's snowing. Would Stitches try to hurt me again? No, no, no. Stitches can't be bad, Eclipse gave him to me. It's just my head. Eclipse gave him to me to protect me.

"Ai wos told d yello peels wood meik mee eevn dummer den Ai alredy em, all woozy end sleepee. Ai thought eef Ai wos eevn more stoopid den Ai wood forget Eklips and evryponee and dat wood meik dem sad. Ai deednt wont anyponee to bee sad."

I patiently wait for the doctor to chew through what I said. We haven't talked much in a while and he must have been talking to ponies who speak all smart so now he needs to adapt. Well, I should be the one adapting, but my mouth just jumbles everything no matter how much I try. I guess I simply can't become better, but thankfully the doctor is plenty smart for both of us.

"You've been talking to Quick Trick, haven't you?" he sighs.

I nod.

"Yes, on d day Ai arraivd."

He leans in, and I try to look as small as I can, then he pats my shoulder.

"Greyscale, you must understand that many ponies here are confused like you are. Quick Trick is among those. He suffers from advanced paranoia, that means he believes ponies around him are trying to hurt him in some way, and that even items around him have been arranged in such way that he would be in danger. That's why he was let go from the Royal Guard. He simply couldn't work around ponies he was supposed to protect. Cases like his are difficult to treat, because most our non-invasive treatments require trust which he cannot sustain due to his condition."

"But he had a big peenboard wit pictures end everyteenk."

"Yes, we are letting him continue his imaginary investigation so that he works with us at least a little. It will take a long time for him to recover, but I believe we can do it. You have no idea how sorry I am that his involvement led to you getting this badly hurt."

Quick Trick did say ponies were supposed to be here unnecessarily long. Was he basing it on himself having to stay here past his original treatment?

"Ai... Ai dunno. Ai teenk mai head is all wrong. Ponees say teenks end Ai keep meesunderstandeenk. Ai burnd maiself end den Grey Shrain told me Ai got eet wrong. Ai beleevd Kwik Treek end Ai got eet wrong. Wen Ai trai to beleev udders Ai em wrong, end wen Ai traid to beleev mai hed Ai messed up too. Wat is reel end rait?"

To my surprise, Clear Insight smiles, fiddling with his notepad into which his levitating pen keeps scribbling.

"That is a difficult question, Greyscale, because I don't know from personal experience how you are feeling. However, I am here to help you. That is my life calling and my expertise, something you can trust," he scratches his head with his pen, "You know what? Just to ease your worries, I think I can prescribe different anti-anxiety pills. How about that?"

"Reely?"

"Of course. We use a variety of pills because not all patients can be given every single one. If you are worried about the yellow ones, we have a lot of different ones with similar effects. However, in cases like yours it help the most if you can face your fear directly and win."

"Wot doo yoo meen?"

"I mean that your condition, out of all the clues I've got up till now, is caused by some sort of deep and powerful fear. By running away from a minor part of your treatment you are only reinforcing that fear. However, if you can face a simple fear like this, you can move onto bigger things. Maybe if you grow enough trust in yourself then the block in your memory will melt and you will remember everything again."

"So yoo meen det eef Ai eet d peels Ail remember everyteenk?"

He chuckles.

"It's not that easy, although in some difficult cases I wish it was. Anyway, you've been given the pills already multiple times, how come you are afraid now?"

"Ai, umm, deednt teik dem."

"What do you mean?" he asks, his glasses slipping off again, and looks at his notepad, "There isn't any mention of you refusing to take the pills."

"Ai geiv uan to Dreezel, Ai glood uan too mai huf befor d haidra noticed."

"Hydr- right, miss Chiseled Chin," he shakes his head, snickering, "Hydra."

"Den Ai-"

He raises his hoof to stop me recounting all the ways I avoided taking the yellow pills.

"Greyscale, Greyscale... I was right about you. You really are a smart and resourceful pony."

"Yor not mad?"

"Mad at you? No. Mad at myself? Definitely so. I misjudged your condition which led to you hurting yourself. The fact that you managed to do all that under our oversight only affirms my original theory about you. I am at fault here. Still, I am slightly disappointed that you gave in to your fears. As I said before, I think something that happened to you prevents you from talking properly. Why? Maybe because your mind is so terrified that it made one more block for you so that you cannot even describe what happened. It is all about fear, fear you will one day have to face."

Could I one day be a proper pony?

Heheh, no, that is too much to ask, but I could definitely make it easier for ponies around me if I could at least speak like one. If the road to that starts with eating one pill then I should do that. I can't let a scary story haunt me forever.

But Stitches said Quick Trick was right. On the other hoof, Stitches is not supposed to talk, and it's supposed to be all inside my head. My head that is scared of what Quick Trick's head made him believe.

Taking a deep breath, I start shaking a little but say:

"Ken Ai teik d yello peel nau?"

Clear Insight's proud smile warms me up inside.

"It would be a step in the right direction, but not now. We can't be giving you pills on an empty stomach."

"Aim afraid mai hed will go wrong again eef Ai teenk too much 'bout eet."

"Self-examination is good. Giving in to self-doubt is not, Greyscale. Believe in yourself, believe you can do it, and you will. Just to be sure, though, when your meal is ready I will be here personally to make sure you take all your pills, and I will stay with you as long as it takes for you to gather your courage again."

"Tank yoo."

"And to show that I believe in you, I will order your release from the infirmary back to your room in a day or two. You will have an escort at all times, and you will have to undergo a certain... arduous treatment, but I think keeping you confined into one room for too long is a bad idea."

I don't like the sound of 'arduous', but I guess if it's necessary...

"Will eet hurt?"

"In order to block the influence of that part of the mind that is trying to hurt you, you must learn to ignore the voice."

"But Steeches reely tolkd!"

"I understand it felt that way, but I examined the plushie personally. It is not magical or anything else, as I stated before. We need to build negative reinforcement in you towards the voice telling you to hurt yourself. To do so, we will have to associate said voices with... unpleasant sensations."

"So eets gonna hurt," I mumble.

"Only a little, we don't want to harm you unless absolutely necessary, but it's going to freeze. Like I said when we last met, I believe hydrotherapy, while crude and straightforward treatment, could work in your case."

"Haidra ter-a-pee? Ees miss Cheen gonna feed mee ais creem?"

Clear Insight explodes with laughter.

Oh well, I guess brain freeze isn't going to be too harsh since I don't have too much of it.

"Ai laik vaneela...?"

The elderly doctor just laughs and laughs and laughs.

The hair on my back stands up. It's going to be strawberry, isn't it?

MONSTERS!
> 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It's Monday, and I'm all good again. Under careful observation, I was allowed to do some walking and later running and jumping. Also, they made me stand on my hind legs and spin around with a hoop around my barrel. Heh, I'm not too coordinated, as it turns out, and my head kept spinning as I bumped into the nurses. Anyway, after two days of these recovery treatments which surprised the doctors, I was deemed completely fine and allowed to roam the gardens. It was freezing cold, windy, and snowing all the time, but I spent several hours there anyway because it felt so refreshing after being locked up inside for a week. I even helped some warden on duty sweep the snow away from the walkways, I was just so excited to be out again. He shared with me his tea afterwards, happy to be done with the sweeping and taking a break in a tool shed in the corner of the gardens. It was delicious, and warmed me up instanly. As he admitted later after a short chat about the reason for me being here and his experiences with Border Glades, it was because he added rum to it. I'm not sure if I'm allowed alcohol while I'm here, but I didn't ask anypony in case that would cause trouble to the warden.

Anyway, I didn't feel sick, only a little sleepy so I went to bed earlier. No big deal. Speaking of mind-altering substances, I've been given the yellow pills over the days, and honestly I don't feel any different now, and I didn't then. Either the effect is super subtle, or Quick Trick really is just a crazy pony and Clear Insight was right all along. 

Or maybe... or maybe whatever Stitches wanted to do with me after I hurt myself worked.

I don't know what is real. Some part of me keeps telling me that believing the word of a paranoid patient over his psychiatrist is crazy, and maybe it's the healthy part of me. But part of me leans towards trusting Quick Trick, because a pony like Clear Insight capable of digging in your head can make you think anything he wants. Also, the final part believes that a plushie conducted an experiment that would allow me to ignore possibly completely imaginary mind-controlling chemicals in pills.

Why can't I clearly decide which one is it?

Cause I'm a dummy, that's why. Real ponies don't have problems like this, and this is just another proof that I should go my own way and not bother others because I'm not even smart enough to work this one out.

So, time to stop worrying for and greet the new day and week. I've got a roof over my head, food and drinks aplenty, a friendly bartender who secretly allows me a bonus treat per day because he thinks I'm really nice, and there are ponies all around trying to help me figure out my possibly deadly plushie problem. And they'll be able to, because they are smart ponies with titles before and after their name. I even asked what the 'Btd.' behind Soothed Thirst's name meant, and whether he had gone to a university like all the doctors, and he whispered to me that it meant bartender, but that he felt really dumb in here without a title, so he made one up. He's a genius, what more can I say? Maybe I can be Greyscale Ptt  as in patient, or Ptt Greyscale Bh - broom handler. 

Life is good.

*Knock knock knock*

Who could be it this early? The breakfast isn't for nearly two more hours, and most patients are usually asleep at this time of day anyway, even I am. I just woke up early for some reason, and fresher than ever. It must have something to do with yesterday's outside adventure and going to bed early.

*Click*

The opener doesn't wait for my answer, so I'll get the key ot this mystery soon enough.

A trio of stern looking wardens enter my room, and give me surprised looks as I greet them with a smile and a wave.

"Gud morneenk!" 

"Uuuh," they hesitate, "You're up early."

"Ees dat a problem?"

Were they supposed to secretly prepare a surprise for me, like something to celebrate me recovering so quickly? Did me waking up ruin it for them?

The leading warden shakes his head after a moment of thought.

"Oh not at all, just come with us. It's time for your treatment."

"Okey. Ken Ai brush mai teeth first?"

"No, we're on a tight schedule in order to be done in time for you to get ready for breakfast."

Alright, as long as I have the chance to do it later.

"Lets go."

As we leave my room, I hear a warden's whisper:

"I've never seen anypony this happy to go down there. They usually bite and scream."

And one replies:

"I think he doesn't know what's going to happen. Must be his first time."

That's not true! I'm not smart but I can remember things. This must be the special treatment doctor Clear Insight told me about, the ice cream one. Ooooh, they must have wanted to wake me up and get me down there this long before breakfast so that I wouldn't be too full for it. AND THAT MUST BE THE CELEBRATION OF MY RECOVERY!

The ponies here are amazing.

"Doktor Eensaid told mee about d eyes creem."

"Eyes cream?" asks a warden, "Do you have eyesight problems?"

"Nou, d uan yoo eet."

"Oh, ice cream!" he shakes his head, but stops mid-movement, "No no no... actually, you got half of that right."

Ice or cream? Hmmm...

I don't bother them anymore, so that we can get to where we're going faster. As they unlock the door to the cellar complex under Border Glades, I recall the comment about biting and screaming. It's got to be a whole cake. Of course, you bite it, there's cream inside it, and you yell in excitement when you find out, but since it's winter they don't want to make patients ill so no icecream, that's why it was only half correct.

I've got you figured out!

With a triumphant smile, I enter a...

...white room with padded walls and several drains in the tiled floor. It's completely empty.

The wardens spread out as I walk around and lock the door. One of them unlocks a panel next to it, pulls out a hose, and aims a nozzle at me.

Umm, does it shoot cake?

"Wot doo Ai doo heer?" I ask, "Were ees d c-AAAAH!?"

I recoil under the onslaught of freezing water that the warden sprays at me. The heavy pressure pushes me backwards until I hit the padded wall, and then it stops. Gasping for breath, I shake myself to get the water out of my coat.

Well, now I'm completely awake at least.

Noooow I get it. It's supposedly extra healthy to take a short dip in cold water to make the blood flow. This must be the final step to my full recovery. I don't feel bad at all, but they are the doctors here. 

"Now, Greyscale, this is an old treatment based on negative reinforcement," I hear Clear Insight's voice coming out of the walls. Is there a radio somewhere? It's probably in the ceiling so that the water doesn't damage it. 

So... another wrong assumption.

"Aim reely confyoozd rite nau," I look around for the intercom.

"I told you that the first step to dealing with voices is to refuse their existence. By force if necessary," says Clear Insight, "Now, did your plushie really talk?"

I'm not exactly sure how that ties up to showering.

"Ai told yoo hee deed. Hee said dat hee needed mai-BLRBLRLBLRL!"

The pressurized icy water hits me again, but this time I recover and not slide on the floor.

"I will ask again. Did Stitches talk?"

He must not be hearing over the noise of the running water.

"YES, HEE SAID-"

This time the spray is so strong it makes me slip and fall. It lasts longer, though so I decide to leave my explanation for later and scrub my mane instead.

The water stops.

"-hmmmm hummm hummm, hey!" I give the hose warden a questioning glance. I just needed a little more to wash my short mane completely. It can't be healthy to be in such cold water for too long, so I should finish the shower as soon as I can. Or maybe they're just trying to save water and the short and strong bursts are for health.

It's really inconvenient, though.

"So, Greyscale, I know you are a smart pony who has a control of himself. I know it is difficult to fight what is inside you, but you have to understand and work on it. One more time - did Stitches ask you to hurt yourself?"

I don't answer immediately. The wardens are watching me like snakes waiting to strike. As soon as I start talking, they'll start spraying. I need something to occupy them while I wash myself properly. Sooo... imagination, GO!

"Steeches ees an ausum nitegaard-blrbllr!"

Alright, mane is done, now scrub behind the ears like a good and clean pony you are.

"Hees an old buddee of Eklips' dad woo ees supposd too protekt her-"

Scrub scrub, barrel, chest, neck. I'm getting a little cold, though.

"Hee nau looks laik a plushee so dat hee is stealthee and can protekt Eklips unseen-"

Aaaand back. It would be easier if they gave me a backscratcher or something. I should ask them for it next time. I'll be ready.

The biting cold water makes my legs a little numb, but I keep scrubbing everywhere I can reach.

"Hee ees also an ausum chemeest, but has hard taim mooving becaus hees a plooshee-"

Nooow, how to do my underhooves properly? 

I shove both forelegs straight into the icy spray. Yep, that'll do.

"And Steeches will uan day help Eklips faind d best ponee to stay wit her and protekt her instead. Den hee will transform bek into a betponee and hev a dreenk wit her dad as a job well dun."

And Eclipse's coltfriend will be strong, smart, rich, and will know princess Celestia personally, or maybe even the new princess Luna. Basically, take me and imagine the exact opposite. Yeah, he'll be cool like that.

I realize there is no more cold water and I'm currently mooning a trio of wardens.

"Ees d shower over? Ai need too feeneesh mai tail."

The nozzle falls from the hose warden's hooves.

"SHOWER?" he raises his voice, "My hooves are freaking FREEZING, and I can barely feel my hind legs. Are you making fun of us you crazy-?"  

"EHM!" Clear Insight's voice comes from the intercom, "Greyscale, we seem to have come to a misunderstanding. What do you think is going on here?"

Misunderstanding? Well yeah, I thought there would be cake, but shower is cool too. Although I'm shivering a little at this point. I think we took too long, but next time I'll have a better story prepared.

"Ai teenk dis ees a kold shower dat shud meik mee smarter and helthee, so yoo meik mee meik up stuff on d spot and yoo sprey mee wit woter so dat mai blood starts floweenk. Soree Ai failed eet, but Ai needed onlee a leettle more so dat Ai cud feeneesh mai tail."

The lengthening stunned silence makes me a bit uncomfortable. Still, as I stomp the floor a little, I can feel heat rushing up my whole body. The treatment is working already. I feel great!

"So... ees d shower over?" I ask hesitantly.

"You- you want m- more?" asks Clear Insight's bodyless voice, "Are you not freezing?"

I shrug.

"Not reely. Ai yoosd to teik a bath every morneenk up een uan Canterlot fawnteen. Eet wos much colder end d wind meid eet reely painful sumtaims. Ai laik eet laik dis a lot more."

One of the wardens starts beating his head against the wall. The padding on the wall makes it so he'll be fine, no need to worry. 

"Umm, ken Ai get a soap nex taim? Det wud meik it much faster."

Another warden groans, unlocks the door, leaves, and closes it behind him. A second later I hear a muffled scream.

"Eef eets a problem Ai ken teik d uan from mai room."

The sound of something hitting something fleshy comes from the intercom.

"Alright, wardens, please, put the equipment away and send somepony to clean up. I believe this is not the way to go. One of you escort Greyscale back to his room."

Whimpering, the warden previously spraying me rolls the hose back onto a winch and slides a panel over it, hiding it inside the wall. Then he pats the shoulder of the head beating one who whimpers and looks at me with exhausted stare. As we leave the room, I notice all of them shaking, sniffling, and chattering their teeth. I guess it must have been freezing inside for somepony not used to it like I am.

One of them sneezes.

"Tank yoo for riskeeng yor helth to help mee," I give them an apologetic smile.

How they managed that well synchronized eye-twitch is beyond me.

"W-w-w- why m-m- me..." one whimpers.

Poor guys, I hope they pay them well. I should ask Watchful when he comes back from his longer weekend.


***


When I'm almost done with breakfast, I stare at the small plastic cup with four pills on the table. Ever since my chat with doctor Insight in the infirmary when I decided to face my fear head on, I've been taking the yellow pills and have felt no different from normal. As more and more time passes by from the event, I'm leaning towards doctor Insight's diagnosis of my insecurity and fear running amok.

One by one, I take the pills and wash them down with my remaining orange juice until only the dreaded yellow one remains. Shaking my head like every time I think too much about the possibility of it doing something unnoticeable, I take that one as well. No sudden desire to obey, no dizziness, no foggy mind. In fact, the best way to explain it is by saying it did exactly nothing.

Like always.

I sigh and leave the lunch room. There is nothing more scheduled for me until late afternoon, as doctor Insight said he thought I would be recovering from the morning treatment. I guess I ruined his plan somehow, I don't really know how. Aimlessly strolling through Border Glades, I end up in the common room where Soothed Thirst is cleaning glasses behind the bar as usual, few patients I haven't talked to are sitting around and reading newspapers, and where Quick Trick is sitting in his corner with his pinboard, frantically scribbling something on a piece of paper in his hooves.

What is real? What is right? 

The pink, grey-maned unicorn notices me looking his way and waves me over. Shrugging, I accept his invitation. It's not like I have anything better to do and I could use some more clues to decide whether to trust him or doctor Insight.

"Hey hey hey, Greyscale," he pats my back as I sit down on the chair next to him, "Why so gloomy? You look completely out of it today- oh no, don't tell me they got you too."

"Got mee?" I ask, staring at Trick's paper filled with crossed out words, "Dey deedn't get mee anyteenk. Eets not eevn mai berfdei."

Huh, I wonder when my birthday is, actually. I don't recall anything about it, so I could count it as the day I woke up in my alley. That means I have almost a whole year before I can get a present, though.

Awww...

Can I just say my birthday is today? No no no, no cheating. Anyway, dummies shouldn't lie because they'll forget and be caught later. I must be as honest as I can. No plotting, no intrigue, no lies, not again.

"I mean," he leans over to my ear and whispers, "Did they get you to eat the yellow pills?"

"Yes, dey deed," I nod, "Dey dont doo anyteenk. Ai tink."

"Hmm that's weird. Care for a test?"

"Ai deednt studee. Noponee told me dere wud bee a test."

"I didn't mean-" he stands up and pulls my foreleg, "Nevermind, just come to the window."

I follow the twitchy pony to the glass wall with the view of the gardens. He looks me in the eyes, then forces me to open one as much as I can with his hooves. I keep watching his tail swishing from side to side.

"Hmm, pupils not dilated, reaction time substandard but within norm," his horn flashes, making my eyes dart upwards, "adaptation to light normal," he gives me a confused look which quickly gives way to a happy deranged smile, "Congratulations, Greyscale, you are still a clear thinking pony."

"Tank yoo for d compleemint, but Ai dont nou wot ees reel and rite."

We sit back down, Trick ignoring his writings for once and looking at me, unusually focused.

"What do you mean?"

Not like it's a secret, so I tell the unicorn everything that has happened concerning my unfortunate stabbing of myself and my recovery under doctor Insight's observation.

"-end Ai dont feel eny deefferent after teiking d peels so Ai dont nou eef yoo are crayzee laik mee or wot. Both of yoo sound smart and troothfull to mee, but uan of yoo cant bee and Aim too dum to nou woo."

I half expect to be subjected to a rant of some sort about him not being insane or belonging here, but instead Trick just puts his forelegs under his chin and sighs. His voice is calm and very quiet.

"Yes, Clear Insight has one hell of a poker face."

"Yoo meen hee cleens hearths wit his horn? Dats weerd."

Trick facehoofs.

"No, I mean he is an extremely skillful psychiatrist and an excellent liar. He's been fooling the entire Canterlot grants committee for over a decade."

"Dats a bit over mai hed, Ai teenk."

"You are absolutely correct, my simple friend," Trick raises his voice again and gives me a conspiratory wink, "but I know something that isn't. How would you like to get your confiscated plushie back?"

"Steeches ees not confuzzlocated, hee ees smart. Ai em confyoozd."

"I said confiscated, not confused. That means taken away."

But he tried to hurt me. No, he didn't. I tried to hurt myself, the plushie is just a present from a pony who thought I was her friend. There's nothing bad about the stuffed batpony, and as such there's no reason to keep him away from me. If the voice tells me to hurt myself again I can just say no. Easy. No bad voice will sully the gift from Eclipse.

"Aid laik dat."

"Excellent. However, nothing is free, and I'll tell you where Stitches is and tell you how to get there only if you do something for me first."

After a quick summary of what I'm good for, I offer him a deal.

"Ai ken bring yoo joos. Doo yoo laik orenj uan?"

"Hahahah, good one. No, I want you to get me some documents from Clear Insight's office." 

"Ai dont wont to cause truble for anyponee. And steelink ees wrong."

"Is that a no then?"

"Soree," I shake my head. I'll just have to wait until they return Stitches to me on their own.

"Okay, and what about just reading the documents for me? I tell you what to look for, you find it in his office, read it, and report to me what you remember. And when you steal- take back your plushie, you can watch him in case he tells you to do bad things again, right?"

That doesn't sound too bad.

"Alrait, but wot doo Ai tell doktor Eensaid?"

"Don't worry. He works with you in person, right? When is your next session?"

I present my patient necklace to Quick Trick and ask:

"Mejic lokkit, wot shud Ai doo todei?"

The pleasant mare voice of the necklace answers:

"Inkblot therapy session. Doctor Clear Insight's office. Third floor. Six o'clock. Therapist - doctor Clear Insight."

"Dere yoo hev eet."

"Yep," Quick Trick looks at the mess of papers on his pinboard, "I know what we'll do. I'll cause a distraction that'll have to be big enough to lure Insight away from the office mid-session. That's gonna be interesting," he turns back to me, "Anyway, I need you to find shipping manifests and supply lists. Anything about drugs or pills brought here. The originals will be locked somewhere, but he has to have either a copy or a compact version."

"Eny aideeya were Ai shud luk? Dere ees always a lot of paypers."

"It's not going to be among the things he'll be needing for the therapy session, of that I'm sure. His office is full of drawers and shelves, try to find and check some binders. Just read them and try to remember as much as you can. We'll meet here after dinner and hopefully put something useful together."

"Okey."

"Great, now shoo! I don't want anypony to think we're working together."

Leaving the conspiracy theorist alone, I go to the bar and order a drink. I feel experimental so I go for something green called a kiwi.

"I see old Trick has been bothering you. Most other patients avoid him," Soothed Thirst strikes up a conversation.

"Hee tolks a lot. Ai dont understand him much."

"Yeah, he tried to persuade me one time that the short rain showers are just weather pegasi on duty taking a leak. I have a friend who works up there and it's nonsense. They have these special super absorbing clouds they can use if they need to go and there's no other way."

"Wot doo dey doo wit dose?"

"Huh... I never asked. Probably better for my mental health. Anyway, if Trick bothers you too much, I can tell him to stay in his corner."

"Eets fain. Ai laik listeneenk too d raydio, and hee ees laik uan."

"Just don't take him too seriously, or you'll end up with tin foil hat on your head."

"Ai laik umbrellas bettr."

"Heh, yeah," he shoots Trick a dark glance and then smiles at me again, "Want a candybar?"

Soothed Thirst is a great guy.


***


"Dats a bunee."

"Next one."

"Dats a blob. Eet doesnt look laik anyteenk."

"Alright. Next one."

"Too ponees yeleenk at eech udder."

"Mhm, next one."

"Anoder blob. Cud bee a smooshed jellyfeesh."

"I see. You're making progress, albeit in an interesting direction," comments doctor Clear Insight, "Let's keep going and see where it takes-"

The silence of the office is interrupted by a high-pitched scream audible through the padded door. It escalates quickly into chaos and... explosions? I hear somepony calling for unicorn help, and get up from my chair. Clear Insight gestures me to stay sitting, and gives me a calming smile.

"I will be right back and we can continue our session."

"Okey."

As he opens the door, all I see is a blur which makes him disappear. Like a good and peaceful patient I am, I shut the door again, ignoring the chaos of colours and screaming outside. It doesn't seem harmless like I expected, but this must be Quick Trick's distraction.

Where to look? Where to look? He said somewhere not related to our business.

There's the couch and the doctor's desk in the middle of the room. A bookshelf next to the door filled to the brim with books and magazines which on a closer look all belong to the medicine category - all published research papers. The coathanger and umbrella stand on the other side reveal no secrets either. It's time to delve deeper, namely into the metal filing cabinets from which Clear Insight pulled out a stack of papers regarding me.

One by one, I skim through the wallside towers of documents and skip those which seem like patient files. 

Oh hey, there's a safe behind a pretty drawing of a pony in the woods! I can't open it, of course, but at least I know it's there.

"Ah hah!" I mumble, finally getting to a paper folder on a corner table next to a comfy armchair. It looks as if somepony tossed it there in a hurry, making me think doctor Insight had a prolonged session with his previous patient and didn't have time to put this one where it belongs.

My victorious smile fades instantly.

"Taumometaterazeen? Paracetamolum? Coffeen? Guayf- guy- guifa? Ibooprofeeniem? I cant reemember dat! Somateek eenfyooshuns... sevn kainds."

Well, I guess this is what Quick Trick wanted, but there is no way I'll be able to tell him all the crazy names on command. What can I do? I'll just have to tell him I wasn't smart enough to do what he wanted me to and wait until they give me Stitches back.

The door clicks and I shove the folder back on the table, trying to look inconspicuous while watching a wall on which there are doctor Insight's framed diplomas. Psychiatry, psychology, chemistry, and some more certificates with long names.

"I apologize for leaving so abruptly, Greyscale," Clear Insight walkes over to me studying his credentials, "And even more for having to cut this session short yet again, but the event outside exhausted me greatly. I shouldn't be doing this kind of work at my age."

"Yor a reely smart ponee."

He looks at the framed diplomas as well.

"If I make a mistake while doing my job, I can destroy somepony's life. I have studied and worked long and hard to be where I am and have the desired effect on ponies who need my expertise."

"Aim glad Ai just sweep floors den. Wot happend outsaid?"

"One of our unicorn patients got startled by a change in our routine. Unfortunately, unicorns have the added problem that if their head is working against them, their horn is as well."

Quick Trick, what did you do?

"Deed anyponee get hurt?"

"No, no," Clear Insight sits down into his armchair and takes a deep breath, "The patient in question has incredible teleportation powers, and unfortunately even with a suppressor she just wanted everypony who scared her to disappear. Few ponies have some bruises from appearing right under the ceiling, but nothing serious. I am just tired because I had to use my magic against all raw power she possesses. I am not that much of a spellcaster, to be honest."

"Dats good."

"Definitely. Now, I hope you don't mind me rescheduling this session for tomorrow, because right now I feel like my head is about to burst."

"Alrait," I walk to the door, "Hev a good nite's sleep, doctor Eensaid. Eet always helps mee."

He smiles.

"I'll take that advice to heart, Greyscale. You go and enjoy the rest of the evening."

Leaving the office behind me, I return to my room to have a short rest. I must admit the chaos of broken furniture and scattered mess in the hall outside of the doctor's office made me a little scared, and a quick warm shower is exactly what Ptt. Greyscale B.H. ordered.


***


It's after dinner, and I'm headed back to the common room to find Quick Trick. I tried to find him there after my shortened session, but he wasn't around, so I just had a drink and chatted with Drizzle until it was time to go to the lunch room. She got really huggy eventually, and Soothed Thirst wanted to call a warden, but I just asked her to calm down and all we did was sit on a chair, she on my lap, and watch the snow falling down outside. She smelled a lot like sweat, and drifted off for few minutes, so I think she was tired from some exercises. That reminded me that I can once again join some classes so that my day isn't this empty.

Anyway, as I enter the uncharacteristically packed common room, I notice my unicorn target sitting at his corner table and giving all ponies who come too close unfriendly stares. That changes when he notices me coming over.

"So, what did you find?" he goes straight to business.

"Ai found a peipr wit weerd and funee neims, but den doktor Eensaid came bak. Neims laik okseemetazoleenee."

Contrary to my expectations, Trick doesn't tell me I'm an idiot, but actually thinks about what I said.

"No, that's the active ingredient in one kind nose decongestants. Any others?"

"Paracetamolum. Ibooprofeeniem. Guyf-sumteenk."

Still more thoughtful than mad at me for not remembering the things properly or finding more.

"General chemicals in pain meds," he shakes his head, "Wasn't there anything unusual, really weird?" he groans in what I presume is frustration, "Damn it, everything is weird to you."

"Soree, Ai just nevr herd neims laik dat befor," my hears perk up, "Rait, dere were sum somateek eenfyooshuns, caffeen, and taumo- taumometa- terazeen, trozeen? Ai nou dere wos zeen een eet."

Quick Trick stares, brows furrowed.

"Caffeine is in coffee, Greyscale. Infusions are finely ground up magical crystals or liquids which are added to the structure of pills. Somatic... WAIT! Wait wait wait wait... you might have stumbled onto something."

I look around and wave my legs hanging from the chair.

"Aim sitteenk, not wolkeenk."

"Why in Celestia's name would they be buying only chemicals instead of pills like everyone else? They have to be mixing the stuff themselves," his victorious smile fades, "But that isn't anything I can use. It's unusual, but not incriminating. Damn it!"

"Soree. But doktor Eensaid ees also a chemeest. D peipr een his offis sez so. Hee must nou wot hees dooing."

He leans over and pats my head.

"Oh he knows full well what he's doing, trust me. Anyway, you did what you could, no matter how little it was. Time for my end of the bargain," he gives me a plastic cut-off looking like a key, "This is a copy of a key that should get you to Lost and Found down in the cellars. That's where they keep your plushie. Just take the first door this opens and you'll be golden."

"Wooow. How deed yoo get eet?"

"The less you know the better."

Is that even possible? I am THE expert on knowing too little.

"Dat meens Ai em d best!"

Trick gives me a surprised look which I answer with an excited smile.

"Oh, and by the way," Quick Trick adds with a shifty grin, "in case you find something chemistry related by some strange accident, just let me know."

"Okey, Ail bee going nau."

"Don't get caught."

I rush off, the strange key shoved under my tightly fitting talking collar. I wonder how it can fit to the main cellar entrance and the Lost and Found as well, because last time I was around it was with the wardens and they had a full keyring. Anyway, when I wander down the stairs, careful about being seen, I push the key into the cellar door. It resists a little, but eventually slides in and even successfully turns. 

Entering the long, dimly lit hallway with doors on all sides, I close and lock the one behind me. Upon a more investigative examination, I notice the plastic key looks a little different from the ones Watchful used. While it has generally the same shape, some of the teeth are thin and feel as if they can fold under pressure without breaking, so they might adapt to fit into more kinds of locks. 

Anyway, no time to waste. Nopony should be around for a while, because it's after dinner and not late enough for bed. That means no nurses or wardens coming for fresh bedsheets or food supplies for the kitchen.

So, the first door this key fits.

Applying a little force to lock after lock yields no results, until the key slips into one near the end of the corridor and turns. A small slider above the lock spins along with the key and its red colour changes to green.

"Hmmm..." I mumble to myself. I don't know how the Lost and Found should look, but this room is full of unlabeled crates. Maybe they store all confiscated things inside? Some of them are small, some could easily hold a pony or two.

I slide the top off of one already open and pull out a clear bottle of something green and gooey. The label on it reads simply - Changeling venom. Shrugging, I put it back and look into another open crate which contains the same kind of bottles.

Where could Stitches be? Did they melt him and turned him into goo?

STITCHES!

In a bout of sadness, I sit with my back towards the wooden crate and cover my face with my hooves. What is Eclipse going to think when she finds out? She'll yell at me and call me an idiot. She'll say that it would have been better for me to get turned to goo instead. It'll be just like the time the barracks caught fire.

*Click*

The sound of door opening breaks my onset of misery and I roll behind the crate on pure instinct of a cornered animal.

"What idiot left this open?" growls a voice belonging to Chiseled Chin.

Damn it, she knows about me!

"I swear to Celestia I'll break their freaking muzzle."

The heavy hoofsteps get closer. I shove a hoof into my mouth to stop the incoming whimper. 

"Hmph!" I hear an angry huff, and Chiseled Chin stomps away, turning the lights off and locking the door behind her.

In complete darkness, I have enough time to whine my fear away, calm my jackhammering heart down, and take a deep, slow breath. I don't know how long I've been sitting here, but eventually I shuffle towards the light switch again and continue my exaimnation of the room's contents.

Nothing. All crates which are open -all three of them- contain the already found bottles, and I can't get into the closed ones without a crowbar which would make noise, mess, and leave a clear trace that somepony was here. However, the fruitless examination passess time, and I eventually gather enough courage the unlock the door and shove my head out into the now dark corridor. The plaque on the door of the room I've just left just reads "Storage". 

Perhaps I should have read that first, but instructions are instructions.

Oh, changeling venom. Right. I have no idea what a changeling is, but I heard from the radio that scorpion venom is commonly used as a mild paralytic or calming agent in medicine. Perhaps the other thing is just a cheaper version. It's a wonder how much easier it is to think when not in danger of having my muzzle crushed by an angry hydra.

The key doesn't fit the next door, nor the one after it, but the third one allows for a satisfying click, and when I turn the lights inside on, I read the "Lost and Found" metal plaque on the door. Quick Trick must have made a little mistake when getting this key. 

With the door safely closed behind me, I look around. There are a lot of various things, trinkets, jewels, and a big box of stuffed toys. 

"Steeches!" I whisper as I pull the batpony plushie out of the semi-full box, "Yoo werent lonelee," I poke the nose of a different red unicorn toy inside the box, "So manee frends. Tank yoo all for keepeeng Steeches companee."

Unsurprisingly, they don't answer, but I know they got the message. With Stitches safely lodged on my back, I leave the room, lock it behind me, and rush out of the cellars altogether. Carefully looking in all directions in case I spot somepony who knows I shouldn't have Stitches on me, I make my way to my room. Safely inside, I take a breath of relief and put the plushie on the bed.

Pointing my hoof at my face and then at Stitches, I say:

"Aim wotching yoo!"

No more illusions. If he talks, I'll be on my guard and find out if it's my crazy head or a smart plushie guardspony.

Wait, I should return his key to Quick Trick.

After a quick trot to the still full common room, I'm sitting at Trick's table again.

"Aim heer to geev dis bek," I offer him the key.

He puts it into a small pouch hanging on his neck.

"Did you find your toy- friend?"

"Ai deed, but Ai got eento a wrong room ferst."

"Really," with no sign of surprise, he gives me a small smile, "What room?"

"Sum storej. Eet wos full of weerd bottles of shen-jee-leenk venim. Wot ees a shenjeeleenk?"

Trick closes his eyes, eyebrows furrowing in deep thought.

"A... changeling?" he finally deciphers my broken speech.

"Dats wot Ai sed. D haidra wos reely mad sumponee got eensaid, but deednt see mee."

He levitates a red tack his pinboard is full of, and carefully pushes it into a central picture of the spiderweb.

"I'll be going, Greyscale," he stands up, leaving his whole board propped against the wall.

"Bai bai," I wave.

"Have fun with your plush friend."

And so, I'm left alone with his pinboard. I'm sure he'll come back for it soon. I lean closer to look at Quick Trick's confusing creation.

In the middle there is a photo of doctor Clear Insight, the tack running straight through his forehead.
> 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing bad followed me taking Stitches back from the Lost and Found, although I was still careful not to take him with me when I went outside of my room. Oh, they even allowed me to ask for one hobby item for my room again. I chose the painting set because it was the only thing I was familiar with. From what I've heard, some patients take chess sets to play against themselves, which have to be some balanced and hoof-biting matches. I had to hide Stitches under my bed, though, when a warden came to screw the canvas stand back. However, Stitches understood the importance of staying put and didn't make a noise.

I guess that if there's somepony who knows when and how to stay hidden, then it is a Nightguard, plush one or not.

Unfortunately, they didn't give me the brushes back, but I still had a ton of various paints and my hooves. Now I understand why there is a drain in the middle of my room and why the room is very slightly sloping towards it. Let's just say I would be easy to track after my first hoof-painting session. The paints were easy to clean, though, and few short moments with a sponge were enough to make my floor sqeaky and shiny again.  

Anyway, it's morning of the second day after my sneaking adventure, and I'm walking around in the snowy gardens accompanied by a warden. I'm still not allowed to be outside unsupervised because they are worried I might try to spear myself on the tall barred fence or something. I don't mind. At least I have somepony to talk to while Stitches is sleeping under my blanket.

"D raydeeo keeps tolking about preensess Loona. Doo yoo nou anyteenk? Ees she beeg end shainee laik preensess Selesteeya? Doktor Kleer Eensaid has a peekture of her een his offis. Her main looks laik mai hufs after painteenk."

"That's government business, not mine."

"Ou."

I forgot to mention that this warden isn't too chatty. Maybe he's just cold. I like it out here, it's so fresh and nothing smells like desinfectant in contrast to the inside. I know they have to clean everything properly because some patients like to lick their surroundings, but sometimes it gets a little overwhelming. Oh well, the crisp outside air just tastes so much sweeter. 

"Hev yoo herd sumteenk about d barraks at d castl? Dey shud be reebuildeeng dem nau. Dat, or d rekroots ar sleepeenk een tents. Dey ken lait a fayr end roast marshmellous eech dey. Det ees so ausum."

"I have no idea," he keeps looking into the distance while following my slow progress on the paved and cleared out path.

Maybe he'll warm up if I ask about him.

"Doo yoo laik workeeng heer?"

He shrugs.

"I'm in the last year of my uni studies. It was either this for practical experience or the drug store, and I hate arguing with old ponies all day and explaining their favourite drug has been discontinued and that there is this new one which does the same thing," he shivers, "Over and over and over each day."

"Seek ponees need help sumtaims."

"They need to learn to accept help then and don't complain about it."

"So, wot do yoo laik to do?"

"I like woodcarving. It's difficult to do with just hooves, but my little sister loves it."

"Reely? Are yoo good at eet? Ken yoo-"

"Look, I'm here to make sure you aren't a threat to anypony including yourself. Getting distracted by chatting with a dangerous patient makes the job harder."

I? Dangerous? Does he think I would hurt him, or even could hurt him? I'm not too coordinated or strong so even if I attacked him for whatever unthinkable reason I doubt I could overpower him. He must have some experience in subduing aggressive patients.

But then... if I was able to hurt even myself then I guess he must think that I wouldn't think twice about harming others. Never! He must see it like that because real ponies put themselves in the first place because they have dreams and hopes which they want to achieve. I can't be doing that, I just clean- cleaned stuff. I can help others put themselves forward because I can let them focus on achieving their goals instead of dealing with simple stuff like having to scrub their floors. We all have roles to play.

I miss Watchful, he liked talking to me. His time off should be up today or tomorrow, if I recall correctly. I wonder if he'll still remember me. I mean, his head is alright, but I'm just kind of forgettable, and he must have been busy with relaxing or adventures during his vacation.

"Ken we viseet Washfool?"

"Who or what the hay is 'washfool'?"

"A warden laik yoo. His neim ees Washfool."

"I'm pretty new here, so I don't know all the staff, but we can ask about him at the front desk."

"Okey, less gou."

He rolls his eyes as I do a sharp one-eighty on the road and start striding back towards the main entrance.

Back at the main lobby, I walk straight to the receptionist's desk.

"Ken Ai ask yoo a kvestshun?"

"Umm, what did you say?" the pegasus mare currently sitting at the desk tilts her head, confused but clearly patient enough to deal with me.

"He wants to know about a warden called... 'washfool', or something like that?" my escort helps the mare understand my speech.

"Watchful?"

"Eggzactlee," I nod, "Wen ees he comeeng bek?"

"Are you dissatisfied with your current company?" she asks.

The warden escorting me twitches. He looks younger than me and probably doesn't need the trouble I'd cause by telling the truth. On the other hoof, I can't blame him for not wanting to be around me too much.

To tell the truth and possibly hurt a pony, or to tell a lie?

Neither.

"Ai just meess him."

The warden lets out a slow breath of relief. The receptionist looks from him to me, and then pulls out a large book. Using her wing to quickly flip the pages, she reads its contents I can't see because of the raised panel on the front of the desk.

"Watchful, Watchful, ah hah, here he is!"

"Een d buk? Deed he loos weight?"

She chuckles and covers her muzzle with a free wing.

"Watchful will be coming back tomorrow. You see, he took a short vacation, and his shifts switch between long and short weeks."

What is this new calendar-based development?

"Ai thought all weeks hed sevn deis."

"That means that one week he works all seven days, and the other week he works only three. Watchful isn't from lower Canterlot and this way he can spend more time with his family without having to take the train each day."

"Ooooooh. Dat meiks sens."

"Is that all, or do you want to go outside again?" asks the warden with a shiver and a worried look through the window by the main door.

I probably shouldn't bother him anymore. He clearly doesn't like me, and isn't too comfortable in the cold.

"Nou, Ail just go to mai room Ai teenk."

"Alright," he nods to me, then to the receptionist, and leaves.

"Do you need anything else?" the mare asks, and I realize I've just been standing there and looking at the desk.

"Ees dere a painteenk class todei? Ai meen uan for sumponee reely bed at eet. Mai steek figures keep endeenk up wit too meny legs. Ai teenk uan of dose ees a tail but Ai cant tell d deefference."

She skims through the pages of a different book, and nods.

"A beginner's one starts in an hour and thirteen minutes. If you want, I can put it on your schedule and your collar will remind you to attend."

"Waaaaau... ken yoo doo dat?"

"Yeah, it's easy. Watch!" she picks a pen up with her mouth, writes something into the new book of schedules which shimmers for a moment, then she drops the pen, "Now ask your collar about your next activity."

"Hey, mejic lokkit, where do Ai go nau?" I poke my collar.

"Beginners' painting class. Fifteen o'clock. Second floor. Room two-zero-three."

This is so cool!

"Ken yoo meik eet say anyteenk? Ees eet laik a raydeeyo?"

"Ehm," somepony behind me clears their throat. In my surprised interest, I completely failed to notice an arriving stallion wearing thick winter clothes. I guess it's time to let the receptionist do her job and go back to my room. Maybe I could talk to Stitches for a while? He doesn't answer anymore, though.

Life is confusing.

"Ail be goeeng nau, miss. Hev a nais dey!"

"You too."

As I walk through the empty lobby accompanied only by my hoofsteps and the muffled conversation between the visitor and the mare, I must admit I feel kinda lonely. Still, Watchful will be back tomorrow and we'll talk about the changeling venom, Stitches, and everything that happened in the past few days. Well, that's not much, but he can tell me about his home if he wants to. It'll be better than the radio which keeps trying to scare me by talking about princess Luna being evil and trying to usher eternal night.

I don't know why ponies are making such fuss about it. After all, everypony could use few more hours in bed.


***


"Doo yoo teenk Washfool will be mad at me for teikeeng yoo bek from Lost end Faund?"

I'm trying to paint some clouds with my hooves, but for the life of me I just can't get the consistency right. I put Stitches on the bed so he could watch beforehoof and not be bored in the shadows underneath. Sadly, he hasn't talked for what feels like eternity. There is always the increasingly likely possibility of me just being crazy, and thus waiting for Stitches to give me some tips is pointless. Still, I don't mind having an audience that doesn't call me bad even if I am.

"Nah, he ees a good frend end will understend wen Ai tell him Aim not hurteeng maiself enymore."

The canvas quickly fills with light grey blurs, and I finally dip the tip of my hoof into white paint and start dotting the "painting" with falling snow. The skies are always the easiest part even when most of the time my clouds look like floating rocks more than condensing vapor. Ponies, ponies are the difficult part... maybe I should ignore those for now? After I can deal with simple things like the setting, time, and surroundings, if ever, then I should start with ponies.

Hehehe, it's just like life. 

"Ai miss barraks. Teenks were seemple. Go aut een d morneeng, hev a soak een d fawnteen, scrub d floors wail not being in anyponee's wey, den walk araund or sleep een mai boks unteel eveneeng wen Ai hed to scrub d floors again. Wen noponee noticed Ai cud eevn sneek eento d boiler room end sleep dere."

Stitches doesn't comment on the first days I can remember. Good times. I didn't try to hurt myself, -well, until the end I mean- my head was only mine, and I didn't feel this uncertainty and lead ball in my gut whenever I thought about ponies I would like to have around, because nopony cared about me. Things were easy.

Maybe I should visit Pyre of Drizzle. Probably not, though. I think they don't mind being around me once in a while, but I shouldn't bother them unless they want to talk to me.

Why does that familiar train of thought suddenly feels off... wrong even?

*Beep beep beep!*

"Your painting class starts in fifteen minutes. Do I confirm your attendance or should I send a note that something changed?"

Huh, is it time already?

"Ail be dere, mejik lokkit. Ai just need to wosh maiself."

After a quick, warm shower to clean my hooves and escape the wandering thoughts, I hide Stitches under my bed again. With only five minutes left, I rush out of my room and go where the painting class is scheduled.

The instructor is a pegasus mare who has been leading the basic courses ever since I arrived. I had to stop attending after I stabbed myself, but she invites me back as if nothing happened. Perhaps she doesn't know? Maybe it doesn't matter to her and she's just happy I'm back. She does smile a lot, but it could just be the fumes of the real paints making her dizzy. I mean, she paints with the real ones, we still use the ones that wouldn't make a silly pony sick on accident. 

So, a bowl of fruits. The concept is simple, and so are the basic shapes. I've tried that multiple times already, and can paint the circles of oranges and apples easily. The bowl is the problem, it always ends up as a flat line with a half circle underneath it, or if I try to go for perspective it looks like a oval brown potato. Oh right, I completely forgot, I am still allowed to use a brush here. It's sort of weird, after getting used to my hooves sticky with paint.

"Umm, mem?" I raise my foreleg and the pegasus mare stops using the tips of her wings to paint along with the brush in her muzzle, walking over, "Ken Ai yoos mai hufs eensted of d broosh?"

"Of course," she pats my head, "As long as you don't use your muzzle it's fine to use anything you're comfortable with. I had an older professor back at the uni who used his tail. He once had to rush out of the classroom and left a trail of mossy green from there to his office." 

Hmm, tail. Why didn't I think about that? I swish my tail from side to side, but any precision eludes me. I guess that's more for ponies with higher education. I wonder what school I went to, if any. I sometimes feel like I find information in my head that doesn't match how I feel about certain things at first. Come to think of it, doctor Clear Insight said something about me being smarter than I look. Heheh, I must look really drooly then. 

Oh well, with tail out of the question I go back to my hooves. Bingo! The bananas are so much easier now.

"Oops..." I look down after about ten minutes, only to realize I managed to reconstruct the mess I usually make in my room here, "Mees peinter leydee, do yoo hev a mop heer?"

She leans from behind her canvas to get a clear view of me.

"What is the prob- oh, I see," she smiles, "Don't worry about that, I'll bring you a bucket for your hooves later."

"Ai ken kleen eet."

"As I said, don't worry. A warden will take care of the mess after the class. Just relax and focus on your painting."

I'm not exactly comfortable with somepony having to clean up after me, but rules are rules. At least the wardens won't be bored. I know I would be if all I had to do was sit and look out of the window.

Alright, take three. Let's not have the apple absorb the banana this time.

The door softly clicks open.

"Is Greyscale here?" asks a warden peeking inside in a soft, careful tone not wanting to bother but still needing to be heard. 

"Heer," I wave my hoof, splattering yellow on myself, "Ou."

He nods at me, walks over to the instructor lady, and after a quick chat brings me a bucket of clean water to wash myself.

"Deed Ai mees a treetment?" I ask, trying to remember if I forgot something, "D lokkit sed notteeng-"

"No no no," the warden shakes his head when he sees my growing worry, "You have visitors."

"Wot?"

Who would come to visit me? Pyre, Watchful, or Drizzle could always just walk in here on their own.

"Some three mares, two young ones and an older one. The ones in their twenties look really pretty, if you don't mind me saying."

Me? Pretty mares?

"Weerd."

Wait.

Waaaaaaaait.

"Ees uan of dem a betponee?"

"Yeah, I think so. Dark blue, white mane, leathery wings, athletic."

THEY DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT ME!

I completely ignore my clean but still wet hooves, leaving a trail behind me.

"Hey, don't just shoot out like that! They'll think we're mistreating you or something."

"Det wos Eklips, she geiv me a tolkeeng plooshee end wen Ai got hurt she took me heer end-"

"I get it, I get it, you're happy. Now slow down, they're not going anywhere. You'll just slip and get downstairs with a broken fetlock."

Right, right, wet hooves. Let's not do something silly like hurting myself on accident.

I'm still "sqeee!"-ing internally, and nothing will stop me.


***


I whiz by the receptionist desk at the lobby with the warden in tow. The visitors can either meet the patients in their rooms in some cases, but most of the time the visits happen in private rooms on the ground floor near the lobby. The head nurse herself is standing by the door, about to leave, but shoots me a firm glance when she notices me galloping down the hallway. I stop mid-step, and slide all the way to her on the squeaky clean floor.

The wheezing warden behind me stops, gasping for breath.

"I -haaaah- apologize, nurse Chin, -huuuuf- but this guy has been -haaaah- like this since I told him he had -huuuuf- visitors."

"Greyscale," she frowns, staring at me.

"Yes, mees?"

"No running in the hallways."

"Soree."

"Good. Now come in, they're waiting inside."

As she walks away accompanied by the warden, I slam the door shut behind me, unable to stop my growing smile while walking towards a rectangular table on one side of which three too familiar figures are sitting, watching me cautiously.

“Helou.”

The three mares stay seated. They must have heard about me going crazy and hurting myself and now they’re not sure what I might do. Even I am not sure what I might do. What if my head suddenly gives me a good and logical reason why I should do something I don't want to? What if I try to hug one of them so hard it hurts? What if- ah hah, idea!

Instead of walking straight to them, I pull a chair away from a circular side table and take a seat about half the room's length away from my visitors. And now it's all good.

“Umm. Ai ken speek from heer eef yor worreed. det wey yoo hev taim to smek me eef Ai do sumteeng weerd.”

Eclipse tilts her head, Piercing Hit covers her mouth and snorts, and Grey Shrine rolls her eyes, smiles, and walks over to my solitary chair. She leans in, looking me straight in the eyes with the corners of her mouth curling further and further up. Her hoof touches my neck, slides up to my ear, and scratches behind it. 

Heee heee.

“You look good, Greyscale. I’m glad. The nurse told us you had… an accident.”

So their hesitation really was caused by me hurting somepony, in this case myself. This has to be explained, now! There's no way my friends have anything to fear from me. Come to think of it, they are all trained guards, even if Grey Shrine is a little older. I, unarmed or even armed with something that could be found in this repurposed common room, could never be a threat, no matter what my head could think of.

“Eet wos a meestake, Ai meen eet. Steeches told me-”

“Who or what is ‘steeches’?”

My current best friend, I think. Or a plushie serving as a mouthpiece for the evil part of my head attempting to hurt me. The science on that controversial issue still isn't in.

“Steeches, d plooshee Eklips geiv me," I tilt my head to look behind Grey Shrine to the table where the two mares are listening carefully, and wave at them, "Speekeeng of wich, Eklips, ken Ai ask yoo sumteeng?”

She gives me a surprised look, and nods.

“Of course.”

“Ken Steeches tolk?”

Said look is followed by several blinks.

“Uh, what?”

“D Nitegaard plooshee yoo geiv me. Ken he speek?”

Piercing Hit interrupts Eclipse's clearly confused thoughts by slamming her hoof against the table. Everypony looks at her and she pouts, then she beckons me to come over.

“Okay. This is damn silly. Why are we yelling at each other over half of the room.”

When I remain seated, looking from Grey Shrine to the detached duo, she walks over and hugs me so hard my ribs creak. I let out a quiet squeak, but ease myself into the crushing earthpony embrace.

“See, this guy wouldn’t hurt a fly unless the fly was himself. I don’t know why you’re so bothered, Eclipse. Look,” she tightens her forelegs, making me eeep like a rubber ducky again, “he’s about as dangerous as a big pillow, but with the same amount of huggability. That's a scientific term, and I'll fight you over it.”

“Hee hee hee,” I stay in the embrace, neck propped on Hit’s shoulder.

The uncertainty in the room eases up, and as hesitant Eclipse approaches, the earthpony lets me go. I look down from the bat mare at the floor. A dark blue hoof touches my nose and then rubs my muzzle. I can feel my ears flop on their own as I nuzzle the soft underhoof.

“You’re right. I was worried about nothing,” Eclipse pats my shoulder, “Come and sit down with us.”

Tension completely gone, I join my visitors at the windowside table, seated across from them. Not for safety or anything, but just so that I can see all of them at once.

“So, what was that about Stitches talking?” asks Eclipse.

“Umm, Ai- Ai hurt maiself becus Steeches told me to get a blood sample end Ai deed eet wrong. Eet wos an ekseedent.”

The two young guardsmares's eyes widen, but Grey Shrine furrows her brows, watching me like a hawk. Eclipse shakes her head.

“Greyscale, Stitches is just a plushie. He’s not magical or anything. My dad bought it to me when I was small for like twenty bits back in Hollow Shades. I’ve kept him as a memento when I left for Canterlot, and he was a symbol of something familiar in an unknown new place for me, but the truth is that he- it’s just a plush toy.”

With those few words, my world trembles. Letting out a long, tired sigh, I put my head on the table and cover my nose with my forelegs.

“Ou, den Ai teenk doktor Eensaid wos rite. Ai em just krayzee.”

My cover is broken by the ever-cheerful earthpony who pushes my fetlocks aside and grins at me from only inches away.

“Come on. Cheer up,” Piercing Hit gives me a reassuring pat on the head, “You’re still here even after all that, and you’re not going to stab yourself or set yourself on fire anymore," she leans closer, and her voice grows more serious, "You won’t, right?”

“Ai dont wont too, but mai hed alredy maid me doo eet. Eets smarter den me.”

For some reason, Piercing Hit keels over back to her chair, laughing like crazy. Perhaps she might like it here. Eclipse shoots her a quick frown, but covers her muzzle with her hoof a moment later, chuckling and muttering, "Smarter than me."

The only pony who still looks deadly serious opens her mouth. 

“You said something about stabbing yourself for a blood sample. I’m not a psychiatrist, but I have my doubts that scientific curiosity is an effective lure to make victims hurt themselves,” says Grey Shrine who has been thinking quietly for a while, “What did you mean?”

“Ai meen, doktor Eensaid sed mai hed hayted mee and wonted to hurt mee, but Steeches sed- Ai meen mai hed sed- Ai meen Ai sed- umm… miss Shrain, ken Ai say det Steeches sed eet? Ai dont nou wots reel enymore.”

It's strange how she can go from terrifying to friendly and calming in a second. I like the latter a lot more, and I wish she could keep the comforting smile she puts on forever.

“You can tell the story as if Stitches was talking to you if it makes you comfortable.”

I nod. I don't have enough information to pass the correct judgement about the situation, so let's go with what I feel I saw happen.

“Tank yoo.”

“No problem, we’ll try to understand your story somehow.”

Pfff, and I heard somepony once say that guards can stay still for days on end because they are too stupid to feel boredom and understand the passing of time. Clearly that pony hasn't met my friends.

“A payshent cold Kwik Treek sed ponees een dis pleis geiv payshents yello peels det maid dem weerd end dum laik me. Also, dey wud leesen to all dey were told to do. Ai wos reely scared end Ai deednt wont to be eevn slower becus den Ai mite not eevn nou woo nais ponees laik yoo are. So Ai sneekily avoided eeting d peels for a wail, and den Steeches told me he cud help me not worry about dem. Ai just needed to get him a blood sample. D rooms are super seif, so Ai hed to eemproveis. Ai broke d peint broosh but eet wos too dull end Ai yoosd too much force. Wen Ai got helfee again Ai took d yello peel after doktor Eensaid sed eet wos just mai hed trying to hurt me, end noteeng happend. Nau Ai dont nou eef wot Steeches deed meid me not go all stoopid or eef dere wos noteeng een d peels.”

Grey Shrine only nods, simple as that.

“Since we’ve ascertained that Stitches indeed is just a toy, I think that-”

I almost forgot!

“Ou, ou, ou, uan moar teeng. soree for interrupteeng.”

“Yes?”

“Wots a shen-jee-leenk?”

Grey Shrine shakes her head. So it has finally happened, my stupidity went so far not even the smart guards can understand me.

“Sorry, what? Shen chilli? Some ninja on fire?”

Alright, let's try again. This time with more than one active brain cell.

“Shen-jee. Laik uan teeng, den anoder.”

She blinks, and her face goes completely impassive. Her next words are slow, careful, and very, very measured.

“Oh, change… ling? Greyscale, where did you hear that word?”

Huh, perhaps if I heard somepony say it before I would have pronounced it better. Or possibly not, who knows?

“Ai deednt heer eet. Eet wos on a bottle. Shen-jee-leeng venim.”

She keeps staring at me, the whole room going completely silent. Come to think of it, this room must be somewhat soundproofed, because I can't hear anything from the usually rather noisy halls outside. 

“Ven... girls, can you give us few moments alone, please?”

Piercing Hit stands up automatically as the command hidden within the question comes. Eclipse, however, reacts a bit slower.

“Changeling? I never heard about anything like-”

“A moment alone, please!” repeats Grey Shrine firmly.

“Ummm, okay?”

Eclipse and Piercing Hit leave, giving me and the leading mare curious looks. Grey Shrine leans in over the table and lowers her voice.

“Tell me about this ‘changeling’ bottle. It sounds interesting.”

I finally have something really interesting to say. That's so cool! I try to recall as many details as I can, but the truth is that I actually don't know a lot. 

“Eet wos een d celler. Ai wos lookeeng for Steeches end opend d wrong door. D storej wos full of bokses end krates, end Ai tought Steeches wud be een uan, but d only uan Ai opend wos full of dese. Dey were all green and goopy, end dere wos a laybel on eech seyeeng shenjeeleeng venim.”

“Are you sure that really happened, and wasn’t just some trip caused by the pills?”

I can remember it very clearly, as well as all the events leading up to it, so it probably really did happen. Plus, the proof is under the bed in my room.

Yep, it did happen. There's at least ninety percent chance it did, I mean.

“Yes, d hed haidra nurse caim end wos reely mad sumponee got een! Ai wos haideeng behaind a boks een d bek end she deednt see mee. Ai faund Steeches een d next room end took him eento mine. Hees still dere so Ai nou eet wos reel.”

She nods, but stops midway.

“Wait, why were you looking for Eclipse’s plushie? Did you lose him or something?”

Pff, as if I would lose Stitches. The way I put him between my shoulderblades when I carry him around is fallproof.

“Nou, dey took him from me wen Ai tod dem Steeches told me to stab maiself. Den dey told me Steeches deednt reely tolk, but mai hed wos traying to hurt me. Laik yoo deed just nau.”

“That makes a lot of sense, actually. Are you really sure this wasn’t a bad dream?”

I shrug.

“Ai deednt hev Steeches, now Ai hev him, but plees dont tell enyponee. Ai kaind of stole him from d Lost end Faund.”

“Your secret is safe with me, Greyscale. One more thing doesn’t fit, though. How did you get in? Don’t tell me nopony locks anything somewhere where mental patients could roam.”

Aaand here's the problematic part. I really, really don't want to do this, but I can't cause trouble for Quick Trick after he helped me so much.

“Ummm… Ai- Ai faund a kee uan, ehm, worden, umm, lost?”

Grey Shrine puts her hoof on my mouth. My ears splay back. She’s gonna do something nasty now that I lied to her. She’ll probably leave, or tell me I’m crazy, or tell Eclipse and Piercing Hit I’m not worth talking to anymore now that I’m a real liar.

She whispers into my ear.

“I’m a Royal Guard, remember? Don’t try that again.”

“Aim soree, soree, soree, soree, soree.”

And here's the split-second change from absolutely terrifying to friendly again.

“Gee, calm down, I’m not that scary. You know what? Tell me what you don’t mind telling me. Am I correct in assuming you’re trying not to get somepony else in trouble?”

She’s a genius!

I nod.

“Then go on.”

“Ai, Ai got dis kee wich cud open sum doors een d celler.”

“Where did you get something like that?”

“Not fair! Yoo sed yoo wudnt ask.”

“Just checking. Keep going at your own pace.”

Guardspony down to her core.

“Okey. So Ai got dis kee end Ai went on a super seekret meeshun to seiv Steeches becuz Ai wonted to nou eef Ai wos kreyzee or eef he cud tolk. Nau Ai teenk eet reely wos mai hed becuz Steeches deednt tolk since den.”

“Do you still have that key?”

“Nou.”

“Alright,” she leans to my ear again, her hot and wet breath tickling it, “I’ll think about it,” then she sits back down and smiles, “I don’t know anything about this change-ling thing, sorry. Mind if I call the girls back in?”

Now that we're alone, I can finally ask what has been weighing me down since I heard I had visitors.

“Doo dey wont to tolk wit mee now det Aim krayzee?”

After all, Eclipse especially seemed nervous around me.

“Believe it or not, it was Piercing Hit who wanted to come visit you. She and Eclipse came to me with this idea. So yes, we really wanted to see how you’re doing. We didn’t just shove you in here to forget about you, we wanted you to get better.”

Guards can't lie because that's the law or something, right?

“Ai feel bettr alredy now det yor heer.”

“Heh, I’m glad to hear that.”

“Sou, wot about d barraks?”

“Wait with the questions for the others.”

“Okey.”

Grey Shrine walks outside and returns with Eclipse and Piercing Hit in tow. They sit down and I try to sate my curiosity again.

“What was it about the change-”

“Greyscale here wants to know how the new barracks is going,” Grey Shrine interrupts the obviously pointless question. After all, we've already found out that Eclipse and Piercing hit know nothing about this changeling thing.

Piercing Hit pats my head.

“Can’t wait to get back to mopping? I’m afraid that’ll have to wait few months at least. Winter isn’t the best time for rebuilding. All the construction ponies are doing these days is clearing out the rubble and making space. Even digging new foundations is impossible with the soil frozen rock hard-”

And thus we chat about what’s new and reminisce a little even though I didn’t really make much contact with them before Eclipse first asked me to fix her bed. I haven’t felt warmer and happier in a very long time… maybe ever.
	
> 21
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Saying goodbyes is never great, but seeing the three mares wave at me as they left the premises and the garden gate slammed shut behind them warmed me up so much that not even the slowly falling snow could dent my optimism. I will get better, no matter what, and when the barracks are back I will be the best floor cleaner they could ever get. Or the cheapest like before, both options work for me.

The painting class must be over by now, so I head straight to my room to continue my little bowl of fruit project there.

“Dey deednt forget me, Steeches, but dey told me yoo dont tolk. Dat meens mai hed ees weerd sumwat.”

Painty paint paint.

“But dey sed Ai cud cleen floors agen end dere wud eevn be a room for me so det Ai wudnt hev to sleep een d boiler uan on d floor. Ai wud probably sleep on d floor enywey, d raydeeyo sed eets gud for d bek, end eevn wen Ai burned maiself mai bek deednt hurt much. Dats prevenshun.”

Now if I just dip the tip of my hoof in yellow paint, and then do a little swipe, I get a... banana shaped smudge. Alright, let’s try again. I just gotta keep trying no matter what so that I’m good enough when the cleaning time comes again. I’m not sure how painting can help me with eventual mopping of the floors, but what I’m doing is essentially making mess. Maybe this will help me see into the mind of the enemy.

*Click*

“Greyscale!”

Chiseled Chin enters accompanied by two wardens, all of them looking sternly at me-

“Aaah!” I dive backwards, splattering paints everywhere.

-and at Stitches watching me from the bed.

Correction - at Stitches lying on the bed now completely messed up with paints under myself. From the unamused looks of the wardens and Chiseled Chin, I get a clear idea that any attempt at pretending Stitches wasn’t here is doomed to fail.

“Give me the toy, Greyscale.”

Aaand now I’ve managed to make Stitches’ coat yellow. She takes him from my reluctantly easing grasp.

“But hee deednt trai anyteenk enymore. Ai nou he tolked nau, end he doesnt enymore. Ai ken undrstand teengs nau… a bit. Mai hed wont get mee enymore.”

“Oh really?”

“Reely. Grei Shrain sed Ai cud do eet, so Ai hev to trai mai best.”

“Really? Are you absolutely certain the bad part of your head can’t make you do things you wouldn’t want to do?”

“Mhm!” I nod with vehement determination.

“I see. So what if I told you you nearly got yourself badly hurt again?”

“Huh, hau, wen?”

“When you snuck into the cellars. There is a griffon-made security system down there. Each entry has a time limit in case of stolen keys, and you were lucky to get out before the time was up. Wardens know what to do in case of longer activities down there, and how to act in case the security kicks in. The air conditioning slows down when nopony is supposed to be inside. You could have suffocated.”

“Ai deednt nou...”

“No, you didn’t, but deep inside you realized the security was stronger down there than anywhere else in Border Glades. Some part of you, the bad part, lured you into a potentially very dangerous area.”

“Ai… Ai...”

“You are a nice pony, Greyscale. Doctor Insight knows that, your guard friends know that, and everypony you’ve met in here knows that. Pyre and Drizzle feel a lot better these days, even though their treatment was supposed to be significantly longer. Interaction with you caused something to change inside them faster than our best psychiatrist could force.”

“Ai deed noteeng speshul. Ai meen Ai just tolked to dem-”

“BUT,” than one loud word feels like a crack of a whip, “the wrong part of you made you lie and steal, Greyscale. Do you understand? You broke into where you weren’t supposed to be. That’s not only a violation of the rules, but of the law. Then you stole a rightfully confiscated item, one taken away from you for the good of your mental health. On top of that, you lied to the guards. Worse yet, to your friends. Tell me again about you being able to control your dangerous impulses?”

“But- but- but… Steeches deednt do anyteenk. Ai meen… deed ai reely do all dat? Ai… deed...”

“Stitches didn’t do anything, because he is a plushie, a toy, not a living creature. The bad part of you is using him- IT as leverage to make you do things you shouldn’t be doing. Everything you did was because of the toy. That’s why I must take it from you no matter what.”

That makes sense. Everything makes sense.

“Teik him den. Ai wos stoopid, Ai teenk. Yoo ar professhunals. Aim just… dum.”

To my utter amazement, the rock-hard nurse runs her hoof through my regrowing purple mane.

“No, Greyscale. You are very smart, as doctor Insight said. Smart enough to understand the root of the problem, and even enough to willingly help us help you. That is why I hate doing this, but I have to.”

“Doeeng wot?"

“When you can think clearly, you are in a good shape, but we need to build a reflexive negative response inside you when faced with certain stimuli.”

“Ken yoo sey eet a bit seempler?”

“Of course. You are being sent to solitary confinement for several days as a punishment for stealing a confiscated item so that it doesn’t happen again.”

“But Ai wont do eet again nau det Ai nou wots reely happeneeng.”

“I wish I could believe you, but I can’t. All this happened whenever you stopped focusing and acted on impulse. We need to build a negative impulse in you to counteract that. Consider this another treatment, a more unpleasant one.”

“Ai see. Alrite, Ai gess dere ees nou odder way. Ai tought Ai cud do eet, but Ai wos already faileeng.”

Without resistance, I follow the trio down to a room on the ground floor I have passed many times before and always pondered the strange, padded, concave door which looks more like it should slide open instead of swinging.

It slides open. Ha haa!

Chiseled Chin walks around the circular room, showing me its rather meager contents. Toilet, shower, drain, sponge, soap. No bed.

“Comfee.”

“Physical discomfort isn’t this room’s purpose. You’re here to be completely alone, with no contact or sounds from the outside. On top of that, as you can see there are no faculties for amusement. You will be left here on your own, unable to go anywhere for several days, alone with the thoughts in your head. I have… doubts this is a good idea in your case, but doctor Insight is the expert here.”

That doesn’t seem too much of a punishment.

“Do Ai just sleep den?”

“It’s up to you how you pass the time, but the boredom and loneliness is the punishment. It can be more effective than any pain.”

“Do Ai get sum food?”

She gives me a shocked look.

“Of course!”

“Alrite.”

I mean, I can see it, because I’ve been feeling lonely for a while before the visit, and sitting in one spot without having anything to do seems grueling, but as far as punishments go this doesn’t feel as bad. I could have been smacked.

As they turn to leave, I have to clear up one thing.

“Ken Ai ask sumteeng?”

“What is it?”

“How deed yoo faind aut Ai stole Steeches?”

“You told it to your friends. The visitation rooms are monitored in case a patient loses control and wardens have to step in. That, or if a visitor tries to give a patient something they shouldn’t get. You’d be surprised how often that happens. For such purpose there are both cameras and microphones. We are, of course, bound by laws to keep any and all secrets to ourselves, but within the walls of Border Glades we are allowed to use the information for better treatments.”

“Waaau, end yoo ken tell me dat?”

“As I said, I believe you are doing your best to help us help you. I don’t mind sharing that information with you.”

“Tank yoo for beleeveeng een mee.”

“We always do our best to cure our patients, even though our methods may sometimes seem harsh. See you in several days, and then we’ll know which voice in your head is the strongest.”

The door shuts, and the overwhelming silence drowns out everything other than my own breathing.

This is… terrifying. For as long as I remember, I’ve been surrounded by noises of ponies. Either guards stomping their horseshoes around the barracks, or the sounds of a waking city. The closest to complete silence was when I woke up early in my box and went to have a soak in the fountain, and even then there were other ponies walking around, dizzy after waking up.

“Helou,” I wave a foreleg into the empty room.

A bit of noise, and then complete silence...

...and more breathing.

Guess I’ll just have to amuse myself for the time being.

Any voices in my head wanting to join me? No? Alright. That’s... good, I think?


***


It’s weird. It’s weird. It’s weird. It’s weird. It’s weird.

Aaaaaaaaa!

I want some sound.

“Dis ees sou weerd!”

Waaaait a minute.

“Ol Ai need to do ees tolk den. Ummm… lets maik up a storee.”

That could help pass time, but I don’t think I’ll remember the parts I make up long enough to craft something reasonable. Let’s put that plan on a back burner, since I don’t know how long I’m going to be here.

So, what do I have at my disposal?

The room is pure white and circular. There are no edges anywhere in sight, not even where the floor meets the walls, every corner being a U shape instead. There is soft padding on everything, and the floor, while firm when I walk on it, proves soft as I jump experimentally against the wall, bounce off and then flop several times across the pillowy padding. It doesn’t even hurt despite it being rather disorienting. Similar to my normal room, there is a drain in the middle and the floor is very slightly sloping towards it. That would explain the small square of ceiling with tiny holes in it Chiseled Chin pointed out - it has to be the shower. 

How do I activate it?

I stand right under it and wave at the hidden nozzle. Something flashes green, and-

“Blrblrblblbl-”

-I’m greeted with a torrent of warm water. Examination over, I step away from under the ceiling nozzle, and the water stops immediately. Pretty cool, I must admit. Plus, the rushing water actually made at least a little noise that wasn’t just me moving around.

All that water makes me look for a toilet, and indeed there is a bulge in the floor which upon examination reveals to be a lid covering a porcelain bowl with a larger hole in the middle and many small around the circumference. On the bottom of the lid there is a button.

“Ah hah!” I push it to confirm my suspicion. Waters starts flowing from the smaller holes, flushing everything down.

So, we have a toilet, a shower, and… some strange small bulge in the wall somewhere between the two. Well, it makes sense to poke it, doesn’t it?

It squirts out a white blob of goop which smells like strawberries.

Food paste?

“Bleeeh.”

My second attempt at determining the matter’s use is vastly more successful. It has to be soap, edible like the paints so that patients wouldn’t hurt themselves even in here. Now this would be the right time for a great shower, if only I had a sponge.

Huh, I do, actually. I almost missed it, but there’ a brick-sized block of firm but mushy white stuff which absorbs water pretty well next to the toilet lid.

I wonder... 

Kicking the water-filled sponge, I watch it bounce from the wall across the room. Now… can I kick it from there and make it hit the soap dispenser?

Pretty soon, I’m playing a makeshift version of a single player hoofball by trying to kick the sponge into various things or places on the walls which I mark with the soap. It isn’t always easy to see the target in the white room, but imagination is the best partner in situations like this.

“Greyscale twentee-uan hits, forty-sevn meeses. Not bed for first seshun. Wooo, Ai need a shaur.”

The concave door clicks and slides open.

“What in seven circles of Tartarus happened here?” doctor Clear Insight stops himself before stepping on the slippery floor and just peeks inside.

“Me end spungee were playeeng hoofbol. Well, spungee wos d bol.”

He looks at the dripping sponge near the drain.

“Nothing brings you down, I see. To be quite honest, I’m not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and say it’s the former. Wait, you named your sponge… did it talk to you?”

“Nou, ol Ai ded wos tolk to maiself. Eets reely quiet heer.”

“That is the point, actually. Even me being here is detrimental to the negative reinforcement treatment, but I have something important to ask if you don’t mind.”

“Gou on.”

“First, let me give you a bit of praise, Greyscale. Patients undergoing punishment, or negative reinforcement treatment, often refuse to even communicate with us. This reassures me that you are indeed a smart pony who just needs a little push in the right direction.”

“Tank yoo.”

“So, here goes - how did you get to the Lost and Found section of the cellars?”

Oh dear. What do I say? I can’t lie, can I? He’s a smart pony and he’ll know and then he’ll think I’m not helping them help me anymore and they’ll give me weird medicine and poke me with electricity sticks and-

“Calm down, Greyscale, please. It’s important that you tell me so that no other patients can get hurt by going in there. Telling me can save a life before we can reorganize the security.”

Okay, if I tell the truth, something bad might happen to Quick Trick, and he’s been helping me whenever I needed something. It was my fault I wanted stupid things which could have put me or others in danger. He couldn’t have known my head was making me do weird things. But if I lie… I’ll forget eventually what I said and then… then they’ll all be mad at me and throw me out because they’ll think I’m beyond healing.

No, no matter what that might mean to me I can’t cause pain to others with my mistakes.

“Ai- Ai faund d kee een a flaur pot een d hallwey. Ai recognayzed wot eet wos from wen Ai helpd Washfool bring peint teengs too mai room.”

Clear Insight stands there, watching me. I smile at him, because why not? It can’t make his day worse, only better.

“I see, and where is the key now?”

“Ai put eet bek, sumponee mite be lookeeng for eet.”

“Well, you know… that’s pretty much what I would expect from you. Which flowerpot, Greyscale?”

What’s a place which would not incriminate anypony because of too much possible traffic?

“D hallwey on d graund floor, neer d lobbee.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Greyscale,” he turns to leave, and stops, his horn glowing, “I almost forgot something, a little reward for being such a good, although a little troublesome patient.”

“Wot ees eet?”

A patch of air in front of me wobbles, and my eyes go wide.

“Steeches?!” I gasp, watching the appearing plushie float onto my back. Well, not all the way, I’m not made of rubber.

“Nopony should be completely alone, Greyscale, ever.”

He walks out, reaching for something on the wall outside.

“Doktor?”

“Yes, Greyscale?”

I take a deep breath. It’s starting to make much more sense now. I am sick, and all the ponies around me are simply trying to help. I misunderstand and misconstrude things I see, but…

...they all believe in me.

“Aim soree for maikeeng yoo woree. Eklips told me Steeches wos a normal plooshee, so Ai nou yoo were rite about mai hed. Ail stay heer as long as eet taiks end get bettr,” I give the unicorn the most determined stare I can.



“Glad to hear that, and I sincerely hope your devotion holds strong through all this. Now, it is time for your treatment.”

He nods, and with a hiss and slide the door closes, stopping all outside noise once again. It’s eerie and creepy, making me wonder how long I’m to be locked-

WHO CARES?!

I’ve got Stitches and Spongy.

Hoofball time!


***


It’s been four days, I think. Time doesn’t really mean much in here, and I slept a bunch of times. However, they slide a tray of food three times per day through a slot in the door, so that helped me count. Still, when I turn the lights off via another pokey bulb by the door, it’s dark. When I turn them on, it’s light. I can make artificial days as long as I want.

I. Have. Become. A. God.

Well, no, but it would be funny. Free boxes for everypony! Well, griffons too. I heard they like shredding the cardboard ones into pieces for some reason. It’s the cat part of them, I think.

Regenerating boxes, full of bird feed.

I’m a genius. 

What about minotaurs? Double size wooden boxes. Hah, easy.

Oh, and I would fix my speech so that everypony can understand me easy. I’d be able to fix everything, even polish the scratched stone floors of the barracks which always resisted all my cleaning attempts. Hmmm, I’d have to remake the barracks first, but if I did that I would be taking work from the ponies currently rebuilding it the normal way, and they need the bits. Could I pay them in boxes, extra waterproof?

I’m getting distracted. That happens a lot in here.

So, the second day I tried working out a lot. It wasn’t really easy with no equipment, but jumping around, some crunches, and pushups were enough to make me gasp for breath pretty quickly. Fortunately, the shower didn’t seem to run out of water so I could just relax for a while and keep going.

Day three… I don’t want to recall day three. Everything hurt. I asked Stitches how guardponies do it in their training, but of course he didn’t answer. I slept the whole time.

Now I can move without shaking again, at least, although everything still aches. That means I have to amuse myself in a different way.

“Wat too doo? Wat too doo?” I look around during probably morning shower. I mean, I ate my breakfast when I was woken up by knocking, but I haven’t managed to do anything else.

Oh, I totally forgot. They gave me a toothbrush and paste after I asked. It’s not exactly relevant at this point, but it’s important to stay clean and organized.

“Ah-?!” I squeak as my weak legs slip up on the thin film of water slowly spreading towards the middle drain.

As usual, I’m not hurt even in the slightest, only a bit disoriented for a moment. However, in my moment of confusion I saw the light, the revelation, the genius plan, and the project for today.

Whistling to myself, I take Spongy and fill him up with the soap from the dispenser.  Afterwards, I use my honed cleaning skills to lather the floor and the lower portion of the wall on about a quarter of the room. 

“Alrite, less gou.”

Taking few steps backwards on the still dry floor to get a run-up, I lunge onto the slippery surface.

“Wheee- ow ow ow ow ow ow ow- blrlbll...”

Note for next time - lather everything. 

So, my sliding plan worked well, far too well, and I whizzed through the prepared part of the room in an instant. Unfortunately, the traction I gained on the dry surface made me tumble forwards and skip like a rock thrown across the lake. 

Alright, take two. This time prep the whole room including the walls about halfway up. Yeah, that sounds right. With water flowing from the shower, I get to work.

What has to be several hours later, I’m pretty sure I’m done. Well, it’s been long, I’m exhausted, and I can barely keep balance as I walk around the room.

Careful, careful…

...ready…

...run, jump…

...slip?

“AAAAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!”

I kick my legs against the white padding to make myself go faster. More and more.

Wall, door, wall, door, wall, door, blur, blur, blur, blur.

*Click.* *Whoosh.*

“Greyscale, you have- WHAT IN TARTARUS?!”

I stop flailing my legs, flop on whatever gravity orders me to, and wait for the uncontrolled slide to end. Too bad the room just keeps on spinning. I bet it’s mad at me for making a mess all over the place. Although does it count as mess when it’s made of cleaning supplies?

“Ai feel seek...” I mumble.

“Don’t go inside. I have no idea what happened here, but since Greyscale looks like he’s about to throw up I’m guessing he tried to make a slide.”

Hydra that be has to. Chin.. Chiseled...

“You know, I should be surprised he succeeded with basically no tools, but for some reason I am not.”

Shrine said Grey must that have. Grey… wait Shrine?

I shake my head, try to stand up, and keel over on my side.

Visit soon another so?

“Helou- urk!”

I shove my hoof into my mouth to stop my stomach from escaping. I still need it.

“Take him to his room and bring painting supplies,” orders Grey Shrine in a stern tone.

“Yes, officer,” says Chiseled Chin, “Wardens, take him and be careful when coming inside so that you don’t end up like him,” she turns back to Grey Shrine wearing an official-looking white and gold vest, “I am greatly against you interfering with our treatment methods.”

“So you keep repeating, nurse, and now that I see the result I’m not sure I can take your opinion seriously.”


“Officer!”

“That was a joke, nurse. I know about this institution’s record, and I don’t intend to spread any incorrect information. In fact, that is what I need Greyscale for.”

“Bllrhglr,” I gurgle as a set of strong forelegs picks me up and puts me onto something soft that has to be a pony back. As I feel the fresher air of the outside corridor, I spot a spinning cyan and grey blur which waves at me… or something.

“Hello again, Greyscale.”

“Bllluhh,” I greet the mare back.

Over the short trip upstairs, I manage to somewhat recover my senses, and when the warden carrying me puts me back on the bed, I sit up after a minute of slow breathing.

“Leave us alone, please,” says Grey Shrine. The two wardens, one of whom has already brought a canvas stand, a canvas, and a set of paints for patients, look at Chiseled Chin.

“I must refuse, officer. This place isn’t set up for visits. I must insist that at least one of us stays here with you.”

Grey Shrine clicks her teeth.

“I would really appreciate if I could talk to him in private.”

“You are welcome to do so in the visiting rooms, or you can try to persuade doctor Insight to find a way for you to break the rules which, I must add, are here for both your protection and the patients’.”

“Hmph, and what if I stay outside with you until he does what I need him to? Any more complaints about unscheduled contact?”

Chiseled Chin scowls, clearly looking for a reason to refuse Grey Shrine’s offer, but eventually shakes her head.

“I suppose that is plausible, officer.”

“Good,” Grey Shrine walks over to my bed, leans to my ear, and whispers, “Draw the changeling venom, Greyscale. Do you understand?”

“Yoo meen d-”

She puts a hoof on my muzzle.

“You are smart. Just do it,” she stands back up and speaks in normal tone, “And draw something pretty as well. I’ll be back in. let’s say, half an hour. Can you make it?”

“Ai teenk sou,” I nod, “Aim steel a bit woozee.”

“An hour it is then. Do you need anything else?”

“Nou, mem.”

“Good,” she turns to leave, giving Chiseled Chin a stern look, “Nopony is to go in or out until I say so.”

“You can wait in the common room-”

“I will stay outside. Bring me a cup of coffee and something to sit on. I’m not as young as I once used to be.”

Chiseled Chin’s hoof scrapes the floor as she grumbles defiantly, annoyed at being ordered around. I guess she’s used to being in charge, but hey, so is Grey Shrine.

“As you wish.”

Without adding anything else, they all leave me alone. Now it’s time to do my part and paint the box of bottles and then something pretty.

Hmmm…

“Blrugh?!”

Alright, let’s try not to paint potato salad, or something abstract.

Brown for the box, five sides… wait, no, four sides so that it’s possible to see inside. Now how do I do the bottles? Light blue outline and green blobs inside. All stocked next to each other. Let’s draw one bottle outside, because Grey Shrine didn’t want the box, but the venom bottle itself.

That took embarrassingly long.

Now what’s something pretty I know for the second picture before they come back? Eclipse, Piercing Hit, even Grey Shrine herself. Or Drizzle. Or the teacher ladies here in Border Glades.

Oooooh… one situation comes to mind.

Aww, why am I so bad at drawing ponies?

The door opens as I’m trying to capture the prettiest thing I ever remember seeing.

“Are you ready, Greyscale?” asks Grey Shrine.

“Olmost. But d boks ees redee,” I point to the canvas I tore away and put on the table.

Grey Shrine examines it from all sides while Chiseled Chin and the two wardens fan out behind her. I notice the mare quickly glance sideways and her ears flick in tune with the hoofsteps.

All of a sudden, she turns around, making the trio take a step back. Then she walks over to me putting the finishing touches onto my honestly horrible creation.

It’s a somewhat asymmetrical brown pony with too big head so that her yellow eyes are visible along with her medium length red mane. The darker thin red strings covering her body and parts of her backside blend together with her tail since my paints went all wrong, but I did the best I could.

Grey Shrine’s mouth twists, and her eyes bulge.

“Is that- is that- Piercing Hit? Wearing some sort of… a thong?” she can’t stop her snickering.

“Shees weareeng eet end trayeeng to poot a  dress on. Ai saw her dressed laik dat wen shee wos in a huree to get aut uan eevneeng. Shee lookd reely pretee.” 

“No matter what, a stallion will remain a stallion,” she chuckles, “Though I like the mix of dirty and pure in you, Greyscale.”

“Ai hev to wosh maiself, troo,” I look at my colourful hooves.

“I didn’t- nevermind. If I may correct something about that,” she nods to the painting, “Piercing Hit‘s backside is nowhere that big.”

“Ai-”

“Go wash your hooves.”

“Yes, mem.”

I disappear into the bathroom and clean the mess. I’ll have to remove the trails I left on the floor later, but now I guess it’s back to the slippy slide room. When I walk out, Grey Shrine is locked in a staring contest with Chiseled Chin.

“Greyscale,” she says without looking at me, “Take us to where you found the box.”

“You can’t just-”

“As of this minute, you are under investigation for possession and experimental use of illegal substances on vulnerable members of society. Even a random mention of this will be a pretty dirty stain on the otherwise excellent reputation of your institution, no matter it being true or not. So, how about you cooperate and we make sure that these rumors are nothing more than an overactive imagination caused by some pills?”

“There will be an official complaint later, officer.”

Wait, is Grey Shrine betting her reputation and position on MY judgement? On my possibly broken head?

No no no no no no no no no.

“There is nothing I would like more than to be wrong, head nurse. Now move!”

This is bad.

This is bad.

This is bad.

This is bad.

Did I really see what I think I did? Did I guess wrong what it was? Can I read? It’s all a mess now. I’m just a pony who thought a plushie was talking to him. Heck, I just created a water slide that made me sick.

Why does she trust me this much? I’m just dumb.

Please don’t make it so that-

When I get to that point of my worried internal monologue, we enter the door I went through by mistake… or at least I think I did.

The room is empty of any and all crates. All there is are shelves by the walls stocked with random assortment of old plates, cutlery, blankets, and other odds and ends.

“This room is currently used as a temporary storage for anything to be replaced later. When our next shipment of coal for the central heating arrives all this will be full.”

Grey Shrine wordlessly walks around, examining every inch of the area.

“Can I explore the other storerooms?” she asks with much less certainty than before.

“Not without a search warrant,” answers Chiseled Chin sternly, then she sighs, “I see what must have happened here and I, to be honest, applaud you for caring for your friend.”

“What do you mean?”

“You sent poor Greyscale here after a suicide attempt, then he attempted it once again here, as you know. Doctor Insight believes Greyscale to be smarter than he is, suffering from amnesia caused by a strange case of schizophrenia. It is common for patients like that to remember events or periods of time which didn’t happen at all. In Greyscale’s case it must have happened because one of the wardens took him along into the cellars, which is how he knew what this place looks like. What he didn’t tell you because he didn’t know at the time, was that this was yet another self-harm attempt.”

“Huh?” Grey Shrine looks at me, completely confused now, “Is that true, Greyscale?”

“Ai- Ai dont nou. Dey told me afterwards. Ai hed nou aydeeya. Ai promeese.”

“No, he must have known on some level, either from a mention by the wardens or passing remark by somepony else. You see, there is a security system which controls the flow of air down here. Do you hear the humming?”

Grey Shrine nods.

“Those are fans responsible for the circulation of air. They are running on the lowest setting when the lights are off and the main cellar door is locked. Normally, there wouldn’t be much trouble for anypony stuck here because wardens and nurses come here often, but a patient intent on being unseen and staying here all night or maybe longer?”

“He could choke to death and not even notice anything other than being sleepy.”

“Exactly. That’s why everypony is under strict orders to never leave the door unlocked. Of course, if somepony notices anything unusual we can control the air flow from upstairs, but Greyscale has already proven… very resourceful.”

Please no.

“Yes, he has. Greyscale, is it true?”

“Ai- Ai dont nou. Ai saw d bokses. Ai- Ai dont nou aneemore,” my eyes mist over and I sit down. She’s going to get demoted for trusting me. This is what happens when ponies try to interact with me. I always screw up. Always, “But but Ai got Steeches, Ai deednt maik eet up-”

“No, you didn’t imagine all of it,” Chiseled Chin walks over and pats my head, “That’s how we know you tried to hurt yourself, because you really got in here, and you were this close to going to sleep and never waking up again.”  

“Ai- Ai- waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah,” I start wailing. I tried to hurt myself again. I hurt everypony around me. I always mess everything up.

Aim dum. Aim krayzee. Ai dont nou wots reel. Ai imejined most of dat. Steeches never tolkd. Ai shud hev died een d fayr. Ai shud hev stebbd maiself harder. AI SHUD HEV DUN SUMTEENG PROPERLEE FOR UANCE.

“Come on, don’t cry, Greyscale,” Chiseled Chin sits down to me and hugs me, “You, officer.”

“Y- yes?”

“One of the wardens will show you each storage room. You can look, but please don’t touch anything. I think it’s time to put all this to rest. I’ll stay here with the poor guy. He needs it.”

“I- alright.”

I don’t see anything, I can barely hear them talk through my sniffling and crying.

By the time Grey Shrine returns, I’ve calmed down a little, but I tear up again when she looks away as I try to catch her stare.

“I apologize for my intrusion,” she says slowly, each word feeling like a spike through my chest, “Feel free to file your complaint. I must be losing my edge.”

“I think that if we just forget this it will be the best,” Chiseled Chin lowers her voice, sounding truly comforting for the first time ever.

Grey Shrine just nods, still refusing to look at me.

I mean, why should she?

“Wardens, escort the officer upstairs while I take Greyscale back to his room. I think the solitary confinement can wait few minutes,” Chiseled Chin taps my neck, “I can carry you if you don’t want to walk.”

I don’t want to be carried. I don’t want for anypony to bother with me anymore.  My legs are tired but fine, so I can at least walk if my head is worthless. I will do it alone, just like it should have done since the beginning. 

“Nou, Ail wolk. Tank yoo for d offer.”

“Come on, then.”

Grey Shrine leaves without a goodbye.

Good. She’s much better off like this.

Back in my room, there’s one last thing to take care of. I roll up both paintings and toss them in the trash.

“We ken gou bek daun, mees Shin.”

Dreaming for a while was nice, but it’s time to return back to my reality.
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
	
> 22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Poor Grey Shrine. She believed in me, and this is how it worked out. I must have disappointed her so much after she spent her time and effort to help me get here and make the doctors attempt to sort my head out. She even lied and pretended I was a castle employee so that I could get into Border Glades. I made her a liar.

Even worse, she risked her position and career for me, just on the off chance that I wasn’t crazy, and look where it led her. She was threatened with an official complaint, possible demotion, and maybe even losing her job. I shouldn’t have told her anything about this changeling venom. Who even knows what a changeling is? Is that a real word?

However, if I imagined all that… then what was I doing all the time? Did I really go to the cellars or was it just a dream? Did I talk to Quick Trick and was given the key? No, that part must have been real, so where did the fantasy start? I… I must have given the key back to Trick, right? He did leave the pinboard after getting it back, I saw it. So… did the key… happen? Did I simply talk to Trick twice and go to sleep in between?

No, no no no. Stitches. I got Stitches. So I WAS down there, right right right. Oh, I totally forgot, even the doctors said I was down there, although they didn’t see me. I get confused here in the solitary confinement sometimes. So I just imagined the part with the crate full of bottles, right? Grey Shrine was here, nothing was found, and I ruined her career.

On the bright side, though, if there is any, I… I mean Grey Shrine… she learned not to bother with me, right? That it doesn’t lead to anything good. She’s a real pony and I’m just a dummy. She’s not going to take a risk because of me again. She’ll forget me, and she’ll be better off. That, or she’ll get punished hard and will hate me forever. It hurts a little to think like this, because she, Eclipse, and Piercing Hit were the first ponies to think I was worth a kind word, but it hurts even more that this is what it led to.

No, that’s exactly how things started and how they should be, that’s the right way to think.

Anyway, there’s being thoughtful and there’s being brooding, and I’m definitely in the second territory. I can’t help Grey Shrine, or can I? I could ask nurse Chin or doctor Insight to be lenient to Grey Shrine, since she just listened to me, but that might only stir things up in case they didn’t call for any disciplinary action. No, I’ll stay out of the way and do my best to be a model patient. Perhaps if I don’t cause any trouble anymore they’ll forget about everything.

One more slippy slide around the room then? 

Eeeh, no. The wardens didn’t look too happy about me doing it last time. Anyway, now’s not the time to mess around, I have screwed things up far too much. I think I’ll just exercise, it helps with not thinking about what I caused.

Coming to that conclusion, I spend as much time as I can by doing pushups and what little yoga I can remember from the earlier lessons. I don’t know how long it will take for the doctors to let me go, but as long and I’m locked in here I won’t ruin anypony else’s life-

The door clicks and slides open, and a duo of wardens enters, carefully putting each hoof on the padding. Hey, these guys were here the last time I made the slide! Maybe I can ask them to join-

No, bad Greyscale! All serious now.

They examine the room before one says:

“Your week is up, Greyscale. It’s back to the normal schedule with you. I hope you learned your lesson.”

“Ai deed,” I nod. Probably not the one they sent me here for, but a lesson nonetheless.

“Good. You get today to rest, and tomorrow you have a scheduled session with doctor Insight. Let me reactivate your collar,” he reaches towards me and taps the thick band around my neck in several places.

I was wondering why the magic locket wasn’t talking no matter what I asked. I even believed I forgot the right words.

“Schedule for patient Greyscale,” says the warden clearly.

“Next scheduled event - tomorrow, ten o’clock, Doctor Clear Insight’s office, third floor. Topic - results of solitary confinement,” the pleasant female voice of my collar answers.

“Alright, it’s working. We’ll escort you to your room, Greyscale, and then you’re free to do what you want today.”

“Umm, wot taim ees eet? Ai got confyoozd een heer a lot.”

“It’s Monday, half past nine. Let’s go.”

“Okey.”

Head hung low to avoid eye contact with any other pony, I follow the wardens.

What should I do today? As it turns out, my sense of day and night got completely turned around inside the room. I stopped counting meals after my failure with Grey Shrine, and since the lights worked the way I wanted them I lost any comparison to real time. Oh well, should I just go to bed since it’s basically my evening? Nah, lunch is in few hours and I don’t want to miss it. I’m kinda tired from my makeshift exercises.

There’s yoga class usually starting from ten so that patients can get some light stretching and build up their appetite. That would put me in contact with other ponies, though, ponies I could put in trouble… somehow. I can’t avoid that forever, however, so maybe if I just keep to myself and don’t engage anypony else in the class? Yeah, that should work.

My short trip with the wardens ends with them opening the door to my room. I walk inside and take a deep breath, it’s like returning home. Windows shall be opened immediately, even though it will be cold! Anything is better than the stale air pumped into the underground room.

“Have a nice day, Greyscale, and don’t cause trouble.”

“Yoo too,” I give them a weak smile. I can’t really bring myself to try for a better one, “Ai meen d nais dey, not d trabl. Yoo ken caus trabl eef yoo wont too, Ai teenk.”

One of the wardens snickers, pats my head, and closes the door behind him.

“Mejic lokkit! Were end wen ees d youga class?” I ask while walking to the window. It opens inside because of the bars on the outside.

“Basic yoga class starts in twenty-two minutes. Ground floor, room thirty-five. Next advanced yoga class starts at six o’clock in the evening, room thirty-five as well.”

“Tank yoo,” I walk over to the bathroom to at least wash my face before the class. The cold water and almost freezing air dispel my dizziness instantly, and ten minutes later I’m ready to get stretching. Also, thanking an inanimate object might be seen as pointless, but being nice is a good habit, since being smart is a bit over my head.

So… thirty-five, was it? Yes.

As I enter, there are patients already sitting around on their mats. I recognize Drizzle sitting in the corner, hind legs spread out in a V shape and pulling herself to the hoof of her left one by her forelegs. She’s super bendy. Come to think of it, she always attends the advanced class, so this must be really easy for her. Perhaps she just enjoys yoga that much.

Don’t look at her, don’t look at her, don’t look at her! Find your own place, sit down, and try not to break anything.

I quietly take a mat and-

“Hi, Greyscale! Come sit over here.”

Damn, thwarted right at the first step!

“Umm, Ai-”

No lying! I need to stay away, though. Look away.

“-dere ees not much room, mees Dreezel.”

I hear the shoving of a mat on the floor.

“Nonsense, we can squeeze in. Come on.”

With a quiet sigh, I give her a quick apologetic look before hanging my head and unrolling my mat next to hers.

“See, it’s fine.”

“Yes, mem.”

“Is… is anything wrong, Greyscale? You look really crestfallen.” 

“Nou, nou, Aim fain… Ai teenk.”

“Does it have something to do with you being nowhere to be found for a week?”

“Ai deed sumteeng reely bed.”

“Oh come on, Greyscale. You’re a sweet little thing, I’m sure whatever happened was a honest mistake. You can fix-”

I shake my head as my eye mist over again.

“Nou, Ai cant. Ai shud not, becuz Ail scroo up eevn more. D best Ai ken doo ees not bother ponees enymore.”

“Oh dear, tell me all about it, please. Sometimes just talking about things can help more than you could imagine.”

“Ai… Ai dont teenk Ai shud. Ai ruined-”

“Good morning, class!” announces a cheery voice of the yoga teacher mare, “Can we begin?”

“Later, Greyscale,” hisses Drizzle, “but don’t you dare run off on me after the class. I can’t stand seeing you like this.”

“Aim fain-”

“Lying is bad, Greyscale.”

“Soree. Ai dont nou wots goeeng on enymore.”

“It’ll be alright, I promise.”

I appreciate the sentiment, and thankfully the class starts so that anything I have got to say doesn’t demoralize Drizzle anymore. The physical effort is demanding. It wouldn’t normally be that bad, but I am too worn out of my own exercises and by the end of the session I can barely stand.

“Woah...” I stumble as I’m rolling the mat up to put it away. A spotted grey wing quickly wraps around my barrel to steady me.

“Now, where were we, Greyscale?”

“Wee are een d youga room,” I try to be helpful. I can still do some simple things like giving directions right.

We leave the room along with the other patients while the instructor puts away the leftover mats. As much as I want to be alone right now, Drizzle is walking by my side, her wing brushing my back from time to time.

Alright, time to bite the bullet. I’ll tell her everything and then she’ll understand my point of view and keep away for her own good and safety. I can’t let my stupidity harm any more ponies.

Stopping by a large potted plant next to the window, I take a deep breath, look around to see if there’s anypony who could overhear us, and tell Drizzle all that’s happened since I first talked to Quick Trick. His theory about yellow pills, my hurting myself, getting the key and visiting the cellars including the part about the changeling venom. I include not knowing what really happened, my solitary confinement, and end on a note about my future of avoiding ponies to prevent myself from harming them. 

In the end, Drizzle is staring at me intently, quiet. I look away, because the floor suddenly feels extremely interesting.

“You know… that is a lot to take in, and it sounds really crazy.”

“Ai nou.”

Her hoof ends up behind my ear, scratching it absent-mindedly.

“Buuuut, I’ve heard rumors about patients lost in the cellars, wardens carrying bags of what clearly weren’t normal supplies, and tons of other weird things. Granted, I chalked most of it to insane patients and pills, but I’m not sure what to think about your case.”

“Just forget eet end mee- ow!” I yelp and she immediately rubs the spot on my head where she smacked me.

“Don’t be stupid. Your changeling venom story isn’t the most far-fetched thing about this place by a mile, whatever changeling means. That, and… you aren’t a liar, Greyscale. You are prone to misunderstanding things, but I have the feeling you’re not the hallucinating kind, your talking plushie aside. Actually… I might be wrong about that one. That doesn’t matter, though. I’m keeping you company until you cheer up.”

Her determined stare leaves no room for discussion, so I just nod. No matter how it affects my plan, she’s doing it out of the goodness of her heart. I should be polite even if I disagree.

“Tank yoo.”

“Now, the best way to deal with thoughts like these is to get busy,” she taps her collar, “What’s the closest class after lunch?”

“Basic arts and crafts. Today’s topic - clay in all forms. Starts at one o’clock in workshop seventeen.”

“Excellent, we have just enough time to get settled for lunch. Let’s go.”

After a quick sniff of the air, I stick my tongue out in disgust.

“Aim ol swetee...”

“I’m not letting you hole up in your room. I know that kind of mood. You can shower in mine if you really need to.”

“Eep!”

“I promise I won’t walk in on you… maybe only on accident, and with one eye closed.”

“Aim not shure...”

“Look, I will either shower in your room or you can shower in mine, but I’m not letting you out of my sight, metaphorically.”

With a sigh, I admit defeat.

“Ken wee do eet een main? Ai promees Ai wont peek.”

“Perfect, now let’s move before we have to shower together so that we can make it to lunch. Wait, on the other hoof, haste is rarely a good idea-”

I’m already walking off.

“Damn it!” she darts forward to catch up with me.

Silly mare. 

I just wish she didn’t want to get grabby with me so much. I’m fairly certain it can’t be good for her condition. Too bad it looks like no matter how hard I try I can’t stop myself from making things worse.

Ears and head drooping, I lead Drizzle to my room.


***


To my surprise and relief, she patiently waited while I did my business. I tried to be quick, but as soon as I turned the water off, she rushed in, saying we didn’t have much time. She towelled my back off, though, with the excuse that I forgot some spots. Well, since I’m not a unicorn I can’t just do my lower back easily. Drizzle, on the other hoof, had no problem with both it and my tail. 

Drizzle calmed down a bit after her lunch pills, but refused to leave my side anyway. I resigned, thinking she’ll eventually realize I’m not a good influence on her, and just followed her lead. That’s how I ended here, hooves brown from clay and-

“Careful!” yelps Drizzle, sitting next to me.

-currently severing the top of my pot.

I stop pumping my hind legs on the paddle rotating the spinning table, looking dejectedly at the misshapen “blob”. It was supposed to be a decanter eventually…

I’m simply way too uncoordinated. When I focused on making the right shape, I forgot to paddle my hind legs, and when I paddled, I moved my forelegs on accident. We’re sitting in the hindmost row of tables, so aside from few quick glances in our direction and the leading mare’s approaching hoofsteps, we don’t draw too much attention.

“Ai teenk dis ees too mush for mee,” I shake my head as the leading mare comes over to see what the commotion is about, and give her a guilty look, “Ai shud gou...”

“Don’t be like that,” Drizzle pats my head.

“Exactly,” the instructor offers a bright smile, “this is about fun more than anything. So how about you try to make something you like? There’s enough modelling clay and time to do something simple. It’s not like you have to use the spinner. Just enjoy yourself.”

“Okey,” I shuffle my chair a bit over to the firm workdesk, leaving the treacherous spininng table, “Hmmm...”

What would I enjoy? What do I like? A bucket? No, that would require the evil table again. A mop? Too much clay.

Ooooh...!

With renewed vigor, I get to work. Six noodles of varying thickness, five small blobs, a bigger sphere, and some tiny flat bits. Now to put it all together as it should be. It takes me quite a while, but near the end of the session I’m about done with the quadruped.

Oops, I forgot the wings.

“Is that a batpony?” I hear Drizzle’s amused voice far too close to my ear, “A big booty one on top.”

Why does everypony keep saying that? Am I doing something wrong?

It’s not THAT big.

“Dats Eklips. Shee wos d first uan to tolk to mee of her own voleeshun. Shee wonted mee to hev a look at her bed.”

“Oh really?” Drizzle asks playfully, wiggling her eyebrows in a 'knowing' fashion.

“Mhm, Ai fiksed eet. Den shee wonted too see mee een d shaur.”

“And you were so shy around me… I wonder, are you interested in this… Eclipse?”

Interested, as in romantically? No, especially not now. She just made me feel like I wasn’t just a thing, a breathing broom.

“Shee wos nais to mee,” I mumble.

Drizzle pushes her chair so close to me that her side presses against mine, and wraps her wing around my barrel.

“I can be nice too,” she whispers in my ear and licks it.

“Mees Dreezel, deed yoo teik yor peels? Yoo ar nais, but aim… aim… yoo nou, leek mee eef yoo wont. Ai wont reseest eef eet meiks yoo hepee.”

Drizzle freezes and leans away.

“What are you saying? I… I only want you to cheer up, Greyscale. You look so down, and the thing you said just now… Raincloud said something similar.”

“Yor colt?”

“Mhm,” she nods, “When we… when I… when we made love to each other he… he wasn’t happy no matter what I tried. I just… your little clay pony… it looks like something little Rainy would make,” she picks my figurine up and examines it from all sides.

Great, now I’ve upset her. Unfortunately, I’m starting to think I know what exactly went wrong between Drizzle and her colt. Still, underneath that nymphomania she’s an amazing lady.

“Ai hope mai mum wos et leest half as nais as yoo. Without d grabbee part.”

“You don’t remember her?”

Strangely, I don’t feel sad about the fact, more curious than anything. The thing is that it’s hard to miss something you don’t know I guess. To be honest, I’m surrounded by ponies trying to help me who are nice to me for no reason. I have nothing to complain about, other than me trying not to harm them somehow.

“Nou. Aim shure shee luvd mee laik yoo deed yor kolt doe.”

The predatory smile that grows on her muzzle makes chill run down my spine as she leans to me again.

“I can show you exactly how much I can love, and in what incredible ways,” she whispers so quietly only I can hear it.

When I open my mouth to tell her off, she grabs my muzzle, and kisses me. Her tongue brushes my teeth and tongue before she quickly leans away, licking her lips. Our exchange remains completely unnoticed. Thank the almighty mop!

“Stop, plees, or we weel get noteesd.” 

“Why? Why are you refusing to feel good? Why, Rainy?”

She stops, blinks, and shakes her head.

“Ai em Greyscale, mees Dreezel.”

After a second of staring at me with her mouth open, she nods again.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I know...”

She doesn’t sound too sure, though. Oh well, I guess it’s all coming around. I will hurt her, and she will finally stop caring about me, but I need to tell her what I think.

After the class.

I spend the final fifteen minutes making my clay stick pony into a more realistic shape, fixing the wings into pegasus ones, and rounding up the shapes. In the end, I decide against making it look like Eclipse, mostly due to bad memory, and after adding some clay in the correct places it ends up like Drizzle . Strangely, it eventually does look like a pretty good likeness, even if I say so. It seems that my inability to grasp the basic concepts and shapes is limited to painting.

I manage to finish it in time, and give it to the suddenly thoughtful pegasus when it hardens.

“Ai fiksd eet. Eets yoo nau.”

He muzzle scrunches as she takes the figurine and walks out of the workshop along with the other ponies. I’m afraid I insulted her because, let’s face it, the likeness wasn’t that great and I think I made her look a little too chubby, so when I walk outside and see her standing by the window while staring at the figure in her hoof I hesitate.

Her wing carefully rises and performs a come hither motion. The yoga classes must have made her pretty flexible to be able to do that.

“It’s beautiful,” she mutters to my utter amazement.

“Nou, eets not,” I chuckle, “but Ai traid mai best. Yoo ar much pretteeyer.”

“You are such a sweet little thing, Greyscale,” she runs her wing down my barrel, “Why don’t we run into my room and-”

I put my hoof on her chest and shake my head.

“Dats wot Ai wonted to tolk about, mees Dreezel. Ai teenk Ai nou wai yor heer.”

“Because nopony else could understand how much I loved my son?”

A though I can only describe as “not mine” ties everything I felt until now into the perfect answer. Sadly, my mouth disagrees.

“Doo yoo nou wot a stetyootoree rayp ees?”

“I would NEVER hurt my colt!” she almost barks at me, fire growing in her eyes.

Whatever entity is watching over me, please, help me say this in the right way. I know I will hurt her, but at least for a moment give my stupid tongue and head the ability do it for the right reasons. 

“Ai nou, Ai nou, but d sexee stuff leeds to a fyoocher. A fyoocher of liveeng togedder, of taikeeng kaer of eech odder. Ai kant doo dat. Dets wai Ai dont wont d roumenteek stuff. Aim not reech or good at sexeeng. Ol Ai cud wont nau ees sum holdeeng hooves or maybee a cuddel and kees sumtaim. End… end… Ai teenk yor Rainee wos too yung to teik on d resonsibilitee, but he deednt wont to deesappoint yoo end so he agreed wit wot yoo deed. Ai teenk seks hed noteeng to doo wit eet, dat hee wud do anyteeng yoo asked him too becuz hee laikd yoo as a mum.”

And here it is. I’m failing to deliver my point because I can’t say it properly. I just… it’s like with everything else in my life - I must keep trying, and the best I can hope for is that the smarter ponies can make something out of my fumbled attempts. 

“Eef Ai shud ever bee det close too sumponee, den Ai wud laik eet too be sumponee speshul, sumponee Ai cud trai teengs wit, ekspereement end hev sum stoopid fun eevn eef it eesnt dat gud. Meybee sumponee laik Eklip-”

No, bad Greyscale! She’s a real pony and she must be already in a relationship because she’s amazing. Rolled up newspaper on you!

“Ai meen… Aim not much of a reel ponee, end Aim not too smart, but Ai thought yor Rainee wud hev wonted to teik hees own taim, eevn eef he failed a bit ferst.”

As I look Drizzle in the eyes, horror envelops every fiber of my being. I did much worse than I thought. Gone is her anger, and tears are streaking down her cheeks. Eyes wide, she’s staring at me- no, past me as if I wasn’t even there.

“I took his special chance away from him...” she whispers.

“Aim soree, Aim soree, Aim soree, Aim soree-” I keep apologizing.

Damn it, just for ONCE… I wasn’t allowed to screw this one up specifically, and here we are. She’s crying, and I can’t even say I’m sorry properly.

“-Aim soree, Aim soree, Aim-ow!”

And now she hit me. Well, bonked me over the head more like. Two soft wings wrap around my thinky ball, and I hear her soft voice say:

“Stop it, Greyscale. You did nothing wrong. In fact… you might have done everything just right,” she kisses my forehead, “I have to go. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

I’m kinda confused here, and she catches on.

“Umm, okey.”

“Greyscale, this… Eclipse… there’s no way in Tartarus she doesn’t like you on some level. It might not be the level you want, but she simply must. You are worth it,” she ends the hug, smiling at me with her eyes still red, but not unhappy, “See you later.”

“Umm, bye, mees Dreezel,” I give her a confused wave as she walks away.

It worked out… somehow? Maybe?

Well, it’s not as if I could change what I said at this point. I just hope I didn’t make things worse, but even if I did… what can I do?

Lunch? Yeah, I can eat lunch. My mouth still works just fine for chewing food at least.


***


I haven’t seen Drizzle for the rest of the day, so I hope she didn’t spend it moping in her room. As for me, I took a stroll in the gardens again, enjoying the fresh air as much as I could after the long week cooped up underground. They even allowed me to get my painting supplies back, and I spent far too much time trying to improve myself. It proved futile in the end, but it killed most of the day. Perhaps I should just get some modelling clay and make figurines. 

Yep, great idea for tomorrow. I’ll have to ask somepony. Perhaps Watchful, since he must be back already. Wait, no, the avoiding ponies thing. Alright, first thing tomorrow I’m asking somepony I don’t know where to get modelling clay.

With all that planned out, I brush my teeth and curl up in a real bed. The soft padding of the solitary confinement was practical, but lying here is like trying to sleep in a fluffy cloud. Perhaps that’s how pegasi feel all the time!

So snug, nice, warm-

…

…

I’m being poked.

“Wots-mmph?!” my blanket is pressed against my muzzle, muffling my surprised yelp, and a moment later some oppressive weight presses me so hard into my bed that it creaks . 

I can’t move. Whoever is in the dark room and sitting on me is doing so in such way that I can barely shuffle. Did some patient mistake my room for theirs?

“Be quiet, Greyscale,” I hear a whisper I know is familiar but can’t really place it in my dizzy confusion.

“Mmhmm?” I mumble into the blanket choking me.

“Shhh, stop struggling!” is a much more forceful whisper, but maybe a bit… desperate?

Anyway, it’s not like I’m going to harm a pony, so I may as well wait for an explanation. After all, why would anypony want to harm me here? The rapid lack of air is making me more and more agreeable anyway.

Whee… more and more… warm and heavy…

“Good, will you be quiet now?”

I don’t have the strength to nod.

“Ohshi-!” the pony hisses, and withdraws the blanket. When I start gasping for air, it quickly returns, but still this time i have enough space to breathe while making as little noise as possible.

My heart stops jackhammering eventually, and I’m allowed to sit up while I hear the bed creak and… no hoofsteps. I know I’m alone in the bed now, but I haven’t heard anypony leave.

An appearing dot of light draws my stare and melds the darkness into mere shadowy gloom.

“Huh- eeh- wh-?”

Longer mane, shorter muzzle, small wrinkles around her eyes. I can’t really make out the colours while still blinded by the new light, but the pony is definitely a mare.

“Shhh,” she puts her hoof with a small glowing bead in it to her mouth, “I really, really need you to be quiet now, Greyscale. It’s important. You can do that, right?”

I nod, my eyes gradually getting used to the light. The mare’s cyan mane draws my attention, and-

It’s Grey Shrine! What the broom?

“Gr-” I gasp and immediately clamp my forelegs over my muzzle. She wanted me to be quiet, and I almost messed that up already. Keeping myself forcibly silenced in case my mouth works faster than my head, I nod and keep staring at her.

She got kicked out and now she’s out for revenge! That’s why she wants me to stay quiet while she beats me up, she doesn’t want to get into any more trouble. Well, time to be a real pony in at least some aspects and face the problems I caused! 

Ready to have my muzzle broken, I lower my forelegs and give her an apologetic look.

Here it comes, the hoof, the strangely soft hoof, the…

...scratching of my droopy ear?

“Looking good, Greyscale,” she whispers, “I was worried they’d do something to you after the last time.”

Mega.

Confused.

“Dey-” I start.

She waves her foreleg up and down.

“Keep it down, keep it down,” she hisses, and I lower my voice to a whisper.

“Dey put me bek to d slayd room were Ai wos ol aloan sou det Ai wudnt put oders een danjer wit mai maid up nonsens. End Ai deednt, so it must hev workd. Oder den yoo, Ai meen. Aim reely soree, Ai deednt meen to meik dem complein about yoo end meik yoo loos yor job. Eef yoo wont to beet mee up to feel bettr Ai wont maind. Ai deserv eet, but Aim still soree.”

She stares at me, then cracks a soft smile,

“Dummy. I didn’t lose my job, and they didn’t file any complaints.”

Oooof, at least something worked out right. My hope that if I stayed put and didn’t cause any more trouble was correct.

She notices my relieved sigh.

“Look, Greyscale, I need you to carefully listen to me, and then do what I say.”

“Mhm,” I nod. If I can make things right then I will, no matter what.

“Good. When I left this place, it made me think. There is more to you than meets the eye - you seem rather… slow, but all accounts of you prove the exact opposite. You recovered extremely quickly from near-fatal wounds multiple times. On top of that, you don’t recall anything from about month and a half away. I had to shift my opinion about you a lot afterwards, but then I realized things would make much more sense if I thought about you as if you never were crazy, and everything you said happened really did.”

Isn’t that the exact opposite of what I keep being persuaded is the case?

“But doktor Eensaid-”

“Clear Insight and this institution have been under several investigations over past years for various reasons including maltreatment of patients, but nothing was ever proven.”

Hey, Quick Trick said something along those lines.

“You see, once I stopped being angry at myself for believing you, really thought about it, and admitted what you saw could have really happened and a cover-up could be in place, I started digging. At my age and in my occupation, your hobbies somewhat become an extension of your job, you can say. What I found was… interesting. The cases against Border Glades kept coming and coming, most of them just tiny complaints, and the big ones never leading to anything. I had to ask some friends who are in a different and yet similar line of work.”

Oooh, I know that one! The ponies who protect their stock from the bad guys but aren’t guards.

“Ai get eet - kau herders.”

“This will be easier if you just listen, Greyscale.”

Or maybe not.

“Okey.”

“For your information, there are few ponies I used to serve with in the military who are now members of the EIS,” she looks at me. I quickly try to make some sense of the letters.

“Ekstreemelee Intelleejent Saienteests?”

“Equestrian Intelligence Service. The old dogs are supposed to keep their mouths shut about every ongoing investigation, but after some drinks and calling on few favours I was told Border Glades was currently under secret investigation for the use of illegal drugs and unsanctioned mind-altering substances. I have heard the term changelings even before you told me about them, and after me sharing my, by which I mean your, story with my friends, I was granted access to some materials about the case. Off the record, of course.”

“Sou… Ai deednt meik eet ol up?” I’ve kind of stopped trying to understand anything. Every real pony is saying a different thing, Grey Shrine is guessing, but doctor Clear Insight might be straight up lying.

“Maybe some parts, but that doesn’t explain how a pony who has never heard of changelings managed to paint a perfect picture of changeling residue, imagine medical lingo used to describe semi-magical mind-altering drugs, and be the only pony to have a clear memory of every event that has happened since they came here.”

I’m suddenly not so sure about the memory part.

“Ai deed ol dat?”

“Do certain reports for a pony called Quick Trick ring a bell?”

“Ou rite, Ai deed. D taumometamejic teengs. Ai just tought Ai hed a reely gud imejineyshun.”

“Imagination doesn’t work like that, Greyscale. There had to be something to what you said, and Quick Trick’s secret report put it all together for me.”

“Weit! Yoo meen det Kweek Treek ees a reel seekret ayjent? Det hees not krayzee?”

“Sometimes the best way to hide is in plain sight, Greyscale.”

I imagine trying to be unseen in the middle of a lit hallway. I’m not so sure about that. But hey, Quick Trick seems to have remained “hidden” for long enough to gather so much information, and Grey Shrine is a real smart pony so they have to be at least partially right.

“I’m pretty sure you recognize this,” she telekinetically pulls out Quick Trick’s key from a tiny saddlebag tightly strapped to her side. It looks plastic-y and familiar, “The key you… found before venturing to the cellars to save your plushie.”

“Hey, dats Kweek-” I clamp my hooves on my muzzle again.

“That’s a key made from a certain adaptive material the EIS agents use to unlock pretty much anything not heavily magically enchanted. It takes time for it to transform, which means I had to use Quick Trick’s pattern so that we won’t have to waste time in the cellars waiting for it to take the lock’s shape. We’re going to use it now, and do some exploring,” she pulls out four strange grey baggy things from her mini-bag, “Put these on your hooves.”

As I do so, I notice she takes two more which were lying on the ground. She must have taken hers off when she approached me while I was sleeping. Her quick few steps later, I realize the only thing I’m hearing is my own breathing. Jumping off of the bed, I am now as silent as Grey Shrine.

This is so cool! I’m like a real agent, or a ninja.

I rear on my hind legs and make some swinging moves with my forelegs.

“Stop that, Greyscale.”

Awww…

“Yes, mem,” I recall something very important for some reason, “Ken Ai teik Steeches wit mee?”

She opens her mouth, stops, thinks for a second, and then nods.

“That might actually not be a bad idea… I wonder...”

Putting the little batpony plush in his place on my back, I feel the reassuring clamp of his forelegs on my neck. I’m ready. Let’s not mess up this time and make Grey Shrine’s career go down the drain for real.

Sneaking downstairs is shockingly easy. While there are some obstacles, mostly wardens randomly patrolling the halls, this place isn’t a prison, and since we are completely silent, we can hear any movement and take a different route. Our first real issue comes with the main cellar door.

Grey Shrine’s horn shimmers and she puts her horn close to the lock, then on four more spots on the door, and whispers:

“Hmm, no magical protection,” her key flies out of her bag and slides into the lock. The door opens, “Let’s go.”

“Wot about d ehr teeng? Wont wee chouk?”

“I know a spell or two. Lack of oxygen is our last concern. Now lead me to where you found the changeling venom. I have a faint idea, but I’d rather not blunder around.”  

I lead her straight into my still possibly imagined room through the eerie silence of the cellar complex. I feel watched, but there’s absolutely no movement or noise other than our soft breathing. When I point to the right door, Grey Shrine unlocks it and enters the empty room, closing the door behind us and turning the lights on.

“Deres steel noteeng heer, mem. Aim soree, Ai must hev bin wron-ow!” I stop as another smack to the head lands. She must be mad at me on some level despite what she said. That, or she’s trying to fix my head without using pills.

“Greyscale, if you don’t trust yourself, at least trust me.”

Don’t make her more mad, don’t make her more mad!

“Okey. Wot do Ai do den?”

“Stand by the door, listen for anything other than the two of us.”

Stand still and use my ears? Even I can’t mess that up… hopefully. After some time, she says:

“Alright, this place is empty. Let’s go to the next room.”

Few rooms full of blankets, the Lost and Found where I couldn’t help myself and rummage through the confiscated stuff. It was mostly personal belongings with sharp edges, but nothing particularly strange or anything. Then the coal storage rooms, one full into which we barely managed to get into, one which had to be the currently used storage, and a mostly empty one, with only few trail of coal dust everywhere around.

I could teach the cleaning ponies what to look for, since they obviously missed some spots.

Grey Shrine catches me looking at the dirty streaks by the wall, and an evil grin appears on her face.

“Well well well...”

“Dey need a bettr broom.”

“I doubt a broom would sort this one. Look closer.”

Leaning in, I discover that the thin line of coal dust isn’t exactly on the floor, but rather INSIDE it. Her horn glows, and an azure line of light fills the coal-y crack like water and follows it, revealing a two ponies long and one pony wide square. Without the coal and Grey Shrine’s light spell, it would be near-impossible to notice any irregularity about the stone floor, especially if there were even more bags of coal lying around.

“They must be using a really thin crowbar to open this, or only unicorns are allowed to get inside here,” with a focused huff, her horn flashes and the thin block of floor swings up like a trap door, revealing a short stone staircase into an unlit room.

Without hesitation, Grey Shrine walks down the flight of stairs. I, of course, follow. I will finally know what really happened and what didn’t…

...or this can be just a spare room.

Really well hidden spare room filled with crates in the back, some with their lids pried off and filled with bottles of green or different goop.   

“Bingo!” Grey Shrune rushes towards them, levitating a single bottle, shaking it, and watching the green goo slowly slosh in response. Then she turns back to me, “So, Greyscale. Do you still think you’re crazy?”

Technically...

“Well, yoo sent mee heer becuz Ai hurt maiself wich Ai did eevn more heer, so Ai meen Aim a payshent heer for wot yoo sent me heer, not for imejineeng green bottels.”

“Point taken,” she grumbles. However, she doesn’t continue and levitates a small silvery square looking like a pack of cigarettes out of her bag which must be somehow far larger than it looks. The block clicks few times as she makes it fly around the boxes, then she takes a bottle and shoves it into the saddlebag quarter of its size. 

I shrug. Just unicorn things.

“This is perfect, Greyscale,” she returns to me standing in the middle of the spacious room, “With this, we can finish an EIS investigation, put whoever is behind this in prison, and stop them from shoving this crap down the patients’ throats ever again. Now all we need to get out and-”

A horrible feeling that Grey Shrine just said something she really shouldn’t washes over me.

“Let me just stop you right there. After this, you won’t be leaving anytime soon,” says a deep but female voice followed by hoofsteps creaking on the stone stairs.

Chiseled Chin, followed by five especially burly wardens enters, and the six ponies fan out across the room. 

“Greyscale, Greyscale, I knew I should have asked for some shock therapy for you. If the pills didn’t work for whatever reason, good old frying the brain along with a little lobotomy definitely would. Might even make you smarter.”

“What the hay do you think you’re doing?” growls Grey Shrine, walking in front of me like a shield, “I am performing a lawful investigation and-”

Chiseled Chin just snickers.

“At night, dressed like a thief?” she nods to my and Grey’s muffling hoof thingies, “Don’t try to scare me. I broke little mares like you back in the military on daily basis.”

“A fellow ex-soldier then,” Shrine laughs to herself, “Left the army to terrify confused patients, to finally pick on somepony your own size? I’ve always known there’s only one fate for ponies like us when we’re past our prime - a guard, or a mercenary, and only one of those means to be a heartless bitch.”

“You misspelled rich,” smirks Chin, “Get them! Try not to ruffle the idiot too much, but I’ll pay extra to whoever makes the unicorn scream the loudest.”

Chiseled Chin, along with three wardens charge at Grey Shrine while the last two approach me slowly backing off. I don’t know what to do. I can’t fight, I don’t know how. I can’t help since I’d just get in the way.

What can I do? Scream for help? Definitely not, that would just distract Grey Shrine. No no no, the best I can do is what I’m already doing - preventing two more wardens from completely swarming her.

My jaw drops as, seemingly undisturbed by the numbers disadvantage, Grey Shrine ducks under the wide swing of the closest warden, jumps like a spring, and punches up with her now muffler-less foreleg. 

The warden might be crumbling to the floor instantly, but few of his teeth ambitiously try to learn to fly before bouncing off of the low ceiling.

So, how did she do it? She kind of waited and backed off while baiting him into a punch. The two walking towards me don’t look as if they’ll go for the same approach unless I force them to. I don’t really want to do that, but I need to buy as much time as I can.

I jab my foreleg in the vague direction of the closer warden.

“He’s getting aggressive, do we-?” my target asks, and is interrupted.

“Just knock him out. We can always make up some bullshit about him going rabid, attacking the guardsmare, and getting hurt in the process afterwards.”

“Eeep!” I back off from the following swing.

Wrong, wrong, wrong! I need to duck under-

“Blrp?!”

My muzzle hurts. Everything is spinning. Legs? Legs, please don’t fail me.

“Yaaaah!” Grey Shrine’s scream gets through my haze of pain, and I turn my head, suddenly thinking clearly. Thankfully, she’s not the one being hurt, but one more warden is currently sliding along the wall, leaving a bloody smear.

I think I’m gonna be sick…

“Deal with this guy, I’ll go help the boss,” orders the leading one of my duo.

I can’t let that happen, so I pounce straight at him as soon as he turns away. My jump leaves the other one surprised, and I trip the leaving one up, rolling into a ball along with him.

Great, I ended up on top, so now to just punch-

Why is my chest suddenly hurting and why am I on my back?

Still, it’s just pain a bit of confusion this time. That’s alright, I can work with that, I can stand back up and stop the warden again as he does the same.

“Hey, crazy!” comes from the left.

Somepony is talking to me?

Oh it’s the other warden, and he’s carrying something long and thin. Hey, a pipe-

A pipe? Where did he get a pi-

The floor hits me, or I hit it.

I… can’t close my eyes…

Good… something red… and dripping... is doing it for me…

Hi, Stitches. When did you fall off of my back?

“Stee-chz...”

Darkness.

Rumbling.

Screams.

Hoofsteps?

“Wzzmlp?”

The fight is still going on. How long was I out?

Judging by the pool of still not dry blood under my mouth, not too long. The rumbling is actually the stomping hoofsteps. I’m covered in blood, but I can raise my legs somewhat. I shouldn’t move, I’m sick. I need to wait for smarter ponies to help me. I got myself into trouble I can’t solve anymore. I need to wait for help.

Help.

“No help is coming.”

“St-ee-ches?” I look at the plushie with his legs wrapped around my foreleg. Did he grab onto me after… after…

...I got hit by an iron pipe while trying to protect Grey Shrine.

Grey Shrine!

Pushing myself upwards, the world spins again, and I feel bile rising up my throat. I feel so sick, so dizzy and weak. Somepony must have dragged me here, closer to the entrance, judging by the long smear of blood. Stitches maybe?

No no no, he’s a plushie. Perhaps one of the wardens currently slowly overwhelming Grey Shrine making lights flash and dodging so fast I can barely see her.

“Shield spells along with short-term camouflage. She’s holding her own, but that won’t last long. Chiseled Chin is the one who gave her the bleeding nose, the others are just there as a distraction.”

“Steeches?”

“I’m THINKING!”

“Hey, the guy is waking up and mumbling something!” I hear a warden call out.

“Just shove a damn crate onto that idiot and help me subdue this bitch!” roars Chiseled Chin, and a warden splits off from the group assaulting gradually losing Grey Shrine.

It’s the pipe guy again. I raise my forelegs as he raises his weapon in his.

“Aim soree, but hau ken yoo harm such a nais ponee laik-”

The pipe blurs, and everything goes white, if only for a moment.

The fighting stops, everypony suddenly looking in my direction. 

No, the warden holding half of a melting iron rod is staring behind me. I turn my head too, wincing as red hot spikes of pain run through my neck.

Quick Trick, in his all pink and grey glory is staring down everypony involved with much more focused stare than I’ve ever seen him use before. His horn flashes, although the glow is quickly absorbed into a thick suppressor ring around it.

“Hmm, seems like I can’t go full out until I get this thing off. Hey, stoneface mudpony, where do you keep the keys?”

Chiseled Chin growls, pointing at Trick.

“He can’t use that kind of magic too often with the suppressor on. Take care about him, I’ll deal with this one myself,” she spins instantly and charges Grey Shrine into a wall before she can react. I can hear the crack even here on the floor.

Trick rises on his hind legs, swings his forelegs in a circular motion, and a warden rushing at him ends up flying muzzle-first into the nearest wall.

“Nuh uh uh,” Trick chuckles, “I may be old, but just like Shriney there, I’m not rusty.”

“Aaaa!” I squeal weakly as a hoof nearly stomps on me. Pink glow envelops me and Stitches, shoving us away from Trick and the wardens.

The agent barks at me:

“Don’t get in the way! Oh shi-” Trick’s horn flares, and I catch a pink blur from the corner of my eye which turns out to be a shield appearing around Grey Shrine being held by her hind leg and slammed at the end of a wide arc into the floor by Chiseled Chin who scowls as the shield shatters, but manages to keep Grey Shrine’s bones in one piece .

“I don’t know what you did in the army, but you hornheads can’t take on a frontline earthpony stormtrooper.”

Voices, grunting and blows fill the air. I can barely keep track of everything with the ringing in my head, my stomach threatening escape via my mouth any second, and fighting chaos all around.

Hoofsteps are coming closer, ones from… behind?

Turning my head, I see another blurry pony… a unicorn?

Clearly furious Clear Insight, spirals on his horn lighting up with red shimmer.

Nopony else has noticed him.

The fight is barely even as it is. If a unicorn joins it, then it’s over, but I can’t stop him. I can barely crawl.

I can use my mouth at least.

“KAERFUL, DOKTOR EENSAID EES HEE-”

Red.

Blur.

I’m tossed like a rag doll.

Crack.

Funny. Not is does hurt much too this time. Blood much everywhere. Smear wall all over. Doesn’t drip…

“Celestia’s backside, don’t move,” I hear a quiet voice and notice Stitches is still in my hoof.

He knows better. I’m so tired. I could just go to sleep and-

“Don’t you dare! If you fall asleep after this much head trauma, you won’t wake up again. Heaiing the fire and the stab wound was one thing, but a cracked skull like this is making it really hard for me.”

“Yoo tolk a lot,” I mumble, and feel a sting on the left side of my head. I raise my foreleg-

“Don’t touch it!” Stitches warns me, “Now, you need to get out of here.”

“But Ai kant leev Kweek Treek end Grey Shrain-”

“Listen to me! They will hold for a while if they don’t do something dumb. Clear Insight is not a combat mage, I can feel it. There’s a massive difference between breaking your bones by slamming you against a stone wall, and doing it to a trained unicorn. Now, nopony is watching you. You are just sitting by the wall, slowly bleeding out. The longer this lasts, the lower chance you and they will have to survive. Do you want to help them?”

“Ai doo,” I mumble and feel blood trickle from the corner of my mouth.

“Good, now get out while you still can and get help. Anypony will do, even if they are just to distract the bad guys.”

“Okey… okey...” i whisper, slowly standing up on my trembling legs.

I can shuffle, and that will have to do.

Stairs? One… two… it gets easier after third.

I have to lean against the wall at the top of the stairs to stop everything from spinning.

Can’t waste time.

Must not waste time.

Doesn’t matter how much it hurts.

Heh, it doesn’t even hurt that much anymore. I feel like throwing up, and the rooms and halls spin from time to time, but it doesn’t hurt. In fact, I can’t feel much of anything anymore.

Oh… oh a door. Where am I? There’s a number on it. One… and something…

Hehehe, I can’t even read right now. Silly pony. Perhaps the smart pony on the other side will tell me why I’m here and where I am.

Knock knock!

A dark blue pony with brown mane opens. He has an eye as his booty mark, watching over small ponies like I am.

“Helou, meester ponee, ken yoo help-”

“GREYSCALE?! Celestia almighty, what happened to you?”

I wave the question off, it doesn’t really matter. What matters is what’s going on… somewhere down. Right… down.

Cellars, right. Friends are in trouble. I mustn’t forget again.

“Meester bloo ponee, mai frends ar beeing hurt bai d bed guys downstaers.”

“Greyscale, it’s me, Watchful. What is going on, who’s being hurt?” he shakes me.

Bad idea.

“Bluuuurgh!” I throw up all over him, “S-ree… mai hed hurts...”

He clicks his teeth, scowls, lowers me on the floor and disappears back into his room. I can’t stand back up anymore.

I need to get help.

“Meester bloo ponee, laik dark bloo ponee… ken yoo plees get… help?” I mumble quietly, “Plees?”

The midnight blue eyeball pony rushes back out, holding a bag in his hoof. He shoves it in front of my muzzle and opens it. Sharp scent of mint makes my eyes water, but cleaves through my haze like an axe through soft wood.

“W-Washfool?” I can suddenly think again. Maybe even move? I wobble my forelegs at Watchful.

“Greyscale, this will keep you awake for a while. What the hay happened to you?”

“Grey Shrain and Kweek Treek ar getteeng beeten up bai d bed guys - d haidra and doktor Eensaid becuz Ai told dem about d shenjeeleeng venim! Wee must get help!”

“What? You’re making no sense. Let me get a nurse-”

“Nou!” my eyes well up with tears, “Dey will hurt dem eevn moar. We need too hurree end get help for dem. Ai hev too, eets ol mai fault. Ai shud hev let dem poisin me end meik mee dum laik evryponee else.”

“Damn it, Greyscale! I can’t make a thing out of what you’re saying.”

“D cellers, dey ar hurteeng dem een d cellers. Dey need help!”

“Alright, I can get some wardens to-”

“D wardins ar hurteeng dem! Doktor Eensaid broke mai hed end d haidra ees puncheeng Grey Shrain sou det shee doesnt tell enyponee about d shenjeeleeng goop! We dont hev taim! Kweek Treek ees sheeldeeng, but eet wont last.”

“Okay, you stay here and I’ll go down there to see what’s going on-”

“Nou, get… get...”

“Pyre. Pyre is the only one who can help,” I hear Stitches whisper.

“I can see your mouth move, but I can’t understand, Greyscale.”

“Payr...”

“P-Pyre? Oh gods, this can turn out so wrong,” Watchful takes a long breath, “Damn it, why the hay do I trust you?”

He moves himself under my barrel, and puts me on his back.

“Steeches...” I wave for the plushie left behind.

“Geez,” he swipes it off the floor as he trots by down the hall.

The next thing I hear is knocking. How much time has passed again?

I raise my head.

“Hey, he’s up again,” I hear a female voice. Bluepony’s drugs must have worn off, because I can’t really think again.

Watchful, Watchful, right.

Oh hey, it’s Drizzle. When did she join us?

The door opens, revealing the sought red-maned, orange colt who immediately covers his mouth and his eyes go wide.

“The hell-?” is his muffled groan.

“Don’t ask me,” Watchful shrugs, “Apparently there’s something bad going on in the cellar and Greyscale escaped to get help. No, I have no clue if it’s even real, but he said you were the one to help. Drizzle heard me run by in the middle of the night and joined when she saw Greyscale like this.”

“Where are the wardens?” asks Pyre.

“Actually,” Watchful stops, “where IS everypony? There should be somepony on patrol alerted by us running around. Has everypony been called off somewhere?”

“Screw it, let’s go!” Pyre slams the door shut behind him, “Yo, pervert, give me a ride. You’re pretty athletic.”

Drizzle sweeps Pyre off of the floor and shoves him on her back.

“I’d usually tease you for that request until my next dose of pills, but Greyscale here helped me get a bit of a perspective on things.”

“I’d love to hear how that guy succeeded where the best psychiatrists in Equestria failed.”

“The right kind of empathy, Pyre.”

The colt smiles.

“Then that makes two of us. Let’s roll!”

Once again, I fall into the half-dreamy state of jerking back and forth on Watchful’s back as I’m being carried back down.

“So what the hay is going on? A little more details would help,” I hear Pyre’s voice muffled through my returning haze. 

“D haidra… beeteeng Grey Shrain… cuz of shenjeeleeng… venim. Noponee… must nou...”

“Translation, Watchful?”

“Something shady is going on, Quick Trick is apparently not completely crazy, and some Greyscale’s friend is being beaten up in the cellars. I wouldn’t believe it myself if it weren’t for the dummy’s shape, because these aren’t wounds a pony can do to himself on his own.”

“Wait, you mean the crazy idiot was really a secret agent, not a conspiracy nut?”

“Look, let’s just go and see. I don’t know much more other than Greyscale mumbling some apparent nonsense arrived at my door in the middle of the night looking as if he jumped into a blender. Alright, we’re at the cellar entrance. What now, Greyscale? Greyscale?”

Hey, somepony is talking to me? Heheh, to me… what a waste of time. But they are nice if they noticed me. 

“D koul...”

“What?”

“How about you follow the bloodstains?”

“Oh yeah. Holy stars, how much blood is in that guy?”

“Just GO!”

Things are less blurry now, and I can think a bit again. I perk up on Watchful’s back and point to the correct coal storage door.

“Dis uan!”

“Glad you’re back with us again.”

“Ai wos heer ol d taim, Washfool.”

“Of course you were. Of course.”

Silly warden. On the other hoof, my diet must be working when he totally forgot he had me on his back all the way.

“The hay?” curses Drizzle when she notices the secret door and the blood all over it, accompanied by chaos and hoofsteps from downstairs.

Crunch!

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!” Grey Shrine’s scream pierces the air. My friends all stop, intently listening to the sharp voices amidst the fighting going quiet.

“Told you, hornhead,” Chiseled Chin’s sinister chuckle follows the pained groaning, “Now, do I break your other foreleg, or can we finally give you a full dose?”

“Screw… you… how are you going to explain... us missing? The Royal Guard... will be on your backs and this time... you won’t get away with it.”

“Oh miss guard,” Clear Insight’s winded voice jumps in, “What my associate here means is that you will get a full dose of our medicine derived from, as you guessed correctly, magically enhanced changeling venom. With that, it will be quite simple to make you remember anything we want to. In fact, I have the perfect story to explain both your and Greyscale’s shape. After all, you cared so much about him to visit him after hours, and the poor confused soul went rabid and broke your leg. In your defense, you managed to crack his skull. After few sessions with me, the idiot will even believe that really happened and will apologize to everypony including you for- WHERE THE HAY IS HE?! DIDN’T ANY OF YOU MORONS THINK TO KEEP AN EYE ON HIM?” 

“His head was cracked open, I didn’t think-” a confused unknown voice clearly belonging to a warden starts.

“No, you obviously didn’t! Get out there and FIND HIM! We can’t have rumors spreading around if anypony sees him.”

“Yes, boss.”

Two quick sets of hoofsteps are approaching the stairs.

“Wee must… help...” I slide off of Watchful’s back, and despite muttered complaints I wobble back down into the nightmare.

I don’t even know how I got down so fast, but there are two of the huge wardens in front of me.

“There he is, boss!”

“Meester paip guy, plees don’t beet me anymoar,” I plop on my backside and cover my head, “Kant yoo just bee nais to dem? Dey deednt do anyteen- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

My legs… my legs… it’s like they’re on fire, but from the inside. The head wounds before were as if somepony switched me off like a light, but this hurts so bad…

“LEAVE THE POOR LITTLE GUY ALONE!”

A grey screeching blur lands on the pipe warden, viciously flailing her legs.

I’m not that little, am I? No, I’m bigger than Drizzle. I’m just not the smartest pony, so maybe she sees a bit of her colt in me?

After the initial assault, the warden recovers and punches the side of Drizzle’s head. She might be athletic and fit, but she clearly is no fighter and her rage is only going to get her so far.

Watchful passes by, charging head-first into the second warden sent to get me, but he is smaller and the bigger pony looks more like an ex-soldier similar to Chiseled Chin than the wardens I met who take care of patients. These guys apparently “take care” of problems.

I stand up despite the pain shooting through my forelegs. Grey Shrine is backing away from Chiseled Chin, her dangling foreleg glowing white along with her horn. Blurry Quick Trick is being pushed into the corner by three other wardens. Clear Insight is standing, in the middle of the chaos, eye twitching. Drizzle is now being choked out under the pipe warden, and Watchful has just been punched so hard he actually flew up into the air.

I… can’t help. I did the best I could and it wasn’t enough. Maybe… I am the problem, so maybe if I ask everypony to stay quiet about this and then take pills like a good pony they might let them go with no more fighting, maybe-

The warden about to kick Watchful in the head flares up like a bursting bonfire. In the next fraction of a second, the large room fills completely with the heavy stench of burnt flesh and hair.

The pony is dead even before his charred remains drop onto the floor.

Pyre, shaking and eyes wide, is descending the stairs and looking at the corpse with his horn glowing bright orange.   

“GET HIM, JUST KILL HIM OR HE’LL KILL US!” screams Clear Insight, and the wardens around Quick Trick turn as one, charging at the colt. Same goes for the one choking Drizzle, whose target has finally stopped moving.

“Hey, kid, focus!” Quick Trick calls out, summoning a pink shield around Pyre into which the wardens slam their hooves.

“No, you focus… agent,” growls Clear Insight, using Trick’s moment of distraction. His own horn lights up, red glow appears around Trick’s foreleg, and the pony is yanked around before slamming into the wall himself. His groan as he slides down, bleeding out of his ears and muzzle is something I now know more than well.

“Pyre,” Clear Insight yells, “You’ve just killed a pony! Just like you nearly did back in school. That time it was an accident and we tried to help you, no matter our unusual methods, but now you’re a murderer! Just imagine your parents when they hear this! That you failed them, failed to recover despite their trust and effort, the money they paid to get you in here, to the best doctors in Canterlot. Now their son is a killer, a crazy psycho who needs to be locked up behind bars. Imagine the stain on their life you’ve caused just now.”

Pyre silently opens and closes his mouth over and over, seemingly not seeing the weakening barrier stopping the wardens. Tears start streaking down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry...” he whispers, “I did it again...”

The barrier shatters, and a warden immediately tackles him, grabbing his horn and pressing it against the floor.

“Alright, two of you keep him restrained. You get the agent. We’ll se if he’s not really crazy by the time we’re done with him,” orders Clear Insight, “How about you, Chin?”

Her massive hoof whizzes past quickly dodging Grey Shrine’s face, her horseshoe sending a shower of sparks as she grazes the stone wall.

“Just start pumping them, I’ll have this one down in no time.”

She’s right. Grey Shrine is clearly a better fighter thanks to her magic, but she has nothing on earthpony resilience and stamina. A minute or two more and she’ll grow slow and unfocused enough for Chiseled Chin to break her everything.

There is only one pony who can help, and he’s currently sobbing with two wardens keeping him down. Watchful, Drizzle, and I are the ones who clearly don’t pose enough threat to be watched. I can barely move, but I can use my mouth. My stupid mouth that garbles everything my head tries tu put across, but it’s the best I have.

“Payr, PAYR! Yoo ken defend yorself. Dey ar laying too yoo! Yoo ar helpeeng us, we need yoo. Yor parents weel bee proud wen dey heer yoo helpd d gards to stop d bed guys! Just dont geev up, yor not me, yoo nou wots good end bed, yoov olweys noun eet. Just dont geev up! Yoo deednt eevn hurt mee much last taim, yoo ken kontrol yorself! Yoo ar bettr nau! Yoo ken apolojayz to ponees yoo hurt and doo better next taim, but yoo gotta keep traying!”

“SHUT UP!” the wave of acoustic rage from Clear Insight is almost physical, and I see red glow around my neck which chokes out everything I want to say further, “You retarded waste of oxygen! You caused me so much trouble that-”

WHOOOOOOSH!

The pressure stops as the doctor slowly turns to the source of the sudden noise and smell in utter disbelief.

“Aaaah aaah aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?!” the two wardens holding Pyre down are out of nowhere sitting on a small blazing sun. However, as the flames slowly creep up their hooves, the manage to jump away and roll to douse them.

“A fire elemental...” Clear Insight whispers.

Pyre, the living flame stands up, and I can see his thick suppression ring melt and turn into steam.

The wardens who try to move suddenly burst into flames which fade in the next instant. It’s a warning, and a clear one. Pyre is in full control of his power, and this time he won’t “murder” anypony. If the enemies move, it’s their freely chosen suicide.

With a swing of his hoof, he sends a ball of fire at Clear Insight who summons a shimmering barrier to protect himself. It breaks, dispersing the projectile. Clear Insight’s focused stare turns to horror when he’s the target of the second fireball a moment later. He can’t react.

Just like with the wardens, he’s shot down to the floor, but the flames are quickly doused by their maker.

“I can turn you to ash with a thought,” growls Pyre, “Just give me an excuse, you mind-breaking parasite.”

“Damn it!” Chiseled Chin curses, pouncing at Grey Shrine taking a sigh of relief.

She quickly realizes her mistake when Shrine blurs, appears in the same place but in a compeltely different pose, and throws the larger earthpony as if she was a feather towards me.

“Helou, mees haidra,” I dizzily wave at the stunned mare sliding closer and closer along the floor, “Aaah?!”

As it turns out, she’s not stunned at all, and turns the slide into a roll which lands her behind me. Out of nowhere, two muscular forelegs clamp around my neck and I’m dragged upwards, choking and flailing.

“If you want to see the idiot who ruined this sweet schtick with his neck broken, feel free to make a wrong move,” she threatens and changes her grip slightly. I can now breathe, but she has her hooves on the sides of my head, ready to twist.

“I’ll roast you alive, very slowly...” Pyre stares at her but doesn’t move.

“Well, that won’t bring this guy back to life, will it? Now, you will let us go, and you will not call the guards until tomorrow, and you might even see this miserable sack of flesh again. If not-”

This is all wrong! Have they all forgotten their mythology? I have to remind them what to do or they will lose.

“Nou nou nou nou, Payr,” I mince words as fast as I can, “Shees a haidra sou yoo kant just burn her uan hed. Sheel just grow moar end moar end weel end up eevn moar denjerous! Yood hev to keep doeeng dat over end over unteel shee grows too menee heds for her bodee too fill wit blood end only den will shee fall unconshius.”

Oh my god, I’m a genius! Umm why is everypony staring at me, completely stumped? Right, that has to be my super smart idea. Wait, I’m about to tell them first, and then they’ll really be surprised.

“Does enyponee nou eef haidras ken grou legs too? Becuz eef we cut off her legs den sheel grou moar end wee ken sell dem to greefons for sneks forever end weel get infineet moneez!”

Why does my head hurt so bad? Uhh, where am I? Oh well, there are friends all around me so it must be alright.

What was I talking about?

I don’t even know anymore.

“How did such a retarded moron ruin this entire operation?” I hear a disbelieveing whisper by my ear 

The grip on my head and neck loosens up, and I slide onto the floor, covering my head.

“Trick, shield my legs, please!” I hear Grey Shrine.

Hoofsteps rush past me.

A thud makes me look up.

Grey Shrine, her both forelegs glowing, is standing atop Chiseled Chin with her muzzle unnaturally smooshed and clearly unconscious.  The unicorn mare looks at me, smiling… proudly?

“Now, Trick, can you please keep my leg from breaking completely while I pass out from the FREAKING PAIN?” her eyes roll back, but the glow around her legs doesn’t fade, “Thank… you...”

After telekinetically lowering Grey Shrine down, Quick Trick summons ropes which tie Chiseled Chin, Clear Insight, and every single warden excluding Watchful up.

“You, Pyre, can you melt my damn suppressor? Even small tricks like this one exhaust me far more than they should,” molten steel drips onto his head, “Ow ow ow ow ow… thanks.”

The flames surrounding Pyre’s body fade, leaving only the orange unicorn colt, beaming despite the situation.

“I KNEW I could control it,” he looks at me, “With some encouragement, of course.”

I feel like I’m home.

“Aim not krayzee,” I mumble.

Watchful, awake and tending to Drizzle who apparently faked her unconsciousness gives me a relieved grin.

“No, maybe a bit simple and confused, but definitely not crazy.”

“Gud… Ai ken work… wit seemple...”

And finally the adrenaline drains away…

I can… sleep…

Everything is… alright.

It’s dark… but nothing hurts anymore.


***


Two days have passed since the chaos in the cellars, and once again everypony was surprised by my quick recovery. Well, not exactly full recovery since I still randomly feel a bit dizzy and my forelegs hurt all the time, but my brain isn’t leaking anymore and I can somewhat uncomfortably walk. What really happened is a bit of a blur, and a lot of phantom pain, but the others seem to recall everything clearly and that is far more important. After all, I could keep trying to explain it to the newsponies and guards now swarming Border Glades and questioning everypony, but it’s much better when somepony who can speak properly does so.

Anyway, I’m enjoying my time in the unfortunately too familiar infirmary, because the nurses don’t let the newsponies visit me, and they bring me food and even snacks from the bar FOR LUNCH AND DINNER! I mean, they did it twice, because I slept through most of the past two days, but the thought counts.

As I sit in a chair by the window, watching the carts and various newspony assistants bringing coffee, tea, and writing implements, the door behind me opens. Strange, it’s not meal time yet, and I was told to stay put until I completely recovered.

“Good morning, Greyscale,” says a pleasant female voice, “How are you feeling?”

“Helou, mees Shrain,” I look at her and turn Stitches in my lap to see her too, “Aim olrait. Hau about yoo?”

“Tired, honestly. The pen maniacs outside never cease to bother me. I’ve already done interviews for thirteen newspapers from Appleloosa to Manehattan, and there are even more coming. I had no idea this would be so huge, but it seems Clear Insight was quite the catch for them. Anyway, they’ve been asking about the big hero who broke the conspiracy apart.”

“Ai teenk Payr ees een hees room.”

“You, dummy,” she boops my nose.

“Ai deed noteeng,” I lean back. If they think I am responsible for stopping… whatever was going on then perhaps they should be locked in here. I’m still not sure what exactly happened. Something about drugging the patients with weird stuff to stop them from recovering or something?

“You did a lot,” Grey Shrine shakes her head, “Oh, I almost forgot. Your friend Drizzle said to give you her goodbye before she left.”

“Left? Wot?”

“Watchful told me about her situation. She asked the guards to reopen her rape case with the belief she now understands what she did wrong. She left Border Glades yesterday while you were asleep, well - unconscious again, but she wanted you to visit her in prison if you can.”

“Ou,” I lower my head, feeling my ears splay back.

“Come on, she was happy, Greyscale. This way she’ll serve her sentence which will be significantly shorter due to her admission, and see her colt again in… I think about a year with good behaviour. It’s much better than to be locked up here for another two or three before going in front of a jury, losing the case, and sitting behind bars for another ten to fifteen. You helped a lot.”

“Ai gess… Ai just wonted everyteeng to bee over end her to see her colt nau.”

“Reality rarely works out like stories do, but a good end is a good end.”

“Ken Ai bee een a storee?”

“You definitely are a bit of a hero, although a weird one. Speaking of which, you actually can if you want to talk to the newponies. I’m sure they’ll post your picture all over Equestria.”

“That must not happen, no matter what!” says Stitches.

“What did you mutter there, Greyscale?”

“Ai… Ai… ken yoo geev me a moument to teenk?”

“Sure. I’ll hop in to the common room bar. Do you want something?”

“Orenj joos, plees.”

“I’ll be right back,” she pats my head and leaves.

“Wot wos det about?” I ask my guard plushie.

“You… trust me, do you?” Stitches asks.

“Aim not shure enymoar eef yor reel, but yoo deed help a lot.”

“I have to settle for that. Now, you can’t be publicly seen. If your face gets out there, somepony smart will put two and two together.”

“Fohr?”

“Exactly. Look, ponies aren’t always nice. Well, they USUALLY aren’t. You see, there are some really bad ponies after you.”

“Ai ken ask Grey Shrain for help den.”

“No, you can’t. Guards won’t be on your side when they find out, not even your friends. They have to obey the law, and you… broke it.”

What? Did I do something bad?

“Deed Ai hurt someponee?”

“No, at least not directly. It’s not in your nature.”

I take a sigh of relief.

“Ken Ai apolojayz?”

“No. The best you can do now is trust me, and disappear. Become a shadow nopony notices like you used to be. For your own safety, you have to leave before any smart papparazi gets a glimpe of you and manages to take a photo.“

I don’t know why, but for some reason I KNOW he’s telling the truth. Anyway, Eclipse gave Stitches to me to keep me safe, and now he’s warning me of danger.

“Ken Ai sey goodbay to evryponee?”

“I wish you could, I really do, but they wouldn’t understand, and if you had to explain… the guards would no longer be friends, as I said.”

Why do I trust him?

“Aww...” I start taking off my patient gown, bite off a piece, and fold it into a makeshift bag into which I shove few candy bars I got from the nurses.

“Look at it like this - you did immense amount of good here already. You’ve proved Watchful is trustworthy so he keeps his job here and gets a promotion. Drizzle is successfully on a way to redemption. Pyre will be returning to the School for Gifter Unicorns soon instead of rotting here. Clear Insight is behind bars where he belongs along with Chiseled Chin and their mooks. The patients here will be significantly better off now as well.”

Did I do all that? Wow, that sounds like something what a real smart pony would do. I got really lucky then. Unfortunately, if I have to leave in order to stop my friends becoming my not-friends and regret knowing me, then snacks and free lunches are a worthy sacrifice.

Opening the door, I peek outside. There is an unusual amount of voices coming from all over the place, but this hallway is mostly empty. The newsponies must have been told not to roam around the infirmary. With Stitches firmly planted on my back, I walk straight towards the Border Glades entrance. My best bet is that the visitors will think I’m just another patient and not the witness they are looking for, and I’ll be able to pass easily.

The lobby is swarming with ponies, but majority of them are crowding the poor receptionist’s desk, and the others are sitting on their own or in groups, writing into small notepads. Sticking to the walls, I manage to get to the main door.

“You really should take one of those, it’s still winter and will be for a long time,” whispers Stitches as my eyes pass an umbrella stand.

“But none  of dose ar main.”

“Think of it like this - they are getting rich off of what you did. The least they can do for you is help a bit so you don’t get snowed on. You know what? Take two.”

If they’re making  that much money off of this story, then shouldn’t I take all of them? I look through the glass door into the snowy gardens, then back at the umbrella stand. I’m not a pony to steal, but there’s something to what Stitches is saying, so I take one at random.

“Out of the way,” a busy pony rushes through just as I’m about to pass.

As the door swings back, I go through. The frozen air bites the skin underneath my coat. I got used to the warmth inside, but I know this cold is more familiar than anything. It’s where I belong. Taking the curved umbrella handle into my mouth, I make my way down the main garden road. I kind of miss the talking collar, but that has been taken away from me while I was sleeping because nopony knew what possible side-effects its wearing might have. They all thought Clear Insight possibly made the collars into some diabolic devices, but to me they were just chatty mejic lokkits. I miss the nice talking lady inside mine.

Thanks to all the visiting ponies and probably the chaos caused by all personnel being questioned, the main gate is unguarded, letting me easily slip past amidst the visitors pouring in and out. Without my patient gown, nopony gives me a second glance.

Should I leave for the countryside? I don’t think so. Everything I remember is the mountainside city, and if my situation is as bad as Stitches said, nopony would think about looking for me back where I started.

With that in mind, I set onto the long road through lower Canterlot and back into the upper city halfway up the mountain. In the end, my hooves are stinging from the cold, I can barely feel my legs, but with the familiar place firmly mapped inside my mind, I find my good old alley where I used to sleep when the boiler room was occupied.

It even comes with a box of some old radio parts and newspapers right next to the dumpster. It doesn’t take long to spread the papers around for isolation, drag the top of the dumpster open so that it forms an overhang above my new home, and lock the umbrella in place to stop the wind from getting into my little corner.

Mostly safe from the elements, I poke the cardboard.

Just for fun, really…

“Hee hee, boks.”

I’m back where I belong, right into the trash. Well, next to it. I don’t smell that bad.

In a good way, I mean.
> 23
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aah aah aah aah,” I try to shake some feeling back into my chilly hooves.

Lying curled up in my box was relaxing for few moments, but time goes on, and I eventually notice the unpleasant smell all around isn’t just the dumpster. Having spent far too much time in bed without a proper shower definitely left my scent a bit ‘natural’.

Or maybe it really is just the rotting food.

I sniff under my foreleg.

Nope, it’s me as well.    So, I’m back where I started, but all wise and smart after all that’s happened! Now, what is the smarter me going to do about the situation? Last time I woke up I knew what to do, I knew to go to the castle and look for a job which needed no experience.

What do I know now?

I know that I’m really cold, I’m somewhat hungry, I stink, and I have no bits. Hmmm… not good, not good, but nothing overwhelming.

My stomach grumbles. I pat it just so it knows I’m thinking about food too. It’s good to ensure your bodyparts that you care. Maybe.

Alright, food first. To get food, I need bits.

“Eny aideeyas were to get fud, Steeches?” I ask the plushie sitting in the box next to me. He doesn’t answer. I guess he’s still tired from all that thinking about how to get out of Border Glades and avoid newsponies or guards. I’ll just let him rest in the box for now. Perhaps he’ll think of something when I return.

The plan is simple, that’s good. I need simple. First, I need bits… or do we need bits? Do plushies eat? I haven’t seen Stitches nom anything yet, but he’s a sneaky fellow. Even if he’s partially only in my head or something. No reason to think too hard about it.

Don’t get distracted, head! I’m hungry here. Food. That means money. Money means a job. A job means being clean. If that doesn’t work, I need to rummage through some trash cans around restaurants like I used to which would make me dirty again. Hmmm…

Alright, my old routine used to work so let’s stick to it. That means the fountain first. 

As I’m walking through Canterlot, I draw some glances due to being pretty much the only pony around without any clothes, but I avoid further attention by sticking to the alleys and side streets where my smell goes unnoticed. No reason to bother the nice ponies yet. Some half an hour later, I’m in a small public park with a fountain still flowing even in this cold. I suspect magic is involved, or some clever engineering.

Hmm, I’m not too keen on jumping inside. Let’s take it slow.

“Aaaaaa!” the first contact is quite the shock. The icy water is like needles being stabbed into my forelegs. However, I know I can walk that off later, now I need to just push through the pain.

Alright, change of plans. Let’s make this as quick as possible.

Jumping inside, I immediately regret my decision, but soon I feel some sort of inner warmth fighting the freezing water. I’ve clearly forgotten how this felt, because it is quite the ordeal. I think I just got too used to warm beds, warm food, warm warmth.

“Hey, what are you doing in there?” somepony calls out.

“W-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-w-” I look at the approaching pony, unable to get anything out through my chattering teeth. Wiping the water out of my eyes, I notice the pony has a helmet and a gold-foiled armor.

A guard!

I bolt, straight away from the curious peacekeeper. Soon I’m leaving just a cloud of snow behind as the water freezes all over my coat. I’m sorry, mister guardspony, I know you must be nice, but I apparently am not or something, I’m not sure. 

Now I remember why I used to wash myself in the early morning, not this late. Nopony is around at those times.

A quick turn of my head two streets later, I notice he isn’t following me. It can’t be easy, running in full platemail. I slow down so that I don’t have to gasp for the freezing air. The short and brisk gallop helped my blood flow, though, and the water isn’t dripping off of me anymore. 

Nevermind, that’s because I’m now walking with an icy crust all over myself. Fresh, clean, not-smelling freezing crust. Maybe I should keep trotting.

It’s getting really bad, I’m shivering even while running. Few minutes later, I can barely feel my fetlocks. Even I know that’s not good.

Passing by a pizza place, I finally have a good alley to hide from the wind. I remember this shop! They have a huge oven right by the wall which keeps it warm even out here. It takes only a moment to find the correct spot, and soon I’m standing pressed against the wall as at least some feeling returns to my limbs. 

I turn around and warm myself up for a long while, but minutes passing are the least of my worries. Alright, legs working again, not coughing anymore, I think it’s time to look for lunch.

The smaller trash cans come first. Considering I’m right next to the shop-bakery-place, it’s unlikely I’m going to find rotten stuff, but rather misshapen orders and remains the staff didn’t eat.

Bingo!

There are a bunch of pizza boxes, and it looks like somepony didn’t like crusts. I find one box with full circle of crust cut off. That’s enough for a whole day, two if I’m desperate. Alright, let’s dig through a bit more.

Oooh, I can take the boxes as well for some insulation under my living box.

After some sorting out, I think I’m done with my scavenging for today. Three pizza boxes, crusts aplenty, one actual slice of pineapple and cheese somepony didn’t finish. 

I. Am. Set!

Alright. With the real pizza bit inside me, I can go back, hide the bits and pieces I found, and look for some simple job. 

Do I have to rush? No, let’s spend few more minutes with my back against the warm wall. The wet hair of my coat has frozen over again while I was searching, and I’m shivering once more in the creeping cold.

Warmed up again, I set out on a trip home. Grey clouds are hanging over Canterlot, it’s snowing lazily, so I’m not under any huge pressure, and it is early afternoon, unless I completely forgot how to read the big clock on a tower I’m passing by. The streets are definitely livelier than before as the numerous balls of fur and clothes trudging through the snow show.

Huh, no time to waste, right?

I approach a pony wearing a heavy coat, a woolen cap, and other bits and bobs protecting against cold. 

“Helou, mem. Ken Ai ask yoo were Ai cud get a job?”

“Get away from me, you disgusting hobo!” she chokes up, immediately shoving her hoof to her muzzle and backing away.

I sniff around and give her an apologetic smile.

“Soree, Ai forgot Ai smel bed. Bai, mem.”

She huffs, tosses me a bit, and trots off.

Oops, I did it the wrong way around. I should have gone through the trash first, THEN washed in the fountain. I even planned it like that. Though I’m not a smart pony, so mistakes are bound to happen. I’m guessing I’ll do this three or four times again maximum.

I can’t blame the pony for being annoyed, I stink of garbage again. Bleh. Okay, okay, so that part of today didn’t work out as I imagined, but I got enough food and that’s what counts. It’s time to go home, get out of the wind and snow, and rethink some small details. On the other hoof, I GOT A BIT! FOR TOTALLY FREE!

Real ponies are the bestest! 

“Tank yoo!”

She rushes off.

A meal, a bit, and spare cardboard? Can this day get any better?

It can, because by the time I return to my alley, the snow stops falling completely. It’s still freezing, and my nose is completely stuffed, but that’ll ease up when I get away from the wind.

I hear scratching and skittering as I enter the shadowy alley coming from behind the big dumpster. It can’t be Stitches, can it? Is he a real pony now?

“Steeches?” I rush to my box hidden from anypony looking from the main street.

Inside it, sitting under the umbrella and next to Stitches, is a… pony? He… she… I have no idea which it is… is pitch black and is watching me with wide, completely blue eyes, no pupils, irises or anything at all, just big, sky-blue eyes. Well, not today sky blue, which is grey, but blue sky blue. Oh, and it has huge, sharp teeth, two fangs even. And a small horn like unicorns have… and holes in its hooves? That creature is weird, although who am I to talk? I know so little. Who’s to say this buggy pony isn’t a normal resident of Canterlot?

It doesn’t have hair over its body, only those black… plates? Like a…

“Ar yoo a buckponee?”

The poor guy is shaking all over, his eyes darting from side to side.

“W-what?”

“A buckponee, laik a buck end ponee. Dey gou bzzzt end flai,” I wave my forelegs as fast as I can to imitate fly wings.

He tilts his head, now more confused than scared… or cold. Still, it’s an improvement.
“You’re not… scared?”

“Yoo hev beeg teeth but yor smol. Doo yoo eet ponees?”

His fidgeting resumes.

“Maaaaaaybe.”

“Eeeeeh...” now I’m nervous. The teeth are rather scary, “Ken Ai et leest get mai boks bek? Or Steeches. Nou, Steeches first.”

“Steeches? Wait, YOU live here?” he waves his leg around my box and umbrella, “Did you mean this plushie?” he picks Stitches up and presents him to me.

I take him with no resistance. Good, no hostage situaiton.

“Yes. Ai ken faind a boks eef yoo reely wont dis uan. Yoo ken keep d umbrella too. Ai ken geev yoo a leg eef yoo let d rest gou, but only uan. Ai need d rest too wolk on.”

He blinks few times.

“So… you put those things here? This morning, right?”

How does this relate to how I taste?

“Yes,” I nod.

“That’s pretty crafty, especially how the umbrella protects from the wind. Shouldn’t it be directly above in case something falls from the roof?”

“Uhh, Ai ken show yoo. Eef yoo dont eet mee Ai meen.”

“I’m not… particularly hungry right now, so you’re safe. Unless you start calling other ponies, then I’m in- I mean then you’re in trouble.”

“Ponees dont com heer becuz of d smell,” I drop the pizza boxes on the cobblestones and sit down next to the bugpony. The box becomes rather cramped very quickly, “Weit, ar yoo a hee buckponee or a shee buckponee?” 

“I buck everything that goes my way, if you know what I mean,” it laughs.

“Ummm, nou. Wai wud yoo keek evryponee?”

“I didn’t mean buck as in kick, I meant- you’re not the brightest bulb around, are you?”

“Ai dont glou.”

“Alright, I’m a he, although it doesn’t really mean much. Why did you ask anyway?”

“Aim not suppousd too touch mares een sum pleises end dis boks ees too smol eef we ar sitteeng laik dis.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Okey,” I reach my forelegs upwards and pull the dumpster lid open, which means sliding it above us, “Dere, nau we hev a ruf end d umbrella on d said.”

“Oh queen’s long legs, that’s genius!” he looks at the small trash heap I brought with me, “And what about those pizza boxes?”

I push myself out of the crowded living box, open the first pizza one, and show the bugpony the crumbs, “Fud,” then I point at the others and at the cobbles under him, “Eensuleyshun.”

He stares, mouth slightly agape. After a moment he shakes his head.

“So, you’re not scared of me.”

“Not reely, unless yoo trai to bait mee. Den Ail be scared.”

“Well, I don’t exactly eat ponies, per se. Just love, affection, friendship… lust. Feelings, emotions.”

“Ai hev sum of det.”

“A little, yes. Some regret about lost friends, a lot of fear, but a lot of general… love. Ambient positive feelings.”

“Yoo ken see det? Dats ausum!”

“Definitely a useful ability. You see, what I eat grows back quickly if I don’t overdo it.”

“Dets better den eeting a leg.”

“It certainly is. Most ponies get scared of it, though.”

Hey, I’ve got an idea. Positive feelings, right? He didn’t bite me, that’s positive.

“Do yoo eet hugs?”

“What?”

“Ai ken geev yoo a hug.”

“Can’t hurt to try, I guess?”

I pick the shockingly light bugpony up, sit down into the box, put him into my lap, hug him from behind, and give him Stitches to hold. He’s hard as a rock, but eventually eases himself to my embrace.

See? Even bugponies are great no matter them being hard and cold. NOTHING IS HUGPROOF!

“I… I think this box is big enough for two.”

“End Steeches.”

“Alright, for three.”

Food, a bit, spare cardboard, and a friend in one day? I am the luckiest pony alive.

With my legs wrapped around my new black friend, I gradually warm up again. After a while, he burps.

“Huh, that went way better than I imagined,” he covers his mouth.

“Wot deed?”

“I ate a bit of your affection. It’s kind of general and unfocused, but tastes good nonetheless.”

“Ai dont feel eetn.”

“That’s good. I’d hate to hurt somepony feeding me willingly.”

“Ai dont wont to hurt enyponee too.”

“Well, I’m not exactly a pony, so...”

“Buckponee?”

“I’m a changeling.”

That rings a bell! Time to impress my new friend with a bit of knowledge.

“Oh, a shenjeeleenk? Yoo hev venim,” I beam at him.

He looks at me, brows furrowed.

“Uhhh, we… do,” he hops out of our box, “You know, that’s not exactly a thing that makes ponies comfortable around us. Well, neither does our chitin, weird eyes, sharp teeth and… you don’t care about any of that, do you?”

“Doo yoo hurt ponees?”

“No. Kinda would make it hard to feed on positive feelings if we hurt you, wouldn’t it? I personally do the opposite, actually.”

“Den eets ol gud.”

He stares at me for a moment, then shakes his head.

“You mean it, you actually mean it,” he turns around, pointing at my pizza mess, “So, what do we do with this? Insulation, you said?”

Well, time to get to work upgrading the shelter. Thankfully, I can feel my legs again and my coat has dried out at least a little. I’m strangely chilly from the inside, but it’s a new weird feeling, not the freezing all over one, so there’s no reason to worry too much yet.

Now, we need to put some pizza boxes under our living box, hide the one with the crumbs so that nopony finds it and I don’t need to go through garbage again too soon. I’d prefer avoiding full-body fountain baths for some time.

“Wai ar yoo een mai boks enywey?” I ask while stomping a pizza box to be flat and more stable.

The changeling hiding in the shadows and doing the same answers:

“I’ve lived here for few weeks. Got a word from a… friend that a changeling can make it in Canterlot if he’s careful and doesn’t cause a fuss. You know, the ponies are scared of us thing.”

“Yor not TOO scaree.”

“Tell that to villagers with torches and pitchforks. Trust me, they don’t like us and throw stuff at us on sight.”

“Uhh, meybee dose ar geefts?”

“Rocks and bottles on fire aren’t gifts. Look, ponies don’t like us, and I can’t blame them. The changelings in the Hive aren’t even remotely friendly to ponies as well. Guys like me who just try to live in a city are different.”

“So, hau do yoo… uhh, work eef yoo kant leev d alley?”

“I can shapeshift. You know, CHANGEling.”

Heheh, I kinda forgot.

Hey, here’s an idea. I look at the last inhabitant of our living box.

“Hey, Steeches, ar yoo a shenjeeleen- shenjeeling?”

Stitches stares at me stoically. Oh well, it was worth a try.

“Your plushie isn’t a changeling. It’s just a plushie. We can recognize another changeling even in a disguise.”

I shrug. He’s the shapeshifting bugpony. Who am I to doubt him?

“Okey.”

“Do you want to see how we transform?”

“Doo yor bones krak end yoo howl end ol dat?”

He raises an eyebrow, or he would if he had any. Alright, his eye makes the motion it would if he had an eyebrow to raise and did so.

“That wouldn’t be too sneaky now, would it? No, just look,” he focuses, green flames out of nowhere rush over his whole body, and in the next instant there stands a-

“Yor a maer!”

“At the moment, yes,” says the rather catching light blue pegasus mare with pink eyes and a long tongue for a cutie mark.

“Soree for touching yoo eensaid d boks, mem. Ai deednt meen-”

She facehoofs.

“It’s still me. Don’t worry about it. So, when I do my business with ponies, I look like this. Being a mare makes them more… receptive,” she presents a hoof, “The name’s Tender Feather.”

I know this one! I had time to practice.

I take her hoof and shake it.

“Greyscale, mem.”

The burst of totally-not-hot fire envelops Tender Feather again, and her… his changeling form returns. I wish we could have used that for some heat.

“Cool, isn’t it?”

“Reely prettee,” I nod, “So ar yoo a mail shenjeeling or a laydee shenjee-”

“We don’t have genders! Technically, I mean… you know, physically. We can transform into anyone we need. I’ve always thought of myself as a stallion, though.”

“End yoo deesguys yorself as a maer.”

“Look, my feeding place is a brothel in the mountainside part of town. It’s a LOT easier to feed off of lust as a mare, trust me.”

“Olrait.”

Aaand, our box improvement is done. Now it sits atop a small dias made from pieces of cardboard.

Come to think of it, it wasn’t such a great upgrade. Oh well, it’s just day one. I’ll get some more materials later.

Idea!

“Hey, doo yoo need a help at work? Laik sumponee to kleen stuff?”

“You’ll need a strong stomach to clean down there.”

“Ai yoosd to kleen a lot een d barraks. Ol d sheefts wolking over d pleis. D floors were olways dirtee.”

“It can’t hurt to ask, sure. I’m there every night so I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yor d best!” I hug him again.

“Heheh, hey, calm down. If I get too fat we won’t fit into this box.”

“Yoo ken just shenje eento a sleem shenjeeling den.”

“It doesn’t work like- nevermind,” he rubs his muzzle against my neck, “A snack is a snack.”

It’s starting to snow again. I guess I can have a rest after such an eventful time. I’ll have to go look for some blanket or something later, but for now-

I curl up inside the box and Feather fits himself into the remaining space. Stitches, being the good guardsplushie he is, goes on top to shield us from any snow that gets around the dumpster lid and the umbrella.

The final piece of cardboard flies over and covers us.

“Yoo ken yoos mejic?”

“Just telekinesis.”

My new friend is so cool! Real ponies and now even real changelings disguised as unreal ponies are amazing.
> 24
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

My stomach rumbles, and a sharp spike of pain makes me open my eyes. I was sleeping, staving off the morning frost by being curled up around Stitches. My living box covered with a pizza box is a decent shelter, although I’m still cold everywhere that isn’t touching my plushie. Unfortunately, while I was able to deal with the frost and focus on the ball of warmth in my center, I can’t ignore the hunger, so I get up and greet the new day. 

It’s dark, with only the faintest glimmer from the grey sky heralding the dawn of the new day. My stomach is smart, waking me up early enough so that this time I don’t have to rush my morning soak. I pat my belly to show my appreciation, and open my storage pizza box. The crusts from yesterday are cold and hard, but food is food and I finish a third of my supplies. I’ll have to go scavenging again tomorrow unless I find either a job or something edible while I’m looking for one. 

Hoofsteps followed by a yawn come from the alley entrance, making me peek out from behind the dumpster. Tender Feather is stumbling through the thin layer of snow with a small saddlebag on her back, yawning over and over. She looks from side to side, then behind her, then she quietly slips out of street view, and with a burst of green fire transforms back to a changeling who yawns again, although with the teeth it’s much scarier now.

He pats my side.

“Morning, Greyscale.”

“Helou, Fedder.”

“Damn, I’m beat! Fridays are usually the worst, but this one was close. Six clients in one night, and all wanted a full package. I’m about ready to pass out.”

“Yoo ken hev d boks for yorself. Ai need to wosh up end look for a job,” I hop out of the box, positioning Stitches into the corner. I want to take him with me for advice and protection, but I don’t want to get him wet.

On the other hoof, when he’s on my back, he covers the back of my neck from the wind really well. I think the pluses outweigh the minuses here. Definitely.

Grabbing Stitches again, I position him onto my back.

“Hey, one thing before you go,” Feather looks up at me from inside the box, and opens his saddlebag, levitating a dark green towel towards me, “I asked for few bits as an advance payment for the month. I wasn’t really certain about pony prices, so I didn’t know how much I needed. It turned out they didn’t give me enough for a bedsheet, but I bought two towels. Considering in what shape I met you yesterday, I think it was a good buy. I’ll keep the one as a cover here.”

I pluck the hovering towel from the air.

“For mee?” my eyes mist over, “But wee just met. Yoo ar d best, Fedder,” I lean down and hug the sitting changeling.

He breathes out very slowly.

“This tastes… so much better than any of my clients.”

I stay like this until I feel the strange creeping inside chill again. Can it be some side-effect of changeling eating hugs? Probably.

“Tank yoo for d touel, Fedder,” I break the embrace, “Ail gou luk for a job again.”

He smacks his hooves together.

“Right, I almost forgot! I asked around and got an address for you. If you go there, you should be able to get a warm meal once a day. They called it a soup kitchen, or something.”

“Ai dont nou hau to kook.”

He shrugs.

“Look, just check it out. I asked for a ‘friend without much work experience’ and one of the mares at the brothel told me about this. Maybe they’ll just need somepony to wash dishes or something. It’s supposed to be somewhere on Scatterdust street. Look for a smelly, dirty restaurant. Their words, not mine.”

“Det meiks sense,” I nod, “Tank yoo very mush, Fedder.”

“Don’t mention it. It’s the least I can do,” he yawns again and blinks, each eye out of sync, “Alright, I’m about to pass out. Have a nice day, Greyscale.”

“Gud nite, Fedder,” I watch as he wraps his towel around himself as a blanket and levitates a pizza box as a lid for our living one.

Well, I’ve got a ton of stuff to do, Stitches is on my back and ready. Let’s go!

The street lights are off already, so the morning is gloomy and dim. During my trip to the fountain through majority of Canterlot, I pass by at most ten ponies, three of whom are guards. Thankfully, it seems like they aren’t looking for me so I don’t need to run or hide. The best thing is that it isn’t snowing, it’s only crackling cold. The early morning frost makes me a little paranoid about the fountain, but I gather my courage, sit Stitches onto an adjacent bench, and slooooowly get used to the icy water. It has some advantages over just jumping in, mainly in lessening the shock, but pretty soon I’m shaking and having trouble breathing as my barrel tightens up. Far too soon to be done washing, though.

When the cold becomes too much to handle, which means when I can barely feel my fetlocks and my legs are numb as well, I unsteadily pull myself over the fountain rim and grab Feather’s gift towel. I must thank him again when I come back, the thing is a lifesaver in this weather. Frozen, wet lifesaver. Hmmm…

After thoroughly squeezing all remaining water I can get out of it, I fold it into a neat square, put it onto my back right behind Stitches, and set out for the main objective for today - this “soup kitchen” place.

By the time I finally find Scatterdust street the day is in full swing. Not too surprisingly, it is in the cheap part of upper Canterlot which lies by the mountainside. A bit more surprisingly, when I see it I realize I know the place, or at least I’ve passed by it multiple times when I worked at the barracks. As I said, I used to walk around Canterlot often just to pass time, I just never bothered to learn the street names.

The soup kitchen occupies the ground floor of some apartment complex, although it has its own entrance. From the street it looks completely unmarked other than a small plaque right above the double door currently letting out two shabby looking ponies who smell like I did before I took my morning frosty bath. The plaque reads “Sunlight’s Mercy”.

I knock on the door.

Nothing.

I knock again.

“Move!” grunts somepony, pushes me aside, and simply opens the door while grumbling, “Damn newbies.”

From his smell of trash and… something acrid, beard visible even through several scarves, and long, greasy mane peeking in patches from underneath his dirty woolen cap I have my doubts he’s an employee. So, all I do is just walk inside?

I guess I’ll have to analyze the inner workings of this place as I go.

The large open room with tables spread out evenly all over smells unpleasantly natural, but in the background there lies a scent which makes my stomach register its voting rights and immediately cast a ballot in favor of eating whatever smells that delicious. There is a line of homeless ponies standing by a counter, each carrying a small, papery-looking bowl with a spoon. For some reason, the ponies look agitated…

...no, most of them are patiently and quietly waiting, but about a third of the visitors are muttering complaints and tapping on the glass separating the counter’s contents from them.

Step one - acquire one of those throwaway spoon and bowl sets.

As I walk around in search for my disposable targets, finally spot several tall stacks of them, and take my first steps towards them, a mare wearing a white apron interrupts me.

“Thanks stars, here you are! Go grab a ladle and start pouring, the troublemakers are getting restless.” 

“Ummm,” I stop myself and shrug. I guess I’ll just have to earn my keep before I can get my meal, “Olrait. Were ees eet?”

The mare gives me a confused look.

“I’ll give you a proper tour of the place later, but for now consider it a trial by fire,” she takes off her apron and tosses it over my neck. Then she waves at me and rushes off through a door leading probably to the kitchen. A second later her head peeks out again and points, “The ladle is by the vats, get serving, newbie! Only one bowl for each pony, chop chop!”

My stomach protests, grumbling that it wants food now. Come on, you had few crusts only over two hours ago, don’t be greedy. I walk to the staff side of the counter and put Stitches down onto the floor where he won’t get in the way.

Anyway, the sooner I’m done the sooner I can get my portion. Grabbing the ladle with my mouth, I shove it into the hot, delicious-smelling vat, take the first bowl from the pony in the queue, and fill it. It’s a little messy and a bit drips out, but the earthpony doesn’t complain, just takes his food, and from the corner of my eye I can see him sit down on a bench at one of the tables.

Huh, come to think of it, most ponies here are earthponies. 

“Canterlot, the unicorn bastion, isn’t too kind to country ponies trying to make a new life here,” I hear a familiar voice I haven’t heard since the asylum, “We are a bunch of unapologetic racists, to be honest.”

“Steeches?” I mutter.

“Nothing. Keep serving.” 

‘We’? But Stitches is a batpony, and a plushie. Could it be that plushy batponies are the real power behind unicorns?

Probably not. No, definitely not. Well, he knows what he’s talking about, I just serve food. I’m also gaining precious work experience, which means now I can look for a job flopping stew into bowls as well as cleaning. That’s practically DOUBLING my future options.

Hectic hours pass, interrupted only by a pair of stallions repeatedly walking out of the kitchen, carrying new vats of vegetable stew, some ponies thanking me, some ponies complaining they aren’t getting enough, and my growing hunger.

Another bowl is shoved under the glass pane shielding the vats. When I look up, I notice the pony looks vaguely familiar.

“Deednt Ai olredy geev yoo a boul?” I ask, examining the stallion. Everypony here looks similar in their rags and multiple layers of old clothes, but I could swear this guy was here less than an hour ago. 

“No.”

“Reelee? Yoo look familier, ser.”

“Shut up and give me the damn food, retard!” he raises his voice, “How the buck do you expect us to survive on only a bowl of this slop?” when I don’t move the ladle, he bangs at the glass again, “I know you can barely speak, moron, so grab the ladle with your useless mouth and SERVE!”

The others take a few steps away from the increasingly angry pony. Now I wish I was a vat so that the glass would be protecting me too.

“But Aim not aloud too geev moar den uan boul to a ponee.”

“You have more than enough of that stuff, I’m STARVING! I don’t know who’s feeding you and wiping your braindead ass, but you don’t know how bad it is out there in the snow!”

“Ai doo.”

“NO, YOU DON’T!” he screams. Nopony seems to want to get involved and they shuffle further away, so I’m on my own in this one, “Now give me the damn food or I’ll smear your muzzle all over the glass.” 

If I learned something in the asylum, it’s that I definitely shouldn’t get into a hoof fight.

“But odders need d fud too-”

He slams his hoof into the glass, making it crack.

“I’ve been on the streets all winter, idiot, shoving snow into my mouth so I had something to drink! I’ve slept under the bridges between wizard towers so that I had a small strip of road without snow for myself. I’ve eaten moldy bread from the trash just to survive, isn’t that enough for you?!”

Oooh, he just needs some pointers. Maybe if I share my tips with him he’ll be less mad.

“Umm, deres a fawnteen were yoo ken drink for free end eet pours ol d taim, yoo ken get a free boks een wich yoo ken sleep without snow boddering yoo too much, end deres a bunch of fuud shops wich throw leftovers away so det yoo ken get dem.”

Unfortunately, he’s shaking now, and it doesn’t look like he’s about to gratefully hug me.

“YOU PATHETIC-”

His scream is interrupted by the kitchen door being kicked open, courtesy of a rather big blue and white pegasus mare with dark grey mane and tail I haven’t seen before. 

“What’s going on here?” she looks at me, “Who the hay are you and what are you doing behind the counter?”

“Sum laydee told mee to greb a laydel end pour fuud tu d ponees. Only uan boul eech, end dees ponee wonts moar. Ken Ai geev him uan moar?”

“Daisyyyyy!” she calls out, and the earthpony who instructed me rushes out of the kitchen, “Counter, now!”

“Yes, Blizzard.”

Blizzard looks at me, scowling.

“You, kitchen. Corner table.”

“Okey,” I put the big ladle into the nearest vat and leave.

“And you,” I hear Blizzard’s voice deepen but somehow gain both volume and intensity, “Get in the seven layers of Tartarus OUT! If I ever hear you cause trouble here again I’ll personally make sure the only thing you ever get here is a kick in the plot, understood?!”

I don’t hear the rest of the exchange, if there is any, because I enter the significantly louder kitchen filled with clanking of cooking utensils, hissing of boiling stew, and erratic rushing of the staff. Trying not to be in the way of anypony, I walk through the narrow corridors between ovens, some big barrels, and many more metal boxes I don’t recognize, and sit in the corner where there’s a small square table with two chairs.

Aaah! I forgot Stitches and my towel out there. Oh well, I doubt anything bad is going to happen. Stitches can take care of himself, and he saved me from evil ponies, so he sure can guard a towel.

Blizzard enters the kitchen within a minute, carrying Stitches as well as the towel under her wing. See? He even managed to get himself a ride here. Smartest plushie ever. Blizzard drops her cargo on the table, and sits on the other chair which creaks under her weight. She’s big, much larger than an average pegasus, and a bit chubby, but she definitely doesn’t look weak or slob-y, more like that she could carry me, the full vat, AND the two stallions carrying those on her back at the same time.

She looks at me with eyes narrowed.

“Name?”

“Greyscale, mem.”

“Are you the volunteer sent to help us as a replacement for Bristletail?”

“Eeeh, nou? Ai meen wen d laydee told mee to greb a laydel end start pouring Ai did eet voluntereely, does dat count?”

She furrows her brows.

“I’ll take that as a… no. What are you doing here, then?”

“Sitting end tolking to yoo.”

“I mean, why did you come here?”

“Mai frend Fedder told me Ai cud get sum fuud heer sou Ai deednt hev to eet frozen peeza krusts.”

“This place serves the needy and the homeless, indeed. You don’t look like either, to be honest.”

Well, I tried.

“Oh, okey. Ai steel hev sum krusts left end en umbrella een mai boks,” I get up to leave.

“Sit!”

My legs react faster than my head, and I plop back on the chair.

“Okey…?”

“Tell me, why did you just grab a ladle and start helping?”

“Ai tought det Ai hed too work sum taim to get fuud.”

“Did you see any of the homeless out there even consider that idea?”

“Umm, nou. Ai tought eet wos becuz Ai wos nyoo.”

The corner of her mouth twitches.

“Alright. One of our volunteers quit two days ago and we were supposed get a replacement volunteer, but he didn’t show up.”

“Aim soree.”

“What? No, it happens quite often that volunteers lose their heart when they get some more realistic stories about our working conditions.”

“Ai ken help eef yoo need eet. Et leest eets worm heer.”

“You understand that I can’t pay you, right? In bits, I mean.”

“Eets steel better beeing heer den sleeping een mai boks wen eets snoweeng.”

“Alright, you look like a nice fellow, albeit a bit strange. You can get one meal like everypony else, but if you work here for four hours in the morning every day, I can give you some leftovers. It’s not much, but we’re a charity organization. Everypony here is a volunteer.”

“Sou… too worm meels a dey? Dats greit!”

“If you need a place to stay, there’s a shelter working through the winter in lower Canterlot. It’s hopelessly overcrowded, but if you don’t mind the smell and can squeeze a bit, I’m sure they can fit you in every two or three nights.”

“Eets fain. Ai hev a boks end a frend dere wit mee. Ai dont maind kold too much wen Aim not woshing maiself een d fawnteen.”

“Oooh, so that’s why you’re clean-ish. That can’t be healthy, though.”

“Ai kant feel mai huufs afterwards, but eets olrait wen Ai wolk eet off.”

“Well, I can’t stop you from doing it, but it’s your health. Anyway, you’ve worked more than your fair share today, especially with it being your first day and having to deal with a troublemaker. Are you hungry?”

“Very hungree, mem,” I admit.

“Fine. Wait here and I’ll bring you something,” she shoves Stitches to the edge of the table, “This is yours, is it?”

“Yes, mem. His neim ees Steeches end he ees a Nitegaard.”

“And the towel?”

“D touel eesnt a Nitegaard yet, but under Steeches’ trayneeng he ken meik eet.”

She rolls her eyes, and walks off. I follow her progress through the kitchen, giving a tip here, setting somepony up with a new task there. All that finishes with her taking a whole small pot, pouring a fresh batch of vegetable stew into it, and putting it on the table in front of me.

“Dets a lot,” I take a spoon she presents next.

“Consider it an overtime pay for the first day and a compensation for the trouble out there.”

“Hmmm… hau do Ai teik eet wit mee?” I mumble to myself, recalling her mention of leftovers, “Meybee eef Ai teik d fyoo peipr bouls, stack dem end-”

A round plastic cylindrical thingy the size of my two hooves put next to each other and a hoof and a half high lands on the table as well. It has a wire handle which goes by its circumference, held on the opposite ends of the… holder? Oh, and it has a lid.

“How about you borrow this?” says Blizzard, “That might work better than some makeshift contraption.”

A gift as well? Well, work accessory more like.

“Tank yoo very much.”

“Eat your meal here in the warmth. Don’t lose the food carrier. Come here tomorrow at ten. That’s all.”

“Yes, mem.”

Just like that, she leaves. Nothing more needs saying…

...and I need eating. I mean to eat, of course. I doubt I’d be too tasty.


***


It’s been over two weeks since I started helping out in the soup kitchen. I’m going there every day, and I even got to cook once. I think I would have burned something if Blizzard wasn’t hovering around me, but in the end it worked out alright. Stitches has been there as well, always on my back, and the homeless ponies got to recognize us. Other than that, I’ve been looking for some job for dummies which became a lot easier as I didn’t have to go through trash every day and walk around semi-smelly. However, it hasn’t worked out yet. Nopony seems to be hiring, and I guess ponies aren’t too keen to leave their current jobs during winter. Oh well, it’s not bad. I have a friend, nights in the alley are freezing but Feather got his first salary and bought us a real blanket, so while we get wet from time to time, it’s not horrible. Plus, Blizzard lets me dry it in the kitchen by the heaters when I bring it over. One final thing, the best one actually - Blizzard let me take a real wooden crate the soup kitchen gets vegetables and other supplies in. It was super heavy, but now our old living box is an insulation box and the new living box, sorry - crate, is big, comfy for both me and Feather, and with its high sides coupled with the umbrella it’s completely sheltered from the wind.

We’ve gone up in the world.

With Stitches on my back and the food carrier in my mouth, I enter my home alley. Strange, there are two ponies standing around, one earthpony and one unicorn. Both are rather big, and immediately look at me when I clear the corner.

“There he is! Get him!”

Get me what, a late Hearth’s Warming present?

The earthpony rushes towards me.

“Hel-ooof!”

My chest suddenly hurts and I find myself on my back in the thin layer of snow. Wait, what happened?

Stitches is lying on the ground within hoof’s reach.

“Finally!” the earthpony growls as he straddles my barrel, “We almost believed you left Canterlot, but my instincts were right - a pathetic rat like you won’t leave the nest.”

“Owww,” my chest hurts. He spreads my forelegs forcibly apart with his.

What did I do?

“Now, you did a good job with this disguise. A pathetic, groveling… earthpony. I almost feel insulted.”

“Woo ar yoo-”

*Crunch!*

Owwww owwww owww my muzzle hurts so bad!

“Cut the bullshit, Unfettered Curiosity!” the earthpony scowls, “Tracker, did you find anything?”

“No,” answers the unicorn, “this is just an alley. No traces of magic and nowhere to hide it. If he still has the money, it’s somewhere else.”

The earthpony looks at me, then grins and turns his head to Stitches.

“How about inside that,” he nods.

“Weit, dont teik Steeches-”

*Crunch!*

Now there are three rather wibbly wobbly ponies sitting on me. I wish I had more friends, but these guys aren’t. They must have mistaken me for somepony else. This must be a misunderstanding, I would never take anypony’s money-

Wait! I got that bit from the lady when I was still a smelly pony.

“Ai got a beet, but d laydee sed Ai cud hev eet-” I stop, turning my head to the side when the earthpony raises his huge hoof again, “Cut the act, we already know who you are, Unfettered.”

“Mai neim ees Greyscale, not Unfettered Curiosity.”

The earthpony sighs as the unicorn levitates Stitches up.

“It looks like we’ll have to do it the hard way. Anything about the doll, Tracker?”

Tracker examines it from all sides.

“No, just a normal plushie. Well, let’s have a look inside.”

“Eensaid?”

The glowing magical grip around Stitches neck grows brighter-

*Riiiiiiip!*

-and the head comes off.

“STEEEEECHEEEEES?!” I struggle against the earthpony’s weight on my barrel, “Steeches! WAI DEED YOO DOO DAT? WOT DEED HE DOO TO YOO? Dets mai best frend! Yoo ar… yoo ar… BED PONEES-”

*Crunch!*

Can’t… breathe…

The earthpony stands up and kick me hard in the barrel. I roll over and cough out blood, which at least helps me clear my nose. My breathing situation becomes infinitely worse as I feel invisible force dragging me upwards by my neck.

He digs through Stitches’ insides, tossing bits of cotton everywhere.

“Hmm, empty. My colleague here,” growls Tracker, slamming my back against a wall, “told you to stop the act. We know EVERYTHING about you, Unfettered, and our clients don’t want you in prison, they want the money you owe back.”

“Aim not- ack!?” the back of my head slams against the wall.

Hehe, all the pain is growing dull and distant. At least some things are starting to look up.

Tracker rubs his hoof on my forehead through my mane, then freezes.

“You make me sick...”

“Aim soree,” I mumble, “Ail go wosh maiself layter.”

“Look, Strain,” my head jerks forwards on its own, “he actually sawed off his own horn.”

Saw? I used to have a bonesaw. I’ve always wondered why. I guess it’s ash now, since I didn’t get it out of the barracks.

Strain examines my head, and shrugs.

“I’ve seen ponies cut off their limbs to avoid being caught.”

“Horns are different, trust me. This is… a travesty,” Tracker shakes his head, “No matter,” his horn flares with green fire.

“...grrgnngh...” I croak when pain shoots from all over my barrel, then again when I drop on the ground.

“Flattened muzzle, and at most a broken rib,” says Tracker to Strain who kicks me again. It feels duller and duller, “And you, Unfettered… you better pay up before we find you again, or you won’t get away with just a warning next time. Also, don’t try hiding anymore, it just makes us irritated, and we might decide hunting you down is worth more bits then we’re getting. Unfortunately for you, our clients won’t pay us more, so we’ll have to sell some of your organs in that case, and neither of us is a good surgeon.”

“Hey, what’s going on there!” I hear Feather’s voice come from the alley entrance.

Tracker leans down to me.

“You have a week. We don’t care where you get the money, but GET IT!”

With a flash, both ponies disappear.

“I don’t know what you- GREYSCALE?! Queens’s infinite holes, what happened, Greyscale?”

“...mmngmh...”

I don’t have the strength to talk anymore. Plus, the snow is so warm and comfy now. The creeping darkness also helps. I should get some sleep.

“Greyscale, don’t pass out on me, Greyscale? Gr-”


***


“So, it wasn’t you who did it,” asks a stallion’s voice seemingly coming from a distance.

Maybe I’m just waking up? Yeah, that must be it.

“NO!” answers a different, agitated voice - Feather’s. 

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’ve seen brothel clients get stabbed when they tried to mess with mares beyond what their bits allowed them to.”

“I DIDN’T do it,” Feather defends herself, “I came back from my shift and saw him getting trashed by some two goons. They teleported away when they noticed me.”

“D-mmgnh?” I try to say something, but find out that I can’t move my muzzle. It feels completely numb, but also held by something.

“Huh, he’s waking up already?” the non-Feather pony sounds confused, “The dosage should last two more hours on a pony his size and weight. Did I mess up the...” he trails off, mumbling something. I can hear him walking around before returning to me, “No, I did it just right. Feather, your friend here is heavily… or I would even say unnaturally resistant to my anesthesia.”

“Is that bad?”

“Well, it’s up to you to convince him not to try to talk or he’ll hurt himself.”

A wing pats my head.

“Greyscale, don’t talk. The good doctor here fixed your broken muzzle with a ton of wires which might move if you open your mouth. Just relax and listen. Nod if you need to communicate.”

I unglue my eyes. I’m lying on a table in a well-lit room with a bunch of steel instruments lining the walls and small tables with wheels around. I can’t identify most of the implements, but there are some saws, scalpels… and that’s about it. Oh, and some blobs of cotton now red with blood.

After my last few brushes with danger, I judge this place to be very hospital-y.

The good thing is, that after what I recall from the beatdown, I don’t feel too hurt, mostly numb. Speaking of the doctor himself, he’s chocolate brown from front to back, both hair and mane, and has green eyes, which is all I can get because he’s wearing a white cap and some sort of mask over his muzzle, and a short overcoat covering his cutie mark.

Feather sees me sit up and look around, and continues:

“I arrived just as you were passing out, and took you here to-”

“No names,” hisses the doctor, cleaning something metal and doubtlessly surgical in nature.

Feather rolls her eyes.

“-to mister no names here. He’s a doctor who takes care about everything related to a group of brothels in upper Canterlot. Unwanted pregnancies, client ‘accidents’, hurt girls, everything.”

“It’s a lot of work.”

“Considering you charge a hoof and a leg, you don’t have the right to complain.”

“Heh, maybe. Speaking of the price-”

”Mhmmm...” I wave my hoof to get their attention. Feather just pushes it down.

“Put it on my tab, you know where I work.”

“This must be a pretty good friend then. A client?”

“No, just a friend.”

The unnamed doctor leans to my forehead, levitating a small spotlight.

“Alright, Feather. You know I normally don’t ask questions, but there’s something I need to know this time.”

“I doubt there’ll be much I can add.”

“No, this is for your friend. Yes, I am aware he won’t be able to answer, which is why I’ve got this,” a pencil and a sheet pad fly over to me. The problem becomes apparent immediately when I realize I can’t hold anything in my wired mouth. Maybe if I hold the pencil with my both hooves? Horrible, but it will have to do. The doctor nods when I write an experimental ‘Hello!’, takes a breath, and asks, “Why, and freaking how, did you saw off your own horn?” 

Again? What’s with everypony asking about my horn? I’m an earthpony... I think.

I write “What horn?”.

Feather reads it and says:

“Huh, considering how you speak, I thought you’d write just some squiggly nonsense.”

The doctor, on the other hoof, frowns.

“Look, I’m not one to judge, I fix ponies for a lot of money, but-” he moves my mane away again and pushes his hoof around my forehead. There’s a spot which feels different from the rest of my head, sort of more numb but sensitive at the same time, “there used to be a bone growing here and there’s a spot doubtlessly burned with acid normally hidden by the rest of your mane where no hair grows.”

I shrug and write “I remember… a bonesaw, but I’m not a unicorn. I can’t use magic..”

“Look,” the doctor shakes his head, “I’ve seen ponies who cut their own leg off so that somepony else didn’t recognize them, but this is… crazy. No sane unicorn would ever do such thing. Anyway, I’m not going to pry, that’s not my job. Plus, I can easily recognize hoof marks all over you. Whoever you are hiding from found you before Feather here did. Just like with many of my clients, I recommend a change of visage before they get you again.”

That’s great and all, but WHO am I hiding from and WHY? Wait, that’s a secondary question. First, I don’t want to get beaten up anymore, even on an accident or a case of mistaken identity.

I nod.

“Got any ideas, doc?” asks Feather.

“Yeah, sure. I can give you an address. No questions asked, full body colour makeovers. They can’t hide cutie marks, but that doesn’t look like a problem in your case. Funny, a patient of this age, with no cutie mark and pretending not to be a unicorn after committing the harshest self-mutilation one possibly can. If I was a curious pony, I would be asking a lot more questions. On the other hoof, if I was a curious pony I would either be dead or in prison.”

I give him a written “Thank you!” note.

“Oh, and one last thing - keep the mesh around your muzzle on for a day or two before you eat something firm. Alchemy and magic can do wonders, but there are limits.”

“I’ll be sure to make him a hay smoothie,” says Feather, poking my side. I get the hint and unsteadily drop down from the table I was sitting on, “Let’s go, Greyscale. We’ve taken too much of doc’s time already.”

“Mhm,” I nod.

“E-HM!” the doctor coughs, “The manedressers’ salon you’ll be looking for is on Starlit Road.”

“Oh yeah, thanks!” Feather chuckles.

“Mhmm phoo,” I contribute as much as I can too.

When the door closes behind us, Feather’s wing pushes me forward.

“I don’t know what you got into, but I’m not leaving my delicious dinner to get splattered.”

I hug her. She takes a deep breath and slowly breathes out.

“Thaaat’s the stuff,” she shoves me away and checks her saddlebag. I hear clinking of coins, “Good thing I don’t really use that much money. This should be enough for some lasting dyes and a professional applying them. Ready?”

“Mhm.”

Alright, time get into hiding and then back to-

MORE IMPORTANT THING!

“Mmhm mhmmh mhmm!” a thing which I can’t communicate right now.

“What’s going on?”

“Mmmhm!” I start making small pony silhouettes with my forelegs over and over.

“Tiny pony, foal-” Feather takes a wild guess. I shake my head and try again, pointing on my back, “Oh, your plushie?”

I point at the doctor’s door.

“No,” Feather rolls her eyes, “I’m not paying his price for sowing together a destroyed plush toy.”

“Mmmmm...”

“Don’t give me the puppy eyes. We’ll find a seamstress or somepony, but not this guy.”

Well, that counts. I nuzzle Feather’s neck. I wouldn’t normally bother a real pony by touching them, but Feather being a changeling seems to like it.

She burps.

“Whoa. Worth the bits, definitely worth the bits.”
> 25
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Alright, Greyscale. I may have found a hole in our plan,” says Tender Feather as we approach the manedressers’ the doctor told us about.

“Mmhm?” I still can’t speak over the muzzle made of mesh wiring holding my own stitched muzzle together. To be honest, I don't think it hampers my ability to communicate too much.

“I don’t know much about dyes, but I’m pretty sure they shouldn’t go onto freshly stitched wounds.”

“Mhmm,” I circle my foreleg around my muzzle, then rub my barrel.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. If we just leave your muzzle grey and dye the rest, it should good be enough for the time being, and when we can finish the rest, we will. You’re a smart pony.”

You’re a smart changeling for understanding me.

“Mhmm,” I tap on Feather’s side.

“Yeah, I’ll do the talking. Don’t worry.”

We enter the rather small shop accompanied by the clanking of a bell above the door. The main room is packed with variously coloured wigs, strands of mane or tail hair, bottles of shampoos and the desired dyes. Across the room from the entrance sits a counter with a small dark red earthpony mare with blond mane watching us. The final feature of this place is a closed door next to the counter leading further into the salon.

The mare just watches us as we approach.

“Umm, hello,” starts Feather, “A friend of mine recommended this place for a full-body makeover.”

The manedresser’s, if it’s her behind the counter and not just a store clerk, expression thaws, she jumps up, and walks around to shake both my and Feather’s hooves. I notice her cutie mark of a happy theatre mask.

“I always love when a word of mouth sends customers my way. Name’s Fresh Coat, what can I do for you?”

“My friend here needs to look different. A lot different.”

Fresh Coat circles around me, running a hoof through my mane, coat, and finally swishing my cropped tail around.

“Considering the muzzle, I suppose you need it quick,” she says, betraying she’s done this more than enough times for various ponies. The doctor sent us to a proper place, because a pony who can’t keep her mouth shut around ponies who need to disappear… disappears herself. Well, it’s not like I want to cause trouble. In fact, I want to stay out of trouble as much as I can. Maybe the ponies who mistook me for somepony else will get tired or think I’ve left Canterlot.

I nod.

Fresh Coat asks, “Both of you?”

“No, just him,” answers Feather, “Few guys mistook him for somepony else, and we need some time to figure out what to do about that.”

“Mmmmhm,” grins Fresh Coat, “Good one, but I’ve heard better. You should have come up with a more unique excuse, but that’s none of my business. Once you pay up, I’ve never heard about you or your story. Anyway, do you need the disguise to last?”

“As long as possible. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, and the more time we have the better.”

Fresh Coat waves a strand of my mane around.

“Then we can’t make any drastic changes which would cause contrast between the growing hair and the already dyed. Damn, you must be running from somepony vicious,” she adds after leaning to my muzzle and examining it.

“I suppose it would be pointless to try to persuade you that we aren’t in the wrong here, right?”

“Yep,” nods Fresh Coat, “The less I know the better,” she stops messing around with my hair, rushes towards one of many filled shelves, and returns with a bottle with its contents  looking like light brown cream, “How about this one for the coat? Turning grey into light brown fading to faint pink should last around a month. As for mane.... mane mane mane...” she mutters, looking around again, “why not go for blond? Those aren’t exactly quiet colours, but nopony seeing you would think that it’s, well, you.”

Feather gives me a long, thoughtful look, and then nods.

“Not bad, actually. How about that, Greyscale?”

I shrug. Looks aren’t my speciality. If two mares think I wouldn’t pass as downright silly, then I should go for it. Especially when disguises are one’s job, and the other one’s life.

“Mhmm,” after pondering it, I follow my shrug with a nod.

“Waitwaitwaitwait,” Feather recalls something, “how about his muzzle? It won’t get infected, will it?”

“Oh no, don’t worry. The dyes are natural and magically treated. They actually promote the healing of skin and hair growth. I used those on patients with fresh scars and nopony has ever complained. Anything else?”

“No,” says Feather, “How long will it take?”

“From half an hour to an hour. Unless you need it REALLY quick, but that costs extra.”

“No, that’s alright. I’ll have the time to go grab my money. How much?”

“Hundred and twenty bits.”

“Ffffffffuuu- that’s a lot...”

“Silence isn’t cheap, and neither are the neutral dyes. Trust me, if your friend here was healthy, it would be half the price.”

Feather turns to me.

“Greyscale-”

“Mhmmhmm mmhm hmmhmm,” I try to say that we can go without the disguise and that I’ll just have to be more careful.

“-ah screw it, you earned more than that,” Feather shakes her head and points her hoof at Fresh Coat, “I’ll be back with the money within an hour. You can keep him here as security deposit.”

“Mhmmhm?”

“Of course,” Fresh Coat nods and pats my head, “Follow me to the back room and we’ll start creating your new visage. Unfortunately, I can’t do anything about the mesh muzzle. That’s gonna be a dead giveaway anyway.”

“Mmhmm...”

“Let us worry about that,” says Feather, “You just make sure Greyscale looks nothing like himself when I come back.”

“Don’t worry about that. I could make him look like a zebra if he wanted. Or maybe I’ll just do that if you’re not here with the money soon. Wink wink!” she exaggerates the words with actual winking with the subtlety of a rolling ox cart.

“Well, I know when to get lost,” chuckles Feather and leaves.

When the doorbell tolls and the store door shuts, Fresh Coat opens the one next to the counter, “Come on. Your overprotective friend took much of our time, and we have a lot to do.”

“Mhm.”

The back room is vastly different from the storefront, but also strangely similar. There are full-body mirrors scattered all over the walls, two turning chairs standing next to counters with shampoo and dye bottles, and a tub by the opposite wall into which Fresh Coat ushers me.

“Alright, just sit tight and let me do all the work.”

“Mhmm.”

As warm water starts to flow over me from a nozzle Fresh Coat holds in her mouth, I close my eyes and just breathe in and out.

“Don’t worry, most of the dyes are of my own making, some are even magical.”

“Mhmmam?”

“Hey, if you want a proof they work, I’m actually a zebra.”

“Mmmmmm.”

“Granted, the booty gives it away, so I can’t pretend to be a unicorn or a pegasus, but who am I to deny my blessings.”

“...”

“Not a chatty one, are you?”

“Mhmmm!”

“Oops, forgot about that for a moment. My bad, force of habit,” she pats my head, “Alright, let’s focus and make the work worth twice the price.”

I try to push myself out of the tub. I can’t make Feather go bankrupt!

“Mmmhm!”

“I’m not actually going to charge you more, calm down,” she pushes down against my back.

“Mmmm...”

“Fine, no more messing around, you panicky fellow.”

She doesn’t say anything more, only keeps humming.


***


A high-pitched toll makes me twitch.

“Hmh?” I realize I was kinda drifting off under Fresh Coat’s ministrations. She combined applying the dye with a massage everywhere aside from my muzzle. The real one, I mean. She took the mesh one off and very carefully dripped the dye all over my own, using paint brushes to gently apply it to the stitched areas before putting the one doctor gave me back on.

“Your friend is here. She’s early, are you in a hurry?”

I shake my head.

“Good. I don’t want to use the mane dryer. It’s better when the dyes naturally soak and dry. Just stand here like this and it should be done in ten to fifteen minutes.”

My legs are kinda wobbly, but I comply. Fresh Coat has been massaging me even after we were done in the tub, saying it was to give my new colours lasting value. Speaking of which, I look NOTHING like myself. She cropped my mane, made a short braid out of my tail, and I genuinely couldn’t recognize myself when I first looked into the mirror.

I CAN recognize myself now, which is good because I won’t get worried when I pass by any glass surface anymore. I mean, me invisible and a completely new pony in my reflection instead? I could forget for a moment and think I’m a vampony and somepony is following me. It’s a longshot, but I get confused sometimes.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me you already had another customer!” I hear Tender Feather entering the room, "What did you do with Greyscale?"

“Mhmmmhm mm mm!” I point to my muzzle over and over.

“I know, dummy,” she rolls her eyes.

“Mmmpf,” I wipe my forehead. Don’t scare me like that. On the other hoof, the disguise is sure to work now, since it somewhat fooled a changeling, and they have change in their name so they know what they’re doing.

Fresh Coat covers her mouth, chuckling.

“Alright, you’re all paid up, and I have an appointment lined up in twenty minutes. I don’t want my customers to see each other, so as soon as you’re dry, I’d like you to leave.”

“Oh, how come?”

“Well, I’ve had cases when two ponies who were hiding from each other came in succession. Some would say bad luck, I said a great time to implement a new privacy policy.”

“Alright, mind if I sit down?” asks Feather.

“The carpet, please. I don’t want hair on my announced client’s chairs.”

“Fiiine. We’ll just wait. Right, Greyscale?”

“Mhmm,” I nod.

“As you wish,” Fresh Coat shrugs and leaves, likely for the main counter.

Tender Feather sits down, looking straight at me.

“Mmmhm?”

“Just checking if she was worth the bits. I’d say yes, since you look like a totally different pony.”

I smile, and immediately stop when I feel sharp tugging all over my muzzle, “Mmmm...”

“Don’t be sad. The doc said the worst part will be over in few days. Anyway, what’s the plan now?”

A good question. It’s evening, and I’m exhausted from the morning beatdown. All I really want is to lie down and sleep, but staying in the same place Tracker and Strain found me isn’t a smart idea.

Come to think of it, Feather found me in the morning after returning super late from her shift and hasn’t slept since.

“Mm mmmh mmmm!”

Tender Feather frowns.

“Okay, this won’t do,” she rushes off to the main room and after a hushed conversation returns with a notepad and a pencil which she gives to me, “Here you go. Courtesy of Fresh Coat,” she lowers her voice, “For that price she should be rubbing my hooves and feeding me while we’re talking.”

“Mmmmh?”

Feather rolls her eyes and points at the notepad. Right. Right. Can’t understand. I take the pencil in my hooves and write.

’Feeding. Hungry?’

“I didn’t mean it. Granted, I could go for a meal, but we’ll sort that out later. I’m used to pulling all-nighters. Well, all-dayers in this case.”

I move in to nuzzle her neck, but she leans away.

“Don’t rub the dye off. As I said, we’ll have time for that before I go to work.”

That makes sense. Alright, what now?

’Move. Box.’

“Got any place in mind?”

I do, actually.

’Pizza shop. Warm wall. Smaller dumpster.’

“We’d lose some overhead cover like that, but the umbrella should still be fine, and if the place is warmer we could find some newspapers- actually if the doc doesn’t mind me paying up a bit later, I can go shop for some planks. We could build our own little place!”

I deeply doubt the guards would allow that. I’m sure there are some laws against building a new hous- shed in the streets. Although… parked carts are fine and we wouldn’t take much more space.

’Box first. Then see what we need.’

“That makes sense,” nods Feather… and yawns, “Whoa, where did that come from?” she yawns again, blinking out of sync, “I don’t feel too good all of a sudden.”

Ignoring her weak protests, I sit behind her and hug her.

In few short moments, I feel now familiar creeping cold slowly spreading through me. She must have been far more tired than she said. Oh well, few splatters of creamy dye are a low price for staving off hunger.

“Alright, enough, Greyscale,” says Feather after few minutes and stands up. My head spins for a moment, which sorts itself out after few deep breaths, “I think we should go if we’re to move the box and-” she yawns again, “-ah dammit!”

’Three hours sleep. I move box tomorrow.’

Feather gives me a weak smile.

“That’s exactly why you’re the smart one here.”

After an exchange of goodbyes with Fresh Coat, we leave. Rest is what both of us need.


***


When I wake up, the sky is already steel grey, which could mean anything, but the ponies I can see rushing around on their way to work when I peek out of my alley clearly convey it has to be late morning.

Okay, plans for today - move our ‘house’, visit the soup kitchen, and then wait for Feather here to show her where we’re going to live from now on.

My muzzle is itching like crazy, but I don’t feel the numb pain from yesterday anymore.

Mustn’t... scratch…

Aaaaaaa, it itches too much! I vote to bring back the numb pain.

Anyway, I mustn’t interfere with the doctor’s stitching.

My stomach grumbles.

Huuuh, food. I’ll have to sort food out somehow. I can’t just chew, can I?

When I try to open and close my muzzled mouth, I feel only slight tension, nothing exactly unpleasant.

Well, I can always give it a shot in the soup kitchen. The stew is more liquid than chewy bits.

Alright, don’t get distracted! Let’s move the box first.

Loading our living crate onto my back is a chore and takes time. Thankfully, Feather and I don’t have that much stuff. The blanket, the towels… Stitches in pieces.

Why did they have to rip Stitches’ head off? He couldn’t owe them money no matter what.

On the other hoof, I now know I’m completely fine aside from my muzzle. Didn’t the ponies who attacked me say something about broken ribs?

I poke my barrel while trying not to drop the full box. It doesn’t feel unusual in any way, and I can breathe with ease…

...and some wheeze. My muzzle is a bit stuffed. Oh well, it’s snowing so I can understand that.

Onwards to the pizza place!

Without breaks, I find the warmer alley and drop my cargo there. I need to wait few minutes pressed against the pizza shop’s wall while I dry the sweat out, and when I stop dripping I set our home up again.

Move the crate behind the dumpster - check.
Try pulling the lid out - check.
Hide Stitches’ bits under the blanket - check.

Done.

That didn’t take long.

Various bells and clocks toll from towers all over the place, signalling my shift in the soup kitchen will be starting soon. I do have enough time to get there if I hurry up. After patting Stitches’ separated head, I move out. My quick pace gets me there soon enough, and I slip past the line of waiting ponies through the side entrance.

Now I just have to wash my hooves, grab an apron, do my shift, and then tell Blizzard I won’t be able to work here anymore. I like this place, but if Strain and Tracker followed me before ambushing me I don’t want to give them a clue to my new visage.

I move behind the counter, take my place next to the vats, and unsteadily grab the ladle with my forelegs. Hmm, that’ll take some getting used to.

I plop the ladle into the vat-

“Hey hey hey hey hey, that’s for staff only!” I hear behind me. It’s Blizzard, first peeking her head through the kitchen door and then storming towards me. I take my mesh muzzle off, experimentally open and close my mouth, and say:

“Eets mee, mees Bleezerd.”

So, talking is only mildly unpleasant. Good to know.

Blizzard is examining me from all sides. The manedresser must have done a really great job, so I add:

“Greyscale, mem.”

Blizzard leans towards my muzzle and furrows her brows.

“Holy moly, Greyscale. Did an elephant sit on your face?”

“Nou, mem. Too ponees beet me up end-”

“EHM,” she nods to the waiting line of the homeless, leans to my ear, and whispers, “Not now, Greyscale. We’ll talk after your shift.”

I nod. My muzzle is healing up somewhat alright, and there are hungry ponies waiting for me to move my plot. On top of that, using the ladle with my hooves is going to slow down the process anyway.

It does. First few bowls take painstakingly long to fill, since I splatter the stew over the counter, but by my sixth or seventh I get back into my pace. The grumbling ponies waiting for me stop muttering in annoyance when the queue starts moving properly, and soon after I can enjoy my routine as if nothing bad happened yesterday.

Hours pass quickly, and with my shift ending in the early afternoon, my replacement comes in, takes his own apron, and I’m free for today. Usually, this is when Blizzard gives me a bowl of stew to eat, then packs a second one and sends me off home. This time, however, she’s waiting for me at the corner table in the kitchen.

“So, what happened?” she asks as I sit down.

“Umm, sum ponees tought det Ai owd dem monee end beet me up reely bed, den Fedder found a gud doktor woo deednt maind her paying for mee end fiksed mai muzzel, but he sed det Ai shud luk deeferent end Fedder paid for a meikover-”

“Wait, what? That’s a bit too much at once. Who or what is ‘fedder?’ No, first, do you owe somepony money? Physically attacking ponies in debt is illegal, attacking anypony I mean.”

I shake my head.

“Ai dont nou, Ai dont reemember borroweeng monee. Sum laydee geiv mee a beet becuz Ai smelld bed,” I remember something far more important than my broken muzzle, “End dey brouk Steeches...”

“Your plushie?”

“Dey reeped his hed off. He deednt do anyteeng-”

I squint at Blizzard’s hoof on my nose, her long fetlock hair tickling it. I do the smartest thing I can-

“Achoo!”

-which is sneezing.
My whole muzzle stings now.

“Ewww!” Blizzard leans away, looking at the mess of snot and blood now coating her underhoof.  She wipes it off with her own apron, “Anyway, you should tell the guards, Greyscale.”

“Ai kant, mem. Steeches sed dey wud go after mee too. Hee sed gaards wudnt be mai frends enymore, end Ai laik Eklips end Grey Shrain end Peersing Heet beeing mai frends.”

Blizzard frowns and looks me straight in the eyes.

“I’m not one to shove my nose into other ponies’ lives, Greyscale, and you’re a bit… strange, but my best advice is to talk to the guards no matter what. Look, if some unknown ponies attacked you for no reason and bashed your muzzle in, which is what happened from the wounds I can easily see, they will find you again. Unfortunately for you, if movies are at least partially based on reality, then next time it won’t end with just a broken muzzle. Listen to me, and tell the guards.”

I hate to disappoint her, so instead of answering I just poke my chest.

“Ai luk deeferent nau so dey dont faind me.”

Blizzard shakes her head.

“You talk exactly the same, you are still helping me here, Celestia bless, and while the colours confused even me and I see you daily, I doubt they’ll be enough. Go tell the guards, Greyscale.”

I’m quiet for a while. She’s right. Not with the guards, but with me having to change my routine. I’ve been pondering this since the morning, but I guess nothing good lasts forever.

“Ail hev to stop workeeng heer. Aim soree.”

“Good.”

Uhh, what?

Blizzard catches my surprised look at her.

“That came out wrong, sorry. Look, Greyscale. You’ve been a blessing in a strange disguise. You helped me when I needed it, and I didn’t have to do any paperwork. Thanks to you, I now have a replacement ready without having to overwork anypony else here. If you need to leave, you can. I won’t be mad. In fact, I really should be thanking you for the few weeks.”

Phew, so I didn’t mess up so hard she was just waiting for me to leave and being too polite to kick me out. Now comes the hard part.

“Umm, ken Ai… ken Ai com heer to eet sumtaim? Ai meen not eech dey, but...” how not to offend her? “Uance a week?”

She raises her eyebrow.

“Too weeks?” I try to make myself look smaller and smaller the longer her silence lasts.

“Greyscale-”

“A month?” I give it a final shot. A warm meal once a month plus crusts and leftovers I can find isn’t THAT bad since it’s free.

“Greyscale!”

“Soree,” I lean backwards at her raised tone, “Ai nou. Nou werk, nou fud.”

She smacks the side of my head. Not painfully, but it gets my attention.

“Greyscale! This place helps the needy. Of course you can come here every day like each of the ponies waiting by the counter. I just won’t give you the leftovers you get now. One portion per day and you’ll have to stand in line like everypony else. If you decide to volunteer again at some point in the future, of course, we can talk.”

“Yor d best.”

“Don’t you dare start crying right now!”

I’m a strong pony! Strong ponies don’t cry when real awesome ponies are unexpectedly nice to them.

Wiping my totally not wet eyes, I nod.

“Good,” Blizzard nods, “I’ll go get you some stew. Do you want extra vegetables?”

I shake my head, pointing to my muzzle.

“I see. Well, I’ll get it ready and pack you some for later.”

“Tank yoo.”


***


It’s been three rather unlucky days since I stopped working in the soup kitchen. First, it’s snowing a lot again. Second, my muzzle still itches like crazy, although it doesn’t hurt anymore. And last, my job hunting hasn’t yielded any results yet.
The good part is that I don’t need to rummage through trash for food anymore since I keep coming for stew every day at different times so that I’m harder to track. Feather came up with that idea. He must be a pretty smart changeling to know everything about not getting caught. Anyway, I still look into bins from time to time just in case, but only the top and only after I’m done looking around and talking to ponies.

The last place I asked around told me where the upper Canterlot job office was. Unfortunately...

“I’m afraid we don’t have and opening for somepony with cleaning and food serving skills at the moment, mister Greyscale,” says the official lady at the Employment Office, “If only you arrived in summer, we always need seasonal workers at that time of the year. Anyway, that concludes our initial session,” she gives me a laminated card with her name and time she’s at work, “Come back in a month, and we’ll see if I’ve managed to find something suiting your experience. Oh, one last thing - have you tried asking door to door in restaurants or bars? We only have documents from those places which tell us they need ponies on their own.”

I nod.

“Ai deed. Noponee wonted mee.”

She gives me an encouraging smile.

“Don’t give up. I’m sure you’ll find something eventually. I’ll do my best here on my end, and you keep looking, okay?”

“Okey, mem.”

“Good. See you in a month, mister Greyscale.”

“Goodbai, mees-” I look at the card, “Morneeng Glou.”

With a long sigh, I leave the Upper Canterlot Employment Office.

What to do? What to do? I guess it’s time to move to lower Canterlot with my job search. Perhaps I should have started there, since there are more earthponies there and the whole place is less ‘noble’, but I wanted something close to my box.

Speaking of the box, evening is drawing close and I’m tired from walking around all day and asking ponies if they need help. I should turn in for tonight, eat the last remains of Blizzard’s old reward stew, and resume looking tomorrow. Yeah, that sounds like a reasonable idea.

I push through the snow with my protective towel on my back. Nopony bothers me, since all those who pass by are preoccupied by getting out of the frost as quickly as possible. Feather in his changeling form peeks out from underneath the blanket, rubbing his eyes.

“That doesn’t look like the expression of a pony who achieved all of his life goals today.”

“Noponee wonts mee,” I shove the snow down from the dumpster lid above our crate, take the umbrella, shake the snow off of it as well, and put it back. Then I wipe my hooves with my towel before sitting into the box with waiting Feather and bits of Stitches.

“Then I have good news for you. I completely forgot to tell you when I returned in the morning, but a… caretaker spot opened up in the brothel. Are you up for it?”

Caretaker? That sounds difficult.

“Doo yoo teenk Ai ken doo dat? Ai kant feed enimels. Wait, wai do yoo need enimels?”

Feather chuckles.

“You’d be surprised what some clients- nevermind. No, I mean caretaker as in a janitor, plus some specific chores we need done.”

Oooh, that’s way better.

“Oh shure, I ken kleen stuff!”

“Great, then you’re coming with me this evening,” he looks around, “Damn it, it’s already evening, isn’t it? I don’t have another hour or two of sleep.”

“Ai teenk yoo start at ten, rite? Yoo ken rest for uan moar hour eesy.”

He rubs his head.

“Ehm, can I have a breakfast, please? Yesterday was rather hectic, what with the caretaker getting kicked out.”

“Wot deed he doo?”

“Curious, eh?”

“Ai wont to know wot not to do.”

Feather stares at me.

I hug him. He’s a good friend, and I don’t mind being a tasty snack, especially when it only means me being a bit cold and woozy for a while. Or few hours if he’s hungry. Or passing out if he’s really starving.

Aaanyway, not a big deal.

With both of us under the blanket and Feather lying firmly in my embrace, he explains:

“Well, it turns out he’s been taking pictures from shoots and selling them. Then he sometimes stole the girls’ underwear and jacked- sold it as well. Don’t worry, if you do what they tell you then you should be alright. Can you operate a camera?”

“Nou,” I admit.

“Good. For once, that should count in your favor. The job isn’t easy, but it pays surprisingly well.”

“End wot wud dey wont me too do?”

“As I said, janitor stuff. Cleaning rooms mostly, either after client having a session with one of the girls, or the studio after a shoot. Then it’s about taking care of the building itself, leaking water, working heating and everything. Oh, and sometimes you need to help the girls during a shoot.”

“Laik wit wot?” I furrow my brows, rather worried about my skills and chances of getting the free spot, “Ai dunno wot to do wit mares.”

“Oiling them up, moving furniture, anything the photographer wants,” Feather takes a break, “I can sense you’re growing worried. It’s gonna be alright.”

“I dont nou how to fiks a heeter.”

“It. Will. Be. Alright.”

Well, he works there. Who am I to argue?

“Okey.”

“Good. Now let’s get some rest before tonight. I’m getting the feeling both of us are going to need it.


***
”

I expected Tender Feather’s workplace to be by the mountainside. To my amazement, he brought us to a clean, three-story building in the east part of Canterlot. I was a little nervous when I could see in the distance the high walls separating Canterlot castle proper from the rest of the city, but that evaporated quickly when we entered the brothel because by then I was EXTREMELY nervous about pretty much everything else.

Stop shaking, legs! We need to be in our best shape to get this job. We don’t know much, but we can learn! The basics, I mean, not the real smart pony stuff.

The entry hallway is inlaid with wood, dimly lit by lamps set in the holders on the walls, and a red, soft carpet spans the floor everywhere I can see. A receptionist’s desk sits on the right from the entrance, with a fetching young pegasus mare on a chair behind it. She looks at me, gives me a shockngly friendly smile, and waves at Tender Feather.

“Evening, Feather,” she says in a cheery, squeaky voice, “Did you bring a friend, or a client?”

“Just a friend, Honey. I told him about the free caretaker spot and he jumped on the opportunity. He might not sound like it, but he’s pretty crafty.”

‘Honey’ raises her forelegs up, then rushes from behind the desk and starts pumping my hoof up and down.

“Oh thank stars! I wasn’t happy about what Pipe was doing, but damn did he keep this place from falling apart. Anyway, Honey Glaze is my name, mister...”

The name fits pretty well, because her coat looks like running honey, brown fading into yellow. Similar to mine actually, only with far richer colours. And her mane is blond, almost white in places.

“Greyscale, mem. Nais to meet yoo.”

Honey Glaze stops shaking my hoof and gives Feather a confused look.

“Huh, now I know what you mean. Doesn’t sound like it, eh?”

“Honey-” Feather rolls her eyes.

“Well, whatever. Greyscale, if you do a good job, I don’t care ‘det yoo tolk laik dis’.”

Honestly, that was a pretty good impression.

“Yoo shud not doo dat too mush. Ponees wud tink yor me.”

Honey Glaze chuckles and gives me a quick hug.

“If you get the job,” she whispers into my ear, “I’ve got some pipes that need cleaning.”

“Chrys- Celestia dammit, Honey!” Feather stomps her forelegs.

“Whaaaat?” Honey Glaze asks innocently, “The heater in my and Nettle’s room broke two days ago. I’m tired of showering downstairs in the studio,” then she winks at Feather, “Also, jealousy will give you wrinkles.”

Jealous, of what? Does Feather like showering downstairs and can’t, because Honey and her friend are there too much?

“Honey, stop confusing the poor guy. Can’t you see he’s already nervous as it is?”

“Well yeah, that’s why I’m trying to loosen him up a little. I don’t want him to get all shaky in front of Whisper. You know how she can be.”

Feather actually stops the original answer coming from her open muzzle, and sighs.

“Yeah… thanks.”

“No problem. Anyway, I like chatting with you, but you should go. Some foreign bigwigs came to Canterlot for the big celebration in the castle, so we’re expecting their entourages to stop by. Whisper said we should be ready for scenario five.”

“Minotaurs, griffons, and diamond dogs? Oh dear...”

“Five, Feather, five.”

“A dragonpony or a real dragon transformed into a pony, are you kidding me?! Isn’t that Whisper’s speciality?”

“Nope, she’ll be busy with a group of minotaurs later, so you’d better get yourself and hopefully our new helping hoof here ready, or you’re fetching the barrels with fireproof lube on your own.”

“Damn it!” Feather waves her foreleg in front of my very confused self, “Greyscale, let’s go. We need to get you to the boss.”

I’m still trying to process the quick conversation that has just happened.

“Arent dragons beeg? How do dey fit een d door?”

“Them fitting through the DOOR will be the last of my problems, LET’S GO!” Feather pokes my chest few times while turning her head to Honey who returns behind her desk, “Thanks for the heads up, Honey.”

“No problem. See you later, Feather. Hopefully you too, Greyscale.”

“Bai, mees Hunee Gleis.”

I follow rushing Feather through the hallways, unable to take in many details. Few blurry mares and stallions greet us as we pass by, go up to the top floor, and then stop in front of a simple wooden door to catch our breath.

The only thing on the door is a small plaque reading “Wet Whisper”.

My heart is pounding and I’m gasping for air. I know it’ll last only a moment since we haven’t been running for long, but-

The door opens.

“Yor byooteefull...” I mumble, completely stunned by the mare who robbed me of all control within a blink of an eye.

The towering earthpony mare whose visage completely paralyzed me walks out, giving me a measured stare. She must be an ex-guard, soldier, or something, I don’t know, but she MUST. I can see her amethyst gown slide over what can’t be anything other than muscles under her grey coat fading into dark blue. She’s not wiry, or the bodybuilder type, from her every slick, fluid movement I am just fully aware that her perfect hourglass curves are underlaid by musculature. Compared to Feather’s disguise or Honey downstairs, she’s a mature lady, likely around forty, the image of which her pure white mane only intensifies. She’s like Blizzard, Chiseled Chin, and Grey Shrine put together, but with an added stereotype of an amazon queen in the mix.

She’s gorgeous, overwhelming, almost radiating power and confidence, and absolutely terrifying.

“Feather, you have an appointment in room twenty-four in ten minutes,” her voice is only a little deeper than a usual mare’s, but firm and clear as that of a trained singer.

“Umm, yes, Whisper. I’ll get right on that. By the way, this is Greyscale, and I told him about the caretaker opening and-”

Wet Whisper is only half a head taller than me, I’m not a big pony, although she simply feels like a giant.

“I can take care of him, Feather.”

“Yes yes yes, but please, he’s a little-”

“He can talk himself, can’t he?” Wet Whisper shuts Feather up and leans down to me, “Can you?”

Don’t shake! Don’t shake! Don’t shake!

Alright, phase one failed.

Stop shaking! Stop shaking! Stop shaking!

Recovery strategy failed.

“Ai- Ai- Ai- Aim not gud et- et tolkeeng. Dey told mee Ai wud hev to fiks teengs. Ai- Ai fiksd a bed uans. Den a shaur. Den moar teengs. Eet wos een d barraks wit d gaardponees. Den Ai-”

She raises a hoof without letting her yellow eyes break contact with mine.

“Feather...”

“Yes, Whisper!” Feather trots off.

Wet Whisper looks away and turns around, her tail flicking my cheek.

“Come in,” she invites me into her office.

The place is surprisingly simple, comfortable, well-lit in comparison to the dim halls outside, with few odd choices of decoration I don’t understand. There’s Wet Whisper’s desk with an open binder in the middle and not much special about it aside from a slowly burning red and yellow feather inside a glass jar. There are shelves full of binders lining the back wall, and one entire bookshelf on each side wall dedicated to-

I look away, only to catch Whisper’s firm stare.

Well, one bookshelf is full of stallionhoods. I mean, no, not ‘stallion’ as such. I mean, some are, but there are tons more of… various species maybe? I haven’t seen any other than mine before, but this is a logical guess. Not ripped off and bleeding ones, so I suppose they’re replicas made from some flexible material. The bookshelf on the opposite wall is, in the same manner, filled with tubes containing holes. It doesn’t take a genius to recognize even from here what those are. Out of sheer curiosity, I look from side to side and try to match them.

Hah! The stallion one in the same spot as the mare one. Wet Whisper is an organized pony.

Hm… no matter how hard I try, I can’t find a reason for there being a wooden X bigger than a pony with some leather straps hanging from it next to the stallionhood bookshelf.

“Are you done?” asks Whisper, already sitting behind her desk, and nods to the second chair across from her. I sit down.

“Komfee,” I open up with a compliment. The chair is soft and supports my back. Comfortable and healthy, I like that.

“Good. Now, what did Feather tell you?”

No stuttering, Greyscale! She’s terrifying, but ladies in charge you’ve met until now were firm but fair. Aside from Chiseled Chin, though, she was evil. Calm down, if you play your cards right, you might get a janitor’s closet to sleep in instead of the crate outside. Granted, that would leave Feather alone, but at least he would have more space there and you would see each other every night anyway.

“She told me yor past kaerteiker stoul sumteeng from heer end dets wai hee wos keeked aut.”

“That was a part of it,” Whisper nods. Wohoo, one point for Greyscale! “Normally I wouldn’t ask this, but do you know what this place is?”

“A broffel, mem. Yor workers sleep wit ponees for monee.”

“Do you have any problems with that?”

“Nou mem, wai wud Ai? Det wud bee laik being med at ponees woo sell fuud for selling fuud. Det maiks nou sens.”

She nods. Yaaaaay! Wait, now she’s going to want me to show what I can do, which isn’t much. Naaaay…

“As for your work experience, Feather said she had a friend who could repair things.”

I raise my hoof.

“Yes?” Whisper stops.

“Ai deed sum meikshift reepears een d barraks, but Ai hev never fiksd enyteeng komplex, mem.”

“What repairs?”

“Ai fiksd a broken bedfreim. Den Ai fiksd lou presshure een d shaur becuz of a leeky paip. Dere were sum smol teengs leiter too, but mostly Ai hed to go buy nyoo parts if sumteeng got broken. Ai wosnt reely a reepear ponee, but a kleener, mem. Ai just deed eet becuz ponees faund aut Ai deed eet for free before dey cud bring een a reel reepearponee.”

“So you don’t have any education pertaining to this position, nor years of practical experience. Hmm, I’m not sure-”

She stops when I raise a hoof again.

“Yes?”

“Aim cheep.”

She chuckles, which is the first sign of emotion from her.

“Money isn’t exactly an issue for me.”

“Ou,” I look down at the desk. She clearly CAN afford somepony good, “Tank yoo for yor taim-”

“However,” she raises her voice, “while the girls can last through some inconveniences for few days, our photographer is a rather temperamental sort and refuses to do the menial tasks on his own. Tonight, we need to continue our photo shoot of ‘Big Bouncy Plots from Zebrica’. If you can go down to the studio and help him by moving stuff around, making him a drink, and doing whatever annoying little things he wants, we’ll talk again later.”

“Okey. Ai kant fiks a kamera, thou.”

“Not your job.”

“Okey.”

“I’ve got some time on my hooves. I can show you where to go or I can send somepony with you.”

“Yoo, mem. eef eets ol d seim to yoo.”

“Oh?”

“Dis ees yor pleis. Plus yor beeg end prettee end scaree end yoo seem to nou a lot.”

I just had to say something dumb in the end, didn’t I?

“Big, pretty, and scary, eh?” she lowers her voice and leans a bit towards me, “Do you like that?”

At least be honest if you’re not smart enough to talk your way out of this one!

“Yes, mem. Yoo remaind mee of Grey Shrain. She beet up a bunch of bed guys woo hurt mee end odder payshents. Only yor a bit younger end,” I wave my hoof around, “rounder, but still stronk, laik yoo cud breik mee but also hug me teel Ai sqeek laik a rubber duckee.”

The corners of her mouth curl upwards.

“Flattery will only get you so far, Greyscale. Follow me, and we’ll see how you fare tonight.”

Flattery? I only tell the truth.

Is that… weird?


***


“Move the right spotlight to the left!”

“Okey.”

“Move the left spotlight to the right!”

“Okey.”

“My right, not your right!”

“Okey.”

“MY my right, not YOUR my right!”

“Uhhh, wot?”

“Faster!”

“O...key?”

“Hmmm… still not good enough.”

“I’m traying, meester kamerapon-”

“HAH! Raise the lamp a little!”

“Okey.”

“Don’t HOLD the whole stand up, there’s a dial on the side right under the lamp.”

“Oooou, kraftee.”

“Now put the stand where it was before you picked it up.”

“Okey.”

“To the left!”

“Okey.”

“No no no no! MY left, not YOUR left! How many times do I have to tell you.”

“Well, sumtaims eets yor left end-”

“Less talking back, more moving!”

“Okey.”

“Hmmm… that’s better. Alright, the lights are satisfactory. Now go grab the bucket.”

It hasn’t been na easy evening. Wet Whisper sent me down to the cellar, which turned out to be a well-furnished studio complete with electric lights, dressers full of clothing varying from gowns to some weird leather straps and corsets. A pony with a camera wearing a colourful shirt snatched me before I could get any explanation and started ordering me around.

I don’t really mind, I just wish he wouldn’t yell so m-

“Don’t stand there like a tree! I’m not paying you to reminisce about your foalhood, so grab the bucket and brush and go go go! We’re on a schedule here.”

“Okey.”

I’m not going to mention that I haven’t been paid yet. Besides, if I want to get some bits eventually, I need to work through this. Anyway, as I said before, I don’t really mind. It’s warm here, definitely better than if I was in the box outside.

With the bucket handle in my mouth and the brush stuck to its rim, I turn to the photographer and shrug.

“Wot nau?”

He facehoofs.

“Have you never seen a saucy photo or a movie?”

“Ai uance wolked bai a restohrant wit ol d sawsees-”

“Nope!” he raises a hoof, “I’m not dealing with this. Show some degree of competence and go lather the mare with the oil before I kick you out of here!”

Oh, did I forget to mention there are three of us here?

There is a mare lying on a couch on the set around which I’ve been moving the spotlights for the past twenty minutes, silently reading a magazine. Clearly, she’s far more used to this situation than I am. The mare is grey with black stripes all over her and somewhat chubby. Her coat hair is shorter than that of any pony I’ve ever seen. Her mane is cut to a mohawk, and her tail is cropped into only a small duster, even shorter than mine. Her features are kinda strange for a pony, perhaps she’s not from Canterlot? On top of all that, she’s wearing a bunch of golden necklaces on her neck and bracelets around her fetlocks.

“Yea, mon. My ears are already ringing, so come here with that brush and get swinging.”
She rhymes! And right on the spot.

“Waaau, ar yoo a poet, mees?”

“No, slow one. Now it’s time to get your job done.”

She just keeps going!

Enough messing around, Greyscale! The pony with the camera looks really mad, and you have a job to do. Show some professionalism.

I trot over to the couch, shove the brush into the sticky and clear oil, and…

...what?

“Wot do Ai do nau?”

The photographer’s eye twitches, he puts a hoof to his chest, and takes a deep breath.

“Such incompetence.”

“Aim soree, eets mai first dey.”

“EXCUSES! All I’m hearing are excuses!”

“E-hm!” coughs the grey lady, pointing to one side of the couch her hind legs are dangling from as she stretches over it, “Slow one, here is your spot. I am sure stallions are interested mostly in my plot. Lather it well, and make it slick. My posterior is plush and soft, but just that won’t do for a buyer’s di-”

“OIL! NOW!”

“Okey,” taking the dripping brush into my mouth, I shake it a little and turn around so that the oil sticks only to the hairs, and run it across the mare’s flank. Her cutie mark is a weird squiggly drawing, which I have no clue what represents. She smells nice.

Focus! She has no interest in you other than if you’re doing your job well. Mares are real ponies, and real ponies are for real ponies.

Calming down, I keep going with long brush strokes from her barrel down to the dock of her tail…

...and lower.

“Aim not shure were ken Ai touch yoo, mem. Ai dont teenk Aim aloud to touch mares down dere without permisshun.”

“Do I have to toss the bucket at her myself?!” yells the photographer.

“Sweet you are, slow one. You have my permission to get the job done.”

Her tail flicks from side to side as I oil the mare’s privates, then move onto her belly and keep going until-

“Enough! That’ll do. We’ve wasted too much time already.”

The mare sighs and puts down the magazine she’s been reading all the time through my ministrations.

“Okey,” I take myself and the bucket away. I’m pretty certain that whatever is supposed to be on the set, it’s not me.

With no more orders directed at me, I just grab a towel from the supply closet, sit down on it in the corner, and watch.

“More seductive!”

“Spread your legs!”

“You’re a flower in the desert, not some common daisy! Give me a steamy look.”

“Move to the left!”

“Your left, not my left!”

And it goes on and on. The mare doesn’t complain, only rolls her eyes or chuckles from time to time, and acts exactly according to the instructions.

Eventually, the door clicks and Wet Whisper arrives, her eyes darting from me to the ongoing photoshoot. She doesn’t say anything, only closes the door quietly behind her and watches. Soon after, the photographer says “Done!” and turns to Whisper.

“How was the provided assistance?” she asks.

The stallion rubs his head.

“Incredulously incompetent-”

Awww, I tried my best, but I guess this is a job where you need a lot of experience, since the shoot looked important.
“-however acceptable.”

Wet Whisper leans her head backwards and blinks several times.

“Al- alright then.”

“With that, I bid you goodbye.”

“See you tomorrow for the next shoot,” Whisper nods.

The photographer leaves, the oiled mare stretches and yawns, and Whisper walks over to my corner.

“Hmm, I guess that means I’ll be seeing you tomorrow as well, Greyscale. If you’re still willing after this display.”

“Weit, yor not kickeeng me aut?”

“Sharp Lens must have been pretty satisfied with you. He normally just screams at ponies. On top of that, the shoot is done on time for once. I must say - good job.”

“Umm, tank yoo?” I’m so confused.

“Zemi, any complaints about our new helper?” Whisper looks at the mare. Zemi? Strange name. She really can’t be from around here.

“Slow, he at first might seem, but as gentlecolt him I deem.”

“Alright, everypony seems satisfied with your performance, Greyscale. However, we are far from finished.”

I raise my hoof.

“Yes?”

“Ken Ai wosh up? Aim ol stickee end mai huufs slipperee. Eets okey eef Ai kant becuz Ai ken gou to d fawnteen end den come bak-”

“You not only can, you are required to. Can’t have you running around oiled up. Zemi, show him where the showers are down here, will you? Then send him to my office.”

“He looks worried, but I’m not mean. I will return him to you sqeaky clean.”

“And no funny business, he’s still going through an interview. Save that for later.”

“Don’t worry about me, I only tease. The most he might get is a firm grip and squeeze.”

Wet Whisper nods and leaves. Zemi nods at me, beckoning with her hoof to follow her. Behind the studio, there’s a short hallway with several doors, one of which Zemi opens and we enter a tiled square room slightly sloping down towards a central drain. There are multiple nozzles coming from all walls, presumably for a comfortable full-body washing. This place is big enough for three ponies to easily fit inside, but the way it’s laid out somehow feels like it’s made for only one pony with all the comfort and freedom they may want. On the other hoof, it’s only a shower, no bathroom, nothing more, just a really big shower.

Zemi walks inside with a swaying gait and immediately slides a glass pane in one of the walls to the side with a ton of various bottles behind it.

I should stop looking, shouldn’t I?

“Come inside. You’ve seen all there is to me already, I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“Eets okey, mem. Ai ken weit eef yor een a hurree.”

“Whisper hates to be kept waiting, and I soon am to be with a customer ready and willing. This way we can both be done in time, and I don’t mind a little brush here and there as we shower. Trust me, it won’t be a bad feeling.”

For some reason, I’m not so sure. However, if we really are both in a hurry...

“Okey.”

Zemi turns a small valve on the opposite wall from the… shampoo storage? It can’t be much else, right? But there’s so much. Shelf after shelf of colourful bottles...

“Eee?” the torrent of warm water brings me back to reality.

“Aaah, this feels so good. After the shoot, it does wonders to improve my mood,” Zemi runs her hooves all over her body.

Stay professional, Greyscale!

Alright, I’m sticky. That needs fixing.

“Ees dere sum soap een dere?” I point to the shampoo shelves.

“There is everything you might need to properly finish the cleansing deed,” she tosses me a pink bottle.

Strawberry Scent - soap and shampoo in one.

I lather it all over my forelegs, fighting the overpowering sweet smell,

“Ewww...” I stick my tongue out, “Ees dere sumteeng else?” an idea comes to mind, “Meybee a banana?”

“My my, such an exotic taste,” she take a long look at the bottles, “Here it is, some banana paste.”

I open the presented bottle and immediately the thick scent fills the room. With what Zemi is using, the room which seemed large at first is now heavy with various sweet aromas.

“Where did Honey put the brush- ah what the heck!” Zemi frowns, turning her voluptuous behind to me, “Greyscale, will you please wash my bountiful back?”

“Shure, mem.”

She passes me a different bottle to use. Apple Aroma - coat and mane care. I squirt it over her back and massage it in. Her backside is still slick with oil despite the water, so I ask:

“Umm, mees Zemee, ken Ai touch yor butt or will yoo wosh dere yorself?”

It’s a bit straightforward, but better than doing something wrong. She turns around and looks me in the eyes.

“Look, Greyscale, you know what I get paid for, what I do. Are you sure working in the brothel is right for you?”

“Aim not a clayent, mem. Ai just kleen stuff. Ai dont nou eef yor fain wit mee touching yoo, even doe yor a reely nais ponee.”

“I’m a zebra, Greyscale. Down from the deep south I hail.”

“Zeebrah?”

“No, ze-bra. Zeebra is what ponies with Manehattan accent say. I don’t really mind, since we all have four legs and eat hay.”

“Yor a nais zehbra den, mem.”

“I don’t mind touches from someone with whom I quickly formed the friendship bond. For your careful attention I will even give you a quick show, if you truly want.”

With just a shake of my head, I return to massaging the shampoo into her flanks.

She’s so squishy! I didn’t notice it before because I was using the brush and the oil seeped in on its own, but now under my hooves she jiggles!

Stop poking her, she's watching!

Oops.

Anyway, back to professionalism.

We’re done soon, and when Zemi pushes a button next to the valve, the whole ceiling starts blowing hot air at us. This is some serious technology.

When we dry out, Zemi sniffs the air.

“So relaxing it makes me want to write a ballad. Huh, put together like this we smell like a fruit salad.”

Chuckling, I follow her out of the studio and through the brothel back up to Wet Whisper’s office.

Zemi nuzzles my neck before leaving, and says:

“I hope you get the job, Greyscale, so do your best and you won’t fail.”

With her rushing off, I knock on Wet Whisper’s door.

The big mare opens and gives me a slight smile.

“I hope you didn’t do anything to upset Zemi.”

I shake my head.

“Nou, mem. She ees a nais zehbra. Ol Ai deed wos wosh her bek.”

“I admire your self-control then. I’m not sure I myself would refrain from… nevermind,” she coughs, “Alright, that was the first part of your interview. Do you know your way around boilers and heating?”

I recall the good old days of me sleeping in the boiler room in the barracks.

It feels so long ago.

“A littel, mem.”

“Can you make a bed?”

“Yes, mem.”

“Do you mind making a bed thirty times a night? Wiping body fluids off of furniture, running up and down flights of stairs with used clothes and sheets? Repairing things or finding a repairpony if you can’t on short notice? Mopping the dancers’ stage in the morning?”

Mopping? I know my mopping!

There were other things in that sentence!

Yes yes, many words.

“Ai ken kleen end kerry stuff, mem. Aim not shure about sum diffeecult reepears, but Ai ken ask around for sumponee smart to fiks wot Ai kant.”

Wet Whisper actually flashes me a wide grin.

“Congratulations, Greyscale, you’re hired! That’s hundred and fifty bits a week. Now run down and tell Honey Glaze to give you the utility keys. We’ve got code five, and six rooms are messed up already.”

My legs are shaking.

“Hun- hun- hun- hun- hundred-”

“MOVE! We’ve got a delegation of minotaurs coming tonight, in all senses of the word. I hope you’re steady on your hooves, because those rooms will be slippery.”

In a daze, I don’t resist as the strong mare shoves me out of the office and slams the door shut.

Hundred and fifty bits per week… that’s real pony pay.

“She’s still ripping you off, and hard,” I hear Stitches. I wonder how…?

Nevermind.

I CAN BUY SO MANY BOXES WITH THAT!
> 26: The End
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Phew! Dat wos sumteeng,” I wipe my brow dripping with sweat when I’m finally done unloading a large laundry basket into one of the three washing machines down here in the cellars.

Hmm, there was something I still had to do. What was it, what was it?

“Ah, peeza!”

Turning the washing machine on, I shut the door and rush upstairs.

So, the work in the brothel is super hectic. Even when nothing breaks, I spend most of my time running around and preparing rooms for guests as Wet Whisper said I would. I barely have a moment to myself or to talk to Feather. On the other hoof, it’s been over a week, and I’ve gotten paid once already.

I don’t know what to do with that much money. I still even have some left over after consulting it with Feather who had some great ideas what to spend it on. I bought a set of saddlebags, which feels weird since I still have so much money even after I spent some to buy something to hold it. The best part, though, is that now I have a leather, wool-laden cap which means my ears don’t sting anymore whenever I’m outside. Yay!

Feather wanted me to buy a jacket at least, but I found that idea impractical. How would I wear it when I still wash in the fountain from time to time? No, the cap was good enough. What I DID buy, though, was a packet of wooden planks from the store where I used to do my shopping for the barracks. While I couldn’t make something from them, I wedged them between the ground and the dumpster in our alley, and made a slanted roof for our box. With the umbrella covering us from the front now as well, the nights with Feather and still incapacitated Stitches under one blanket are actually warm.

The only downside is that I’m not allowed to sleep in the brothel. I asked Wet Whisper about setting a place up in some closet, but she said no. I didn’t pry further. It’s her place, and she’s paying me enough not to bother her.

So yeah, it’s going great. I keep passing out every time I go back home after work, but I suppose that’s going to change eventually when I get used to the rapid tempo of each night.

Gasping for breath in the main hallway, I sit down at the receptionist’s desk. There’s nopony here at this time of morning. The brothel is officially closed for business, everypony is resting after a long night, and I have one last thing to do, which is to pick up a pizza the girls ordered as a treat after tonight. All I’m supposed to do is to pay the delivery pony when he comes and bring the food to the bar on the ground floor. I can handle that.

I think.

Pretty soon, the little bell on the desk rings, signalling somepony is by the door, and I go to open it.

“Delivery for miss...” the arriving young unicorn stallion looks at a notepad hovering in front of him, “Honey Glaze. One ‘Surprise in each slice’ customized pizza.”

“Yor een d rite pleis, ser,” I nod.

He furrows his brows, trying to decipher what I’ve just said. I don’t push him, I’m used to it. He gets it eventually, and levitates the pad and the pen to me.

“Alright, sign here. That’ll be thirty-three bits.”

I count the coins the girls gave me, and add a bit for the service from my own. I heard it was customary to leave a tip, but I didn’t get any instructions about that, so it doesn’t feel right using their money in case I’m wrong. 

“Thank you,” says the stallion and levitates the pizza box onto my back.

“Yor welcum,” I wait until he closes the door, and carefully walk down the hallway to the bar.

I’ve got four legs, a flat top, and there’s food on me. I’m a table!

Can I add it to my list of work qualifications?

There are no clients at the bar anymore and the dancing stage is empty, There are only seven mares and three stallions relaxing around the biggest table near the bar, sipping various drinks.

Some of the mares I know, some I’ve just seen after my orientation rundown when I started working here. There’s Zemi, the super friendly chubby zebra with whom I’ve spent the most time after Feather. The changeling is there in her pegasus disguise as well, currently yawning and clearly having difficult time staying awake. Honey Glaze is leaning back in her chair, hind legs on the table, and drinking something pink and sticky. Wet Whisper, for once without her clothes, is just relaxing in her chair with a shot glass of something. 

The others I don’t know that well. There’s a young unicorn mare going by the name Lemongrass, light green with yellow mane. She doesn’t take clients, but she dances here every night. I think I heard she’s earning money to pay for her studies at the School for Gifted Unicorns which is supposedly very expensive. I don’t think she’s even of age, but nopony has ever complained, and when some clients tried to hit on her, the others showed them out. Harshly. Speaking of harshly, another stage dancer working here is Deep Dark, a batpony who had recently arrived to Canterlot alongside new princess Luna. When I first saw her, I WASN’T SCARED AT ALL, I SWEAR!

I mean, she has big, sharp teeth, and I remembered all the bad things I heard from the radio about batponies and their princess Luna. Deep Dark is quiet, and dances here for fun. She also said she was here on a mission from the new princess herself to get to know the population and make them more comfortable with batponies. Anyway, she’s scary but really nice. I don’t mean scary as in batpony-vampony scary, but as a soldier. Ever since Chiseled Chin beat me up, I’m kinda uneasy about strong, soldier-type mares, but all the others turned out to be great, so I just have to get used to them. Funny thing is, she has a short, grey carpet-y coat just like Zemi, and dark purple mane cut down even more than I have. It’s supposedly a prescribed cut for the Nightguard. The last mare here is Soft Hoof, a pegasus masseuse, light blue like a bright sky with her fluffy grey mane which resembles clouds. She takes clients like everypony else, but also does massages and dances. Kinda hectic, if you ask me, but she doesn’t mind so it’s okay. 

The three stallions are quietly chatting with the girls. They mostly avoid me, I feel. Well, two of them do, the big guys. So, the big guys are a zebra stallion working here, and an earthpony one. Both are big, chiseled, muscular types, and that’s pretty much all I know. They get most of the female clients here, but some male as well. The zebra is called Hest, he’s grey with black stripes just like Zemi, and the brown-coated and blonde-maned earthpony’s name is Dust. The only stallion who doesn’t avoid me is the small pegasus one, at least compared to the other two. His name is Stratos, and he dresses like a mare. Well, not really, because mares usually don’t wear much just like anypony else, but he likes long dresses, corsets, stockings, and socks a lot. I think he has quite the eye for it too. I didn’t get too many details about it, but he works closely with Wet Whisper and spends a lot of time in the weird cellar with a lot of leather, whips, ropes and spikes. Even outside of work hours!

On the other hoof, the place is always neatly organized when it’s my time to clean it, so I just wipe the sweat and blood off of the floor and spray everything with air fresheners. Wet Whisper told me that some clients enjoy pain if caused correctly and under the right circumstances, which makes no sense to me, but she’s the expert and I just clean the place. 

There are more ponies working in the brothel, but they aren’t around at the moment.

“Heyyy, pizza is here!” calls Dust out when the door clicks shut behind me, “Lemon, will you?”  

“Waaay ahead of you,” Lemongrass rushes over and levitates the box off of my back right onto the table. She opens the box, delicious smell of cooking filling the air, “Ohhhh yessss...”

With my job well done, I really should be going. It’s been a long night, and I can feel the daze creeping through me.

“Where are you going, Greyscale?” I hear Zemi call out, “Come have a slice with us.”

I turn back and trot over, yawning.

“Ai deednt pay anyteeng.”

“That’s alright,” Feather points to an empty chair next to hers she’s just grabbed from the next table, “I can share mine.”

As I sit down, everypony is hungrily devouring their slice already. Feather leans to my ear and whispers:

“We changelings aren’t the best with your pony food, so help me out here.”

I nod and take a bite from her triangle which is covered with sliced tomatoes and bell peppers. It’s definitely better than the stew at Sunlight’s mercy, but that’s to be expected from food not made of leftovers. Feather takes a much smaller bite and cleans her muzzle with her hoof.

“Damn, how you eat so little and still keep that kind of a figure is beyond me,”  Deep Dark shakes her head, “If I ate this in the guard, I wouldn’t last a single day of training, and if I ate too much, I’d bulk out like crazy.”

“I guess I’m just lucky,” Feather chuckles, “Don’t worry, Deepy, most mares would unapologetically murder their husbands to have your body.”

“Well yeah,” the batpony waves her pizza slice, “but they still have to pay in gold, no substitutions.”

A round of amused laughter fills the room.

“Do I have something on my foreleg?” asks Wet Whisper, and I realize I’m staring.

“Um, ehm-”

“I think he likes you,” teases Honey Glaze, “Do you, Greyscale?”

Huh, what? I mean, yes. I like all the ponies I’ve met here.

“Yes, Ai do,” I nod to the widening eyes of everypony around, “Mees Weesper ees grate. She let me work heer eevn without ekspeeriense. Plus, shee dosent yell at me wen Ai do sumteeng wrong, just tells me hau to do eet rite.”

And here comes a round of disappointed sighs for some reason.

“Then what was so interesting on me a moment ago?” asks Wet Whisper, eyebrow raised.

Well, the thing is that this is my first time seeing Wet Whisper without some fancy suit on, and I couldn’t help myself. As I guessed before, she possesses the perfect round hourglass figure I noticed before, and when she moves one can see muscles bulge through the soft coat, but there are things her clothes cover. Her body is cross-crossed with scars and whip marks. I have no idea who would want to hurt such a nice lady, but somepony apparently had in the past. However, that’s not what I was staring at.

“Yor tettoos, mem.”

She looks at her shoulder completely covered in some red, inky symbols so tightly they form a mesh, but a mesh that… makes sense? There are many patches of these runes all over her. On her thighs, around the base of her tail, on the back of her neck, under her chin, which I never noticed before, and on one of her ears.

“My tattoos?” Whisper smiles and sighs, “Do you think they look bad?”

“Nou nou nou nou nou,” I frantically wave my hooves in front of my muzzle, “Dey ar reely prettee, just… Ai feel as eef Ai shud nou wot dey meen. Dey feel familier.”

Wet Whisper looks taken aback for a moment.

“I would be absolutely stumped if you did,” she shakes her head and points her painted foreleg at me, “These together are called ‘runic shroud’. Back during the last war, they were used by earthpony stormtroopers for magical protection. They are vastly inferior to real armor or magical crystals  for protection-”

“-but dey serve as mainor mejical sheelds det cant be teiken awey.”

Huh, where did that come from?

Wet Whisper blinks.

“T- that’s correct. Anyway, I got used to them and eventually turned them into real tattoos like these.”

“With the help of a unicorn wizard, no doubt. A normal pony tattooing over the shroud would only ruin it,” I hear the quietest of guiding voices, “And this one is still working.”

“Steeches?” I whisper.

Feather digs the knee of her foreleg into my side.

“Ouch!”

“Oops, my bad,” Whisper apologizes, waving the remains of the pizza slice, “Want the rest?” she shoves it into my mouth.

“Mmmh hoo!”

“Now,” Feather pats my head, “There’s actually a non-pizza related reason we wanted you here tonight.”

I gulp down the last bit.

“Ail wosh d teibl layter.”

“No, no the table. Although yes, you’ll have to do that too,” Feather grins, “Zemi, will you?”

“Right you are, Tender Feather,” the zebra leans down under the table and then her head peeks out, but she’s holding something in her forelegs still under the tabletop. Then she quickly raises them up, “Tyadaa! Look here, your friend got better.”

Fr-

It takes me a second to identify the dark blue and purple blur.

“STEECHES?!” I rush around the table to Zemi and snatch Stitches from her hooves. I examine him from all sides, taking note of the tiny immaculate stitching around his neck where Tracker’s magic caused the horrible twisted mess. He also looks a bit thinner, and when I poke his belly, it rustles, “Yor ol skinnee nau! Eef eet doesnt work out een d gaard for yoo, yoo ken be a model.”

“I had no cotton to refill his stuffing, but crumpled newspaper clippings were the second best thing.”

I have nothing to repay Zemi with. Perhaps some of the bits I got?

“And, she fixed him because she wanted to, so you don’t have to pay her or anything,” says Feather and everypony looks at her. She shrugs, “Trust me, I know Greyscale. This is exactly what he was thinking. Right, Greyscale?”

I hesitantly nod and look at Zemi.

“Yes, mem. Yoo deed dis for me… ken Ai et leest hug yoo?”

“Now THAT’S what you have to pay for!” calls out Honey Glaze, much to the laughter of everypony.

“It helped me pass time, Greyscale, and you’re such a dear,” Zemi stretches out her forelegs, “Of course friends get these for free. Come over here.”

I squeeze the chubby zebra. Not too hard, but hopefully enough to get through how much what she did means to me.

As she pats my back and breaks the embrace, I hear Feather’s yawn. Swiping Stitches off of the table and putting him on my back like in the old days of… few days ago, I turn to her.

“Do yoo wont to gou houm?”

“Oh, you two live together?” asks Honey Glaze.

“Yes,” I nod, “we hev dis big boks-”

“We’re roommates!” 

Boxmates, but we’re making the place into a real room, so it’s close enough and I nod.

“Anyway, thanks Zemi a ton. Stitches means the world to him. However, we need to go, because we still have stuff to do and I want everything sorted out before I pass out.”

Stratos stretches all four legs in his chair, then runs his hoof through his long mane.

“I gotta agree with the two. As much as I’d like to chat, I’m beat. Metaphorically and literally. See you tomorrow, everypony,” he stands up, flashes a smile to all of us, and with a distinct swaying of his hips heads for the exit. I can’t avoid noticing whip marks on his flank as he walks away. He even walks like a mare, huh. Strange, but he makes it work.

Tender Feather pokes me.

“Stop ogling Stratos’ ass and come on, Greyscale. We’ve got places to be.”

“Ai laik beeing a ponee, Ai dont wont to be a pleis.”

My objection is ignored as Feather keeps tugging on my coat and I follow.

“See you tomorrow, you two,” Honey Glaze waves at us.

“Bai, end tank yoo agen!” I wave both my forelegs at Zemi, quickly stopping when Stitches starts sliding down from my back.

Outside, Feather puts on a sharp pace, heading in a different direction from the one we usually go to our box.

“Now, I’ve got some interesting news.”

“Aim eenterestid olredy.”

“Heh, sometimes I don’t know whether you mean it or you’re making fun of me,” she shakes her head, “Anyway, the news is that our good doctor was alright with me delaying the payment for fixing your muzzle.”

“Wai? Ai ken geev yoo d monee Ai got dis week. Eets not mush but eet shud help.”

“No need. I promised I would pay for it, and I will. Now, how much money you have left over this week?”

“Sumteeng over hundreed beets.”

“That should cover it nicely.”

As we walk through early morning mountainside Canterlot, I feel almost at home. I’d like to be really at home, but Feather’s company is nice too, and the brisk walk is waking me up.

“Sou, wot do yoo need me for?”

“Well, I was thinking and counting my money.”

“Ai do det too sumtaims!”

“The thinking or the counting?”

“Uhh, both, but not at d seim taim, det gets me confyoozd.”

“I can imagine. So, I had an idea. Since we’re earning a reasonable amount of bits together, how about we go and rent a real place to live?”

“Uhh, laik a beeg boks?”

“Like an apartment. I looked into some ads, and there are few places we can check out today.”

A real place? I’d get to live in a real apartment? Like a real pony? With a real friend?

I…

I don’t even…

I never thought this was possible.

“You’re its food, Greyscale,” I hear Stitches whisper, “No more, no less. It will get rid of you when you’re not useful in a blink of an eye.”

Tender Feather freezes and slowly turns to me.

“I heard that.”

“Bed Steeches! Fedder ees a frend. Shee deed a lot for me!”

“Greyscale, YOU said that,” Feather looks me in the eyes, “I’ve got very good ears, and I clearly heard you just like in the brothel. You said it normally.”

“Nou, Steeches deed. Ai wud never say det,” my eyes mist over, “Yor mai frend. Yoo seivd me! Aim not a bed ponee, I wud never meen eet. I wud never, ever, ever-” I shake my head vigorously, “meen eet. Yor mai frend! Yor not eet! Ai dont maind yoo eet hugs end Ai feel kold afterwords. Ai wont yoo around! Steeches ees just overprotekteev.”

Why did Stitches have to say that? Feather has never done anything bad to me.

Feather is just standing there, her eyes glowing green now. She tilts her head and the glow fades. 

I-

I blink. What just happened? My head hurts.

I wipe my eyes.

“Alright,” says Feather, “You are a good friend too, Un- Greyscale”

“Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire! Kill it with fire!” I hear Stitches’ constant whispering.

“Bee kwuiet,” I hiss back at the plushie, “Shees nais, end shee ken heer yoo.”

Feather chuckles to herself.

“Come on,” I hear the amused notes in her voice, “We’ve got a busy morning ahead of us.”


***


So, now I know Stitches is scared of Feather for some reason, which is weird because Zemi can’t have known about Stitches without Feather telling her. Plus, I didn’t bring Stitches to the brothel ever, so Feather must have done that too. Oh well, it’s not always easy to make new friends, but true nature will shine through in the end.

Anyway, with that embarrassing misunderstanding behind us, Feather and I checked out several apartments on her list. She apparently had all this prepared way in advance, just needed the right time to go see the offers at once. The places were all similar. Either it was a cheap single room with some utility closets and a bathroom, although still significantly larger than our living crate, or there were two rooms, but then the rent more than doubled. I didn’t mind either. The small ones meant we would have to sleep together with Feather, which is something I’m more than used to by now, and the bigger ones meant we had room for improvement in the future.

I let Feather do the talking. Truthfully, I had nothing of value to add aside from when we visited one place, the cheapest one, which I really disliked. It smelled there and I noticed darker blots on the ceiling and walls, which meant there was something wrong with the pipes. Plus, somepony kept stomping in the apartment above us, which could make sleeping a bit problematic. 

The last place on Feather’s list, however…

I gasp for breath. Not only because the top floor apartment is rather spacious, but, well, mainly because it’s on the top floor of a five-story apartment complex. The landlord, a greasy old earthpony, waves his hoof around to encompass the main big room.

“This is it, a beauty if I say so myself,” he announces, a little bit of celebration in his raspy voice, “and, as I said, only five hundred bits a month.”

“Definitely,” Feather nods, admiring the place, “Mind if we look around?”

“Of course not. That’s why you’re here after all.”

“Excellent,” Feather pokes my side, “Greyscale, have a look around, will you? I’ll have a chat with our potential new landlord.”

“Okey,” I trot off.

When I enter the second room of the suite, I hear a quiet groan from behind. Just in case, I peek back through the door, only to see Feather staring down the landlord. Well, nothing seems to be wrong, so I walk around, carefully tapping on the wooden floor in case of some hollow space.

“Celestia’s backside, THAT is what you’ll be living with?” asks Stitches.

“Wot do yoo meen?”

“Look, I didn’t sense any magic, but I sure as Tartarus can recognize a mind control attempt when I see one.”

“Ai dont undrstend,” I have a quick look into the sink and he cupboard under it. Empty, but sturdy and clean. Also, the only piece of furniture in the whole apartment aside from a shelf nailed to the wall in the main room.

“Look, I’ve only read a brief mention about changelings in an ancient bestiary, but I put two and two together from what we’ve seen in Border Glades and here.”

“Thre- Ai meen four,” I rub my temple, “Mai hed hurts.”

“Sorry, that’s my fault. Look, before I make things worse, just be careful around the changeling. It knows about me and doesn’t care, which can either mean it can deal with you no matter what I do or say, or...”

“Or shee teenks Aim teystee end wonts me around as a frend?”

“Yeah… which… is strange. Changelings I read about were ruthless predators, but...”

“Em Ai een denjer?”

“Right now? I don’t think so, at least not from it. I need to think.”

Well, back to things I understand or can do something about.

“Do yoo laik dis pleis?”

“Hm?” Stitches sounds surprised.

“Eet has a shelf on wich Ai ken put yoo so yoo ken look after me better.”

“Honestly, this is a really nice place. I wonder why it’s so cheap. That might be a good question to ask the landlord.”

Taking that as a yes, I go check the bathroom and the two closets. As I return back to the main room to look into the final one, I see Feather having a hushed conversation with the landlord.

Oh, so that’s why there was a toilet in the other closet, this one has a shower!

So, there are two rooms, one of which has a sink. One closet with a toilet, one with a shower, and an empty one. Each room offers a sliding window. Granted, the view from one is only the mountain while the second one overlooks some alley, but I don’t mind that at all.

I mean, if we can pay for this then we should. It’s clean and seems in a good shape.

“Dis pleis seems greit. Wai ees eet sou cheep?” I remember what Stitches said. Feather facehoofs for some reason.

“Cheap, you say?” the landlord gives me a wide smile, “Well-”

“Don’t even try to jack the price!” Feather frowns.

The landlord raises his hoof defensively.

“Calm down, I was just messing with you. The thing is that walking up five flights of stairs few times a day gets old fast. You must have seen there’s no bath, only a shower, the view is nonexistent, there is no furniture included, and we’re here by the mountainside, so I can’t really raise the price too high.”

“Holy moly, an honest answer? That’s the first one today,” Feather shakes her head, “We’ll take it. Can I stop by tomorrow with the advance payment?”

The landlord shuffles backwards and chuckles.

“You see, it’s not that simple. I’ve got another pair of customers coming later today, and if they pay on the spot then it’s theirs. As you said, this place is a great find and-”

“When?” Feather says quickly.

The landlord looks at the watch around his foreleg.

“In about two hours.”

“We’ll be here sooner, have the contract ready!”

Feather nods at me.

“Come, Greyscale!”

“Okey.”

And now we run.

Down five flights of stairs.

Huh, now I can see what the landlord meant.

Outside, I stop Feather, and between gasping for breath, I ask:

“Were are wee goeeng?”

“I keep my money in the brothel safe. Whisper should still be there. I didn’t think we’d need to pay for the place today, and I’m not risking anything in case the landlord is NOT making this up to make us sign the contract.”

“Den Ail just slow yoo daun becuz yoo ken flai,” I shake my head, reaching into my saddlebag and pulling a small, clinking pouch, “Teik mai beets. Dere ees a hundred end tree left. Eets not mush, but eets ol Ai got. Det wey yoo ken run dere end bek wail Ai go get aur teengs from d boks. Et leest d blankits.”

Feather pats my head.

“Good thinking. Alright, I’ll see you there,” she pockets my bits into her saddlebag, and takes to the sky.

Time to do my part. I don’t have much money, but I can carry stuff.


***


Alright, so there was no furniture in the apartment. Our crate is sturdy, though, and can serve as a table so I should definitely take that. We won’t have a bed either. Hmm, do we need a second blanket to sleep on? We’ll have to sort that out later, since I can’t run off to buy it because I gave Feather my bits.

We’ll have time for that once we have a real roof over our heads. Hmm, come to think of it, the apartment was a little drafty. I completely missed that in my excitement. The windows had to be damaged or something. The landlord must have known about it and counted the problem into the cost. It doesn’t matter if the place needs some repairs afterwards anyway. It’ll give me something to do in my free time.

Our alley greets me and Stitches again. Not literally, of course. Alleys don’t talk. Although if Stitches can, despite it being in my head… why not-

“Alleys can’t talk,” says Stitches.

“Awww...”

A new friend would be nice, but I already have many new friends in the brothel so I have no reason to complain.

Standing in front of our living crate, I wonder how to pick everything up.

The closed umbrella will fit in the crate no problem. The blanket is already inside and so are the towels. Hmm, the two long planks will be a problem. I can either make two trips, which I’d like to avoid, or I can stick them in the crate in some way that would make them balance each other out on my back when I carry all of it. Now how would that wor-

“Unfettered Curiosity...” I hear a growl.

“Shit!” curses Stitches. 

Holy moly, can the alley talk after all?

Wait, no. Unfettered Curiosity.

Oh no, did the two ponies mistake me for somepony else again?

I turn around and see a dark blur for a fraction of a second.

My vision swims.

I blink and shake my head as two hooves grab me by my neck. It really is the earthpony who attacked me before. Strain, was it?

“We told you to get the money, and we told you not to try to hide!” I hear Strain growl again, “Our employer was really... annoyed when we couldn’t find you last week, which means WE got less money.”

“But Aim not dis Unfettered Curiosity! Ai dont ou monee to enyponee, Ai teenk-”

He slams me against the wall.

“Tracker, plan B?”

Light next to Strain bends and shifts, and the unicorn appears out of nowhere just like the earthpony did. His horn glows, my ears pop, and the sounds from the main street become strangely muffled. Next, the white light from his horn runs up and down my body still held by Strain.

“Yes. This assignment has gone for far too long and he has no gold on himself. I’m not going to be yelled at by that asshole if we let this guy off the hook again and he changes visage. The tracking spell is reliable, but slow. Hold him down, and let’s get our share of the money. The client can kiss our asses goodbye after this.”

Strain lets me go. I sigh, then-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

I feel every mostly healed stitch in my muzzle break, shards of newly shattered bones ripping my skin again.

I try to cover my head with my hooves as I spot Strain wind up again. His hoof knocks the air out of me, and I fall on my back.

“Roll him over,” I barely hear Tracker speak over the rushing of blood in my ears.

Strain rolls me on my side, and sits down on me. 

This is bad, this is bad, this is bad! I don’t know what they have in mind, but what Tracker said sounded final. Trying to wiggle myself free, I kick my legs…

...and hit something.

“Screw this!” groans Tracker.

I feel pressure around my hind legs, but can’t see anything other than dim glow.

Crack.

Crunch.

I throw up.

“M-m-m-m-m-mai l-l-l-egs...”

I stop moving. I can feel myself trembling, but every conscious attempt at kicking again hurts too much. It’s as if red hot knives that are freezing cold at the same time stabbed my knees.

“Owowowowowowowowwwww...” I mumble, outer world slowly fading away, “Wai ar yoo sou meen to mee…?”

Speaking of knives, from the corner of my eye I see Tracker levitate a small one which nonetheless looks incredibly sharp.

“Oh god...” I hear Stitches, “a scalpel? What do they- oh no! That’s how they want to ‘get their part of the payment’.”

“You holding him, Strain?”

“He keeps twitching and mumbling, I can’t do much about that.”

“That’s alright. Once I have the stasis spell set up around the critical organs, we can gut him without any real damage to those. Or at least any damage a skilled unicorn couldn’t repair.”

Wait, organs? They… they want to take my organs?

“Ai… Ai ken.. ken geev yoo… sum of mai… beets… eef yoo… let me bee,” I mutter, “Ai dont nou woo needs dem… but eef Ai deed sumteeng bed… yoo ken teik sum. Eef eet helps sumponee...”

“Yeah, well, you should have thought about selling a kidney to repay your debts before you screwed us over. Now we’re gonna take everything. Black market always needs healthy organs.”

“Nou… nou… Ai need sum… to breeth… end eet...”

“You won’t after this,” he stabs the scalpel into my side, and starts cutting.

“Grrrngnn...” I foam at the mouth, but can’t move anymore at all no matter how it hurts.

Huh, it hurts less and less. In fact, I can’t feel much anymore. What a relief…

“Alright, the easy one’s out,” Tracker announces. Was it this long, or is he that quick?

He’s levitating something big, reddish brown and squishy. As it shimmers with blue magic, he puts it into a large box.

I feel dizzy and tired. In fact, how am I still awake? Must be some sort of magic.

“Now for the vital parts,” Tracker continues, “He might spasm as he dies, so hold him really steady.”

Wait, dies? I don’t want to die.

“Ai… Ai deednt… do eny...teeng… Ai shud… die… for...” I mumble, but they ignore me.

Did I?

“Ai… Ai ken geev… d laydee… her beet… bek...”

“Aim soree… for teikeeng… a bath… een d… fawnteen...”

“D barraks… wosnt… mai… fault...”

“Aim soree… mester Kleer Eensaid… for ruineeng yor job… but yoo were not a… nais… ponee...”

“Hai… Fedder...”

“Bai… Fedder...”

I try to wave my hoof at the pegasus. Is she even really here?

“Yoo were a nais… shen.. .jee… leeng...”

I hear a ear-splitting roar which wakes me up for a moment. I don’t want to wake up. Everything hurts when I wake up.

Aaaah… the dizziness is coming back. Good.

“What the hay?! A bear?” yells Strain.

The sound of something hard and heavy hitting flesh is all I can hear.

Bear? Why would a bear be here?

Wait, no. There’s also panicked screaming.

Green fire.

“Oh no. What in Queen’s name did they do to you? Greyscale, are you still with me? GREYSCALE!”

“...”

“Guards...” I hear Stitches groan, “Grey Shrine. Die… if carried. Levitate. Need… new stasis… spell. Soon.”

“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit!” I hear Feather’s trembling voice.

“Panicking… won’t help, changeling.”

Everything is going grey.

Hey, just like my name. Greyscale.

“Don’t let him fall asleep.”

At least Stitches knows what to do.

Sharp spike of pain from my ear makes me twitch and open my eyes a little.

“Ow...”

“Sorry!” I hear Feather gasping for breath.

Everything is blurry and wind is rushing in my ears.

Voices. Multiple angry voices.

“GREY SHRINE! DOES ANYPONY KNOW SOME GREY SHRINE?!”

Hehe, I do. She’s this nice lady who takes care of the recruit barracks. I wonder what she does these days. She told me when I was at the asylum, I just can’t remember.

Why can’t I remember?

It’s so difficult to think now.

I really should sleep. 

It’s kinda hard with all the ponies screaming and yelling. Are the blurs around ponies? They must be.

On the other hoof, a bear appeared out of nowhere before.

Okay, screaming blurs.

“Skreeming blrrs… ken yoo... let me... sleep, plees?”

“-doctor, now!”

“-know only battlefield triage-”

“-TAKING SO LONG?”

“-won’t last-”

And now even the blurs are gone, and the screaming goes quieter. I can finally sleep.

“Tank… y-”


***


The door to the Canterlot castle emergency room slammed shut, leaving the pink-eyed, light blue pegasus mare with wet streaks on her muzzle staring at it.

She wasn’t alone.

Two pristine white Royal Guards in their gold-foiled plate armors pointed their spears at her sides while the last one, a grey mare with cyan mane gave her a stern stare.

“I’ve seen pigs fly and had a snake tell me to talk to the fist, but a pegasus levitating a pony? That’s new.”

The mildly presented threat got through to Tender Feather despite her stupor.

In her panicked rush to get Greyscale to safety, Tender Feather had broken the most important rule for a changeling.

Unless you’re a hundred percent certain it will benefit you, or you can easily kill the witness, never EVER reveal yourself.

It could have been so easy - just grow a horn and lose the wings. A mere second of focus thanks to how much affection Greyscale’s friendship brought her, nothing more.

But…

...seeing him lying in a unreal pool of blood with a giant gaping hole in his side…

...made her panic.

The second mind... if it wasn’t for the second one Greyscale called ‘Stitches’ she would have done something stupid and killed him on the spot by sheer incompetence. However, after the short episode of rummaging in the upper layers of Greyscale’s brain Feather knew at least the name - Unfettered Curiosity.

A mind completely calm, precise, and calculating even while knocking on the death’s door.

With a deep breath, Tender Feather turned to face Grey Shrine watching her with narrowed eyes, and-

Unfettered had said nopony without the knowledge hidden in ancient books would understand the true predatory nature of a changeling. He had said a lot of things to keep Greyscale awake during the mad rush to the castle. Magic theories, math rules, history facts… anything, jumping from one subject to another just to keep going. 

-in a burst of green flames transformed back into a changeling.

“A changeling,” growled Grey Shrine.

Feather froze. How? Unfettered had said he/she would pass as a curiosity, not an enemy. Grey Shrine, though, radiated animosity.

In a freezing and carefully controlled tone, Grey Shrine said:

“Are you responsible for Greyscale’s shape?”

Feather’s entire body revolted at the question, leaning backwards as if struck. The changeling, now a ‘he’ again, realized the truth. He cared for the slow pony he knew as Greyscale as a friend, not only as food.

Or maybe he was just addicted to the taste of real affection, not just lust and stolen love tainted by hypnosis and venom.

Whatever the answer was, he didn’t feel as if lying his way out of this was an option. A novel concept, but one worth trying.

“No,” he looked Grey Shrine firmly in the eyes, “I would never do anything this monstrous… at least not to him, unicorn. Your kind did this, not mine.”

“Then tell me everything.”


***


Pacing back and forth in front of the door to intensive care rooms, Grey Shrine’s mind was going in the same direction. One reason was that she had a potentially innocent changeling locked up in a cell guarded by some of her old acquaintances who owed her something from the good old days in the army. She couldn’t afford to leave this job to normal guards, not when she knew what a changeling was and that it could use mind control effects to an unspecified degree. However, if the creature was to be trusted, it couldn’t last down there much longer than a week before starving to death as it seemingly didn’t eat like a carnivore or a herbivore. That deadline was unpleasantly close now. On the other hoof, from its explanation of the situation she knew where the creature ‘hunted’ for prey and while she wasn’t exactly comfortable with the subject of ponies as food, Shrine had seen much worse things in her life than someone surviving purely on sex.

The other reason was the pony behind the door - Greyscale. Despite what he’d gone through, according to the doctors he would likely survive and today was the day they would stop keeping him in artificial sleep. She knew him, or at least she thought she did, but from what the changeling had said, some things she'd discovered in the asylum suddenly made a lot more sense. Greyscale was smart, he just got confused easily and some concepts avoided him completely. However, he had unwittingly outsmarted the one behind all this. Greyscale had never thought he was a real pony, and before Grey Shrine had simply waved it off as him knowing he was slower and simpler than others around him. The thing was that if what the changeling had said was true, then Greyscale had gotten much closer to reality than he thought.

A mare wearing a white coat opened the door to the intensive care unit.

“Grey Shrine?” she asked simply. She had seen the guardsmare visit daily over the past week, so the question was only a matter of protocol.

“Yes, I’m Grey Shrine.”

“Greyscale woke up asking for somepony called Tender Feather.”

“Tender Feather is… I know where she is. Before I can let her see Greyscale, I need to talk to him.”

The nurse nodded.

“Ten minutes, and don’t stress him out. He was terrified even of me when I went closer with a stethoscope.” 

“I will be on my best behaviour.”

With another nod, the nurse walked away, and Grey Shrine entered the room, looking at the patient on the bed.

Greyscale was skinny after the week of infusions, although not as bad as the first time she had talked to him properly. His head twitched in her direction as the door clicked shut behind her. Her guard experience allowed her to notice the moment of panic which gave way to relief and soft, although a little worried smile. She didn’t hold it against him. After having an organ chopped out in the middle of the street by a unicorn, it made sense he would be scared of every sound. As he raised his thin foreleg and slowly waved at her, he looked so small, vulnerable, and fragile.

Despite all that…

He had recovered from clearly fatal wounds multiple times. He could work out rather ingenious solutions to problems on the spot. The problem was whether that was him, or what the changeling called the other mind.

Now, how to approach the subject?

“Hi,” she said.

“Helou, mem,” he croaked quietly. Infusions apparently did little to soothe dry throat.

“Greyscale, Greyscale,” she sighed as she sat down on the chair by his bed, “Why did you have to run off and do something stupid again?”

He looked down.

“Soree.”

She rubbed his forehead. Now that she focused on it, she could feel the tiniest bump where a unicorn horn would be.

“I’m not mad, just curious. Why did you run off from the asylum? What led to… this?”

Greyscale chuckled quietly to himself.

“Yoo nou mee, Aim not a smart ponee. Turns aut Aim not eevn woo Ai teenk Ai em… meybee. Ai dunno wai dey hurt mee. Ai deednt doo anyteenk, or Ai deed end kant remember. Ai dont nou, Aim soree.”

Shrine had seen criminals or ponies who would say anything just to get off the hook, and Greyscale didn’t feel like that. As if he genuinely had no idea why had the ‘attack’ happened and even despite that he could believe it was his fault somehow.

The problem was that both those things could be true.

“Before you ask, Tender Feather is locked in the dungeons.”

He tried to sit up, but her hoof on his chest stopped him.

“Wot, wai? She deednt do anyteeng.” 

“Greyscale, she levitated you with a gaping hole in your side to the middle of castle courtyard. Then she transformed into a changeling in front of me and other two Royal Guards. I pulled a lot of strings to hush it up. If I didn’t know what I found out during the asylum incident, I would have let her go and would still be in the dark.”

“Shee seivd me end yoo lokked her up?” he asked without any malice, just confusion. He put his head on the pillow again,  “Steeches wos rite. Gaards wudnt be mai frends enymoar.”

“I AM your friend, Greyscale, which is why the changeling is not under any investigation or undergoing experiments. However,” Grey Shrine picked up the Nightguard plushie from the bedside table, “since you brought it up… who is Stitches, or as Feather said - Unfettered Curiosity?”

“Yor holdeeng Steeches. Woo dis Unfettered Curiosity ees Ai dont nou. Trekker end Strein hurt mee twais becuz dey thought Ai wos d ponee. Aiv nevr met anyponee laik det.”

“Greyscale, there are only two names I’ve heard you say properly. Yours, and Curiosity’s.”

“Ai dunno, mem. Ai reely dont. Meybee-”

Greyscale’s voice changed mid-sentence. The new one is cold and firm.

“Let me take care of this one, Greyscale.” 

He looked at the plushie in Grey Shrine’s hooves.

“Okey, Steeches.”

“Good, now sleep. This conversation is private.”

“Okey.”

Grey Shrine, listening to the duality of the monologue leaned backwards as Greyscale closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then opened them again.

She met a new gaze, one she had hard time returning. Focused and evaluating her. However, there was more which her police sense uncovered - exhaustion and desperation. 

“Unfettered Curiosity, I assume?” she asked.

Greyscale/Unfettered nodded.

Unsure about how to begin, Grey Shrine decided on the direct approach.

“Why are you pretending to be Greyscale?”

Unfettered chuckled to himself.

“Wrong assumption from the beginning,” he said in a lecturing tone, “Let me ask something first.”

Grey Shrine immediately disliked the ‘new’ pony, but wisdom and patience were the keys to solving this mystery.

“Alright.”

“Heh, gotta admit I wasn’t expecting that. Alright, here goes. Do you consider Greyscale a friend?”

“Less and less with every word you say, Greyscale,” she frowned.

To Shrine’s surprise, Unfettered simply nodded.

“I posed the question wrong. If the pony you know as Greyscale was real and I wasn’t, as they say, in the mix, would you consider him a friend?”

Once again, the academic precision caught Grey Shrine off guard. This didn’t feel like somepony trying to mess with her head. She nodded.

“Yes, I would. I used to be a soldier, and I did it not because I was a bloodthirsty mare, but because I wanted to protect ponies and that was the best way I could think off. Even after I was too old for the front line, I ended up in the Royal Guard. Greyscale needed me, and I believed he deserved my help,” Shrine stopped and facehoofed, “Well played, Unfettered. Well played.”

“Once again, wrong assumption from the beginning. I didn’t use you. Greyscale is real.”

“Hmm?” Shrine raised an eyebrow.

Unfettered tried to push himself into a sitting position, but gave up as his forelegs failed him and fell back on the pillow.

“Meh, at least it’s comfortable like this,” he sighed, “So, my name is- was Unfettered Curiosity. Some three months ago, I used to be a master’s degree student at Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns.”

“How old are you?” interrupted Shrine.

“Twenty-nine.”

“That’s a lot even for a master’s student.”

Unfettered nodded.

“I… made a lot of mistakes, which is where my problems started. You see, I wasn’t exactly good with ponies… at all. I could blame family problems or poor company when growing up, but I was just… a defect, I think. Don’t get me wrong, I was smart, but that came with a price. It made me judge every pony I met, see only their faults, and… always criticise,” Unfettered chuckled to himself again, “And let me tell you, professors hate to be told they’re wrong.”

“Everypony does.”

“Well those without egos the size of Celestia’s plot can freaking take it when they get PROVEN wrong!”

Grey Shrine couldn’t help cracking a smile at the outburst. Unfettered indeed was still young.

“I’ve seen this in the army. High ranks far too often think they are infallible. Giving them a contradictory proof just means another five hundred push-ups.”

“So, that’s who I was. All ponies I’ve ever met were like that, and there was nopony I could really… grow with. Somepony who could take criticism to heart and improve from it. In the same way, there was nopony willing to give constructive objections to myself. Everypony just… left. It must have been my fault somehow. I learned that stupid ponies who will remain stupid no matter what just were there to be used. However, it felt wrong to me. I knew it was the proper way to live with my skill, intelligence, and knowledge, but I just couldn’t keep going like that.”

“You certainly do have a high opinion of yourself.”

“Based only on results, Grey Shrine. You see, when I was alone and without anypony really wanting to bother with me, I had this brilliant idea to explore rather… controversial aspects of magic. I firmly believed- and I still believe that power is inherently neither good nor evil, it only depends on ponies how they use it. After all, some of the bloodiest massacres in our history were caused by ‘holy’ warriors.”

“In my experience, necromancers tend to be the bad guys,” Grey Shrine shuddered, “And fighting undead isn’t fun.” 

“I didn’t exactly go for necromancy. I went for blood magic.”

“Oh dear. Were you expelled?”

“No. I was smart enough to keep it hidden and study in secret. My mentor didn’t like me too much for previously mentioned reasons so he ‘gave me my space’. I learned, experimented-”

“Whenever I hear ‘experimented’ in relation to dark magic, it never means anything good. I’ve seen a lab or two, and sometimes I even got out without throwing up.”

“I experimented only on myself. I would never do what I did to another pony. No, not even to a household pet, I like pets. Mostly cats.”

“I’m not a cat pony myself. Anyway, what went wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“What?”

“Nothing went wrong. I was careful, analytical, and not insane. I wasn’t a crazy maniac needing power to feel good. I wanted knowledge, and I wanted the wizards to understand where they went wrong. I transformed myself in a way only blood magic can allow. High regeneration, resistance to bloodloss, everything a blood mage needs to fuel complex spells with his life force. Blood, in less theatrical terms.”

“If nothing went wrong then why are we here?”

“Nothing external went wrong, or everything went wrong. Both are valid explanations.”

“You lost me there.”

“I realized that I was much smarter than everypony around me. They all had decades of memorized spells and arcane knowledge, but I worked out what made them crap their pants on my own. At a certain point, I realized that no matter what miracles I could perform using blood magic I would never pass anything past a peer review. You see, they pride themselves on being the advancement of magic, but they are the exact opposites - stuck up slaves to tradition and superstition who don’t understand that all they fear is their own lack of discipline when faced with the power they could gain. Great power corrupts weak minds, which is what they are.”

“So you’re saying it didn’t change you.”

“No, which was the problem. I could never cast away my principles and embrace the secret potential completely,” Unfettered scratched his head, “Well, maybe I went a little crazy. Aaaanyway, in the end I realized several things. One, I was the problem. I couldn’t change the broken world. Two, I wasn’t happy. Once I knew everything I uncovered was for nothing, I couldn’t get excited about research anymore or happy when I found something new. And three, as you noticed, I’m few years older than master’s students usually are. I borrowed a lot of money to get myself through my studies, and in the end I knew I would have no chance to pay it back. Unfortunately, when I borrowed the first bits to pay for the first semester not paid from public funding, I was still engrossed in my research and chose… the wrong lender.”

“Tracker and Strain.”

Unfettered nodded and his determined expression turned bitter.

“I suppose they are some goons hired by the shady guys who lent me the bits and didn’t ask many questions. They were the only ponies who would even think of lending money to me. No banks even gave it a second thought.”

“That’s bad...”

“Considering they ripped out Greyscale’s kidney under a stasis spell in the middle of a soundproofed and masked alley, I have to call you captain Obvious.”

“I’m not the one owing money to some sort of mafia.”

“Point taken.”

“Still, how does Greyscale fit into this? Since you said I was wrong when I thought you were pretending to be him.”

“You see, I had all this debt, a lot of power over my body, and no hope for the future. If I got lucky, I would end in prison for debt, and if I wasn't so fortunate... well, they found Greyscale. I chose to double down on all I did until then and borrowed more for one final semester. I used the time I gained to study the pony brain. If I couldn’t fix the broken world, I had to break myself so that I would fit at least somewhere.”

“Come on. Was there nopony you could ask for help?”

“WHO? My family? Oh hey, I’m several hundred thousand bits in debt, got any cash? That would go well,” Unfettered shook his head, “No, I was on my own, alone, like always. Over half a year of doing nothing but studying old grimoires and the newest published medical discoveries, I successfully used blood magic to alter a brain. It’s normally extremely difficult to use magic on oneself like that, but that’s because it is an external effect. At that point, my body was already infused enough to make the changes from the inside. See, dissolve a neural path here, add a protein string there. I did something thought completely impossible - I rebuilt myself into somepony else.”

“Then why are you here as you?”

“Blood magic allows the user to hide his entire being within blood without the requirement of a working brain which is what I needed in order to operate on mine from the inside. After all, it wouldn’t end well if I lost all my memories halfway through the process. So, I took away what I considered the worst of myself. Actually, what I considered the best, but I knew was wrong for this world. Some intelligence had to go, memories… of course, my inability to trust anypony, and my tendency to criticise and judge. I dissolved more and more, chipped away at everything that made me myself.”

“And created Greyscale.”

“Somepony who would be able to trust others, able to appreciate what I consider mundane, focus mostly on the good in them, and maybe… make a friend at some point. I would stay behind for a while to maybe lend a helping hoof if it was really necessary, and after a short time I would… be gone, leaving only him making the world a better place in his own insignificant way. Like cleaning for others, or something simple like that.”

“What about the speech, was it to make him feel more vulnerable? Was it all planned out?”

Unfettered scratched his head, looking uncertain for the first time.

“Two minds in one body do have few unexpected side-effects. Once I’m gone, Greyscale’s speech should clear up, if only a little.”

“And the debt?”

“Physical change of colour, loss of cutie mark, sawing my own horn off. On top of that, I arranged an alchemical bomb to go off in my school study. Unfettered Curiosity died in that incident, or… you know… at some point close enough.”

“I hate to point it out again, but you are still here.”

“Not for long. I thought I had more time to help Greyscale, but all the wounds I had to heal… the burns after your shoddy barracks construction caught on fire, the accident in the asylum, resistance to mind-controlling chemicals, and now this. I thought I had a year to see if I screwed up somewhere or if I was wrong in my assumption about how Greyscale would get by. Now I have few days at most.”

“Can you cure a lost kidney?”

“No. Not anymore. If I had a lab, some life expectancy, and access to the Royal Library like in the old days, I probably could minimize the effects. With my power fading rapidly, I can’t do anything about Greyscale’s shortened life expectancy.”

“I would be a terrible guardspony if I took only your word about your shape as a proof.”

“You can’t do anything relevant to me,” Unfettered smiled, “I don’t feel what Greyscale does unless I’m in control. You could BORE me, but that’s the extent of it. Anything you would do would affect Greyscale only. In few days, even that won’t matter.”

“Once again, proof?”

Unfettered shook his head.

“Then we’re at a stalemate. I don’t have what you want, and I don’t care about anything you can do.”

“You don’t care about the stick, what about the carrot? I can do something nice for Greyscale.”

“Still doesn’t matter. It’s much easier to think about things as if I don’t exist at this point. It’s up to you what you choose to do. It’s for him, not for me.”

“Tell me one thing, Unfettered.”

“Yes?”

“Do you think your experiment was a success?”

“Considering this situation and the reason why Greyscale is still alive… yes, I did.”

“No doubts?”

“He is a better pony than I ever could become.”

“I will have to put you under observation as well as the changeling.”

He shrugged.

“Fine by me. Too bad you’re screwing them out of a pretty nice job at the brothel. I haven’t touched as much ass in my life as Greyscale had on his first day. Maybe I could ask him to give me an hour or two…?”

“I will arrest you immediately.”

“Pfff, fine. Do you want to know anything else?”

“Honestly, not really. I’ll have to keep an eye on you no matter what.”

“Then I think I’ll let Greyscale take over and… sleep.”

“I hate to bring this up, but you DO realize that they won’t stop hunting Greyscale, and if he turns to the law, the debt will have to be paid by your family, right? Death isn’t a waiver to do anything you want.”

Unfettered buried his muzzle into the pillow.

“...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this one. I don’t know...”

He froze as Grey Shrine put her hoof on his head.

“Law is here to protect ponies.”

Unfettered couldn’t help himself to look up, wet patches around his eyes.

“Really? I thought you are here to enforce whatever the major power players paid politicians to push through the legislative process so that they could rob small ponies.”

“Don’t push me!”

“Sorry.”

“I am here to protect ponies.”

“I’ll… have to… setlle for that...” his eyes rolled back and he went limp for a moment.

Grey Shrine waited until a he rose back up, once again with the familiar faint smile and slightly unfocused stare.

“Greyscale.”

“Did yoo end Steeches hev a chat?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Hees a nais plushee.”

“In a way. He’s somepony very smart, who did something incredibly stupid.”

The door to the emergency room opened, the nurse peeking inside.

“Time’s up. You need to let the patient rest.”

“Awww...” muttered Greyscale.

Grey Shrine patted Greyscale’s head.

“She’s right. Rest, get better. We’ll talk later. Don’t worry, nopony will hurt you here,” she stood up to leave, but stopped after few steps, “Oh, and if Stitches tells you to do something again, for the love of the Sun please consult it with me no matter what. It hurts me when I see you like this.”

“Ai dont wont to hurt yoo, mem.”

“I know,” she smiled and left.





EPILOGUE





Tracker woke up and groaned when light from above blinded him. He tried to sit up, but couldn’t move at all.

“You got both of them? I’m shocked,” he heard a familiar female voice. A head peeked into his field of vision. It was the pegasus who saw him and Strain give Unfettered Curiosity his first warning.

What was she doing here? Where was here? What happened last night?

Wait, both of them?

“I had a little help,” said a much older female voice, one Tracker couldn’t recognize.

“The unicorn did resist at first, but after I melted his horn off it was rather easy,” a new voice, likely belonging to a young colt, explained.

Horn? Wait, HIS HORN! 

Tracker panicked. He couldn’t summon his magic at all.

“What a waste,” said a new, muffled male voice, “Powdered unicorn horns are absurdly valuable as alchemical components.”

“Speaking of value,” said the mature mare, “Will these two cover your expenses, your silence, and three hundred thousand bits of debt?”

“My examination showed that the earthpony drinks somewhat, but the unicorn is in an excellent shape. If I disassemble them completely, it should be enough. There are buyers for everything. You do realize what that means, though, right?” asked the stallion.

Disassemble? Tracker’s mind was running a mile a minute.

“Don’t worry, doctor. I’ll make sure nopony looks for them, or you for that matter.”

Tracker’s rush of adrenaline allowed him to turn his head. He tried to scream, but could barely groan again.

On a second metal table next to him lay Strain, unconscious, with a white cloth over his whole barrel.

Some surgery?

He finally recalled something - fire. Last night, he met… a mare with a colt… and then the colt turned into fire, and everything was pain.

“Hey, this guy is moving,” he heard the pegasus.

“I must be losing my touch,” frowned the ‘doctor’, “two chemical mishaps in two weeks? Pff. Aaaanyway...”

Tracker, regaining control of at least his head, turned it just in time to see the doctor levitate a needle and jam it into his neck. 

He immediately lost all control, and the edges of his vision went darker and darker. The last thing he saw was a scalpel effortlessly slicing his chest open.

“Welcome to the chop shop,” said the good doctor.