> Her Lips Tasted Like Cherry Cola
>  by MagnetBolt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Acceptance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



The woods seemed safe.
They weren’t, but this was still close to the very start of the story, and for now Twilight was busy identifying the trees they passed. She was too young to really know how dangerous the world could be. She’d find out later, and she’d grow up too quickly because of it.
“Oh! Is that a Canterlot Chestnut tree?” Twilight ran off the path to look, her shoes squelching in the mud from the rain the night before. She sighed as she got closer and stopped. “Never mind. It’s just a Dwarf Chestnut.”
“Twilight, don’t go off the path!” her friend yelled. From the sounds of it, she was crashing through the woods with her usual grace. Where Twilight picked her way through the woods like she was afraid she’d be yelled at for leaving even a single leaf out of place, the person with her moved through life like a monster truck moved through junked cars.
“I’m fine, Fizzlepop!” Twilight called back. “I’m not a child! I’m eight, and that’s practically grown up.”
“Yeah well, I’m nine,” Fizzlepop said, as she finally caught up, holding a stick like a sword and knocking ferns and branches out of the way. They didn’t even try to fight back, obviously cowed by her strength. “And that means it’s my job to keep you safe.”
“I’ll be nine in a few months,” Twilight mumbled.
“So what’s so special about a tree?” Fizzlepop asked, ignoring Twilight’s objection before they had to discuss the importance of being nine-and-a-half versus just nine. She walked up to the Dwarf Chestnut and rapped on the trunk with her stick. “It looks the same as every other tree.”
“Well, Fizzle, I’m glad you asked.” Twilight adjusted her glasses and smiled. “You see, the Canterlot Chestnut tree is extremely rare in the wild because of a blight that started over a hundred years ago. Almost every adult tree died in just a few decades, and ones that sprouted usually died before they could mature. Whenever anyone finds a tree, it gets in all the papers and it’s a big deal!”
“And this one’s not special?”
“No,” Twilight sighed. “I just got excited.”
“That’s okay,” Fizzlepop said. She hit the tree one more time to establish her dominance over the forest. “Hey, wanna go check out the stream?”







“I don’t really think I’m up for camping,” Twilight said. “You know I’m not really an outdoors kind of person.”
Sunset Shimmer smiled. “I think you mean you’re not up for camping without a certain Timber Spruce to keep you company.”
Twilight sighed. The book she was reading -- an introduction to information theory, fascinating really -- was closed and set between her and Sunset like a shield. Not quite the book forts she’d made as a child, but better than being totally exposed.
“You know that was just a little… thing,” Twilight said. “I don’t get a lot of attention from boys. It was flattering.”
Sunset’s eyebrow rose toward the ceiling. “Flash Sentry.”
“That doesn’t count, he likes Princess Twilight, not me.”
“It should count. He’d take you out on a date in a heartbeat if you asked.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I can read his mind if you want me to make sure, or you can just trust that I know what he’s like. I mean, I did date him for a while.” Sunset smiled.
“Sorry,” Twilight mumbled. “You girls can go without me.”
Sunset reached right past her shield and grabbed her hand, squeezing it. The violation of her personal space made her flinch. It took a moment for her initial surge of panic to slide into the comfort of being close to another human (or, in Sunset’s case, close enough to human).
“It’s just a weekend in the woods,” Sunset said. If she’d been reading Twilight’s mind, she would have stopped there. “Even Rarity agreed to come along. You don’t have to come, but can you at least give it some thought?”
Twilight looked into Sunset’s hopeful eyes, and couldn’t say no.
“I’ll think about it,” she promised.





“This isn’t what I expected when you asked me to do you a favor,” Tempest Shadow said. “Explain it again, please.”
“I already explained it,” Princess Twilight said.
“You did,” Tempest agreed. “But I couldn’t possibly have heard you correctly and I wanted to hear it again.”
“This,” Princess Twilight said, motioning to a mirror in the middle of a tangle of magical devices and retorts. “Is a portal between this world and a kind of parallel universe. Of course, most ponies think of quantum parallel universes, which are caused by different choices or other changes in the timeline and are really parallel worldlines, where this is a type of mirror universe characterized by interspacial entanglement that causes individuals and even major events to correspond at a near one-to-one ratio. It’s actually really fascinating and I’ve been studying the entanglement with my counterpart to try and determine if one universe is primary and causes changes in the other, or if both universes contribute to each other. Our current working theory is disproving a third option where the correspondence actually retrocausally creates the entanglement and drives its own--”
Tempest Shadow had been through a lot in her life. Being in the employ of the Storm King meant she had been forced to sit still and listen while somepony rambled on and on, though with the Storm King it had been about (very) aggressive marketing and how she, too, could be rich if she “signed up” six other ponies for enslavement, and each of them signed up six more ponies, and so forth.
Compared to having to listen to retirement plan options and the benefits of being a Platinum Preferred Plus member of the Storm King’s army, listening to Twilight go on about--
Tempest briefly turned her ears back on. Turning them off was a skill all members of the military developed at some point
--about hypertime and multiverse theory was hardly a burden.
“Twilight,” she said when the alicorn paused for breath. “The mission?”
Another skill she’d developed was keeping superior officers on track.
“Oh! Right!” Twilight stopped, put away the charts she’d been holding up, and looked around, grabbing a stack of flashcards and clearing her throat. “Sorry. So, you’re probably wondering why I have this stack of books!”
“I’m really not.”
Twilight sighed and waved the stack of cards. “Tempest, I sort of prepared the mission briefing in advance. I know I told you once already, it’s just sort of a speech.”
“But even if I hadn’t heard this part before, I wouldn’t question why you have a stack of books,” she said. “You’re the princess of books.”
“What? No. I’m the Princess of Friendship.”
“You have six friends and sixty thousand books.”
“I have more than six friends!”
“And probably more than sixty thousand books.”
Twilight made several sounds all at once while she rotated through her entire array of emotions and arguments without finding one that actually worked.
“I have more than six friends,” she repeated, falling back on her previous argument, which she still considered very good despite the fact it had landed like an earth pony trying out for the Wonderbolts.
“So, we were discussing why I was wondering about those books?” Tempest prompted.
“The books! Right!” Twilight patted the stack of books next to her. “These books need to be returned to where they belong.”
“And where do they belong?” Tempest asked.
“I am glad you asked,” Twilight said, flipping to the next card. “These books are from a parallel universe! Specifically, from the Canterlot High library.”
“Isn’t Canterlot High in--”
“Canterlot? Yes! But not this Canterlot! Well, I mean… I probably phrased that wrong. We’re not actually in Canterlot, and saying ‘this Canterlot’ implies we are. Anyway, you need to return them. I’d have Starlight do it, but she’s helping to nurse Trixie back to health after the unfortunate accident.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Let’s just say she spent a little too long inside the manticore.”
“...is that some kind of euphemism?”
“Surprisingly, no. And since we’ve got classes scheduled, nopony else can really take the time off. Look, it’s a quick thing. You just need to go to the other world, return these books, and pick up the books on this list.”
Twilight passed her a long scroll.
“That seems easy enough.”
“You’re not going to make any sarcastic comments about how I read too much?”
“No. It’s obviously not a trip you can make often, and you want to stock up.” Tempest shrugged. “Besides, I still owe you for not putting me in prison for the rest of my life.”
“Great! I told Sunset I’d be sending somepony, so she’ll be waiting for you. She’s got a library card.”
> Depression
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Twilight squeezed Fizzlepop’s hand.
“How much further is it?” Twilight asked.
“We’re almost there,” Fizzle said. “I think.”
“You think?” Twilight looked around in alarm, stopping in her tracks and pulling Fizzlepop to a halt. “Are we lost? We should have stayed on the trail! You know Shiny is gonna be mad if we aren’t back at the campsite before dark!”
“We’re not lost,” Fizzle said. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes,” Fizzle pleaded. “Trust me.”
Twilight closed her eyes. As she expected, instead of making things clear, it made them exactly as opaque as her eyelids.
“So what now?” Twilight asked.
“It helps if you’re quiet,” Fizzlepop whispered.
Twilight sighed and fell silent.
Over the distant birdsong and the rustle of leaves, she could just hear it, burbling water rushing over rocks.
“Is that it?” Twilight asked.
“It has to be right over that hill!” Fizzlepop gave her a gap-toothed grin. “Come on!” She pulled on Twilight’s hand before the smaller girl was ready, and Twilight stumbled over her feet, the forest floor rushing up to meet her.







Sunset caught her as she stepped through the statue. Barely. A burlap sack of books wasn’t as lucky and hit the ground with the kind of total disrespect for literature that would have made Princess Twilight send a pony to the Book Dungeon alongside ponies with extensive late fees and who kept making jokes about certain vampire literature despite the signs she’d posted in the castle library.
The fact the Book Dungeon didn’t yet exist was a mercy to Ponyville, and ironically the reason funding for it had dried up was because Twilight hadn’t been able to collect the late fees from outstanding borrowers.
“Woah, you’re… bigger than I thought you’d be,” Sunset said.
Tempest Shadow was a full head taller than most of her friends and could have stepped off the set of a movie, as long as that movie involved barbarians on some kind of post-apocalyptic rock and roll tour with a lot of black leather and metal studs.
“The Princess didn’t say how disorienting this was.” Tempest tried to steady herself on two legs, which weren’t configured quite the way they should have been. It like she was resting all her weight on her ankle instead of her hoof. Actually, she didn’t even seem to have a hoof.
“Let me guess,” Sunset said, looking up at her. “She told you more about how to use card catalogs than about how you’d be changing shape?”
“I see you’re familiar with her methods.”
Tempest found her footing and looked at her hands for a moment.
“It takes some getting used to,” Sunset said. “The fingers are the strangest part. Princess Twilight still can’t use them very well.”
“I’ve had to get used to a lot of things,” Tempest said, forcing her hands to open and close purely by force of will (and also the usual things one used to open and close their hands like nerves and ligaments).
Sunset gave her a long, appraising look.
“You’ve got a dark, tragic backstory,” she decided.
“Princess Twilight warned me that you could read minds.” She took a step back, narrowing her gaze suspiciously.
Sunset held up her hands defensively. “Woah, woah! I swear I didn’t read your mind! I don’t do that without permission. Not after I saw inside Pinkie Pie’s head.” She shuddered.
Tempest winced. She’d only very briefly met Pinkie Pie and then spent considerably longer trying to avoid the pink monster. In the end, she’d only succeeded after she promised to let Pinkie Pie plan an apology party, planned for once Tempest was ready to face the ponies she’d temporarily enslaved and ask for forgiveness.
Then, once Pinkie Pie was looking away, she’d told Princess Twilight she was going to spread the magic of friendship outside of Equestria and skipped town. Pinkie wasn’t the only reason she left, but it certainly made her decision easier.
“The truth is, I sort of conquered Equestria,” Tempest admitted.
“That’s not a dark and tragic backstory.”
“...I had this sort of song that explained it,” Tempest muttered.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay,” Sunset said, putting a hand, carefully, on her shoulder. “But if it helps, I mind-controlled this school and turned into a demon after I stole one of the Elements of Harmony.”
“A demon, huh?” Tempest thought for a long few minutes, then nodded, impressed. “That’s not bad.”
Sunset smiled. “Want a hand with those books?”





“I can’t read her hornwriting,” Sunset said, holding the scroll at arm’s length just in case that somehow made the letters pop into focus. Stubbornly, they refused to turn into words. “Not all of it, anyway. I’m pretty sure a few of these are titles I recognize, but the rest…”
“I believe a few of these are descriptions rather than book titles,” Tempest said. She took the scroll and held it an inch from her eyes. It didn’t help, but it was a novel sensation not having a snout there. “Something about… electrum?”
“Pretty sure she either wrote or meant electronics,” Sunset sighed. “Or electricity. Or maybe electrons. Or elections? Equestria really isn’t big on democracy. Hope she’s not stupid enough to try and get ponies to vote…”
“I can go back through the portal,” Tempest offered, though it felt like admitting failure.
“Actually, I have a better idea.” Sunset pulled out her phone.
“What’s that?” Tempest tilted her head to look at it, putting the scroll down.
“Cell phone.”
“Can it translate her writing?”
“No, but I can call someone who almost certainly can,” Sunset said, tapping the glowing screen. Tempest watched with interest as the display changed.
“How does it work?” Tempest asked.
Sunset held up a finger and put the phone to her ear. “Hey, Twilight! I’m running that errand at the school library, and I think we need some help--”
“You’re talking to the Princess?” Tempest leaned in closer, trying to hear.
“No, I’m-- one second, Twilight.” Sunset sighed. “It’s sort of a parallel universe thing. Well, not really parallel, because that usually means alternate worldlines instead of different dimensions and--”
“Princess Twilight gave me this speech already.”
“Oh.” Sunset frowned. “Darn. I wanted to be the one to explain it. Anyway, I’m talking to the version of Twilight from this world. I figure if anyone can read Princess Twilight’s awful hornwriting, it’s the local version.”
“That makes sense,” Tempest agreed.
“How about you look for some of the books we can actually identify while I try and get a translation on the rest?”
Tempest nodded. “This mission is as good as done.”
Sunset gave her a thumbs up and adjusted the way she was holding the phone, walking away as she spoke. “Twilight, you there? Sorry about that. So like I was saying, you remember how bad the Princess’ writing was? Yes, I know she was holding the pen in her mouth that time…”
Sunset’s voice was cut off when she walked outside, the librarian (still sorting through the sack of books that had been dropped on her desk and occasionally muttering darkly about damage and fines) glaring at the noise and shaking her head.
Tempest was alone. Not that it bothered her. She was used to being alone. She’d even boast that she was quite good at being alone. That wouldn’t seem like a skill to most races, but ponies didn’t handle isolation well and sometimes went crazy. And evil. Tempest had, of course, never been evil. Just pragmatic and determined, and if anyone disagreed she’d teach them the error of their ways.
In a friendly, non-evil way.
She reached for a book, having spotted a title that looked promising, and another hand intercepted her own.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the intruder said, in a vain attempt to avoid the justice that was due to him.
Tempest turned on him with the fury of a storm.
“Did you want that book?” He smiled, brushing back spiky blue hair and trying to look casual. He pulled it from the shelf and offered it to her. “My name’s Flash Sentry. I haven’t seen you around here before.”
“Tempest Shadow,” she replied, taking the book, evaluating the dozen ways she could crush him even without a weapon.
“If you’re new, I’d be happy to show you around,” Flash offered. “Canterlot High is the best school around if you want to meet new people and find a place to fit in.”
“Is that so.” She said, eyes sliding away from Flash and to the shelves, searching for another book.
“Yeah! We’ve got probably the best soccer team in the country. At the high school level, I mean.” He laughed. “You look like you’d be a pretty good athlete.”
“I don’t do sports,” Tempest said.
“That’s cool. I play guitar.” Flash gave what he thought was a winning smile. “If you’re not doing anything this weekend, maybe we could go out together. I’ll buy you dinner if you’ll let me show you around town.”
Tempest frowned, pausing with her hand on the bookshelf. She’d thought she’d spotted her prey, but it was just a close impostor.
“Are you asking me out on a date?” she asked.
“Well, I mean…” Flash looked away, trying to find the right words. In his mind, they’d not only allow him to avoid any kind of impending physical harm but also convince the Amazonian beauty in front of him to meet him around seven for disco fries and karaoke.
“I’m not from around here,” Tempest said. She was trying to let him down gently.
“That’s okay! You can tell me all about where you’re from!”
An angel appeared between Tempest and Flash, saving Tempest from one of the ten most awkward situations in her life, most of which had happened after meeting Twilight Sparkle.
“Hey Flash,” Sunset said. “I see you’ve met Tempest. She’s just here to grab some books for Twilight.”
“Really? How do they--”
“Princess Twilight,” Sunset specified.
Flash blinked and tried to work through his emotions. He was having several at once, like the realization that you’d been hitting on someone who was actually a horse. The list of people who’d ever had that particular feeling could be summed up as: cowboys who had spent too much time alone on the range, farmers who distilled their own moonshine, and Flash Sentry.
“Why am I never attracted to human girls?” he muttered.
“Flash, you’ve just got a thing for exotic women,” Sunset assured him. “And ponytails.”
“Ponytails.”
“It’s a euphemism,” Sunset said, patting him on the back.
“I know it is,” Flash sighed. “I got the joke.”
Sunset gave him an apologetic smile, which was the only type of smile he’d gotten from a girl in a long time. He turned and started walking away, hands in his pockets.
“I heard one of Pinkie’s sisters is single,” she offered to his retreating back. “I could set you two up.”
“The quiet one, the weird one, or the angry one?” Flash asked.
“The angry one.”
“...Nah. Thanks anyway, Sunset.”
Tempest watched him go. He had the body language of a dog that had been kicked by life one too many times. A weight settled on her shoulders. It was too much like the looks of the ponies she’d enslaved. It wasn’t much compared to the weight that was already there, but it was a burden she’d probably never be able to put down, something she’d never have a chance to make up for.
“You okay?” Sunset asked.
“Hm?” Tempest’s frown deepened.
“If you really want, you can go out with him,” Sunset said. “I can vouch for him not being a pervert. He never made a move on me when I dated him.”
“It’s nothing,” Tempest said. “Were you able to get the list translated?”
“I sent Twilight a picture, and she was able to read most of it, but she said not to bother.”
“Not to--” Tempest growled. “I came here for a reason!” She slammed a fist into a bookcase hard enough to send a copy of The Encyclopedia of Fishes tumbling to the floor, the first time it had moved from its shelf in decades.
Sunset picked it up and put it back before the book could start entertaining hopes of being checked out.
“What I mean is, we were right about some of these being instructions instead of titles,” Sunset said. “She’s going to help us pick books out.”
Tempest’s fury was quenched with embarrassment. “Sorry. I just thought--”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Sunset said. “I know what it’s like when people are dismissive. I used to get into screaming matches with Princess Celestia.”
“I still haven’t really apologized to her,” Tempest muttered.
“It takes a while to work up to it,” Sunset agreed. “I spent years fretting before I pulled that band-aid off. I just went and had a nice heart-to-heart with her since our problems were really about not talking to each other but in your case…” She tapped her chin, thinking. “...I bet you’d feel better if she gave you some kind of quest.”
“A quest?”
“You know, like finding the Philosopher’s Stone.”
“I’m informed that Daring Do already found it and put it in a museum. Miss Dash mentioned it in passing alongside descriptions of various traps and collapsing ruins.”
Sunset hesitated for a long moment, then patted Tempest on the back.
“You’d know better than I would,” Sunset said. “I think I spotted Twilight at the door. Let’s go say hi.”
Tempest nodded tersely and followed Sunset, spotting Twilight herself once they were going in the right direction. If she hadn’t been looking for Twilight, or at least some version of her, she never would have made the connection. Species aside, the differences between the two added up quickly. Body language, the way they wore their manes, a pair of glasses.
The not-Princess was staring down at the glowing phone in her hands, tapping on it intently and not bothering to look around her. Flash opened the door for her and she didn’t even acknowledge his greeting, nearly colliding with another person who was forced to step around the oblivious girl.
“Twilight!” Sunset called out.
The librarian hissed sharply and pointed at a sign.
“Right, no yelling, sorry!” Sunset stage-whispered.
“One moment, Sunset,” Twilight said, holding up a finger, continuing to type with her thumb. “I’m making a list we can check against the card catalogue. I have a few books that might interest her, but they’re my personal copies, and I was wondering if we could arrange some kind of trade?”
“I’m sure she’d be happy to trade books, Twilight,” Sunset said. “This is Tempest Shadow. She’s one of Princess Twilight’s… friends?”
“Former enemies,” Tempest said.
“That describes most of her best friends,” Sunset assured the larger girl.
“Right, sorry, I just get caught up in--” Twilight looked up.
Her eyes widened until they were as big as dinner plates that were the size of Twilight’s eyes. She went as pale as a ghost and was halfway sure she was looking right at one.
“Fizzlepop?”







Twilight shielded her face as Fizzlepop plunged into the ice-cold stream, splashing her and everything on the shoreline, nearly soaking the shoes and socks they’d left on the rocks.
“Come on, Twilight!” Fizzlepop said. “Jump in!”
“I don’t know,” Twilight said, looking suspiciously at the flowing water. “I heard all kinds of things live in streams.”
“I think I saw a fish,” Fizzlepop agreed.
“There could be crawfish, and snakes, and frogs--”
Fizzlepop giggled. “It’ll be fine, Twilight. If there’s stuff in the water it means you know the water is safe. They couldn’t swim in it otherwise!”
“But they’re so gross,” Twilight mumbled, curling her exposed toes at the thought of stepping on something squirming and slimy.
“I promise if you see anything, I’ll protect you.” She held out her hand, and Twilight took it, letting Fizzle pull her closer, splashing through water cold enough to make her shiver.
The gravel shifted under her feet. Twilight stumbled. The hand she was holding kept a firm grip, and instead of falling into the water, she fell into her friend. Fizzlepop’s free arm wrapped around her, dropping the stick she’d been holding to keep Twilight on her feet.
She looked up at the same time Fizzlepop looked down.
Their lips brushed against each other.
Twilight’s cheeks burned red and she scrambled away.
“I’m sorry!” She gasped. “I didn’t mean to--”
Fizzlepop giggled. “It’s okay. We just bumped into each other.”
“You wear too much lip gloss,” Twilight mumbled.
“My lips get dry if I don’t,” Fizzlepop reminded her. “Besides, I let you borrow it.”
“I like the flavor. Mom only buys the beeswax kind.”
Fizzlepop giggled and let go of Twilight’s hand. “Help me find my stick. I wanna make sure I can fight off any fish that try and nibble your toes.”
Behind the older girl, the brush parted.
Twilight pointed wordlessly.
“Did it land all the way over--” Fizzlepop turned. “--there?”
The bear stepped out of the shadows, big enough to blot out what was left of the late afternoon sun.


> Bargaining
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



“Run!” Fizzlepop yelled, pushing Twilight ahead of her. Thorns tore at her arms and legs as she was forced through the bramble bushes with no time to ready herself. Blood welled from the scratches, deep enough that the girl could still find the scars now when she thought to look for them.
“My glasses!” Twilight cried out, the lenses falling underfoot. She stumbled, instinctively trying to stop and go back for them, but forced forwards instead by a hand at the small of her back.
“Don’t stop!” Fizzlepop screamed.
Twilight caught her foot on a tree root, her vision blurred by tears and too many nights spent reading long after she should have gone to bed. She fell, her scratched and bloody knees exploding with pain, sharp rocks and dirt pressing into the wound.
Fizzlepop was over her in an instant, helping her up, pulling Twilight to her feet.
"We have to--" Fizzlepop started, sounding angry because otherwise, she'd have to sound as scared as she really was.
The bramble bushes they'd run through offered no cover at all, the brown bear prowling through them with no apparent hurry, the thorns not finding purchase in the beast's thick skin. It growled, so close now that it was impossible to conceive of escape.
"Go up the tree," Fizzlepop whispered.
"What?" Twilight asked, her voice low. It felt like any sudden motion or sound might make the bear decide it was time for a final, deadly strike.
"Go up the tree," Fizzlepop repeated. "Remember how your brother put the cooler in the tree so bears couldn't reach it?"
Twilight nodded and backed up to the tree, trying to get purchase on the rough bark. She couldn't quite reach the first branch. Twilight's life flashed before her eyes. She was briefly appalled by how much time she'd spent reading Rayn Round's Rockhoof Shrugged. She could have spent the time learning how to climb, instead, and she'd be in considerably less trouble.
Fizzlepop helped her up.
"Go, go!" She hissed, pushing Twilight up, both hands on the younger girl's butt, adrenaline giving her the strength to almost throw her to the branch.
The bear roared. Twilight reached down from her new perch. Fizzlepop jumped.
The weight when she grabbed Twilight's wrist almost pulled the smaller girl right back down from the tree.
"Hang on!" Fizzlepop tried to climb up. Twilight felt like her arm was going to pop out of its socket.
The bear lunged.
Something hot splashed on Twilight's face, blinding her.
Fizzlepop screamed and clutched tighter, her nails breaking Twilight's skin, leaving furrows as she was dragged down and away.





	

“I stayed up there until the next morning when Shining Armor found me,” Twilight whispered. She took off her glasses and rubbed her watery eyes. “Fizzlepop never came back. They sent out search parties but…”
She trailed off, unable to continue.
“I changed my name when I left Equestria,” Tempest muttered. “The Storm King was big on branding.”
“So you really are Fizzlepop’s counterpart,” Sunset said.
“I haven’t used that name since I was a foal. I’m not going to start using it again now.”
“My therapist would have a field day if she knew about this,” Twilight joked, forcing a smile through her tears and sniffling loudly.
“I’m sorry, Twilight,” Sunset said, squeezing the younger girl’s hand.
“I spent years in therapy,” Twilight continued. “The other girls at school, they didn’t… they didn’t want to be friends with me because of what happened. Some of them even started rumors that it was all my fault, and that I was crazy.”
“And your parents did nothing?” Tempest asked.
Twilight looked up, saw her, and immediately looked away. “I just… I couldn’t. I blamed myself. I thought I deserved it.”
“You didn’t,” Sunset said. “Twilight, you were a kid. It was an accident. Nobody’s to blame.”
“Anyway, that’s why I didn’t have friends until I went to Crystal Prep,” Twilight said, putting her glasses back on. “My parents thought changing schools would help, and it sort of did. I wasn’t really close to any of the girls there, but they didn’t mock me. Things were easier.”
“You’ve got lots of friends now, Twilight,” Sunset said.
Twilight smiled weakly, nodded, and forced herself to look directly at Tempest. “I’m sorry I freaked out when I saw you. It’s just that you look almost exactly like her.”
“I was attacked by an Ursa when I was a foal,” Tempest said, arms folded. “It must be one of the… coincidences.”
“You were?” Sunset asked. “Is that how you…?”
“Yes, it’s how my horn broke,” Tempest said. “It wasn’t an easy time in my life. I don’t like talking about it.”
“Your horn broke?” Twilight sat up straighter. “I’ve been meaning to ask more about pony physiology, especially with magic. How do unicorn horns work, exactly? How long did it take to grow back?”
“It didn’t grow back,” Tempest said, her jaw tight. “I helped a warlord conquer Equestria specifically for the promise that he would help me find a way to fix it.”
“Oh,” Twilight said, shrinking so quickly she could have raced Fluttershy in a battle to retreat away. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I made my own choices.” Tempest touched her forehead. There was nothing there, but it still felt tender and sore, somehow, like a phantom pain of a cracked tooth. She folded her arms again like a shield against the world and especially against other people.
“I’ll tell the girls to cancel the camping trip,” Sunset said.
“Sunset, don’t ruin their fun.” Twilight let go of her hand. “Just because we’re friends doesn’t mean we have to do everything together. I don’t want to, I don’t…”
“They care about you as much as I do, Twilight,” Sunset whispered. “They’re not going to make fun of you. We all have things we’re afraid of.”
“You should go with them,” Tempest said.
Twilight blanched. “What? No! I can’t! I--”
“You need to face your fears.” Tempest raised her chin. “After I was mauled, my friends abandoned me because my magic was uncontrollable and dangerous. I know what it’s like to be mocked because you’re hurting. Do you know how I got over it?”
“I have a sneaking suspicion it involves facing your fear.”
“I came back years later, and I faced my fear. I have the Ursa’s head mounted in my airship cabin. I led a force of soldiers to capture and enslave the ponies who had mocked me when they were foals and made sure they saw me as they were sold into slavery. They paid the price for going against me, and they will never, ever forget--!”
“Tempest!” Sunset hissed. “People are staring!”
Tempest had gotten to her feet at some point, and people around the library were watching. They’d started staring when she’d begun an inspirational speech and kept staring when it turned into ranting and raving.
“Shhh!” hissed the librarian.
“Sorry,” Tempest mumbled, sitting back down.
“I don’t think I want to enslave anybody,” Twilight said.
“I eventually regretted it,” Tempest said. “I’ve been trying to find all of them and free them. Princess Twilight has been kind enough to say I’m spreading the magic of friendship, but the truth is I’m working to fix my mistakes.”
“And the Ursa?”
Tempest leaned back. “It was something I obsessed over for years.”
Sunset nodded. “And it became more of a symbol than a real enemy, and by the time you confronted it, you were left unfulfilled and empty because you’d spent so much time thinking about this one thing that you never considered what would come after?”
“No, it was the best day of my life.”
Sunset looked pained. Tempest decided that meant she didn’t understand, so she continued trying to explain herself.
“I spent a long time letting the fear and nightmares control me,” Tempest said. “Even the constant pain wasn’t as bad as seeing that Ursa every night. Fear gets under your skin in a way that nothing else does.”
Twilight nodded.
“Because I was afraid I threw myself into other things. I learned to fight because I felt in control as long as I was crushing someone with my hooves.”
“That sounds like an incredibly unhealthy way of dealing with your problems,” Sunset said.
“The point is, I got over it.”
“You also worked for an evil warlord to conquer Equestria and enslaved dozens of ponies.”
“More like thousands of ponies.”
Sunset considered telling her that enslaving more ponies wasn’t better just because the number was larger by several orders of magnitude, but she’d learned several friendship lessons about forgiving and forgetting and the importance of not asking too hard to be punched in the face.
“Most of whom have been freed,” Tempest quickly added, because as much as Sunset was trying to keep from saying anything, her face was a billboard advertising her disquiet. “And I won’t do it again. I promised.”
“Anyway, instead of facing her fears and being traumatized, I can call the girls and we can figure something else out,” Sunset said. “I know Rarity had some ideas about a day trip to the city and staying in a fancy hotel and spa.”
“I’ll go camping,” Twilight said, quietly.
“You don’t have to--”
‘Yes, I do,” Twilight interrupted, more firmly, her hands clenched into tiny fists of determination. “Tempest is right. I need to face my fears.”
“Okay.” Sunset smiled. “That’s really brave of you, Twilight.”





Sunset looked up at the racks of guns.
“Twilight, this isn’t what I thought you meant when you said you were going to face your fears.”
Twilight ignored her and kept paging through reviews on firearms instead of asking the expert behind the counter, because she trusted anonymous masses far more than she did someone who had money on the line. Besides, he was busy, because Tempest was asking him questions and rapidly becoming less and less impressed with his stock.
“You don’t have any spears?” she asked, arms folded. “How are you supposed to go hunting without a spear?”
“Well lady, unlike yourself, most people prefer something more modern,” the clerk said.
“More modern?” Tempest looked around. “What, like these knives? They’re tiny. Don’t you have any proper vorpal blades or flaming swords?”
“Hey, just what you see, pal.”
Tempest sighed and looked over the racks, eyes sliding over the unfamiliar shapes of the firearms and seeking something, anything, that she actually recognized as a weapon. And at the far end of the rack, she found it.
“Is that a crossbow?”
“That there is a Barneigh Raspberry. Top of the line, just came out last year.”
“May I?” Tempest asked. The clerk passed the unloaded crossbow over, and Tempest found true love for the first time. The weight of the deadly weapon in her hands lifted the weight on her heavy heart, the composite and titanium like a part of her own body that had been missing even longer than her horn.
“Are you okay?” Sunset asked.
“I need this,” Tempest whispered.
“Excuse me,” Twilight said. “I’m interested in the Marelin 1895.”
“Full length or carbine?” The clerk asked, keeping an eye on Tempest. It was the same eye he used with anyone who walked in and might be a psychopath - they were perfectly welcome as long as they spent money and didn’t drive business away.
“Carbine, please. According to my data, it’s still quite accurate within a hundred yards.” His hand closed on a gun, and she cleared her throat. “The one next to it with the rail system, please.”
The gun was passed over to the teenager. She looked it over and hefted the weight in both hands, calculating.
“Just so you know, gun like that isn’t great for hunting,” the clerk warned. “Range is pretty low for a rifle.”
“We’re going camping,” Twilight said, distantly. “I was thinking more for self-defense.”
“Oh!” The clerk smiled. “That’s perfect for you then, little lady. Fast-firing and with less kick than a shotgun so you won’t hurt yourself.”
Twilight nodded and handed the rifle back. “I’ll take it.”
“Great. I’ll just need your ID to check your age and do a quick background check and you’ll be good to go.”
“My age?”
The clerk pointed to a sign.
“You must be eighteen or older to purchase firearms and ammunition,” Twilight read. She looked at Sunset.
“What?” Sunset asked, arms folded.
“You brought your ID, right?” Twilight asked, sheepishly.
“Twilight, I’m not going to…”
Sunset trailed off at Twilight’s expression. The girl looked like Sunset was threatening to kick her talking and often-neglected dog. It was the kind of expression that would have made Sunset feel bad even before she’d been hit with a beam of concentrated friendship and rainbows.
“Fine,” Sunset said, reaching for her wallet.
The clerk cleared his throat and looked significantly at Tempest.
She was licking the crossbow and whispering to it seductively, trailing a finger along its thick, sturdy stock.
“Gonna be honest, after seeing that I am not gonna ever be able to sell that to anyone else. You molest it, you buy it.”
“Do you take credit cards?” Sunset sighed.





"You will never be able to have your revengance unless you internalize the Killing Intent," Tempest said, emphasizing the capitals. "It's a difficult lesson to learn. Ponies don't have a predatory instinct. We're herd animals, prey. We can kill when we're backed into a corner. To go out and hunt something down, to kill, that's against everything in our makeup."
She paused, regarding her audience.
"I assume it's broadly similar for humans."
"Actually humans are apex predators," Twilight corrected.
Tempest gave her a look. Checked her own hand for hidden claws, felt around in her mouth for fangs, and thankfully stopped before checking the growths on her chest for venom pores.
"It's true," Sunset said. "They hunted a bunch of animals into extinction before they even invented the written word."
"Then this should be easy," Tempest said. "Today, to prepare yourself for the trial ahead, you will learn how to look an enemy in the eyes and destroy them."
She pointed to the deadly foe, thankfully restrained at the far end of the makeshift firing range they'd set up in the quarry.
It looked back at them. It had black eyes, dead eyes, like a doll's eyes.
In fact, they were a doll's eyes. Tempest had tied a teddy bear to a stick.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea," Twilight said.
"This whole thing is a bad idea, but if you're going to have a gun, you'd better learn to use it safely," Sunset retorted.
"She's right," Tempest said. "A warrior and her weapon need to be one. You have to trust your blade--"
Twilight raised her hand. "Gun. I have a gun."
"--Trust your gun as if it was an extension of your hoof."
"Hand."
Tempest huffed, folding her arms. "I'm trying to teach you how to look a sentient being right in the eyes and end their life, but if you'd rather sit here and not murder anyone today, that's fine."
“No, no, I’m all about murder!” Twilight assured her.
“Good. Now, look at the enemy.”
Twilight looked directly at her foe, ten paces away, a tubby little cubby all stuffed with fluff.
“Center the target and pull the trigger,” Tempest ordered.
Twilight looked down the sights. The teddy was helpless, just like she’d been all those years ago. She swallowed, nervous, the barrel of the gun wavering left and right.
“Pull the trigger!” Tempest snapped.
Twilight pulled.
The gun jumped in her hands, slamming into her shoulder. The shot went wide, hitting the sand and rock behind the stuffed bear.
Twilight groaned and lowered the gun.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” she whispered.
“You don’t have to,” Sunset said. “Trust me, sometimes the hardest and most important thing you can do is forgive. You can look at this as an opportunity to grow and leave your past behind and make new fr--”
“You can’t do it,” Tempest said, cutting Sunset off. “Not unless you hate it. You have to really feel the rage in your heart, Twilight!”
Twilight looked at Sunset, then at Tempest. “I’m not sure--”
“You hate that bear, don’t you?!”
“Yes?”
“That sounded like a question! I want an answer! Do you hate that bear?!”
“Yes!”
“Let me see your war face!”
“My what?!”
“Your war face!” Tempest snarled, giving Twilight a look that could have sent a dragon running.
Twilight tried to snarl but just kind of snorled, which was entirely different and a mistake not just on the page but on her face.
“You have to get pumped!” Tempest yelled. “You have to get mad! If you’re mad you won’t be scared, you won’t hesitate, and you won’t show mercy!”
“Right!”
“Get out there and show me!”
Twilight screamed and ran towards the bear, wielding the gun like a club.
“That’s the spirit!”
Tempest watched for a few moments.
“Maybe a little too much spirit. You can stop.”
The screaming and beating kept going.
“We’ll just let her wear herself down,” Tempest decided.







You could see a place on a map. A small town on the edge of Equestria, near the places where wild things roamed. There weren't guidebooks written on it, but if there were, they'd say things like 'a quaint town where parents should keep more careful watch over their foals.'
Tempest had already finished consulting the map, though. She'd planned out the attack on the most detailed map she'd ever seen of the frontier area. She could trace her whole journey away from home, the woods she'd passed through, the place where everything had gone wrong.
You could see a place in your memories, the way it used to be. Buildings that loomed over you, the local general store where a Barnyard Bargains stands now. The mocking laughter of foals echoing down the streets.
There was a wall down the middle of Tempest's memories. On one side of the wall, she was a happy filly with friends and a future and even a family. She couldn't see that side from where she was now. That wall divided the past and future and spanned decades. Her family was on the other side. She couldn't even remember their faces.
What Tempest liked the most was seeing a place from the bow of a floating warship. Ponies like little pastel-colored ants wandering through the winding streets, only a few even noticing the dark fate looming overhead.
It was a view that let her look down on the masses like they'd looked down on her. The town was spread out like a map, but real enough that she could reach out and touch it and make them remember what they'd done.
"Put us down in the town square," Tempest ordered. She turned away, done looking. "I want them in chains by the time I return from the hunt."


> Anger
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



"Remember, you're here to make sure the Ursa doesn't run away," Tempest said. "Don't try and fight it. It's all mine, you understand?"
The ranks of guards looked confused.
Tempest was going to have to be more specific.
"When the big monster comes out, it might try and run away."
They nodded.
"If it runs away, the ones who let it get away are going to be in trouble." Tempest let sparks pour out of her horn slowly. That's what she intended, anyway.
The fact that one of the masked guards in the front row exploded was just the result of a momentary loss of control.
"Let that be an example of what I mean by trouble," she improvised.
She leaned over the platform she was using to address the crowd. The masked creature was groaning, smoke rising from its fur.
"Get him out of here," Tempest ordered, waving a hoof in the air like she just didn't care.
As he was being carried off, she leaned down to whisper to one of the creatures closest to her.
"He'll probably be fine with aloe vera and bed rest, right?" She hissed.
The thing grunted and shrugged.
"Whatever. Spread out and look for tracks!"







Twilight gripped her rifle, slowly pushing leaves out of the way. Black paint streaked across her cheeks like tiger stripes, sweat dripping from her brow. It was out there. She could feel eyes on her, a predator staring from some shadow. She had to hope she spotted it before it was too late.
“Do you hear that?” Tempest whispered.
“No,” Twilight hissed back, straining her ears.
“It’s quiet.”
It was quiet. Too quiet. Her aim moved from one patch of shade to another. The pressure was like being at the bottom of the ocean, water dripping from the leaves around her, the heat of the summer and the humidity making every breath a struggle.
A twig snapped.
Twilight’s heart skipped a beat, nearly dropping the rifle as she spun towards the sound.
Sunset gently pushed the barrel of the gun away.
“Twilight, we’re right outside the campsite,” Sunset said. “Calm down.”
She motioned towards the camp. Pinkie Pie waved.
“Do you girls want any smores?” Pinkie yelled. “We’re making smores!”
“Do you want a smore?” Sunset asked. “Twilight? Tempest?”
Tempest glared back at her. “These woods are dangerous! We have to stay alert at all times!”
“She doesn’t want a smore!” Sunset yelled back.
“Okay! Let me know if she changes her mind!”
“Let’s try going deeper into the woods,” Tempest suggested.





Sunset tapped on her phone. “I can’t believe I still have three bars of signal out here,” she said, matching rows of colored gems and watching sexy anime girls vaguely based on supercars race around a track. “Are you two done yet?”
“If we were done we’d have a dead bear,” Tempest said. “Does it look like we have a dead bear?”
Sunset sighed and went back to her game.
“Now, the important thing is to know how to hunt a bear,” Tempest whispered. “In the Winter you have to find their den and break in while they’re sleeping. They don’t react well to being woken up.”
“It’s the middle of summer,” Twilight pointed out.
“Right,” Tempest agreed.
It was quiet for almost a full minute.
“How do you hunt a bear when it isn’t Winter?” Twilight asked, when she decided Tempest wasn’t going to volunteer the information.
“I kind of assumed it would come for you on its own,” Tempest admitted. “You know, because of the mystical bond between hunter and prey. The smell of unfinished business. A grudge that transcends time and space.”
“Is that a thing that happens?” Twilight asked.
Tempest considered. “Maybe.”
“I thought you did this before in your world!”
“Yes, but this is a little different. I don’t have an army. Or an airship. And I definitely can’t use any of you as bait to draw it out.”
“Glad you learned that friendship lesson,” Sunset muttered.
“How do we feel about setting the woods on fire?” Tempest asked.
“It’s frowned upon,” Sunset said.
“I think it’s a felony,” Twilight added.
“This is a lot more complicated than it used to be,” Tempest muttered.
“Hold on. Do you hear that?” Twilight asked, standing up and looking around.
“I can barely hear anything. My ears are tiny and can’t move.”
“Over there.” Twilight pointed. “It’s water!”
Twilight bolted, running through the brush.
“Hold up!” Sunset cried out, going after her.
Tempest yelled something that sounded like several curses at the same time. Sunset, having to choose between the two, kept after the girl who had once caused a cross-dimensional rift with a high school science project. She didn’t want to know what Twilight could do while unsupervised with a deadly weapon.
Sunset burst out of the woods and nearly ran right into Twilight’s back.
“This is it,” Twilight said. Her voice was quavering, on the edge of breaking. “This is the stream.”
It burbled past them, as crystal clear as her memory of that day.
“This is where we first saw the bear,” she said.
“Do you see it now?” Sunset asked, looking around, starting to feel a little naked without a firearm. She’d never felt like she’d needed a gun before. This was because Equestria didn’t have guns, and instead, some children were born with the ability to set fire to things with their minds, often without intending to do so.
“I thought we agreed that I was going to take point!” Tempest yelled, storming out of the woods. “We have a tactical plan, Twilight! We have to stick to the plan!”
Sunset turned to look at her and stared at Tempest’s right arm.
“Um--”
“You didn’t even do any tactical rolls,” Tempest said. “We talked about this. Tactical rolls are important. While you’re rolling, you can’t be hit by the enemy’s attacks!”
Sunset shook Twilight’s shoulder. The younger girl turned and paled. “Tempest, your arm…”
“Oh, this.” Tempest held up her right arm. There was a crossbow bolt clean through her elbow. “It’s just a minor crossbow discharge malfunction. I was tactically moving between trees while doing tactical rolls.”
She was still holding the weapon in her right hand.
“You keep saying tactical. I don’t think--”
“It was very tactical,” Tempest said, firmly. “Anyway, it’s just a scratch.”
“There’s literally a crossbow bolt through your arm!” Twilight sputtered. “How did you even shoot yourself there?”
“I’ll look up first aid tips,” Sunset said, grabbing her phone. “Oh, you’re kidding me! Now I lost reception?”
“Well, the first thing to do is cut it out,” Tempest said, pulling a long knife from her jacket.
“What? No!” Sunset started to grab for it, then thought better of trying to grab a knife from someone with her bare hands.
“Don’t worry, it’s sterile,” Tempest assured her. “It’d be easier if I was left-hooved, but I think I can manage as long as you tie it off to stop the bleeding.”
“How about instead, we go back to the camp and we get a real doctor to look at it?”
“I’ve had worse than this,” Tempest said.
“...Have you, though?” Sunset asked. “Because I think you’re just in shock and the pain hasn’t really kicked in yet.”
“Or I’m just extremely tough and this isn’t nearly as bad as it looks,” Tempest countered.
Sunset reached over and squeezed Tempest’s elbow.
The big girl shrieked in a note so shrill only some types of bats (and Fluttershy) could hear it before collapsing in a heap.
“Doctor time?” Sunset asked.
Tempest nodded quickly from where she was lying in the dirt.
“Okay. Twilight, give me a hand with her. I’ll take her right side, you take the left. We’ll get her back to camp and… Twilight?”
“It’s here,” Twilight whispered.
“What are you talking about?” Sunset turned back to her friend.
Twilight was staring into the woods.
Something was staring back at them.
“Oh.” Sunset didn’t say, because she’d totally frozen up.
“What do I do?!” Twilight looked at the girl who had shot herself with a crossbow for advice.
“Remember your training!” Tempest wheezed. “It came out because it smelled my blood! You have to kill it! Strike it down and take your place at my side!”
“Put the target in the center and pull the trigger,” Twilight said, repeating what she’d been told over and over again. For an hour. She was starting to realize that reading a gun’s operations manual and then practicing with it for an hour probably didn’t make her an expert. It would have taken at least twice as much practice.
The bear stepped out of the woods. It looked even bigger than it had when she was a child, the fur greyed with age.
“Take the shot!” Tempest hissed.
Twilight squeezed the trigger. The gun jumped in her hands, a tree trunk cracking, bark flying where the bullet hit it.
The bear startled at the sound, taking a step back.
Tempest laughed. “That’s it! You have the power now! Aim directly for his crooked brow! Right where he broke off my horn!”
“Twilight, I think she’s starting to hallucinate!” Sunset yelled.
“I have to do this,” Twilight whispered. “I have to save my friends!”
She lined the gun up on the bear and pulled the trigger.
She squeezed her eyes shut.
The gun barked, the bear roared in pain.
When she opened them again, the bear was running, crashing through the woods, trying to escape.
“I did it,” Twilight breathed.
“That’s it,” Tempest whispered. “You’re the hunter now, Twilight. You have to finish it.”
“Finish it?” Twilight asked.
“If you just leave it wounded, it’ll come after you for revenge,” Tempest explained.
“No, it won’t. It’s a bear.” Sunset groaned. “Twilight, just help me--”
Twilight had jumped the creek and looked back at Sunset from the far bank.
“Mind telling me what you’re doing?” Sunset asked.
“Finishing this fight,” she said, dramatically and unnecessarily cocking her gun again before running into the woods and leaving her best friend alone with a dangerous and wounded (but reformed) war criminal.
“All of my friends are idiots,” Sunset muttered.





Twilight knelt down, touching the fern she’d seen. Something bright red was splattered on the fronds and, now that she’d touched it, on her fingers.
She gingerly brought it to her lips, tasting it.
Immediately she started sputtering and coughing.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” she said, between gags. “I don’t know what I was expecting.”
She stood up and wiped her lips.
“I must have wounded it. It’s bleeding all over, and if it bleeds…” She paused. “If it bleeds it’s probably wounded and angry and even more dangerous than before.”
That wasn’t a good thought, so she tried to force herself to stop thinking it and just follow the trail of blood. Among Twilight’s many skills - like math, science, mad science, and sexy mad science - not thinking about something was listed so far down that even the world champion at Limbo dancing couldn’t sneak in under the bar.
A branch snapped.
Twilight dove behind a tree, taking up a tactical position like she’d been taught. She considered doing a tactical roll, just in case.
Up ahead, the woods thinned out into a clearing, sunlight pouring through the gap in the tree canopy like a spotlight. At center stage was the bear, slumped and breathing heavily. It was helpless, exhausted.
Twilight raised her gun.
A smaller bear stumbled out of the canopy, only a little larger than Spike. Well, much larger than Spike, really, but still quite small compared to the adult grizzly. It called out in obvious distress.
“It has a family?” Twilight whispered.
The bear heard her, ears turning. The cub moved between her and its mother, roaring and trying to scare her. Even to Twilight, who occasionally had night terrors with a distinct bear theme, this was more pathetic than actually intimidating.
“Tempest said I should end this, make sure you can never come back for revenge,” Twilight said, aiming at the cub.
All it would take was one pull of the trigger.
It looked terrified, just like she’d been.
And despite how scared it was, it was trying to protect something it loved.
“I can’t do it,” Twilight whispered.
The huge grizzly, urged into motion by the danger despite the pain, stood, backing away from Twilight.
She wavered and lowered the gun, watching it go.
It vanished into the woods.
Twilight, overcome with nameless emotion, pointed her gun in the air and fired, screaming.





“So the good thing is, Fluttershy’s first aid kit had surgical glue and ketamine, so Tempest is fine,” Sunset said, hours later, once Twilight had found her way back. 
Twilight frowned. “Isn’t ketamine for horses?”
“Technically speaking, Tempest is a horse. So am I. Besides, she decided not to go to the real doctor.”
“Because she’s worried she’ll be locked up by the government since she’s an alien from another world?” Twilight asked.
“No, because she thinks not having healing potions and sterilization spells makes medicine on this side of the portal barbaric and primitive. She says she’ll get the rest fixed up by a witch doctor later.”
“Oh.” Twilight frowned. “A witch doctor, though? Really?”
“Look, the healing energy of crystals is a thing that actually works in Equestria. If she says she has a referral to a good witch doctor, I’m inclined to take her word for it.”
“I guess.”
“So how’d the thing with the bear go?”
“I ended up letting it go,” Twilight sighed.
“You realized revenge wasn’t the most important way to get closure,” Sunset said, smiling and putting an arm around Twilight’s shoulders. “That’s a good friendship lesson.”
“No, I just couldn’t shoot it in front of its kid,” Twilight said. “If it had been alone…” She shrugged.
“While I think it’s still good not to shoot someone in front of their child, I’m not sure that’s actually a friendship lesson.”
“Yeah,” Twilight agreed. “Honestly, I have a lot of complicated emotions about this whole thing and I’m gonna need to unpack them over time.”
“Did you do that thing where you fire your gun in the air and yell ‘Aaaaah?’”
Twilight nodded.
“You’ll be fine,” Sunset said. “Feel like a smore? Pinkie’s been saving one for you.”
“I’d like that,” Twilight smiled. “I think I’m ready to try having fun again.”







Tempest panted, her whole body dripping with sweat. It was finished.
The body of the Ursa lay still in front of its lair. The same place where her horn had been shattered so long ago. It was never going to hurt another pony again. It was never going to do much of anything ever again, really.
Something mewled in the deeper darkness within the cave.
The guards, forming a perimeter - really, forming a ring that Tempest had used to fight the beast to the death - started to close in.
“Stop,” She ordered. She hadn’t spoken loudly, but in the aftermath of what had just happened, the masked creatures were all ears. None of them wanted to share the same fate as the Ursa.
Tempest walked into the cave, letting sparks flow from her horn, a flickering blue light that didn’t reach far.
It was enough for her to see the cowering cub at the far end of the cave.
“So, it had a cub,” she muttered.
The tiny Ursa, not even large enough to be an Ursa Minor, really, just an Ursa Minus, backed away.
“A long time ago, your parent hurt me,” Tempest said. “First I was afraid. I spent years thinking about all the things I’d done wrong. Then I spent more time thinking of what I’d do if I just had a chance. The revenge I’d have someday.”
She took a deep breath, breathing in the musty air of the cave, the sharp ozone smell from the magical battle and the repeated explosions outside.
“Maybe someday you’ll stop being afraid of the pony who came here today, and you’ll decide you want to seek me out and have your own revenge.”
Tempest smiled.
“I’ll be waiting. Don’t disappoint me.”


> Denial
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tempest limped after Princess Twilight as she carried the books to her Mirror Universe Literature Lab, the room so recently designated that Spike was still painting the new name on the door.
“I’m sorry it took longer than expected,” Tempest said. “I should have contacted you once I knew I was going to be delayed.”
“It’s fine,” Twilight assured her, producing a phone from the same place all ponies kept small objects like bags of bits, quills, and so forth. The location is, of course, obvious and doesn’t need to be spelled out. “Sunset texted me to let me know what was going on.”
“Oh,” Tempest said. “That’s good.”
“You’re not going to ask me how it works?” Twilight asked.
“...Should I have?”
“Well, it’s just that getting a cell phone signal across a dimensional barrier was a very interesting project. It took a lot of work and there are only a few ponies in the entire world who could even begin to understand what it means, much less why it’s so important or the implications of being able to transfer huge volumes of information across time and space! And it’s not just a matter of leaving the portal open, either, because it’s not a simple gateway. The transformation effects are just one part of the effect and from the research we’ve been doing, it seems like the damage done by my counterpart might have weakened--”
The castle shook.
More importantly, Twilight stopped talking.
“Oh thank Celestia,” Tempest whispered.
“Just one moment,” Twilight said, putting the books down. “There’s at least a one in three chance that Rainbow Dash flew into the castle again. She’s had a lot of concussions and sometimes she gets fixated on shiny things and, well, you know.”
“I really don’t,” Tempest replied,
Spike looked at the letters he’d been carefully painting, and the black streak across them. He sighed and put the paintbrush down, walking past them to open a window.
“Uh, Twilight?” he asked.
“I can’t hear you over the roaring and screaming!” Twilight yelled, over the roaring and screaming.
“I think it’s another monster attack!” Spike yelled back.
“But we just had one last week!” Twilight shouted, storming over to the window.
Tempest followed her to look. A monster attacking seemed promising. Maybe in the confusion Twilight would forget to tell her about exciting developments in the field of electromagnetism.
“That’s an Ursa Major,” Tempest said.
“Yeah, and it looks real angry about something,” Spike agreed. “Maybe it’s Trixie’s fault again. Well, I mean, technically it wasn’t her fault the first time, but you know.” He shrugged.
“Again, I really don’t know.”
“It’s a Ponyville thing,” Spike said. “If you stay here long enough you’ll understand.”
“For some reason, this seems familiar,” Tempest muttered. “It’s like I recognize it from somewhere…”





Meanwhile, five minutes in the past, which is meanwhile as long as you aren't bound to the linear flow of time (Princess Twilight will provide diagrams of the relevant future and past light cones upon request), Fluttershy was speaking with one of her patients.
"You've made a lot of progress," Fluttershy said, checking her charts. There weren't standard charts for animal psychology, so she drew her own by hoof. "I think you deserve a smiley face sticker for today!"
"Urragrrahghgh," the Ursa Major rumbled, the whole clearing shaking with the power of its voice. It was like an earthquake, even when it whispered.
"Oh, I agree," Fluttershy said, nodding. "It's important to look to the future and move on."
"Rawraaaawr?"
"Well, I was talking to Twilight, and we have somepony we want you to meet."
The Ursa tilted its head in confusion. "Urarawargh?"
"No, no. It's not another specialist. I'm not actually sure if there are specialists in ursine psychoanalysis. Actually, it's a pony you met before!"





"It's really too bad," Fluttershy added. "She was doing so well with her therapy."
"Honestly, I thought--" Twilight started, wincing as explosions rocked the sky overhead. "I thought Tempest was over it too."
"Maybe this will help both of them," Fluttershy suggested. "They could learn a valuable lesson."
"Fluttershy, nopony has learned anything at all."
"I learned something," Fluttershy corrected.
"Oh really? And what's that?"
"I thought bears were more afraid of us than we were of them, but they also have an almost limitless capacity for holding grudges and revenge."
"Just like ponies."
"Isn't nature wonderful?" Fluttershy smiled.