> Odd's Oubliette: Otherwise Obsolete Oddities
>  by Odd_Sarge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> DR1: Man falls off a mountain and right onto the pony planet. Bat ensues.
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I was a kid, I used to dream of wide open meadows. Wildflowers would stretch from every corner of my view. Off into the mountains, and into the deepest riverbanks, color flowed freely from every orifice of the world. Nature was something so idyllic to me, and the moment I found myself back in the countryside after 20 odd years was one I couldn’t forget.

This planet is far from Earth, to be certain. But I can’t imagine myself away from rural Equestria anymore.

The ironic thing about all of this is that I started out in one of the biggest cities on the pony-side of the universe. Now, of course you wouldn’t expect to hear this after I unloaded on you about the beauty of natural order, but Manehattan is one heck of a place. We had skyscrapers back on Earth, mind you—ponies weren’t the first to prosper—but I was and still am pretty damn impressed with how much quadrupeds could accomplish, especially given their size comparative to the city builders I knew. 

Magic definitely plays a role in that regard; ponies have pulled off a plethora of amazing feats. Those pegasi likely guided the steel beams lifted by the unicorns, and the earth ponies clung to those beams like glue as they welded them together, with lightning-fueled torches and unicorn stasis as precision. If you’ve read up on Hearthswarming and the world before the Equestria of today, you’d be struck by just how far they’ve come.

And I suppose that’s why I can easily call these ponies my neighbors; I’ve found that humanity and ponykind aren’t too far off.





It all began with a fall.

I fell out of the sky, that is.

Okay, not really, I'm pulling your leg. I fell off a mountain. 

I was a pretty determined little bastard when I was young. Mountain climbing was a favorite pastime of mine even before I knew the fun involved in it. I’d run off after supper and go climbing through the playground downtown, prompting stares from the rest of the kids on the city block. In my teens, a friend offered to take me out to the Rockies for a weekend getaway. That was the best weekend of my life, and probably the best time of my life on Earth, ever. 

And it ultimately led to me climbing the Rockies one last time, and falling off the mountain. I lost my grip—the chalk on my hands didn’t help all that much up there—and went cascading. I couldn’t hold back the scream I let loose, and so I tumbled, screaming all the while.

After about fifteen seconds, I was suddenly jerked upwards into unconsciousness.





“Wake up...” 

When I opened my eyes, I was surprised to find myself on the ground; a bright, blue, cloudless sky greeted me.

“Come on, wake up…”

The feminine voice called from somewhere above me; I rolled my eyes upward to get my eyes on her.

I froze when I saw that it wasn’t the usual suspect.

The rubbing motions on both sides of my head stopped as we made eye contact. ‘She’ pulled her dark gray appendages away, and fixed me with an uneasy smile. Her fangs jut out at me.

“Can you hear me?”

I nodded numbly as my eyes strained from the odd angle.

She laughed. It was a very sharp, chittering kind of laugh, but it was tinged with good-natured cheer. “Well, I’m happy about that! I wasn’t sure if you were just somepony’s pet, so it’s good to know the clothes aren’t just for show.”

“A… a pet?” Pony? Wait… “You’re not… human.” 

“No,” she said, her demeanor falling as I rolled over in the grass to sit up. “I’m a pony. A bat pony, actually.”

I rubbed the back of my head and looked at her. My jaw dropped. “Holy shit.”

The confirmed pony (but actually bat pony) had a large crimson mane—which was tinged with a few locks of magenta and violet at the front and side of her head—that rolled down her neck. Her dark fur was mottled with hints of pink in the sunlight, and two scars accentuated the trick of the light: one extending from her right eye up the bridge of her snout; and one extending down from her left eye toward a cluster of three freckles. At the top of her head, two gray ears sprouted forth, brimming with fluffy fur. My eyes jumped to the tiny fangs at the roof of her mouth, and then to her eyes; evidently, she had heterochromia, as her left eye was a dim emerald green, and her right was a blazing orange.

“Damn,” I muttered. “You’re a pony, alright.” 

Her cheeks darkened in a blush. “Well? How are you feeling?”

“Fine. Just dandy.” I shook myself. “Just had a nasty fall. Which…” I paused. “you…”

“Which I saved you from?” she grinned. “Well, you can thank these!” Standing, she turned to show me her side. I stared at the pair of wings. They were leathery, and looked quite sturdy. They also matched the fur of her coat. 

“You were pretty heavy, especially that bag of yours, but it was no big issue since it meant saving somepony’s life!” She flexed her gray wings for emphasis.

“I… wow.” I clutched my chest, and looked back up at the sky. “Wow.”

“So! You're a traveler, right? That’s what that big bag of gear is for, isn’t it?” She tilted her head, studying me. “And to be honest, I’ve never really seen a creature like you.”

“Ha, same could be said about you for me.”

“What? You’ve never seen a bat pony before? We’re actually—”

“Wait, wait, wait just a second!” I stood suddenly, and looked around, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was speaking to a flying pony that had just saved my life. “I didn’t even know ponies could talk! Where even am I?”

The surroundings were picturesque: lush green fields lit by a brilliant sun, and scattered with beautiful, vibrant flowers of all kinds of colors. The sun steadily rose in the east over great fields of golden wheat and rye, casting its rays across the evergreen forest to the west. My breathing hitched as I took it all in, and the pony spoke up behind me.

“Um, Equestria? You were hiking on Foal Mountain, you know?” She paused. “Or did you not know?”

“Listen…” I turned again and walked up to the pony, an index finger outstretched. “I know what mountain I was on, and it most definitely was not ‘Foal’ Mountain,” I spat.

“No, I guess it wasn’t.” She moved her head to the side and nibbled at her bottom lip. “You… you really haven’t heard of Equestria? Or even seen a pony before?”

“No,” I said. “I swear to God.”

The pony flinched. 

“What?” She mumbled something. “Come on, speak up!”

“Don’t you mean ‘I swear to Celestia?’” She quickly shrank in.

My mouth fell open again and I blubbered for a bit. “What?”

“Sorry! I know other creatures have different idols, but it just slipped out!” she cried profusely as she managed to shrink further.

I blinked as I watched her shrivel up. My hands wavered, and I unclenched my fists. “I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m not usually like this.” I slumped down on my ass and looked back toward the eastern fields. “God… damn it, I’m sorry.” I set my head in my hands as I rested my elbows on my knees.

The grass rustled under the weight of her steps as she crept up to me. 

“Hey.” Her voice was quiet and soothing. “Hey, look at me.” She placed a hoof on my knee.

I lifted my head. Her green-and-orange eyes pierced mine. From this close, I could see an otherworldly glimmer in them. 

“Listen to me.” Her words were still a bit shaky, but she steeled herself with a breath and carried on. “I know you don't know me, but I'm going to try my best to tell you who I am.” She smiled. “It’s easier to talk if we’re more than strangers. Does that sound okay?”

I breathed. “Yeah.” I nodded. “Okay.”

She kept her silence and smile. She sat her rump down across from me, her wings folding in. Then, she began: “My name is Dusk Ruby. I’m a bat pony, and a native of Fillydelphia, Equestria. I was born in the year of 988 of the Equestrian calendar, and I’m currently twenty-one years-old. I like long-flights during the early morning, and…” she giggled briefly, “mangoes are my favorite fruit.”

As she spoke, I couldn't help but stare, captivated by her incredibly human-like features. Her face had a distinctly human appeal to it, and yet, her body portrayed otherwise. She waited patiently for me to speak.

“My… my name is Jim. Jim Miller. I’m a human, and uh… I was born in Bethesda, Maryland, but I’m really not a uh, ‘native’ to anywhere in particular. I was born in the year 1992 of the… Gregorian calendar, so I’m currently twenty-eight years old. I like taking things apart, and an apple does me just fine.”

“You like taking things apart? Why?”

“Because I get to see how they work. It's fun.” I shrugged. “I like... finding things out. If I didn't take things apart, I wouldn't know anything.”

She tilted her head to the side and gazed at me with her bright eyes. After a brief silence, she spoke. “Have you ever wondered how things work? Like, really work? You know, the world, Equestria, everything?”

“I have indulged once or twice.”

“I do it all the time, but I've never had somepony I could... talk to about it.”

I mulled over her words for a moment. “Well, I'm a good listener.”

Dusk’s ears perked up. “Really? You’d listen?”

My smile tentatively drooped. “After I figure out what’s going on? Yeah. We can talk.”

“Oh. Right.” Dusk’s gaze flicked westward, and I followed her focus to the mountain close by. “That’s Foal Mountain. There’s a lot of great thermals around there, so I ride the currents whenever I have time. It’s a bit of a flight from the Fillydelphia outskirts to there, but it’s worth it… especially since I was able to, you know, save you.”

“Thank you, again, really.” Dusk hummed in reply, and I sighed. “I just don’t know how I got all the way up there. I just lost my grip and then… bam. Lights out.”

Dusk gave a sheepish laugh. “When I caught you, your body went from stiff to limp fast.”

“I probably probably blanked out on the force of the impact,” I theorized. “I was panicking pretty bad, to be fair.”

“I can only imagine!” Dusk said, horrified. “Us bat ponies—oh, and pegasi, sometimes our hearts just give way and our wings get locked in freefall. I’ve never had that happen to me, but for somepony without wings to go through freefall?” She set her hoof on my right shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, right?” 

“Yeah.” I reached up and squeezed her hoof. I kept my eyes on the mountain. “Yeah, I’m gonna be okay.”

The sun inched over the eastern horizon. It bathed the western mountains with a fiery embrace, and we watched it slowly creep over the peak of the mountain.

“Equestria, huh? Beautiful place.”

She hummed again, and we sat there, my hand on her hoof, watching the sun paint over the snow-capped mountain.

I was broken out of my reverie by the lack of feeling on my back. She removed her hoof from my shoulder as I checked my shoulders for my bag’s straps. 

“Your bag’s over there.” I stood and moved over to my bag as Dusk continued. “I hope you don’t mind, but I looked through it a bit to see if you had anything that could tell me, um, who you are.” She paused. “I’ve never seen a bag like that before. There’s a lot of space for things. And the straps were hard to pull open, which is a good thing… I think.”

“They’re zippers,” I explained, moving out of the way to show her. “Top ones the ones you struggled with?” She nodded. “Yeah, they’re a bit scuffed, but a little bit of force gets them open just as easy as the rest.” 

I unzipped the bag, and gave my things a brief once over: I still had my one-person Kodiak canvas tent, a fresh set of clothes, a small stash of bottled water, some perishables, and my notebook and pens. My thermos and nylon climbing rope and pegs were missing, though; they had been on the sides of my backpack, so it was more than likely that they’d been flung off during my fall.

“Everything okay?”

“Yup, missing a few things, but nothing too major. I’ll live.” I slipped the backpack on, and gave a grunt as I adjusted to the familiar weight. “Nice.”

“It looks great on you!” I looked down at my khaki shorts and sweaty blue-polyester tank-top. Thankfully, my tan hiking boots still hugged my feet tightly. 

“Thanks.” I shrugged the bag.

Dusk yawned suddenly. I smiled as she blinked rapidly through a blush. “Sorry, I’m usually back home and asleep by now.”

“That’s alright. I’m sorry you had to spend your free time saving a guy’s life. That being said…” I looked east toward the fields. “I think I need to get my bearings. And I’d rather not be on a mountain right now.”

“Well, I’m living Fillydelphia, and there should be somepony there who can help you figure out what’s going on.”

“Anywhere with more people… er, ponies, has got to be better than standing here letting daylight burn.” I made a motion with my hand toward her. “Lead the way.”

With that, Dusk took off—something that seemed impossible given her visible weight and the size of her wings—and veered off on a steady but manageable pace toward the eastern fields.





We eventually hit a dirt road that wrapped around the fields, and Dusk Ruby landed to trot alongside me. Dusk explained that the winter harvest was almost done, and true to her word, we came to pass the fields in the middle of being threshed and processed—there were even some ponies working in the field that cool winter morning—and eventually past the already harvested fields. Soon enough, the skyline of a metropolitan city came into view, much to my relief; while I could live off of very little, I was no ascetic. 

The fields gave way to thatched-roofed buildings, and the road smoothed out. Then, the thatched-roofed buildings gave way to stone, and the roads to cobblestones. Up ahead, the buildings turned to brick and metal, successively taller, but we stopped before that in front of one of the larger stone buildings.

“This is where I live.” Dusk pointed to one of the windows on the second floor of the three-story building. “That’s my place right there: up the first flight on the left. The address is 657 Evening Crest Road. When you get things sorted, you can come drop by and see me anytime you’d like!” She was visibly beaming. “Of course, I have work late at night, but if you drop by in the late afternoon or early evening, you can’t miss me!”

We moved on from the interesting duplex and into the heart of the city.

I steeled myself as more ponies emerged from their homes to continue their day. I received passing looks, but nothing too lingering. I had hoped that Dusk would cover for me in the event that we were harrassed, but thankfully, no ponies came forward. Up the blocks we went, and so too did the number of stories in the city’s buildings. Dusk told me that they weren’t even the tallest buildings in Equestria—just to the south, there was a city named ‘Manehattan’ that supposedly had highrises everywhere. But I was already impressed: the ponies had managed to build what appeared to be a typical modern city that wouldn’t look out of place in a twentieth-century America. 

In the middle of the city, we reached our destination; an honest to God police department. Well, it was more of a depot. Fillydelphia Station was a stout two-story red-brick building that melded perfectly into the block of various commercial businesses. Ponies in sets of gold and blue armor moved to-and-fro; some ponies entered through the pair of swinging glass doors, and others were clearly setting out on patrols along Fillydelphia’s sidewalks. Dusk and I crossed the street and approached the station. We were given even less attention than when we had entered the city.

Passing through the glass doors unhindered, Dusk approached the counter. A peach-coated unicorn with a purple mane sat behind the glass barrier; like all of the other ponies, she was decorated in armor, hers being of the golden variety. She finished up with her paper and quill as I pulled up behind Dusk. 

“Aura Gleam!” Dusk beamed. “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

Gleam rolled her eyes. “You say that every time you come in here, Ruby. Which is too often, might I add.” 

“Hmph! Those flying ordinances are total haywash, and you know it!”

Gleam laughed. “Saddle down, filly.” Her eyes landed on me. “I see you have a… friend.”

“Morning, officer,” I greeted. 

Gleam laughed lightly at that. “I’m blessedly not.” She gave me a curt nod. “Corporal Gleam. A friend of Ruby is a friend of mine.”

“Well that’s great, because I’m—” Dusk failed to suppress a yawn “—really tired, and I would hate to leave Jim without a nice pony to help him.”

“You’re leaving?” I asked her. 

“Yeah,” she began. “But don’t worry! Gleam is a good pony, she’ll help you! If you’re going to stay in town or leave, though, just drop by, okay?” She pressed a hoof to my shoulder. “Stay safe, Jim.”

I leant down. “Thank you again. For everything,” I whispered to her. I gave her a quick hug with an arm—which she willingly returned with her own foreleg—and watched her slip back through the front doors.

“Huh.” I turned back around and walked up to Gleam. “You must have a story to tell, Jim. Dusk doesn’t talk to too many ponies, you know?”

“It’s a good thing I’m not a pony, then.”

Aura Gleam went back to smiling. “Fair enough! So, how can I help you?”

“I’m a bit… lost.” 

She tilted her head. “Do you need a map, or…?”

I sighed. “Let me put it this way: I have never heard of Equestria, or known that you ponies existed, until today.”

Gleam’s eyes widened. Her horn, which had been lit with a cloud of yellow earlier, lit once more as a filing cabinet behind her opened. Everything was lit with a cloud of yellow as a fresh sheet of paper whisked its way through the air to meet Gleam’s levitating quill.

“Jim, I have a feeling you and I are going to be learning a lot today.”
> DR2: Meeting Aura Gleam, Guardsmare; and Dusk Ruby exploration
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The story wasn’t a long one to tell, and after the first few minutes of explaining how I’d run into Dusk Ruby, Aura Gleam relented her position at the front desk to another guard and led me deeper into the station.

“It’s uh, a little intimidating to be in an interrogation room.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jim. It’s not like I’m cuffing you to the table or anything like that.”

“Uh huh…”

Aura Gleam shut the door to the room with another burst of light from her horn. I would have questioned the unicorn about the display if I hadn’t been occupied with inspecting the interrogation room. The heavy stone door did not reflect the homey nature of the room inside; wooden panels lined the walls, ceiling, and floor, and a healthy-looking potted houseplant sat steadfast in the pot in the furthest corner of the room. There was even a small glass window at the top of the wall that allowed sunlight to pour in. Several posters adorned the walls, and they all featured ponies in several situations that reminded me very much of the style of ‘Hang in there!’ posters. 

In the center of the room was a short wooden table flanked by opposing red cushions. Gleam stepped behind the pillow away from the door and gestured at the other. “Take a seat.”

I sat cross-legged in the chair while Gleam set her own rump down and began setting her papers out once again. “So… Jim. Can I get a full name for the record?”

“Jim Miller.”

“Do you prefer Jim or Miller?”

“Jim, please.”

“Alright…” Gleam’s quill glowed in its vibrant yellow emission as it crossed over several pages. The same glow flipped through the pages swiftly as Gleam read quietly. Eventually, she seemed satisfied, and the quill set down in the pot of ink, and the yellow glow disappeared from everything. 

“Everything good?” I asked her.

“Well,” Gleam began as her hoof slid the stack of papers off to the side. “From what I’ve heard, you’re no citizen of any country around here, so we’ll talk about our options after I hear everything you have to say.”

I blinked. “What more is there to hear?”

“First of all, you're a non-Equestrian citizen with no diplomatic ties whatsoever. What that essentially means is that you're at the mercy of the Crown, which is a position you wouldn't have if you'd shown up in Equestria a few years ago, but I digress. The big things I need to hear from you are what your intentions are in Equestria, and how long you plan on staying.”

My visage curled involuntarily. “But I didn't even want to come to Equestria.”

Gleam sighed. “Regardless, I need to know what you're thinking before I can let you leave the station again. It's nothing personal, Jim.”

I shrugged. “I guess I just want to get out of your hair as soon as possible. I want to stay for as short a time as I can.”

“You don't seem too eager to do that,” Gleam said.

I was quiet for a second. “What do you mean?”

Gleam shrugged. “You just don't sound too committed about going back. You want to stay in Equestria, don't you?”

I hesitated.

“Jim?”

“Maybe a little part of me,” I answered. “Honest. It's a nice place here. It reminds me of home, but in a… better light.” I took a deep breath. “But I know I'm not supposed to be here. I was in a real accident, and I survived and recovered. I need to get back to Earth.”

Gleam looked at me, a small, sympathetic smile on her face. She tapped the stack of papers with a hoof. “Right now, we're talking off-record. You can say whatever you want to me.”

I looked down. “This place is like… one big daydream. Mountain climbing has been my escape for the longest time, and now that I don't have to worry about big things… I…” I shook my head. “I have friends back home. I shouldn't be thinking about this.”

“Do you have any family?” she asked me.

“No,” I answered immediately. “Nobody who matters.”

“What about a special somepony? Somepony waiting for you?”
 
I looked up and shook my head. “Nope. And I plan on keeping it that way.”

“Pffh,” she waved her hoof dismissively. “You probably just haven't met the right pony.”

I laughed quietly. “I doubt if I'll ever meet someone like that.”

“I wouldn't call it so early. Plenty of mares out there looking for a stallion who can hold his own.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

I sighed and shook my head. “Listen, corporal. I just want to know who I can talk to about getting out of Equestria and back to where I came from. We've established that this is not the same planet. I want to be in Equestria for as short a time as possible, and I want to go back home.”

“We'll see,” she said, her voice leaving no room for argument. Gleam slid the papers over to me. “I'm going to walk you through this, alright? Let me know if you can't use a quill.”

I took the papers, and we began.

We spent about two hours in that room going over the documents. Most of them reminded me of filling out naturalization and citizenship forms, but there were very specific questions that were far from the norm: there were constant mentions of ‘tribes’ for ponies, and sections dedicated to talking about what ‘nature of magic’ I ‘specialized’ in and how a ‘cutie mark’ related to said specializations. On each page was a section dedicated to writing down my ‘race’, and each time I wrote ‘Human’, I felt more at odds with reality.

Eventually, we reached the end of the documents, and Gleam packed up and left me in the room. She returned a time later.

“I've got you down for nonimmigrant status, now. You're going to have to go pick up a permit from the Fillydelphia Courthouse. I'll be taking you there.”

“But I don’t need a status,” I protested. “I just want to find someone who can help me get back home.” 

“We don't have a protocol for this kind of situation, Jim. Nopony ever expected a foreign national to slip into the country without a… verified homeland. My superiors said that I was to go with you, so I'm your escort.”

“Fine,” I relented with a heavy sigh. "Let's go.”

The two of us left the station and set out for the courthouse. We had to stop multiple times for Gleam to explain mundane pedestrian signs to me—which was ‘just policy’ to her—but we eventually arrived at the rather imposing building. I imagined that there would be more security around their government buildings, but Equestria seemed to lack that, for better or for worse.

We went through the front door and into the main lobby. A secretary pony directed us to the non-judicial section of the building. With Aura Gleam speaking up as necessary, I walked out of the building nearly an hour later with several brochures for tourists to Equestria and Fillydelphia, and a bundle of legal documents that provided me with legal rights during my stay in Equestria.

“Well, that was easy,” I said.

“Considering the situation? Yeah, things could’ve been worse. There's still the matter of the permit, though.”

“Of course there’s more,” I groaned.

“A little,” she laughed. Her face turned serious, though. “But it's important. You mess up once out here, and you won't be let off with just a warning. Your permit will be revoked, and you’ll be placed in a cell for a good long while before your case processes.”

“Stay clean,” I affirmed. “Got it. One last question, though.”

The unicorn nodded. “Go ahead.”

“If there’s nobody in the… system, who can help me get back home, do you know anybody who can?”

Her helmet levitated off of her head with a flicker of her magic, and she ran a hoof through her mane. “I really wouldn’t know where to start, honestly. I’ve done a little research into more complex spells in my spare time, but never have I seen a spell that would require as much energy as it would take to move matter from beyond Celestia’s sun. I don’t even think a grimoire would have a spell capable of taking you back home, and those books contain illegal spells, to boot. The only ponies I could recommend you seeking help with are the princesses.” Aura Gleam sighed and slid her helmet back on. She offered her hoof to me with a smile. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but if it’s any consolation…”  I took her hoof, and we shook. “Welcome to Equestria, Jim. Stay out of trouble, and I hope you find what you're looking for.”

“Thank you, Gleam. I’ll see you around.”

With one last departing nod, the armored guardsmare trotted off in the direction of Fillydelphia Station, leaving me alone in front of the courthouse.

I sat on a bench for a moment, just taking it all in. I had no idea where to start. There was so much knowledge, so much information. So I figured I would try to start with the most obvious lead. 

I stowed my new papers in my bag, tightened my straps, and made for 657 Evening Crest Road.





I stood awkwardly outside of Dusk Ruby’s door. She hadn’t answered immediately, and repeated attempts with the knocker didn’t produce any new results. A few of the neighbors living in the duplex gave me odd looks as they went up and down the stairwell in the center of the building, but I stayed resolute in my spot next to Ruby’s door.

One of the ponies—a pegasus mare coming down from the third floor—paused on my level and looked me up and down.

“You a friend of Ruby?”

I was a bit caught off-guard. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m a friend of Dusk’s.”

The mare relaxed. “Ah, alright then. Well, she’s usually asleep by now. The door’s not locked, so you can go ahead and let yourself in.”

I furrowed my brow and eyed the door. “Is it?” The door clicked as I turned the knob. I looked back at the mare. “Should I even…?”

She shrugged. “Better than standing out here. Have a nice day.” The raspy-voiced mare gave me a crooked smile and headed for the last flight of stairs. 

I gave the mare my thanks and turned back to the door. I took a breath and eased the door to Dusk Ruby’s apartment open.

The room was dimly lit by a few small candles adorning the tables and shelves. Dusk Ruby lay on a bed in the corner of the room. The covers were tossed back, leaving Dusk exposed, and a half-empty bottle labeled ‘Nightfire’ was laying on the floor a few feet away from the bed. Her steady snores filled the room as I shut the door behind me and inspected the rest of the apartment. 

A small kitchen was to the left by the apartment's only window, and two pony-sized chairs took residence there. In another corner, a desk covered in papers covered one half of a small workspace, and a bookshelf filled the other half. A dresser with several drawers and a few other pieces of furniture—including a comfy-looking sofa—completed the room. Beyond the open doorway of the only other door in the room was what appeared to be a full-sized bathroom.

Dusk’s room didn't have much in the way of personal possessions save for a few photographs scattered throughout. Most of the pictures were of Ruby with other ponies, and I even recognized Aura Gleam in a few of them. I didn’t have long to look, though, before I found what was undoubtedly Dusk’s favorite picture. It was an ornately framed photograph that rested on the nightstand next to Dusk’s head. The photograph showed what appeared to be Dusk Ruby as a filly, with two ponies behind her: both were dark-colored pegasi. One was a stallion with a pair of black wings and a rose emblem on his armored chest, and the other was a mare with a single black wing and a pair of flashing purple eyes. As I crept closer to her bed for a better look, I realized that they had shining fangs as well, which I took to mean that they were bat ponies, not pegasi.

I turned to the bottle of Nightfire on the floor and inspected it. The label claimed it to be some sort of cognac ‘By thestrals, for thestrals!’ I didn’t know much about such things, but the ancient-looking bottle certainly looked the part. I decided against drinking any of it and instead set the bottle on the nightstand. 

With my survey complete, I figured I'd already invited myself into her home, and so I settled down on the couch. I set my hiking bag down on the floor, and retrieved my notebook and pen from inside. Under candlelight, I began to write down an entry in my notebook detailing the events of the past morning. 

A while later, I was interrupted by a rambling, and quite possibly drunk, Dusk. As I looked over from the couch, I noticed that she still seemed asleep.

“Can’t sleep, drinkin’ all night, gonna drive myself mad. Got the shakes, can’t keep still, gonna go insane,” she slurred, waving her hooves as she spoke in her sleep. “They got no bones, so they can’t break. They can’t break. I’m all hollow, but they can’t take me! Can’t take me, ‘til the day I die!”

I set my notebook aside and stood from the couch. I walked over to Dusk’s nightstand and I picked up the bottle of Nightfire once more. I took a whiff of the contents. It certainly smelled like some delicious aged cognac, and I couldn't help but take a sip.

As soon as the warm liquid hit my tongue and entered my throat, I felt my tongue go numb. I was able to run it along my teeth, which also went numb shortly afterwards. Panicking slightly, I set the bottle down on the nightstand and took a step back. 

After a few moments, feeling began to return to my tongue, and the numbness left my teeth. I shuddered. “Buh. Strong stuff.”

I looked back towards Dusk, and noticed that she was still talking in her sleep. “They got no bones, so they can’t break…They can’t break…” A shiver rippled across her fur.

I went to pull her Dusk's blanket up to cover her, and as I did, I noticed a symbol on her flank. It depicted a pair of leathery wings, much like her own, underneath a rose. 

After covering her, she appeared to stop shivering. I went back to my spot on the couch and sat down, but kept my eyes on Dusk.

“They're not coming to take me away, they can’t… they won’t take me away…" she sobbed.

I watched her for a few minutes more, until I was sure she’d stopped shaking. Dusk was fast asleep by then, so I’d have to wait if I wanted to talk to her about my situation. I decided I'd try to sleep instead, and settled down to take a nap.





I don’t know how long I slept for. When I woke up, it was pitch dark except for a meager amount of orange light coming from the window; the candles had gone out. I sat up and heard a shuffling sound. I turned my head to the left and saw Dusk standing by her bed with one of her forelegs curled around the bottle of Nightfire.

“Jim?” she asked, sleepiness evident in her voice. “When did you get here?”

“Few hours after you left me.” I rubbed my eyes and stood. “Sorry about letting myself in, I wanted to talk to you, but you weren’t answering.”

“It’s okay,” she replied. Dusk eyed her bottle. “Did you… drink any of this?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “It’s not half-bad for brandy. Bit strange, though.”

She swilled the drink around in a circular motion. “I can see that.” She blinked, then looked up at me. “So, how did things go with Aura?”

“Not great, but progress is progress.” I opened my bag and pulled out my fresh permit. “I have some legal protections now. Not any closer to getting back home, though.”
> Mark and the Bat
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

I’d hated the sun before, but my recent change had made my hatred for the orb only grow stronger.

“Freak!” Throwing a glance to the fat American tourist snapping photos of me, I rolled my eyes and kept pace.

“Yeah, I know. Thanks.” He disappeared back into the bustling late afternoon crowd quickly enough. My hand instinctively went to one of my aching fangs, but a mental reminder of my orthodontist’s words came back to me. Sighing, I let my hand fall back to my side.

Ever since Ben Wesk had begun expanding his duchy to the east, Canterlot had been busier than ever. Despite much of the capital’s traffic being diverted to the train station, the streets elsewhere still found a large portion of tourists plastered all over the place. I eyed a happy little family of Chinese eagerly chatting away in accented English with their pony tour guide. One of the kids, a little boy, caught my gaze. I smiled at him with unfortunately bared fangs.

He immediately tugged on his father’s waist and pointed at me. The father turned to me. His face lit up with surprise, and after a moment, gave a respectful nod. Gracious for his understanding, I returned the gesture in kind. The Chinese family disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as the American had. Sighing, I ran a pale hand through my messy hair and pushed further through the streets of the Equestrian capital.

It had been a week since my transformation had finished, and the encounter with the Chinese man had been the first time a human had been kind to me since my transformation. 

A little over a month ago, I’d immigrated to Equestria. It wasn’t my first time here, as the place had truly reeled me in on a birthday vacation a few months ago; Equestria had been just too delightful to spend time in. I had visited the rapidly growing town of Ponyville to the south of Canterlot, and the many days I had spent exploring the town with my friends and family had left quite the impression on me. Canterlot had been the cheapest place to settle down in due to its abundance of apartments, but it was definitely no Ponyville.

This place was full of bigots, pony and human alike. I hadn’t experienced much of it myself until I had started looking for a job three weeks ago. Both ponies and humans shut down my applications, their excuses ranging from a new hire already being in place, to a simple no, or the more blunt statements against my American nationality, or in most cases, my age; I was too inexperienced as a twenty-one year-old, apparently. I had almost given up on Canterlot until I had found an old job listing hidden beneath newer fliers on the employment office’s bulletin board. The job was simple; caretakers were wanted for some foals.

While I wasn’t great with kids, the job was too appetizing to resist; it boasted above average wages, discount health insurance for employees, a free apartment room nearby, and it was all for the good of a couple of… well, what they described as not orphan foals, but foals left behind. Looking back now, I should have known something was up with all the great benefits.

I sighed in relief as my workplace came into view. Pushing past the last of the late afternoon crowd, I opened the door to the batpony orphanage.

Sorry, I did it again. Caretaking facility… thing. See, it’s not an orphanage because the foals were left there by batponies who were simply doing their part to grow the population— oh forget it.

Before I had even a chance to wake the snoring batpony registrar at the front desk, I’d been tackled by my boss.

“Mark!” the dark blue batpony screeched. Her voice suddenly dropped to a hiss, as if suddenly realizing the foals were still asleep. “You’re late!”

Dusting the frantic mare off of me, I briefly checked my watch. “It’s 4:33 PM, Crescent. The foals wake up three and a half hours from now.”

“But you’re late!” I opened my mouth to speak, but Crescent Tail cut me off. “No excuses! Get those hooves moving!”

“Feet,” I corrected automatically. I walked past her and towards the staffroom. “And I was going to say I was only three minutes late.” Whether or not the mare heard my soft mutter, I didn’t know.

The first night of my job had been both unexpected, and incredibly draining. I had woken early in the morning, applied for the job at noon, gone to work my first shift as the new hire in the late afternoon of that same day, and gotten off work at sunrise the next day. The half-day shift had taught me two very important things about my new job; the facility for batpony foals was severely understaffed, and I had to go nocturnal in order to survive the demonic schedule.

From what Crescent had told me, two of the caretakers employed a little over a year ago had left for Transylmania after adopting an entire generation of foals. I later learned that the now Count Wesk and his marefriend had been said caretakers. They had been the most efficient caretakers that the facility had, and with their leave, only a little over half a dozen batponies remained for the dozens of foals left behind, all adults lacking the wonderful abilities that the two apparently posessed.

Batponies had been a complete unknown to me the day my job had begun, and I had learned the hard way why taking care of young foals began so late in the day.

After the hazing shift, awakening with a thoroughly shattered circadian rhythm, I’d gone to Crescent and asked her, despite her early morning fatigue, if there was a better way to live with the job. Surprisingly, she told me yes. Ben Wesk had proved that a bat-like transformation was possible, and that as a caretaker of batpony foals, I was eligible for a transformation. Like a fool, I’d been on board immediately; it sounded pretty awesome to have fangs.

And the transformation was awesome… to an extent.

The transformation took course over the next week of my new job. My hair began to silver and grow smooth, two obnoxious fangs sprouted from my mouth, and a strange, strong craving for pork arose from nowhere. Tooth issues aside, my circadian rhythm was thrown into disarray as I found myself setting off to sleep earlier and earlier, growing paler and paler with the less time I spent in sunlight, and even growing some sort of resistance to the few teething batpony foals.

Though, that last part might have something to do with the amount that they bite me. Curse their tiny little fangs.

As I put my canvas bag down and began to brew a pot of coffee, I heard the staffroom door open. On autopilot, I grabbed another mug for whoever had walked in. I was just about to turn around when the pony sank their fangs into my arm. Sighing, I pried the pony off of me and stared at them.

A batpony mare smiled brightly up at me. “Hi Mark!”

I gestured to the two new punctures in my left arm, miraculously clear of blood. “Can you please stop this, Hotfang?”
 
“Nope!”

I leant back on the counter and eyed the mare wearily. “It’s a bad habit, you know? Chewing on me, that is.”

“Bad for you, but good for me,” she purred, running her side against me.

I shook my head and laughed lightly. “You act like one of the foals.” She didn’t respond, eyes closed in contentment.

After a full minute of awkwardly silent rubbing, Hotfang still had yet to leave me. I resigned myself to waiting for the coffee to brew. Once the coffee-making apparatus began beeping, I kicked the mare off of my legs and filled the mugs I had set out. Haphazardly shoving a mug into the mare’s hooves, I made for the door with my own coffee.

“Wait!”

I sighed and turned. “What?”

“Come closer!” she hissed.

I hesitated, but bent down all the same. With surprising speed and ferocity, Hotfang darted forward and placed a sloppy kiss on my lips.

“Thanks!” Hotfang bolted out of the room with her coffee.

I sat there spitting and spluttering before I eventually called out after her. “You little—”





“—rat!” All ears in the playroom went up at the caretaker’s shriek.

I pat the silver-maned filly I had been talking to, then stood.

“Nobody move!” I ordered loudly to the unnervingly still younglings. My finger snapped to a foal as he made for the dinner trolley still sitting in the room. He froze mid-step, finally setting the room into a state of stillness.

The calm did not last three seconds.

A large gray rat slipped under the playroom door, squeaking wildly. Not a moment later, Hotfang burst through the door. I relaxed by the tiniest fraction, glad that Hotfang was taking charge, and herded the foals behind me. Together, my little group and I watched as Hotfang and the rat bounced around the room. Toys and books were thrown aside, tiny tables and chairs became obstacles, and the already messy playroom became messier. Finally, Hotfang gave up on her hooves and leapt forward, mouth wide.
> Scribe
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

David staggered onward in his search for shelter from the icy winds of the night. The rocky terrain of the moonlit mountain bit into David’s tender feet, his shoes unfortunately unavailable, along with the rest of his preferred outdoor attire. A robe, plain white tee, and boxers were certainly not the best pieces of clothing to wear for a mountainous journey, but then again, David had been trudging down his home’s stairs to go get a drink when he had stumbled and fallen, only to awaken in the cold evening hours on an unknown continent.

Wrapping his robe tighter around himself, David squinted hard into the black.

“If I were a cave, where would I live?” He managed a few more steps before the answer came to him. “In a rock!” The man let out a loud laugh that quickly faltered into a sigh. “I should stop talking to myself.”

Had David not looked to his left, he would have never seen a well-hidden cave. He paused took a step back to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him of an opening in the mountainside; the night was dark, but the moonlight kept things visible for the most part. After confirming the existence of the cave, David began a hurried stride to the dark maw.

Slipping into the cavern meant that true darkness would overwhelm his peripheral vision. David fished in his pocket for a moment, then pulled out a thumb-sized laser pointer. From past experiences, the human knew that the pressure-sensitive optic wasn’t too effective, but it at least kept him from tripping or falling suddenly. 

Groaning, he decided to ignore the fact that he had not been using the laser pointer when he had fallen down his home’s stairs.

He wiped the sweat that he could from his free hand, then held down the button on the laser pointer.

As soon as the loop between the battery and the LED was completed, David knew something was wrong. The single red diode, which was smaller than his pinkie, shone like a full-size flashlight, illuminating the grey cavern walls in a vibrant spread of crimson. Not only that, but the cavern walls seemed to shake as his light flicked around the entrance. Some unseen aura surrounded the place, and while it did not seem harmful, David still made sure to watch his every step.

His bare feet clapped against the stone as he descended further into the cave. David knew that he should have stayed by the entrance, but now he was curious: something was causing the walls to vibrate, and he felt that it was coming from deeper within the cave. True to his gut, the thrum grew with each step down, and so deeper David went. As the ambience of the cave gave way to dripping stalactites, the air grew warmer and more humid. David was all too happy to see the faint steam that passed his lips disappear alongside the temperature change.

Rounding a corner, David made a discovery; a small sliver of faint blue light. He stepped heel first as he quieted his footsteps slowly, carefully, and with a hint of barely contained excitement. The thrum was at its highest here, and it was now clear that the walls were shaking. David turned off his laser pointer and crept towards the corner to take a peek into a large open cavern.

He stared with his two brown eyes at a light blue dragon. Unnervingly enough, the dragon was ready for him; it was already staring back with two cherry orbs of its own. Ducking back behind his corner, David took in a deep breath and held it.

“I see you.”

The voice was a raspy baritone that carried a tinge of amusement on its edges. David saw fit to stay still as the voice continued speaking.

“Do not fear, wanderer. The night is for words, the day is for actions.” 

Hesitatingly, David withdrew from his corner and began to approach the dragon. At least, he assumed it was a dragon; it looked real enough to him.

Nearby, a hovering gout of blue flame kept the area warm and lit. It was definitely the source of the increasing warmth David had felt when descending into the cave. David made sure to slip closer to it as discreetly as he could. The vibrations in the walls had stopped, and David no longer heard the faint buzz that had occupied his ears. The azure dragon had slitted red eyes that watch David’s every move closely. A pair of wings sat folded neatly on the dragon’s sides, and a large gold band hung around its neck.

“When you have acclimated yourself to my presence, then we will speak.” The dragon spoke slowly, but not too slowly. 

It’s slow pace relaxed David somewhat, and the man soon found himself laughing awkwardly, though he did have to run a hand over the bristling hairs on the back of his neck. “No, I’m comfortable, it’s warmer here than outside.”

“I would not be able to tell.” The dragon shuffled its wings and leant its long neck down, inspecting David with calculating eyes. From up close, the towering size of the dragon was both impressive and terrifying. It was easily larger than a family home. “My scales protect me from such environmental effects.”

“Yeah, well…” David tugged on his robe. “I don’t have that luxury.”

“I have noticed.” The dragon eased back, causing David to let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. “Pray tell, what do you call yourself?”

“David.” He reached a hand out. In an effort to kill two birds with one stone, he added, “I’m a human.”

The dragon brought out one of its claws and placed it between the two. David held onto the claw and gave it a hard shake, though it did not move the dragon’s clawed hand even an inch. 

“Whistler.” With a chuckle that made the cave system and David’s eardrums rumble, Whistler humored David. “I am a dragon.”

David grinned in reply. “I’ve noticed.” 

Whistler set his claw down on the ground again, but then went to work tracing a small circle. David took a step back to watch the dragon work. Something arcane was in play here, as the etched lines began to glow with the same blue color as the hovering fire. David’s mouth dropped agape in awe as Whistler finished and put his claw away again, the two left to watch the process taking place on the floor. The drawing flashed with a bright white light, leaving in its place a now non-glowing rock surface and a strange gold item.

“Take it.”

David looked up at Whistler strangely. “What is it?”

“A gift.”

Not wanting to be rude, David stepped forward and picked up the object. There was something familiar about the object, and off of a gut feeling, David decided to ask a strangely specific question to Whistler.

“Uh… is this a lamp?”

The dragon looked vaguely surprised. “You know of the form?”

David shook his head. “I have no clue what you just did with the magic floor stuff, but this reminds me of a lamp.” He held the lamp-esque object up and inspected it.

A thin golden ring formed a handle for an equally golden frame that housed a glowing cyan gem. It was a solid, unblemished gemstone, and upon pressing his open hand to the stone, David found that it was warm. After pulling his hand away, David found a small steaming imprint left behind on the crystal. Apparently, the lamp served as both a form of light and heat. 

“Magic floor stuff?” Whistler laughed heartily, shaking the cavern again. “It is rune magic, and yes, it is indeed a lamp. One of the finer ones from my collection.”

David smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Whistleer…but uh, if you don’t mind me asking,” his smile turned to light confusion, “why did you give this to me?”

Whistler grinned and looked to the floor as he began another carving. 

“Many travellers leave prepared for their journeys, but you look as if you have never ventured from your homestead even once in your life.”

David sighed. “Yeah, well. I didn’t really want to leave my house. I had clothes, food…” He trailed off. “...shelter.”

“I suspected as much.” Whistler finished off his latest carving. It was followed by another flash and the appearance of a messenger bag that was tiny in comparison to the dragon. As Whistler flipped open the bag, he said to David, “Tell me of your home.”

David sat down and pulled the lamp close to him, mulling over his thoughts. While he had questions to ask the dragon, he felt as if the gift and the prospect of being in what could be the dragon’s home was an all too clear invitation for him to indulge in the dragon’s interests. David scratched the surface of the gold with a fingernail, and was surprised to find that it was not simply a coat of gold paint.

“It’s a nice place,” he began. “Rural area. Lots of farmland around. I live on a farm with my dad. He works the farm with his employees, and I drive to the city every weekday to go to college.”

The dragon hummed thoughtfully. “Is your father well-educated?”

“Well, yeah. It takes some technical know-how to take care of the farm equipment and run a business, so he’s got some college education. Why do you ask?”

“I am simply curious.” The dragon looked up from the bag with a small piece of parchment. “Ah, blast.” Grumbling with a huff of black smoke that barely managed to clear David’s head, Whistler put the paper away again. “Another visit to the Equestrians is in order.”

Whistler shook his head and pushed the bag aside gently. “I am curious because I have never met any of you ‘humans’ before.” He leant forward slowly, snout nearly pressing up against David’s face. “And I have travelled a vast majority of the Earth’s lands.”

Whistler slipped back again before his looming presence became too overbearing. “Tell me, are you from this land, David?” 

“Uh, if we’re on Earth—” Whistler raised an eyebrow at David’s uneasy pronunciation of Earth “—then yeah, maybe. You got a map?”

The dragon kept his brow cocked but pulled a folded piece of parchment from his bag nonetheless. He slipped it to David, who unfolded it carefully.

“Equestria? The Griffon Empire?” David scratched his head. “I… I don’t know any of these places.”

Whistler frowned. “That is most strange to hear.”

The human kept his eyes glued to the parchment. “Which mountain range are we in right now?” 

The earth cracked beneath Whistler as he leaned over and placed a claw on the crinkly map.

“Here.”

David eyed the selection as Whistler leant away again. “The Hollow Shade Mountains?” A burst of laughter suddenly escaped David as his hand shot to the east of his previous point. “Fillydelphia? Really?”

Whistler gave a light smile at the human’s amusement. “The Equestrians have quite a… pony-like way, when naming their homes.”  

“I think it’s cute,” David said, folding the map neatly. He handed the parchment back to Whistler, then settled back down.

“Do not let the ponies hear you saying that, they may take you as a flirtatious one.”

“Um, what?”

Whistler chuckled. “That was a joke, David.”

“Oh, ha.” David pulled his new lamp closer and watched as Whistler went about making yet another circle, this time centering it around the messenger bag, “Whatcha doing now?”

Whistler finished the final line and watched as the bag disappeared with a pop and flash of light.

“Wow, that is just… amazing.”

Whistler blew on the hovering blue flame nearby, fueling it for a little longer. “Of course. You have never seen a rune-wielding dragon before, have you?”

“I haven’t seen a dragon before, period.”

The dragon pulled back with an inch of surprise. “Really?”

David nodded.

“Then you must tell me about it in the morning.” The dragon’s eyes squeezed shut as he laid his head down. “I may not be hibernating now, but I require as much sleep as the next being.”

David watched the dragon for a moment longer, then leant back against a stone walls and shut his own eyes, the warm lamp tucked neatly into his robe for warmth.

“Thank you, Whistler.”

The dragon snorted a puff of ash from his nostrils. “Sleep well, David.”





David awoke to a plume of smoke in his face. Coughing awake, he waved a hand in front of his face to dissipate the ash. His noise woke Whistler. The dragon lifted his head and exposed his red eyes to the light of the blue flame, a frown gracing his lips.

“I apologize.”

“You’re—” David hacked into a hand “—you’re good.” Groaning, he settled back against the wall and undid his robe, pulling the small lamp out and setting it aside.

“When we last left off,” Whistler began, “you agreed to share your lack of dragon sightings, correct?”

David yawned, covering his mouth with a hand. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Whistler made a gesture with his claw. “Go on then.”

David readjusted himself, then began to tamper with the ring on his lamp as he spoke.

“Well, from where I come from, dragons aren’t real. I mean, we’ve heard of them in fiction and such, but as a real, living and breathing creature? Never. Same goes for the… the Equestrians, right? Yeah.”

“You say you are not from here, and you seem to have no knowledge as to where you are here. The map truly did not help you determine your position in comparison to your home?”

David shook his head.

“Hmm. Most peculiar indeed.”

“My home… I already told you about where I live, but the world I live in has no other sentient—no—sapient creatures besides us humans. We’ve always been looking for other intelligent life, but so far, the closest we’ve come are just a handful of sentient creatures that are just smarter than average.”

“Do you not get lonely?”

David blinked. “Sorry?”

“I cannot imagine a land of one species alone. The Equestrians may have managed it for such a time, but their exploration era arose as a result of their desire to find other intelligent beings like them.”

The human sat up. “We’ve been looking for years, and it still seems like there aren’t any other intelligent beings close by. But you being here, and the existence of this weird planet I’ve never seen before?” He shook his head. “Unthinkable.”

Whistler laughed and stood, smiling broadly. “I suppose it is quite eye opening, is it not?”

“Yeah…” David mumbled. “If this is even real.” The pain in his feet told him it was very much real.

“Would you care to join me, David?”

David clambered to his feet. “Where to?”

Whistler’s grin grew wider. “Do you have another place to be?” 

David bit his lip. Slowly, he shook his head. “No.”

“Then come.”

Whistler stomped out of the cave, bowing his head low to fit through the much more cramped tunnel. David did not think it was on purpose, it was simply the sheer size and weight of the dragon that caused his reverberating steps. Swallowing thickly, David picked up the lamp and followed after his new guide. The blue flame disappeared behind them with a faint puff of smoke.

Whistler was waiting for him outside, and it was there that David found the dragon stretching his wings and legs.

“As I live and breathe,” Whistler groaned. “This must be the brightest day that Celestia has brought in the past decade.”

David certainly agreed. He was glad to see that the lamp in his hand stopped heating itself as soon as they were in the warm morning sunlight; a nice touch to an already elegant tool. Unfortunately, the cold mountain air still blew harshly against the land. David figured now would be a good time to talk to Whistler as they walked to… wherever Whistler was leading them.

“Where are we going?”

“A watering hole. Then, Fillydelphia.”

“What’s up with that anyway?” Whistler threw a questioning glance back at David. “With the Equestrians, I mean,” the human reiterated.

“Ah.” Whistler returned to looking forward. “I suppose being unaware of the world you stand in has its conundrums.” David caught up to Whistler as the dragon began a long spiel.

“The Equestrians are ponies, divided into three tribes: the earth ponies, unicorns, and the pegasi. They are ruled by the benevolent Princess Celestia and the shadowed Princess Luna. We currently stand in their lands, and though we may not be the citizens of their homeland, we must respect their laws. Here in the uncolonized Hollow Shade Mountains, we are beyond their jurisdiction, but that does not mean we should not respect their laws and policies.” Whistler tapped the ground for emphasis. “Other dragons such as myself have used the caves here to rest, but it is strictly prohibited to hibernate here.”

“Wait, why is hibernation so bad for you?”

Whistler paused and turned to David slowly.

“It is not bad for a dragon, it is perfectly healthy to do so. No—” Whistler turned and began walking again “—it is the dwellers around who suffer. Tens of hundreds of years may pass before we awaken, and until then, our flame will continue to burn within us, devastating the land with black smoke and ash.”

David blinked twice. “Yeesh… that sounds pretty bad.”

“Indeed it is.” Whistler sighed and stretched his large wings again. “But that is the life we live.”

The two walked silently for a time. David spoke up a while later, his thoughts finally formed fully.

“So this is real.”

“Hmm?”

“I feel the pebbles between my toes as I walk. They hurt.” David caught up to Whistler and cautiously placed a hand on the dragon’s blue scales. “You’re real. I can feel you breathing, your heart pumping, your scales against my skin.” Shuddering, David pulled away. “It still seems all too surreal.”

Whistler was quiet.

“That means that those ponies are real. The unicorns and pegasi? Earth ponies? Other dragons are real. Civilizations exist. Fillydelphia? The Griffon Empire?” David shook his head and stared forward. “I don’t know how I got here, but this place seems too crazy to be real, and yet...”

Whistler sighed, then gave a gentle nudge to the tired-looking human.

“You have much to learn, young David.”

“Can you teach me?”

Whistler looked down at the smaller creature with a cocked brow. “Pardon?”

“You seem smart. Can you teach me about this place?”

“There…” Whistler sucked in a deep breath, “there is quite a lot to teach you, David.” Suddenly, a thought struck the dragon. “Writing is a good way to retain such knowledge, however.”

“But I don’t have anything to write with.” David paused. “Wait, are you saying…?”

“We are here.” 

David looked over the crystal clear lake where a deer and rabbit sat drinking. Both looked up, momentarily surprised at the pair’s sudden appearance. David was amazed to see that they went back to drinking almost immediately.

“Drink to your fill. Then, we fly.”

“I’ll take advantage of your offer, but…” David looked to Whistler “...are you really suggesting that you teach me like… like a student and teacher sort of thing?”

Whistler laughed softly and stepped down to the water’s edge. He cast a look back to David.

“It is difficult to remember knowledge through memory alone, even as a dragon with a capacity for deep-memory storage. If you write for me, however, we both may benefit; you will learn, and I will retain.” 

Smiling, Whistler leant down to the water’s edge and took a large swallow of the crystal clear liquid. His head came up again once.

“My claws are too big to write precisely, but you may do it for me.”

Whistler went back to drinking.

David opened his mouth to speak, but let it close on its own. Eyeing the deer and the rabbit, the two still drinking side-by-side, David approached the water and knelt down himself. He splashed a bit of water into his face and stared at his reflection. Looking around at the three creatures drinking, David slowly shook his head and sank down to drink.

“How did I get here?” he whispered, his brown eyes trapped to his reflection yet again.





When Whistler had said that they would fly, David had not suspected he would be invited to ride upon the dragon’s back. He eyed the lamp he had been given, now hanging by Whistler’s neckband for their flight, then looked up into the dragon’s eyes.

“Are… are you sure this is safe?”

“I will not let you fall,” Whistler promised. 

Despite his fear of the dragon, David believed his honest tone.

Sucking in a deep breath, David scrambled up Whistler’s side and onto the large dragon’s back. His legs didn’t fit over both sides of the dragon, so he placed himself on the dragon’s thick neck, his legs sloped comfortably enough across Whistler’s flat back. Whistler stood straight again.

“Hold fast, David. I will not let you fall, but you must not let yourself fall.”

Within seconds, the dragon was in the air. It was a much more graceful takeoff than David had expected. Whistler’s wings flapped in tandem every so often to keep himself ascending steadily, but again, they were nothing like harsh flaps that whipped the wind as the human had initially imagined. David peered past the dragon’s neck at the land below, and was amazed at the bright colors that called up to him. The darkness of the previous night had held a beautiful world away from him, and he was very glad that he had not run away from the dragon upon first sight; David didn’t know where he would be now if he had run, but he knew that it would not be up in the sky soaring just beneath the clouds.

“This view is amazing!”

“You may thank the ponies for that!” Whistler called over the wind.

David’s black hair flicked past him, and in a moment of both courage and stupidity, David let go of Whistler’s neck and reached up to touch the altostratus clouds above. His hands passed through the cloud layer, causing a smooth divide that spanned the middle of the clouds. Whistler, upon hearing David’s gleeful laughter, burst through the clouds, spraying water vapor everywhere. David shook his head and looked around, amazed to find a white ocean before him.

The sun illuminated the cotton land before him in a delightful hue of yellow. Further above, the higher altitude clouds soared, plastering the morning sky with white. It was with a wide grin that David placed his hands back down on Whistler’s neck; there was something truly magical to flying above the clouds and seeing the early morning sun amongst the cerulean sky.

All too soon, however, Whistler dove back beneath the clouds.

“And to think, you get to do this all the time!” 

Whistler belted out a hearty laugh. “Should you choose to stay with me, you will enjoy such privilege as well!”

Smiling, David looked back down at the earth as Whistler brought them down from their high altitude flight. He could see what looked to be a thatch-roofed village not too far off, and pointed it out to Whistler.

“That’s Fillydelphia, right?”

“Yes, it is!”

“It’s really close!”

“We’ll be there soon enough!”

True to his word, within a short flight of about five minutes, Whistler had brought them both down to ground again. David climbed down from the dragon and let out a loud whoop.

“That…” David began laughing and put his hands on his knees. “That was quite a ride!”

Whistler cleared his throat. David looked to the dragon as he gestured around. 

“Welcome to Equestria.”

David eyed the vivid green surroundings; the vibrant colors were even brighter up close.

“Well, it’s certainly… bright.”

“And the ponies are brighter.” Whistler made a motion. “Here comes the welcoming party now.”

Curious, David tightened his robe again and strode forward to see to the ponies’ approach.

“Well…” the man scratched at his head. “You aren’t wrong…”

“Mr. Whistler!” The leader of the vibrant-hued herd prodded forward with a beaming smile. He was a light brown pony with a charcoal mane, but unlike his fellows behind him, he did have a horn or wings. “It is a pleasure to see you here again!”
> ERE 1: Tribus Amore
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Where the Lord of Chaos fell laughing, the ponies of Equestria rose cheering.

For most ponies, there was no time to quarrel over a power vacuum: the wake of the Lord’s reign was awash with cries for harmony across the land. The pegasi and earth ponies were quick to pledge their allegiance to the Two Sisters: the pegasi were ecstatic to regain control of the sky, and the earth ponies were ready to refresh the kingdom’s food stores. The unicorns of Canterlot, in spite of their nobles’ reluctance, bowed when the alicorn heroes ascended the Canterhorn.

Much to the dismay of the unicorn nobility, the new princesses moved the Equestrian capital from Canterlot. To drive the stake further, the roads to the new seats of power had been laid in wild, untapped lands: the Two Sisters had ordered the immediate construction of a castle far below the Canterhorn peaks, founded between the wandering cloud city, and the eastern farming villages. The newly named ‘Everfree Forest’ was hardly a unicorn’s first choice of a home. 

What defiance remained in the noble unicorn houses evaporated swiftly: they learned to not draw the ire of the most magically and politically powerful unicorn of all time. Even House Platinum—the proudest of all houses—sought amnesty with the Two Sisters’ closest courtier through their most sacred gift: an honorific.

A soft titter prickled the ears of all those present in the royal quarter. “‘The Bearded?’” 

“Tempting, isn’t it? I could defend my facial acuity through name alone!”

“Starswirl, you have to take care of your appearance,” the pearl-white alicorn chided as she slipped into another golden hoof-shoe. She cast a beaming smile to the two ponies prostrate before her, now unburdened by royal regalia. “Thank you, dears.”

“Care?” The bells attached to Starswirl’s cloak and hat twinkled as he shifted into a gruff laugh. “That was hardly an issue for you, Celestia.”

She turned her smile to Starswirl. “Yes, well, Luna and I weren’t princesses, then. And we were more concerned with our studies.”

The old unicorn’s brows furrowed. “And you should still be concerned.”

“Of course, Starswirl.”

From the side, a pony cleared their throat. “If I may?” With a sigh, Starswirl waved a hoof. The chocolate-taupe pony, clutching a scroll to their chest, made an awkward half-bow. “Your Majesty, the emissary from the south arrived this morning. She’s waiting for you.”

“And the caravan?”

“They were with her, Your Majesty.”

“Wonderful.” The crowded levee followed after the princess as she stepped out of her quarter, and into the marbled hall. “Would you kindly see to Logistician Song? I fear that the poor dear might be overwhelmed. You may leave your report in my cabinet.”

With a broad smile, the pony craned their neck and gave a full, deep bow. “Of course. Thank you, Princess.” 

“My thanks to you, dear Glass.” 

Glass made off with a hurried pace. His departure did little to ease the crowd’s numbers; another pony cut in beside the princess.

“Mister Potts!” Celestia broached with surprise. “Are you well?”

Baggy-eyed, the wrinkled white unicorn laughed with a shake of his head. “Well enough, Your Highness. Princess Luna and the rest of company arrived just after midnight. They insisted on having everything from Canterlot arranged before morning light.”

Starswirl crept up from behind. “And where is Princess Luna now?” His brash tone spooked the collared secretary.

Potts recovered quickly. “I believe she retired to her study,” he glared at Starswirl, “Chamberlain.”

His ear flicked in recognition. “That’s Starswirl the Bearded to you.”

Celestia’s horn lit, shaking apart the unicorns’ sour words. 

The double doors before the ponies swung heavily, even under the push of magic from the princess. Celestia’s wide white wings crept out as she stepped out into the light breeze of twilight. Smiling lightly, she ascended the steps to the raised dais. At the top of the dais, she stood alone, just barely above the tallest trees of the Everfree. Behind the princess, the ponies quietly filtered out to either side of the northern-facing balcony below the dais. It was a wordless moment, as it always was.

With her horn lit by golden swirls, and her wings gracefully braced, Princess Celestia rose to the sky.

The moon in the west was sent to rest; the princess’ heavenward magic brought the sun over the eastern horizon, casting twilight away and bringing about dawn. All the while, the scattering rays of dying light and rising dawn glimmered off the brilliant form of the princess; her rainbow-hued ethereal mane and tail caught the light with a myriad of color, while her pristine coat sent great beams of sunlight streaming upon the dais. The ponies in the crowd below muttered mute prayers as the princess of the sun descended. Her shielded hooves clasped against the ground with a set of mute clinks.

Celestia made her way back down the steps, her wings still held aloft. The ponies made way for her. Her wings folded gently as she stepped back into the castle proper, and the crowd followed after. The doors were pulled shut by two servants, and the wooden thuds echoed down the lacquered halls. Inside, the ponies gave way to regular conversation; it was as if the cloud of quiet squeezing them had been lost to the Everfree. 

From there, many of the ponies separated from the crowd; there were many nooks and crannies for the members of the royal court to disappear to. There was always work to do in the busy months since the start of Equestria’s recovery, especially in the virgin heart of the reborn kingdom.

Potts, looking much more alive than before, gave another half-bow as the princess and the remaining ponies pressed on. “Your Highness, please extend my utmost thanks to Princess Luna. Her Highness worked tirelessly to ensure our work would be complete.”

There was a small pause before Celestia responded. “Thank you, Mister Potts. She will be happy to hear such high praise sung by you.”

The unicorn gave a hushed thanks, and slipped away to find his own nook.

Several more ponies stepped up to speak with the princess, but most were courtiers and servants with no urgent matters to bring forth. Eventually, the crowd thinned out to just four ponies: two pegasi in polished silver armor, Starswirl, and the princess. 

Starswirl cracked the silence. “Celestia?”

Her swan-like neck craned down to her companion. “Yes?”

“That was a very good cast today. Minor waste. Well done.” 

A tender smile slipped across Celestia’s lips, and she bowed her head. “Thank you.”

“But you need to cut down on the light show. Fix your spillways.” The stony-faced wizard turned to face her. “You’re trying to raise the sun, not blind Equestria.”

Shaking her head, Celestia turned back forward, still smiling. “You never change, Starswirl.”

She heard him chuckle. “I’d hope not.”

They came to the crest of their journey at a pair of brown, oak doors: the cabinets of the Two Sisters, situated just behind the throne room. To the sides of the left-most door, two more armored pegasi stood guard. They bowed to Celestia and Starswirl, and opened the door.

Celestia and Starswirl, alone, entered the occupied room. The moment the door clicked shut behind them, the first sleepy nicker washed over them.

Starswirl almost broke out, but Celestia had cuffed him with a wing before he’d spat a single word. “She’s earned this,” she whispered. Grumbling, Starswirl used a hoof to push her wing out of his way.

The cabinet room was disturbingly vacant of furnishings, but it was to be expected of an office that had never been used until mere hours before the two ponies’ arrival. Celestia’s hooves made no sound against the carpeted floor as she made her way to the lonely desk, and the lonely pony slouched over it. Starswirl followed after, his face set into a frown.

The dark blue alicorn draped across the desk was far from regal; her crown had been haphazardly thrown across the desk, and likely through no fault of her own. The passed out pony was snoozing quite comfortably over an unfinished scroll. To the left of her idle hooves, a bundle of wrapped and sealed scrolls sat neatly stacked. To the right, fresh scrolls and un-stoppered ink pots lay in waiting. 

Celestia plucked the ink-dried quill and ruined scroll from beneath the sleeping alicorn with a flash of magic. She set them aside as she made her way around the desk. She knelt down beside the cushion where the alicorn sat, and tipped her muzzle toward Luna’s ear. “Little sister…”

In an instant, the smaller alicorn’s head began to rise. Luna turned and nuzzled into the crook of her sister’s neck, and Celestia returned the gesture. “Sister,” Luna murmured. Pulling back from one another, Luna let her suppressed yawn free, and cracked her eyes open. She blinked blearily, until her vision cleared; her gaze landed on the bearded unicorn stood by the room’s entrance. “Ah. Starswirl…”

Starswirl grunted. 

The alicorn’s ears flopped against her head. She turned to Celestia, her azure eyes brimming with light. “I’m so sorry.”

Celestia took a breath, and came to rest her haunches beside her sister. “Did you at least fulfill your duties, Luna?”

“Of course, sister.” Breaking her frown, a smile made its way onto Luna’s face as her sister’s wing crept behind her. “I shall always find time for our subjects.”

“I’m glad,” Celestia whispered. “But you worry me, sister. Always.” She rested her muzzle on one of Luna’s withers.

Luna had little chance to soak in her sister’s physical affection: her attention flicked to Starswirl, who had also rounded the desk. He stood behind Celestia and cleared his throat.

Celestia lifted her head and turned to address him. “Starswirl...” she cautioned.

He pointedly looked past her. “Luna.” The sullen alicorn peered at him from beneath her looming sister’s neck. “You are a princess, not a scribe. It’s beneath you to do their work, especially when it gets in the way of protecting Equestria.”

Luna swallowed and nodded. “Yes, Starswirl.”

“Regardless,” Celestia nudged Luna with her snout, prompting her to look up again. “Ink Potts was very thankful for your help. And from the looks of things,” their shared attention came to the desk of scrolls and ink, “he was right to thank you.”

“I sought only to aid.” Luna tucked her head in a bow. “’Twas no trouble. Nay, my work was unhindered.”

“And yet, you still fell asleep,” Starswirl interjected. “I’m beginning to wonder if your dream-walking is as strenuous as you claim it to be, or if you’re merely fond of naps.”

“’Tis true!”

Starswirl rubbed at his beard and turned away. “Whatever the case, we’ll know how things really work when I make a proper spell for dream-walking.”

“’Proper?’” Luna sat up. “The nerve thou hath—!”

Celestia tugged at her sister with her extended wing. “Luna.” The agitated pony settled back down. “Starswirl, you know how difficult it’s been for her. We’re very lucky that she learned how to ease the nightmares.”

“Celestia, it’s been difficult for everypony. At some point, we have to stop blaming Discord.” Starswirl sighed. “This kingdom is depending on us. What we do, and how we act, affects Equestria as a whole.”

“That’s why I trust you Starswirl.”

Luna licked her lips. “And I as well.”

The stallion came about, and looked between the Two Sisters. His voice softened. “Equestria needs your trust more than I do.” He squeezed his eyes shut, took a breath, and tapped the floor. He opened his eyes. “And Equestria needs our best. That is all I want.” 

“Starswirl…”

“Take your time,” he interrupted. “I’ll be waiting.” His gaze swept to Luna. “And I expect you to be well-rested tonight.”

The Two Sisters watched as Starswirl made his way to the door. He spared no glance as he pulled it open with a hoof. It shut without a sound.

“He is most displeased with me.”

“No, he is not, Lulu.” Unwittingly, Celestia had slumped, relaxed; she lightly pried herself from her sister. “Starswirl is just… stressed.”

“Were that the case, I would be well-awares. And his letters showed no such signs.”

“He’s gotten better at hiding it in recent years.”

“Then one would conclude that he is hiding his displeasure with our progress.”

“It’s not like that.”

“Then ‘tis ‘like’ what, Tia?” Luna made a morose, choked sound as her sister’s wing tightened around her. “Our mentor has seemingly forgotten to reward our trust with his own.”

“Starswirl does trust us. He wouldn’t have entrusted us with his spells if he didn’t.”

It was a long moment before Luna answered, her cheeks tear-dried, and her voice low. “Mayhaps our teacher hath been using us for thy own behoof.”

“Luna!” Celestia whispered, her face and tone aghast. “How could you say such a thing?”

“’Tis simple,” Luna bitterly replied. “One unicorn, learn two ‘alicorns’ to stroke thine ego. ‘Behold, Canterlot!’” She struck a hoof out into the air. “’Tamed! Anon, avaunt thee! Fly tantivy!’” The hoof cracked down against the desk. “’Tis simple, to be the fell of the unicorn king Starswirl.” 

Celestia swept a hoof over her sister’s cheek. “Lulu…”

“Nay, show no heart to this beast,” Luna croaked. Her head came coasting down to rest against the desk. “Forsooth, it has no fertile mind.” The sunken alicorn, cowled by the sun, sobbed. “I am but wasted breath, sister. Life for naught.”

The white alicorn draped herself over her sister. “What did you hear in Canterlot, Luna?”

Luna bristled, then made a feeble effort to shirk her sister’s touch. “Enough.”

Celestia said nothing.

Luna sniffled. “Am I worthy of your heart?” As the words left her mouth, behind her ear, Celestia placed a lithe kiss.

“I love you, little sister.”

The smaller alicorn tried to press her muzzle into the desk, but she could go no further. “I do not feel worthy.”

“You worry so much. Let me worry for you.”

“But you always have.”

“Because you need to focus on this.” Celestia pressed a hoof to her sister’s breast. Luna curled her hoof around her sister’s. “Don’t fret for mine. Knowing that you are loved is enough for me.”

Luna tilted her head down. “…I… I should know better.”

“It’s not your fault, Luna. We are not perfect.” She lifted her sister’s snout with a hoof. She peered at Luna with tender eyes. “Especially not I.” They bumped against one another again. “You did well today, Luna. Please, go rest.”

“…Very well.”

They both stood, and Luna spared one more hug to her sister. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Luna donned her set-aside crown. She trot to the door, leaving her sister in her stead. She gave Celestia a look. “Good day, sister,” she murmured. With her magic, she cast the door open in a hue of blue, and stepped out of the study. Again, it shut without sound.

Celestia finally managed to pull herself from the door; she looked down at the scrolls on the desk, and pulled them into the air with a glow of her magic. They orbited her for a moment, then were each engulfed by flames. The swirling fumes shot hot beneath the door, and from sight. The alicorn dimmed her horn. The room cooled. A sigh filled it.

Celestia stepped out into the hall, noted that the guards accompanying her had replaced the ones by the door, and made for her own cabinet. The guards took to their new post, and opened the door for her.

Unlike the sense-deprived room she’d stood in before, Celestia’s office brimmed with life. The scents of paper and tea were soaked into every corner and crevice, burnt in through months of work. The walls were lined with various small paintings proffered through happenstance: most had come in the early months of the year as gifts from lobbying courtiers. The largest of the paintings—an oily depiction of the Two Sisters and Starswirl—sat at the back of the room beside a bookshelf filled to the brim. Bright purple, gold-trimmed drapes spotted with yellow suns and moons shadowed the far left corner, where an empty gilded cage sat atop a golden post. 

Starswirl was sat on a cushion before the room’s desk. He moved as Celestia’s hooves clacked against the hardwood floor. “Where has the bird gone?”

She hummed. “Philomena is quite the accomplished explorer.” She strode past him. “I’m sure she’s close.”

“Be that as it may, she’s usually here.” He eyed the room suspiciously as Celestia took her spot on the crimson cushion behind the desk. 

“She knows when we have our meetings. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s retired to my quarter for rest.”

His still-set frown deepened. “Domesticated or not, a phoenix is never an un-threat.” Celestia giggled behind a hoof, and Starswirl fixed her with a frown. “It’s no laughing matter.”

“Honestly, Starswirl. Philomena is harmless.”

“Her little tricks prove that she is far from it.” At Celestia’s innocent look, he shook his head. “I should have never allowed you to keep that egg.”

While Starswirl continued searching the room in an attempt to stay his paranoia, Celestia picked up the lone scroll on her desk with her magic. She unraveled the still crisp document. “So. The emissary.”

Starswirl raised his eyebrow. “What of them?”

Celestia’s focus stayed on the scroll as she spoke. “You’ve met with her before, haven’t you?”

“No? I haven’t the slightest—” Starswirl paused. “Oh, her.”

“Yes?”

“It was a long time ago, Celestia.”

“Is that so? With some thought, I believe I remember her, now.” The alicorn lowered the scroll just enough to peek at Starswirl. “It was around the time you completed your amniomorphic spell.”

Starswirl slouched. “For the love of… must you keep time for such a fickle affair?”

“Fickle? You spent many months working on that spell. Months that included keeping me and Luna in the desert village proper. A lovely village, mind you, but a desert one nonetheless.” Celestia wrapped the scroll back up with its ribbon, and set it aside. “And be kind to yourself, I’m almost certain the pharaoh will have sent gifts produced, in part, by that same spell. I would prepare to be humbled by practitioners of your labor.”

Starswirl grumbled. “In any case, yes, I have met her.” He straightened out of his slouch. “Now that you’ve reminded me, I do recall that she is quite a remarkable mare. Yes… a scholar. Days and weeks… the nature of magic. Insights into pegasus magic I’d left unconsidered.” He rubbed at his white beard. “Perhaps I should revisit those old notes of ours…”

“Why not speak with your friend?”

Starswirl stopped suddenly. “Ah, of course.” He leveled a look with Celestia. “There’s always a planned motion in that mind of yours.”

The corners of the alicorn’s mouth tugged upward ever so slightly. “I fear I don’t understand.”

“There’s no need to play coy, Celestia. Once again, I must remind you that my work is best performed alone. In fact, I’m certain that my pain to be present here is something you take pleasure in.” 

Celestia laughed openly. She was quick to bring a hoof to her lips, but the damage had been done; Starswirl’s groan gave life to her laughter.

“I’ve had my fill of this.” He looked to the door. “Where are the dallying ponies that allegedly serve this royal court?” Celestia was caught again by his glare as she continued to quell her slippery mirth. “A result of your coddling, no doubt.”

“Coddling?” Celestia cried. “Dear, Starswirl,” she smiled through watery eyes as she pressed a fine purple cloth to them, “you’re being more dramatic than Platinum at her finest!”

Starswirl’s mouth flopped agape. He had no time to scrape together a response: the door to the office opened, and a flood of ponies poured in. This only fueled the princess’ joyous rancor. They tumbled together, frozen at the sight of the swaying princess. Starswirl was caught in a similar state; his freshly-pried eyes jumped about while the newcomers watched on. Celestia dabbed fiercely at her eyes with her magically-taut cloth. 

A bright yellow mare spoke, her ears laid back, and her head low. “Shall we return in a moment?”

“No, dear! No!” Celestia finally sucked in a breath amid her struggle. “No, Miss Song. You are all quite fine.” She sniffed, and set the cloth aside. “I am so sorry that you all had to see that.”

Starswirl, having cast his horror aside, leaned back. “Mister Potts, would you kindly?”

The collared stallion grumbled low, and finished closing the door. 

“Thank you.” Celestia smiled warmly as she rang up a steaming teapot. “We are well on our way, my little ponies.”
> ERE 2: Remnants of Sky
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Equestria, for the better part of a millennium, had been a divided land.

In the birthing gasp of pony civilization, the ponies claimed hearth far from the northwestern haybasket of Tall Tale, the ancestral pony homeland: the numerous herds of earth ponies found fertile soil in the east; the then-few unicorns sought isolation in the mineral rich lands of the north; and the flocks of pegasi claimed the warm winds of the south. There was no greater factor in the separation of the Three Tribes than their diaspora, but there was also no greater reason for unification than this shared ancestry.

And yet, in the formation of the Kingdom of Equestria, the land remained divided; the friendship of the Three Tribes had created a kingdom, but it had not united it. The ponies required a precursor, a component of their newfound friendship that they had yet to understand.

Discord, the Lord of Chaos, answered their call.

And Harmony thanked him with stone.

“…and a messenger serving the ‘King of Halihoof’ arrived last night.”

Starswirl slid from his memories and into the world of the present, his ears flicking about.

Celestia’s teacup clinked against her desk. “Halihoof, you say?”

The taupe earth pony shuffled in place. “Er, yes. My apologies for not mentioning this earlier, Your Majesty. I did not believe it to be of importance.”

Starswirl spun with such haste that some of the standing ponies jolted. “It is of utmost importance! You truly speak of the petty kingdom?”

The earth pony turned, and cocked an ear. “Petty kingdom?”

Starswirl gawked. “Mister Glass, are you to tell me that you have never heard of Halihoof?”

Glass looked about the room for support, of which he found precisely none. “I… I’m afraid I haven’t, Chamberlain.”

“Please, do continue, Mister Glass.” Celestia’s voice was steady and calm, but even the untrained eyes in the room could see her subtle lean. “What did the messenger say?”

The stallion licked his lips. “They requested an audience with you in their court.” The other councilors became visibly unsettled. Glass continued. “Your Majesty, it is of my opinion that you do not seek these ponies out.”

“Mister Glass, you are out of line,” Potts said, his voice dripping with distaste. “Mind who you speak to.”

Celestia tapped a hoof. “Thank you, Mister Potts. And duly noted, Mister Glass. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

“My Liege.” The armored charcoal pegasus at the side of the group stepped forward and saluted with a hoof. “Shall I bring the garrison to alert?”

“It is a surprise to be sure, but not an unwelcome one. Your loyalty is appreciated, Chief Gale.”

The pegasus bowed low. “I do not question your word, Princess, but if I may be so bold: where do we stand with this ‘petty kingdom’?”

Celestia’s response was swift. “They are of no threat to us.”

“Of course, My Liege.” The pegasus returned to his spot near the wall without another word.

Starswirl rubbed at his temple. “Halihoof… after all this time. It begs to reason that something ill has brought them to call for you.”

“Chamberlain,” Potts interrupted. “If you are so wise to the history of this kingdom, perhaps you could share your knowledge with those less-affirmed?”

“That information is disclosed as I see fit.”

Celestia gave the bearded pony a beaming smile. “Starswirl, would you kindly take the floor and inform them?”

Starswirl put on a flat look. “Very well.” He faced his audience, and spoke without passion: “Halihoof is a nation as old as the Three Tribes. An earth pony enclave, if you will. They live and occupy much of the Undiscovered West, which would be the foremost reason as to why many of you have never heard of them.” His dark violet eyes landed on Glass. “But this should be knowledge gleaned in passing by most earth ponies.”

Celestia sipped at her tea. “Those were in the days of yore, Starswirl. They wouldn’t know.”

“In spite of storied oral tradition? I find that hard to believe.”

“But why seek us now?” Glass queried. “The messenger came alone, and without fanfare. A cloak, saddlebags, and nothing more. Surely this kingdom must be little more than myth?”

“It could be a ploy,” Ink Potts theorized.

Starswirl shook his head. “No, they seek peace just as much as we do.” He turned to Glass. “And they’re a rough, resilient sort. They live modestly, and don’t venture far from their fields and forests. But their lands are so thick with untamed magic that they would have felt the extent of our troubles. It would be a minor miracle if they were bereft of damage.” His head sank low and he grasped at his beard. “Perhaps they have only just recovered…”

“And where is this messenger now?” Celestia asked.

“They left as soon as their messaged was relayed to me,” Glass answered. “I invited them to speak in the court come ‘morn, but it seemed they wished to champion the woods at night.”

“Then I suppose a meeting may be of short-order.”

“Are you certain, Princess?” Potts asked, his voice slicked with worry. 

“It would not be long. From here with a modest entourage… the journey should not take more than a week to away and return.”

Starswirl nodded thoughtfully. “It has been quite some time since you’ve set off, or even left the castle. And with Luna’s return, this news could not have come at a better time.”

“I agree. Miss Song?” 

The yellow pegasus’ head bounced at the princess’ call. She recovered as she spoke, slow to stow her wings away. “Yes, Princess?”

“Once we’re finished here, please see to preparing a caravan for my purposes. As you will, a fortnight’s worth of supplies for a small party, no more than ten.”

Song bowed, her posture now crisp, and refined. “It will be done, Princess.”

Potts tugged at his collar. “It brings me a great deal of discomfort to have Your Highness so willing to depart for a hitherto unknown kingdom.” He straightened out. “But rest assured, I will maintain and ensure your offices remain productive in your absence.”

“‘Our’ offices,” she corrected. “Thank you, dear.” Celestia’s coo was rewarded with a diminutive blush. “And thank you once again, Mister Glass.” 

“Now, are there any further developments, or has our moment of excitement passed?” Nopony spoke. “Very well. I expect to depart following our adjournment on the ‘morrow. Be well.”

As the collected councilors made to leave, Starswirl paused for Celestia. “I won’t be joining you today. I have matters to attend to in my study.”

Celestia frowned. “Your work is more important?”

“Yes, actually.” He stood. ”I’m glad you finally agree.” 

Celestia took a sip of her tea to hide her smile. “Be well, Starswirl.”

He bowed his head. “And the same for you.”

Celestia’s attention shifted to one of the servants in the room, and Starswirl took the moment to escape; his bells rang out as he strode quickly into the hall. After a brief  spat of squinting around, his face lit. “Miss Song!” he called, trotting to catch up to the flustered pegasus.

“Chamberlain?” the mare asked with a touch of worry. “Is something the matter?”

“Not at our present moment,” Starswirl started. He came to a stop beside her. “I simply wished to discuss some requisitions.” 

The mare gave him a look. “Shouldn’t you be dining with the princess?”

“Dining? This is no unicorn castle, Miss Song. We break fast in the throne room.” He nodded. “But I see. I can speak with you when you are able.”

Song shook her head and smiled. “Oh, no, that’s not what I intended at all, Chamberlain. I’ve just always seen you by the princess’ side.” 

Starswirl raised a brow. “You have been here for how long, Miss Song?”

“I see your point,” she conceded.

“Well, if you aren’t grievously occupied at present…” Starswirl began to trot along the hall, and Song walked with him. “Then I must ask that you have no fewer than ten reams of scroll parchment and binding paper delivered to my quarter. Any combination of them will do.”

Song blinked. “That is an awful lot of material, Chamberlain.”

“Indeed.”

“…May I ask what your plans are for all of it?” 

“That is a private royal prospect of no concern to you.”

“But I’m working in the royal court now, am I not I?” Starswirl turned his head to Song. She winced, her ears folding flat. “I’m sorry, Chamberlain. I didn’t mean to overstep.”

He smiled at her. “No, you’re right, Miss Song. And I suppose I can’t blame a pegasus such as yourself for being curious.” 

The mare blinked, her expression unsure.

Starswirl faced forward again. “Tell me, how much do you know about our current state of affairs?”

“Er… our affairs? From what we spoke of from within the cabinet, all seemed well in the realm.” Starswirl said nothing, so she continued. “I heard plenty of positive reports from villages and towns across the land, though there were a few calls for aid in more magic-oriented matters. There was some discussion of our countrywide reconstruction efforts, and proposals for a new office to handle all of the land reclamation projects. Oh, and an overview for the newest additions to the castle were brought up by Mister Potts.”

“And I will stop you right there, Miss Song. Tell me, how much of this castle stood six months past?”

For a moment, the only sound were two sets of hoofsteps.

“None?” Song tried.

“Exactly right. It was one month before we could utilize this Everfree castle as a place to oversee the realm in any meaningful capacity. One month that was not without hardship. It was a far cry from the relative peace we work in, now.” Starswirl met the mare’s look. “Celestia made of special note that you were a top-ranking member of the Nimbusia levy. Was she correct?”

Song hesitated, then nodded. “The princess spoke of me?”

“Yes, and with much discussion, as with the rest of your peers.” They turned a corner in the hall. Starswirl managed to keep the mare enthralled with his words. “You were one of the many ponies to answer our summons. Ponies willing to aid us in court and council, to aid us in protecting and fostering Equestria. And again, as with the rest of your peers, you were chosen for your veterancy in service to authority.” Starswirl had already looked away, but Song still nodded. “In fact, one of your own number, Chief Gale, relinquished his rank to serve as our head logistician.”

Song’s eyes widened. “That was Commander Gale? I hardly recognized him! He was the logistician you called for me to replace?”

“Indeed, though I advise that you restrain the knowledge I’ve shared with you. He is privy to mentions of his personal affairs. Regardless, should the need arise, Chief Gale remains more than capable of reprising his role as head logistician.” Starswirl frowned. “Things aren’t as perfect as what ponies hear, Miss Song. We’ve had to make many compromises.”

Her ears flicked. “I believe…” She bowed her head. “I believe I see what you mean.”

Starswirl appeared to mull over his words. “You can be sure of it.” His tone was measured and slow. “Would you join me for a short detour, Miss Song?”

Her face twisted with conflict. “I need to check up on the quartermaster.”

“I only ask for the briefest portion of your time.”

Song cast a glance back down the hall. “Well… if only for a moment, Chamberlain.” 

They continued on, but it was little less than a minute before Song cracked the onset silence. 

“Are you a historian by trade, Chamberlain? There hasn’t been a moment in your presence without a passing mention of the past, and you don’t hide your intimacy with the details.”

“We should always strive to remember, Miss Song. Our history is as vast and influential as the wellsprings of magic beneath our hooves.”

She smiled. “I agree, of course. But I find it so interesting that a pony such as yourself cares about the separate histories of the Three Tribes.”

“‘A pony such as myself?’” Starswirl’s tone lacked the veracity Song had expected.

“Well… a wizard. Like the unicorns who controlled the sun and moon, and preached that, above all, magic was everything.”

“Oh but it is, Miss Song. Magic is, in fact, everything. A pony ‘such as yourself’ would never understand that.”

She winced.

“But—!” Starswirl spun on his hooves, and Song careened to a halt. “I am nothing like those Canterlot hermits who dare to call themselves wizards. Even as a collective, they lack the conscious mind required to understand just how much magic there is within Equestria. No, I have tread o’er water, earth, and sky, and come to discover that we are all made of the same magic. We are as integral to the land as the sun is to grass. And I could allay you with all manner of information on the thaumological aspects of generative cultivation and full-breadth weather manipulation, but that is much more a scholarly pursuit, a likeness for me that has long since passed.” Song trot carefully behind Starswirl as he returned to his prior pace. “All curiosities lead to magic, Miss Song. And to truly know magic, one must look where others have tread.”

Song spent several minutes with her face locked in an unreadable expression.

When they rounded the final corner, her visage gave way to surprise.

There was a set of large stone doors, flanked by no less than half a dozen guards; the group was a balanced mix of all the pony tribes. Starswirl led Song past them. By the time the two unicorns had lit their horns, Starswirl had bounded up onto his hindlegs and leaned into the doors with a grunt. They swung outward into the symphony of the outside. Song followed wordlessly, and doors bellowed shut behind her.

Starswirl turned, flat-lipped. “The Two Sisters once did roam, and it was their historical curiosity that brought you to this end.”

In dark green woods of the Everfree Forest, a circle had been cleared, the castle adjacent. It was its own veritable city of skyward, stone walls, and it brimmed with the life and blood of those most loyal to the Two Sisters: heavy armor shifted and clinked up and down the sturdy ramparts, their wearers pausing only to peek through the many arrowslits; above, a steady heartbeat of rattling chains clung to the pegasi vested with them; and in the center of the grounds, a smaller circle of unicorns poured over it all, shifting with constant motion. The earth of the grounds lacked greenery, the soil overturned, and pressed to dust. It was only the large paving stones placed about that brought any semblance of peace to the desolate keep. But there was a threat that loomed here, one that kept all the ponies moving for fear of withdrawing peace from the land they’d sworn to protect.

As she nearly collapsed to the stones beneath her, Bright Song choked up a whisper from her wailing heart. “By the stars…” 

The Lord of Chaos, his form racked by laughter, stood frozen in stone.

Song could hardly draw her eyes from the looming statue in the center of the clearing. It was only when she realized Starswirl was still in front of her that she could flap her wings and stand. “I… why did you bring me here?”

Starswirl’s voice—in spite of his stoic disposition—came soft. “You rebelled when none would. And in return for your lives, he stripped you of your legacy.” He turned to face the statue, who’s captured laughter came louder in silence. “I brought you here so that at least one of you would remember. The chaos and calamity that befell your city was nothing short of monstrous, and yet my opinions fall short of the court’s own. Even the voice of Chief Gale, who was averse to acknowledge him. They are adamant that we keep his continued existence hidden from the greater kingdom.” 

Song wiped at her eyes and crept up behind him. “What was his name?”

“Discord.” Starswirl didn’t turn. “You knew him as the Lord of Chaos.”

The pegasus chewed on her lip, hung her head, and wiped again. “I’m so sorry for crying like a filly…”

“Miss Song. You are more than welcome to cry, now.” Starswirl came about, and gave her a warm smile, not too distant from that of the sun she adored. “The Sisters wept when you could not.”

And now, she did.

Starswirl looked about, watching for straying eyes. The only looks the mare knelt before him received were from a pair of descending pegasi, both solemn. They were non-Nimbusian, as with all of the pegasi in the castle garrison, but they had all heard the plight of the scattered Nimbusian warriors, and the collapse of the great cloud city they’d sworn to protect.

Song continued to weep; Starswirl quietly escorted her back into the castle proper, this time allowing the posted unicorn guards to do their duty. As with when they had walked through the halls prior, they were spared from prying eyes. Song clutched to the robes of Starswirl, and he allowed her to cling to him without contest. He walked her through the blackness of her eyes, his hooves never straying from the ground. 

They stopped at the junction where they’d begun their detour. Starswirl stood calmly, waiting until the pegasus had unwound her neck and wings from him.

“Do you feel that your curiosity was rewarded?” 

The mare almost began to cry again. Instead, she forced her emotions into a broken, tired laugh. “Chamberlain… that was far more than I expected.” She shook her head, and looked off down the empty halls. She fixed her mane with a hoof, her wings twitching with discomfort. “Tell me—truthfully, please. Why did you take me aside for all of this?”

Song felt a hoof on her withers. She looked back, a little stricken by surprise.

“I have made an exception for you.” Starswirl set his hoof back on the floor. “You have seen more than any pony rightfully should, but you are not alone. The loss of your legacy is but one wrong that I seek to right, and I’m hopeful for your aid in doing so.” 

Song faced him completely. She stared into him with her light green eyes. Finally, a weak smile graced her features. “Of course. Thank you, Chamberlain.” 

Starswirl bowed his head, then lifted it. “And you have my thanks.” He made to leave, but stopped mid-trot and briefly turned back. “When you are able, ten reams. Be well, Miss Song.”

She didn’t tarry; the quartermaster had waited long enough.
> ERE 3: Mare Somnia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once, Luna found solace in sleep.

Amid the trials of the Long Cold, she had dreamed: Luna slept through the wicked whinnies of the Windigos, and Celestia warmed them with the fickle drips of magic that clung to their alicorn bodies in a time without magic. Her elder sister watched over her night after night, hoarding their superficial warmth away from other desperate ponies. In those many years ago, she had fed and sheltered them both as they struggled to move their developing bodies across the frozen land of Halihoof. 

And in sleep, purpose sought Luna.

It came without notice in the wake of Discord’s defeat: with but a calling thought, Luna was able to pluck a scene from memory, vivid and rich. Starswirl and Celestia had called her blessed, though their reasons differed: her mentor saw vast spells and magic she could call upon with ease; Sister saw a means to compartmentalizing their apparent immortality. Starswirl saw her limitless aptitude, and Celestia saw her resilient mind. But within a matter of months, they had withdrawn their utters.

Luna saw all nightmares.

It didn’t matter who the mind belonged to: so long as they were a pony, Luna was forced to their nightmares in sleep. Fear overwhelmed the fortress of each mind, and her inability to control her own emotions turned Luna away from sleep for many nights. 

But then she had seen Sister cry.

As she had grown accustomed to, Luna sought the aid of Starswirl first. But he saw no major benefit to Equestria through aiding her. Instead, he traveled the eastern coastline of the ravaged kingdom, hunting monsters and maleficent entities, with only a few words spared in counsel through scroll. Cornered, she was forced to face the nightmares on her own. 

Her dread proved to be a self-deception: the apparitions that plagued her new subjects feared her to a fault. She was quick to squash each encounter, ruthless with the methods employed against the monsters in the minds of her ponies. Each victory became a treasured memory, steps of foundation toward what Luna hoped to be mastery in the world of dreams. In her ceaseless war against the visions of Discord and Chaos, Luna flourished with purpose, and once more found solace in sleep. 

With Sister’s renewed smile, at last, she had returned comfort once given. 

A ray of warmth splashed across Luna’s withers. She peered through her quarter’s window at the setting sun, slinking from the bedspread as she went. At the window, she stood still, eyes shut. The sunlight caressed her fur as it went, eventually dipping out of view, and leaving her cold as before. She stayed there for long, easing her eyes into a gaze across the tree-filled horizon. 

Her horn lit, and she watched as the sky darkened to blue and purple. The day yielded to her influence, revealing the swirling plane of bright, far-off stars, their twinkling light formerly hidden beneath her sister’s sky. Through the now frosting pane of glass, Luna saw the distant Canterhorn flash to life with lights, and she smiled. As moonlight began to beam down on the forest before her, she cut her magic short. 

There was a knock on her door. Luna’s smile faded to bemusement. 

“Your Majesty?” The question came softly. “Are you awake?”

She turned swiftly, bare hooves clicking against marble. She took a breath, exhaling through her nostrils. “Enter, councilor.”

The door opened, and the guards beyond shut it quickly behind the chocolate-taupe earth pony. The stallion bowed curtly with his neck. “Princess Luna, it’s good to see your safe return.”

She quirked a brow. “And a blessing to thy health, Focal Glass. What hast brought thou to seek us?” Luna began to walk to the side of the room, and the stallion followed. 

“Well, the Office of Protocol has undergone major revision since your establishment in Canterlot. You may have noticed that Princess Celestia has created a schedule for her day.”

“Yes,” Luna interrupted, stepping into the small, but royally-outfitted washroom. “We hath seen our Sister at work.”

Glass stayed at the doorway as Luna made for an ornate chest in the room’s walk-in closet. “Princess Celestia requested that I assist you in developing one. I thought it prudent to see you as soon as possible so that I might accompany you, and have your word on a schedule that would work for you.”

Luna’s ear twitched. “Very well. Continue.” Her horn lit with magic, and the trunk opened. From it, she levitated out her regalia: four polished, blue hoof-shoes, and her onyx peytral pressed with a waxing crescent. 

“Er, well…” He turned his gaze down as Luna started to slip her regalia on. “I suppose setting a time for levee would be a good place to start.”

“Levee?” Luna scoffed as her peytral slid down her neck. She glanced back at Glass, and levitated a black, fabric-covered box from the trunk. “We have no such need. Tell us, who should desire to see us in this late, evening hour?” The latch on the box flipped in her magic, and the container clicked open.

Glass looked up. “Many late travelers arrive during dark, Your Majesty.” He watched as Luna brought her small black tiara to rest. “If anything, Princess, you should have servants to tend to your waking needs.” He paused. “Do you require any assistance?”

“No.” She paused. The box shut, and she returned it to the chest, closing it as she turned back around. Her far-away eyes shifted to Glass, and she bowed her head. “But ‘tis kind to ask, Focal Glass.”

“Of course,” he said. He craned his neck again, allowing her to pass him. 

“And such company would be of use. We accept thy suggestion.”

Glass beamed as he stood. “I’ll make note of that, then.” 

“What more hath thou set for us?”

“Well, if I may…” Again, Luna said nothing. He continued, “It would be good to show you the most recent additions before the halls get too dark.”

Luna allowed the stallion to open the bedroom’s door for her. She gave him a glance as she passed. “Then you shalt do as such, councilor.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Glass swallowed, and followed after his princess.

Luna left her quarter with an entourage of four, and no more joined her. The two guards held back, and Glass walked beside her, eyes shifting between her and the rest of the castle hall. They passed a few the lamp-lighters—the pegasi flit diligently about, lighting torches, candles, and chandeliers, circling past the group and toward Luna’s quarter. Not too much further down the hall, they trot past the quarter of Princess Celestia, where it became clear that many of the lights had already been lit.

“Curious,” Luna muttered. “Hast it become custom to light the halls early?”

Glass tilted his head. “It’s almost winter, Your Majesty. The nights have been growing darker and longer.”

“Longer, indeed, but they art as bright as before. We ensure our moonlight shines where our subjects tread.” Luna turned to Glass. “Art thou not charged with keeping track of this schedule?”

Glass’ ears pricked upward. “Actually, Your Majesty, Chief Rending Gale maintains the castle’s indoor and outdoor lighting. It’s been that way for several weeks, now. Though, I’m afraid I don’t know the reason for that transfer of authority.”

The princess hummed. “We see. ‘Tis most likely an outcome of recent threat reports. Timberwolves roam Everfree. They hath done well to evade our sentries thus far. Very well. And yond this hall lay the newest wing?”

Glass shook himself. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

It was clear to even the common laypony that much work was still left to be done. The interiors of the many offices appeared gutted, devoid of both wall tile-work and flooring. Each branch of office went several rooms deep, each less complete than the last. Even in the hallway they were standing in, gray slabs of stone were missing altogether. Luna pursed her lips as she peeked into one of the rooms. Glass held back, eyes trained on the intricately-woven tapestries of the sun and moon overhead. After a meager spat of inspection, Luna returned to the stallion.

“’Tis not much now,” Luna commented. “But it will serve us well. Tell us, what plans hath thou for these… offices?”

“My plans, Your Majesty?”

“Thou hath plans, dost thou not?” 

Glass licked his lips, and bowed his head low. “I work at the will of Your Majesties, Princess.”

“Our will?” Luna frowned. “We had taken thee for quite an accomplished scholar, Focal Glass.” She eyed him for a moment. “Your words disappoint me.” Glass shivered. “Walk with us.” Luna spun to continue down the unfinished wing.

Glass turned to the guards behind them for support, but the only response he received was a single paling smile.

“We expect much of you, councilor.” 

Glass cringed. “I—”

“Allow us to finish.” Luna didn’t look back, and she had no need to; Glass didn’t speak again. “We chose you personally. And we must say that we were… weighty, with our hoof.” Luna led him down another hallway. His eyes shot about, his face scrunched with nervousness. “Thy work with thine looking glass is most impressive, and it brings us great pain to hath no time to gaze upon it.”

Relief sapped the energy from Glass’ tensed muscles. “Oh. Well, I couldn’t take it from my observatory in the Foal Mountains without destroying the housing.”

“…We know.”

Glass nearly lifted his leg fully, poised as if to smack himself, but stopped. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty. Pardon my interruption.”

Luna looked back as she walked. “Thy fear is unwarranted, councilor.” She turned back around. “Perhaps thou art in need of nourishment as well.” Luna paused in thought. “Dinner would be a fine addition to our schedule.”

Glass nodded numbly.

“And thou art a talented individual. But thy calling lays above thine schedules. Thou hath observed our charge more closely than any other, and we are certain thou hath surpassed our mentor in this affair.” She stopped before the dining hall doors, and turned to the wide-eyed stallion beside her. “We wish to speak at length on this, councilor. But food I shall provide thee, and we shalt continue with thy schedule-crafting, as we see thou art keen on shying from this greater purpose.”

The guards of the dining hall opened the doors, and the princess strode in. Glass stood where she left him, staring. “I…”  

His head drooped, and he followed after.

The dining hall of Everfree Castle paled in comparison to that of Canterlot Castle, but it served a different purpose. Where the Royal Canterlot Banquet Hall was often called upon to serve many mouths—though mostly for noble functions—Everfree’s hall was more reserved in seating and decor. But for what it lacked in presentation, the dining hall excelled in non-obfuscation. Even from the side entrance of the dining hall, Focal Glass was able to see Equestria’s finest artisans at work in the open kitchen at the end of the hall. The low marble walls granted complete clarity to meal preparation. Dignitaries and representatives expected to be greeted with Equestria’s finest dishes, and the ability to witness a meal’s life and birth was the pinnacle of equine culinary arts. It was suffice to say that the meals crafted in the hall were produced with an iridescent quality seen nowhere else. 

And yet, the smell of plain oatmeal clouded the air.
> Troubles in the Lazy River
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as you pulled into the parking lot of the water park, you knew something strange was going on.

You locked your car and went through the staff entrance, a bubbling tension in your chest. Something wasn’t wrong, but the air definitely felt aloof. You quietly went through your checklist in prepping the staffroom for the summer day ahead, and as soon as the coffee was off brewing, you sorted out your keychain, grabbed your toolbox and flashlight, and then set off to go inspect the park.

While it certainly wasn’t the biggest water park you’d seen, the family-owned getaway was big enough to garner more than enough attention from the town. The pay was decent, and the job wasn’t all that hard either. There were mostly just slides and pools scattered around the park, but fixing those wasn’t your job, you dealt with electrical wiring, and the arcade machines in the portion of the gift shop. At first, you were put off by seeing an arcade in a water park, but when you realized that it was mostly catering to the owners’ kids’ tastes, it made sense.

On your way to the arcade, you had that peculiar feeling yet again. Your feet had been on autopilot while your mind wandered, but you took control and maneuvered yourself to the pool-zone, but more specifically, the lazy river. It was by the far the biggest attraction in the park after the wave pool, and if your gut feeling told you something was wrong with the lazy river, then business would slow for who knows how long. Utilizing your maintenance keys to open the area early, you slipped through the gate and into the water park itself.

There were four main areas to the river as it wound around the park, and the one by the entrance was closest. You left your tools and flashlight by the gate and went to take a look around. Immediately, you saw the first signs of a break-in; the river donuts were gone. As you looked up and down the lazy river, you then took notice of a second problem; there were animals in the river. As quietly as you could, you hid by one of the bridges over the river and stared at the animals as they passed.

The technicolor creatures, you found, looked an awful lot like tiny horses. ‘Ponies,’ you corrected. Some had wings, others horns, and a smaller majority had neither. The calm and quiet creatures floated idly about the river in their stolen inflatables. You scratched your head and thought of what to do. Shrugging, you walked away from the river and pulled out your phone.

“Yeah, hey Mr. Mitchell.” Your eyes glanced back to the water. “Listen, I know it might sound strange, but there are… ponies in the lazy river.”
> Project Border: Prologue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fun fact: International law doesn’t apply across planets, even if they are connected by sea.

The moment you flew across the northern Canadian border between the two Earths, you were subject to the law of ponies. Coincidentally, the option to operate under the law is universal to both worlds, and it’s a simple process; just don’t fly across the border. That’s the easy bit; the hardest part is finding a ship that can do so.

When most people visit the world of magic—dubbed Equus by mankind—they don’t realize that they’re landing in the southern Zebralands. It’s easy to mistake the green lands of the humid-subtropical south for Equestria itself, but the land of ponies is over a hundred kilometers north of the Zebraland-based interplanetary airport, Harmony International. The establishment of this airport, as well as the Earth-based counterpart Proxima International, were the creations of the first trans-planetary cooperation agreement in known existence. In the first Earth-to-Equus expeditions, it was revealed to both pony and human alike that one avenue of travel between our two worlds was to be banned by the agreement; travel by sea.

Now, when I said crossing between both worlds unnoticed was a simple process, it is critical to understand that it wasn’t always like this, meaning, it wasn’t like we could just boat across an ocean of water and stars; sea-based travel is banned for a reason. You see—or rather, what you don’t see—is the veil separating Earth and Equus. Nobody knows why we suddenly found our worlds connected by a zone north of Canada and south of the Zebralands, but we did eventually learn that between these two worlds was a buffer of sorts. Humanity learned that there were no existing laws in this place, only those brought from between the worlds, and theorized it to be a location where matter slipped between universes. With much less theorizing, the inhabitants of Equus confirmed that the buffer zone was naturally absent of any matter and energy whatsoever. Armed with this knowledge, we concluded that ‘the Void’ could be traversed; energy and matter could enter the plane, and that meant that we could, too. 

If our creation stories are to be believed, the Void is the edge of the world. It acts almost as if it were the vacuum of space, allowing energy and particles to pass into its realm from that of Earth and Equus. The Void, however, instead of allowing these foreign contaminants to stay in its thrall, pushes it back into our worlds, which is why we do not constantly leak our atmosphere or dribble endless waterfalls into the abyss; the Void cannot destroy or convert energy, so all it can do is push it back towards the source. From our constant experimentation in pushing the limits of the Void’s grasp, we have ascertained that there is a threshold within the Void, and once you cross it, you are pushed towards the other plane of existence, be it Earth or Equus. While the exact required speed to cross the threshold is unknown due to the lack of constants in maintaining speed, it is a known fact that planes can travel fast enough; boats however, have been shown to be unreliable. On a traditional airliner operated by human governments and Equestria, the Void’s pushback effect can be described as the result of the most powerful consummation of air resistance to ever be recorded. The pushback on a boat, however, can only be described as a devastating super-compressed coil with profoundly fatal speeds. 

Ill-equipped travellers aboard these seafaring-vessels have never been recovered alive; all that remains after one of these journeys is the disemboweled and malformed carcass of their chosen transport. This is not to say that airliners are without their problems, and the loss of an occasional cargo aircraft is a problem both Earth and Equus governments actively seek to solve. Humanity was the first to cross the threshold into Equus, and it was by sharing our technology with our magical counterparts that we have come to the commercial consensus of actively flying between both worlds. We ask the question often, of why we continue to take these fatal risks, knowing full well that a passenger airline could one day—will someday lose hundreds of lives to the Void, and there is but one simple word to answer this question; globalization. Just as we reach the peak of our own outreach across Earth, new markets have been breached and opened to our industry, and new markets are the most priceless commodity in the game of globalization, for no matter the trade, be it goods, cultures, or passengers, there is much money to be made. 

This is why I study intently the foreign nature of magic. This is why I work as the middleman for the shadows of nations. This is why I cross the ocean of black between worlds.

My name is Clay, and I smuggle across worlds.
> Project Border: Beasts Upon the Ocean
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jury Rig did not like what he saw on the starboard side of his patrol boat.

“What the hay is that?” the captain muttered. Lowering his spyglass, he wiped his tired eyes with a white wing and turned to the crew on deck. “Prepare for boarding, I have a feeling we’re not going to get any hails.” With his crew in motion, Rig turned back to the vessel and began a search for any form of identification whatsoever. “No flag, no lights and signals... Nothing.” Nothing… save for a name painted in blue on the side of the vessel’s hull. He stowed his spyglass. “The RSV Tern?”

Jury Rig and his crew were apart of the Equestrian Coast Guard, and this inspection was just another part of their daily routine… but the ship’s existence was all but usual. He suspected the ship to be more than just a simple research vessel by name, but had no evidence to support it save for the lack of proper signals. Another thing that struck him as peculiar was the designation; RSV was mostly used on Earth, not Equus. Many humans did not have an active mariner’s license in Equestria’s waters, and even then, what was a human doing moored just outside of Haybinger Port? A ship moored too far from the coast and too small to have a rowboat… something was keeping the ship from entering the port.

“Something’s wrong,” Jury Rig commented with a shiver. Licking his lips, he carefully lifted his radio receiver and spoke. “This is the Equestrian Coast Guard vessel High Tide. Identify yourself.” Silence. “I repeat, this is the Equestrian Coast Guard vessel High Tide. Identify yourself or you will be subject to the use of force!” Another lapse of silence. Rig sighed. “Captain of the Tern, if you do not comply, you will be boarded by an armed party!”

There was no response from the ship shrouded by midnight fog.

Even as they pulled close to the vessel, the crew of the ECG High Tide couldn’t see any signs of life aboard. It was seemingly abandoned, save for the soft hum that permeated the lower freeboard of the schooner. The ship’s hull was formed of a metallic alloy that reflected the patrol boat searchlights through a layer of matte white paint. The paint was far too pristine for an abandoned ship. The hull seemed to be about twice that of the patrol boat in all dimensions but length; at best, Jury Rig estimated the ship to be about 35 meters in length, with a 6 meter beam and 4 meter draft. The vessel had a sleek design, with the ship tapering off to a point at its triangular bow as opposed to the boxy front of the High Tide. It was a beautiful ship that a single experienced captain could probably handle alone. 

The captain and his crew had no idea what they had stumbled across, but there was definitely some form of research to be done, and the first question was whether the ship was crewed or not. With a nod to the deck gunner aboard the patrol boat, Captain Jury Rig of the Equestrian Coast Guard clambered aboard the humming vessel, followed closely by three armed guardsponies.

As soon as Rig’s hooves touched down on deck, the pegasus’ ears prickled at a soft sound; somepony was talking. His eyes drew themselves down to a small hatch that was open near the lone deckhouse of the ship. The wooden floorboards opened up into a brightly lit compartment, which no doubt led directly to the lower aft of the ship.

“On me,” Jury Rig ordered quietly to the crew. Steeling himself, he crept down into the depths of the ghost ship.

The belly of the ship reflected the futuristic design on the outside, and on closer inspection, Rig realized that the alloy of the ship’s hull was aluminum-based. This was a ship built for speed, so what was it doing in Haybinger Port, no less docked outside of the port town? 

Aluminum production had always been an expensive prospect in the shipwright industry; Jury Rig had grown up in the industry with his father, and he knew that only the Equestrian military had extensive use with aluminum… that is, until the arrival of humanity. The humans had revolutionized the industry of the world, but even with their advances, aluminum alloys remained an expensive building material that sucked up even more cost in labor. Perhaps the ship was a covert asset of the navy, but the circumstance was far too suspicious; there was no way that a military ship in operation would be moored outside of a civilian area without an active crew, and besides, the ship had human classification.

It made boarding the Tern all the more a tense prospect.

The voice he’d heard earlier came into clarity. Jury Rig motioned to his ponies; wing-pistols at the ready, they followed closely behind their officer as he advanced past a rack of life vests and a few footlockers. The squad suddenly slowed; a conversation on the opposite side of the bulkhead was taking place. The sound was barely audible, but two distinguishable voices were there.

“... Kill me and the ship goes down with me.”

“The door at the end,” one of Rig’s crew commented just loudly enough for their group to hear. 

The captain silenced the guard with a hoof; the conversation was hitting a peak.

“How so?” 

“I know this ship bow to stern. You kill me, you lose that knowledge.”

“A fair trade for the abilities of the ship.”

“Time isn’t on your side.”

“And it’s not on yours either.”

Jury Rig had never really had to breach a door on any ship before, but he was ready to make it a first. The door was already partly open, so all that had to be done was the breach. Two of his guards stacked up with him on the door, and the third continued to watch behind them for any threats.

“You heard them outside… The Coast Guard’s coming. They’re probably on the ship now.”

“They won’t be a problem.”

Clunk. 

Rig only had enough time to snap his head back down the hall.

“Grena—!” 

A bang filled Jury Rig’s ears and his world flashed white. Burly limbs wrapped around him, knocking his sidearm from his hooves in the process. The attacker slammed him through the door and threw him on the floor where he quickly found his wings and hooves bound. He blinked blearily through the haze of the flashbang and the ringing in his ears, but all he was rewarded with was a stinging sensation. Eventually though, the white faded. He opened his eyes.

Jury Rig was lying sideways on the cold metal deck of the ship. Across from him was a towering black creature… he noted blearily that it was a unicorn. The stallion grinned down at him with pearly white teeth and spoke. Rig couldn’t hear through the ringing, so he instead chose to right himself onto his haunches and survey the situation.

Just as he had suspected, his crew had been disarmed and bound with cable ties as well. Two of them had been placed at the front of a large mint-green machine, and the last was being carried atop the back of a bulky brown earth pony. Their weapons had been discarded by the hooves of another unicorn, this one an ocean blue mare, who was in the middle of sealing the door. Jury Rig had just found himself in a hostage situation, and he and his crew were the readily available pawns of these unnamed assailants.

But they weren’t the first.

Jury Rig stared at the human standing beside the unicorn. They looked back at him with a frown, their hands behind their back. Like the captain, this human, too, was bound. Rig gave the human a nod and grunted. The human nodded back.

The charcoal unicorn slapped the captain hard with a hoof to the cheek, forcing Rig to look back up at the pony. The ringing was quickly subsiding now, and he heard the second voice from before—he noted it was the human’s.“... a bit rude.”

The unicorn snorted as he turned back to face the man.  “You believed the Equestrian Guard would stop us? I’m appalled you would underestimate our abilities, Clay.”

“I never said they would stop you, I simply said time wasn’t on your side.”

The unicorn rolled his eyes. “Why do you believe yourself to be such a powerful asset? Our organization could reverse engineer this ship in a day. Your death and notions are meaningless.”

“There’s no reason to lie to yourself, Chit.” Jury Rig noted that the human—Clay, if he had heard correctly—spoke quite calmly. He seemed more annoyed than angry at being held hostage. “My ship—”

“A princess’ ship,” Chit growled. “From the very ponies that you say you are fond of, you stole their rulers’ ship.”

Clay’s face fell grim. “My ship will fall apart without me. You don’t even know where to begin with the engine, let alone how to man the ship; it takes more to work this ship than simply understanding what’s on the inside.” He leant forward, eyes flicking to meet Jury Rig’s own very briefly. “Scion Chit. You’re nothing but a pawn in this game the shadows are playing. I know what you think you’re gonna gain from taking the ship; favor. Let’s face it, your organization doesn’t care about you now and will care even less after this. If you were to die, they’d be glad to be rid of you. And you’ll be dead the moment they find out from me that you ruined everpony’s business. The only thing meaningless here is you.”

Rig’s ears flopped down against the sides of his head as the human pulled back; a gray aura of magic was wrapped taut around Clay’s throat.

The unicorn was practically hissing. “You. Know. Nothing.” 

Clay’s choking became more profound as he slowly began to levitate upwards. 

“The only thing my superiors will hear from you will be that you have been usurped.”

“Not… gonna… happen…” Clay breathed.

Somewhere from the depths of the ship, a terrible roar rang out.

Chit dropped the human, who gladly replenished his lungs with air. 

“What was that?” the unicorn demanded.

A scream tore across the vessel, and all of the ponies gathered flinched… Clay simply coughed.

“Manticores,” Clay half-groaned, half-laughed. “It sounds like the guy you sent to loot the ship just found my cargo.”

Jury Rig shuddered. He didn’t like lions. 

Especially venomous lions that could fly.

CLANK!

A mass of meat and muscle slammed against the watertight door, and even Scion Chit felt a pang of fear go through him. “You maniac!” He pulled Clay up to his feet involuntarily. A harder thud slammed into the bulging door. “We’re all going to die!”

“That’s not the plan either…” With a burst of speed, the human tucked his head down and bodied the unicorn. They tumbled to the floor, Chit too surprised to react. At the same moment, the door to the room flung open on screaming hinges, smacking the unicorn mare at the door muzzle-first; she went down, knocked out cold. One of Jury Rig’s crew members—a pegasi sat against the machine—slid their hooves from their cable ties and quickly undid their fellow guard’s bindings with a few sharp bites and pulls. After undoing each other’s ties, one pegasus flew off to face the earth pony standing near the last guard, and the other flew to Jury Rig’s aid. 

“The bindings!” the guardspony spat quickly.

The captain ignored the embarrassing fact that he hadn’t tried to undo his bindings himself prior to the breakout and instead pulled the ties off of his savior’s wings. The action was reciprocated, and with his rescue complete, the guardspony flew off to help his comrades with the earth pony. 

Unfortunately, freedom was not at hoof quite yet. 

Jury Rig and the manticore locked eyes. The captain gulped audibly.

“Oh, hay.”

“GET OFF ME!” 

A quick glance told Jury Rig that the human had freed himself and was currently holding the unicorn down by the horn. He didn’t have time to digest the situation fully, as the meaty thuds of pawsteps against metal dragged him back to the manticore. Acting on instinct, he jumped up into the air and pulled his hooves up, narrowly dodging the manticore’s lunge. Uninterested in doing a live test of what a wing-pistol could do to a manticore’s thick hide, Rig opted on getting the ponies, the human, and himself out of combat as quickly as possible.

“Scruffy, over here!” 

Confused, Jury Rig looked back to Clay. The human was standing now, his hands firmly wrapped around Scion Chit’s horn and throat… and he was getting ready to push him into the oncoming manticore’s charge. The captain could only watch in horror as Clay practically threw the stallion into the manticore. A sickening crack filled the air of the room as the manticore landed on the unicorn. His muffled screams filled the air for a moment, and then it was gone. The manticore was unphased, and quickly bounced back up onto its paws.

Jury Rig shook his head and bit back the rising bile in his throat. ’Thank Celestia it was just a foreleg.’ The captain looked away from the unconscious and battered body of Chit and pulled himself together. “I need to get these ponies and my crew out of here ASAP!” He saw the earth pony topple over in the background as one of his crew landed a nice upper cut into the stallion’s jaw. “How do we deal with the manticores?”

“Let me handle ‘em!” Clay shouted over the rumbling pawsteps of the manticore. “Scruffy and Max don’t like ponies! Just get you and your men out of here!”

Ignoring the fact the manticores had given names, Jury Rig swooped down to the body of Scion Chit. He was still breathing, and as Rig picked the pony up he was thankful to find that he was quite light. Clay had jumped away from the body and in front of the manticore, and Rig could hear the sound of claws sliding against metal as the beast slid to a stop.

“Easy Scruffy!”

Rig’s crew were quick to follow him out the room; two of them carried the earth pony, and the one who’d untied him had picked up the unicorn mare. The captain sent one look back through the broken doorway at Clay, who was still literally holding onto the manticore to prevent it from tearing the ponies apart. There was no time to waste, though, and he and his crew quickly made their way back through the entrance, ignoring the growls further towards the front of the ship, presumably from the cargo bay.

Jury Rig was quicker to action this time. Barking orders like a madpony, he had four of the crewmembers aboard the ship take the unconscious ponies from the boarding party, and an additional two pegasi joined him aboard the RSV Tern. The deck gunner was told to hold his fire unless directly threatened, and with that, the regrouped squad of six descended into the ship once more.

They came down at the worst possible moment, as Clay was just passing by with the manticore in front of him. He motioned for the ponies to be quiet, and worked on keeping the manticore looking straight ahead instead of at the ponies. Once the pair had disappeared down the hall and around a corner, the six pegasi resumed their movement with much more trepidation.

“There’s manticores?” a new member of the group asked nervously.

“Two of them, apparently,” one of the pegasi from the initial boarding party muttered.

“Shut up!” The order from the First Officer did its job, which did much to relieve the Captain’s worries.

Clay’s voice suddenly echoed down the hallway. “God, you did a number on this poor guy, Max.” A number of soft sounds followed, including grunts of exertion, and then the ponies heard a door shut. 

“It’s safe, captain,” came the man’s voice.

As the group came around the bend, they came upon the human and the last hostile; the stallion sprawled across the floor was battered and a little more than bruised, but he was breathing, and that was good enough for everypony present. Clay was in the middle of unclipping a vast array of gear strapped to the unconscious body of the grey pegasus; Jury Rig admired the speed at which the human committed himself to the process.

“Sucker must’ve thought he could get away with a good chunk of my…” he hesitated. “Nevermind that’s beside the point, you got the rest of them locked down?”

“They’re secure,” Jury Rig stated simply. He eyed the man carefully as he began strapping the pegasus’ stolen gear to his own self. “Now that we’ve weathered the storm…” The captain pulled himself taut. “I’m Captain Jury Rig with the Equestrian Coast Guard, and you are?”

“I’m Clay.”

“... and your last name?” Jury Rig paused, wondering suddenly where the manticore had gone. “For the record, of course.”

“Kiln.” 

The stallion’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Not to pry, but that’s quite the ah, familiar name.”

The human continued to work his straps as he responded to the captain’s question. “My wife thought it would be a good idea to take up an Equestrian name. I wasn’t born Kiln, but I’ve always been Clay.” There was a final resounding snap as Clay finished his work. “And I like it that way.”

“Well Captain Kiln, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to undo all that fine work you’ve done there with your…” The nature of Clay’s bags was clear. “Weapons and equipment.”

“I have my permits.”

“And I’m sure you do.” Rig couldn’t help but sigh. “You’ve been a fine citizen so far, but we need to get this business sorted out before I can let you go.”

“And what business would that be?”

“The matter of your ship’s unsolicited anchorage in territorial waters near Equestrian assets.” He paused. “And whether or not you actually have your permits for ‘Exotic Animals’ and ‘Weapons’ trade.”

Clay put on a smug grin. “And the baddies.”

“Yes yes, and the baddies… Would you kindly disarm yourself so that my men can properly escort you above deck? We’ll do our checks, and we’ll be out of your mane.”

“You and I both know there’s going to be more to it than that.”

“Captain, please.”

“With all due respect, Captain Rig…” One of the manticores prowled around a corner, causing all of the ponies save Jury Rig to flinch. “I’ve got a delivery to make, and these are some very significant goods.” The second manticore emerged from the other side of the room, this time causing a few ponies to backpedal. “Property of the Crown, you see?”

Jury Rig held his resolve. “Captain Kiln, I don’t care who you’re delivering these goods to, there’s the matter of fact that you were held captive on your own vessel, and documentation needs to be filled in order to properly record everything that’s just happened.”

A harsh screeching—like chalk on board—sounded off through the hull.

Clay was impassive as he spoke. “You should’ve just taken care of your new prisoners and left.”

A rumble shook the ship.

“They’re escaping.” He strode past the ponies, the manticores returning down the corridor to the bow after one final glance at the group.

The stallion was not pleased at how the situation was playing out. “I’m going to assume you’re right, beca—”

“Less talking, more moving.”

The ponies were quick to rush ahead of Clay in the quick corridor to get above deck, and as the two captains emerged alongside each other, the carnage strewn across the deck of the High Tide came into view. Jury Rig swore softly under his breath; the squad flapped over to the ship and alighted smoothly.

“C-Captain Jury Rig!” The deck gunner scrambled a salute as the squad reboarded their ship, all in awe of the scorch marks splattering the deck; it was far worse than from afar. “T-They just…”

“How?” Jury Rig’s eyes were wide. “Nevermind, I don’t care how, where are they?”

“Thank you for your time, Captain!” 

Jury Rig whirled around at the yell of Clay. “What do you—?” He froze; the low hum had become a buzzing overtone.

With nary a passing word, Clay saluted the captain and slammed the door to the bridge.

And in an iridescent flash of purple, the ship disappeared.

Gritting his teeth hard, Jury Rig lurched onto the edge of his ship for support. “Oh for Celestia’s sake! Can’t anything go right whenever we go to Haybinger?!”

“Captain,” his First Officer began warily. “What are your orders?”

Jury Rig heaved a heavy breath and surveyed his ship. The place was a mess: several guardsponies had been knocked about and were just beginning to stir, a brand new hole surrounded in a black coating of ash sat in the middle of his deck, and worst of all, the prisoners were missing. All he could do was sigh; it was a late night of work, he had experienced yet another incident around Haybinger, and worst of all, he had paperwork to do about several missing suspects… and that human.

Something had been off about the whole ship and its captain, and Jury Rig swore to himself that he’d do everything he could to find out who Clay Kiln really was… and what exactly he was involved in.

He leered back at his second-in-command with a stony grimace. “Rouse up the rest of the crew. We’re going home early.”
> stinky: The Royal Sisters and banter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re absolutely sure?”

“Mmm... yes.” The red-gold quill slid gently into its place on the clipboard. “That’s our Saturday complete, princess.”

“Then get some rest. That’s only half of our ‘journey’ complete. And don’t worry about your coffee; I’ll have some freshly prepared for you when we reconvene in...” The white muzzle turned in the reflection of the grandfather clock’s glassy facade. “... seven hours.”

“Of course, princess. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Princess Celestia smiled warmly at her secretary. “Thank you so much, Raven. Truly, I would be lost without you.”

As soon as the door to the rear-throne office clicked shut, a long, laden-sigh filled the room. “Finally.”

Celestia stretched as she stood from her seat; the folds in her back were pulled loose, and a low groan escaped her. The stack of freshly-signed forms found their snug home in the outgoing bin with a touch of magic. The princess barely felt regal as a large gulp of cold tea splashed down her throat. By the time she’d crossed the room, reorganizing things to be as proper as they could, she’d drained her cup entirely. She set the cup down next to the luxury coffee machine next to the door.

Celestia eyed the machine through a lidded gaze. Her eyes flicked to the door beside her, then back. For a long moment, the office was completely still.

Princess Celestia lit her magic once more.





“—but his face, Luna!”

The hallway swam around Celestia as the half-empty mug in her telekinetic grip wobbled.

“Their hearing is sensitive, Anon. ‘Tis not kind to ‘spook them,’ as you say.”

Celestia blinked as two figures came around the corner.

“But still—!”

“Luna?”

The pair—Princess Luna and the monkey of Canterlot himself—stopped abruptly at the other end of the hallway rug. 

“... Sister?” Luna piped up after a terse moment. “Thou art still awake?”

Celestia’s muzzle scrunched as she eyed her cold coffee. “I’m taking a break.”

“It is deserved, then.” Luna shuffled awkwardly in place. “Thou hath been quite busy…”

“Yes…” Celestia locked her gaze with Luna. “How are you and Anon fairing?”

“... We were in the gardens—“

“Have you seen those ponies out there, Celly?”

Luna reeled backwards with a glare to her left. “Anon, we—!”

Anon rambled onwards with his excitement. “They look so god damn edgy. Anyways, I bet Luna I could make one of them jump, and he went upside down in the arch! I swear, Celestia, fully inverted! It was the funniest shit I’ve ever seen!”

Before Anon could descend further into a cacophony of guffaws, Luna thwacked him hard on his back. “What madness hast thou?”

“Pretty mare,” Anon wheezed as another thwack, albeit gentler, knocked him forward a few inches. “Ack!”

“We shall have thou trussed for bedlam.”

“Hey, for what? Being bewitched by a moon witch?”

Celestia pulled Anon away from the well-deserved blow with a pull of her magic. “Luna, let’s not bruise up our resident diplomat.”

“The sun sits on my horizon!” Anon yelled. “You stand no chance!”

“Thou art a cretin!” Celestia assisted Anon in dodging another blow from her steaming sister. “Sister, release thy hold!”

Celestia drained her mug dry and pulled Anon away from Luna. “Not before I talk to him.”

After being set down, Anon gave his imaginary hat a tip. “Good to see ya, princess. What can I do you for?” He waggled his eyebrows. “As an alternative to bits, I take payment in favors.”

In reply, Celestia raised her own brow. “I could provide you with a trip to the moon, if you’d like.”

A quick glance over his shoulder secured Anon’s position on the matter. “Nah, I’m good.”
> Little Leap
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dad always said there was something off about ponies. Always talked about how they were the work of the Devil. That Equestria was the place where men became sinners. The road to Hell.

If this is Hell, then let me stay with her.

The application for a visa was the biggest hurdle to get here. The flight two weeks back was populated with only a handful of people. I only knew that because most were business-class; I sat at the front of economy, alone. Or I would have if it weren't for her.

Little Leap is her name. She's an earth pony. A curling crimson tail. An equally red mane, backed by a ponytail she swears by. A tan coat that's softer than a chick's down. Two gorgeous, soul-gazing sapphire eyes. A cutie-mark with a crashing ocean wave, awash with foam.

She'd been looking for something on Earth. Came back on my flight when her time ran out. She wasn't too sure what she'd been looking for.

On that plane, she made a promise. A promise of purpose. To show me her world. To show me her side of Equestria. 

Her hometown is a sweet place that's out of the way. None of the business types or journalists come out here. Most of the ponies are ambivalent to my presence, but many do accept me. They're good people. Quiet, but I can do that.

I love her. I haven't told her. Not yet. I don't want to ruin what she has. I don't know if she feels the same. I just want her to stay happy.

As long as Little Leap is happy, I'm happy. 
> Lotus
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

They call her ‘Lotus.’

It’s not hard to figure out where people got the name. A red lotus isn’t everyday imagery. Especially not one held in the mouth of a small, pale horse. 

Though things weren’t perfect, the world wasn’t meant to be perfect. Things were getting better. Slowly, but surely.

The future has never been certain. She understood that.

But “she provides.”

Is there much more we can do that she hasn’t? Yes.

You’ve heard of the deal. Graciously, we have been given this ‘choice.’

It began with a few million, and by now the souls number in the billions. 

For those who still cling to Earth, our future remains uncertain. We can try our best to make it be seen. If you’ve looked to the sky for this long and not yet grown fond, we implore you to stand with our future. 

Oceania is where we will rebuild. As currency is no longer an issue, transportation is readily available. Air travel remains out of the question. Our people are located at every major port-of-entry in Australia, and we will guide you as best we can.

Preliminary surveys suggest that two months remain until the halo is complete.

Once she has gathered her seeds, the rain will come again, and we will sow ours.

Our future is uncertain. But it will stay ours.
> CV1: Amber Fossil
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The front door shut with a click. 

“Ryan, look at what I found at today’s dig!”

“It looks like… a rock?”

The pony’s energized excitement dropped quickly into an annoyed scrunch. “Ryan, I… for Celestia’s sake, this is crystalline rose quartz! It just looks like any old rock to you because you don’t pay attention to anything I tell you!”

“That’s because you’re too cute to take seriously!” I slipped my hand between her ear and scalp and scratched away. “I’m not the geologist, Amby, you are!”

Amber Fossil huffed as she shied away from me. “Take me seriously! Please! This is a really awesome discovery, Ryan!”

I gave an exaggerated sigh but smiled all the same. “Alright, alright, come up here Amber.” I didn’t give her a chance to avoid my hands as I lifted her up and onto my lap. She blushed softly as one hand went to work on her neck and the other plucked her precious rock from her golden hooves.

“Q-quit it!” The angry nuisance pushed my hand away. “No scritches!”

I just laughed as I handed her the rock hammer from the coffee table. 

Amber shifted a little in my lap as she found a better position to work on the living room ‘work table.’ “This is dumb, Ryan,” Amber muttered as she picked away at the stone to reveal the treasure inside. “Why don’t we just get a new work table to put in my room?”

“Because working in the living room keeps us close together, silly.” I kept my hands resting on her shoulders, not wanting to disrupt her work. “And I especially don’t want you working away on your stockpile at two in the morning like you did when the workbench was in your room.”

Amber turned around and hissed. “It was easier to access my minerals!” As she returned to the stone she continued on, “and I totally did not work on my stones at two in the morning… it was more like midnight.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s exactly why I was happy for you to break the workbench after so long.”

“It was nice,” the unicorn pouted.

“So was my mini fridge… until you stole it from my room.”

Amber Fossil smiled sheepishly. “That’s really nice.”

“You little punk,” I growled, squeezing her shoulders. “I’m going to go get that back one way—”

Crack!

“Wow...” Amber leant back into my chest as she lifted the geode up in her magic. “Look at this, Ryan. Isn’t it beautiful?”

I rested my chin in her orange mane and sank in. “It’s lovely, Amber…”

The pink quartz within the geode reflected the apartment’s glossy lighting far more amazingly than it should have. As Amber gently rotated the mineral, the crystalline properties of the stone went into effect, minute patterns of shining crystal playing softly across Amber Fossil’s fluffy golden chest. Her crimson eyes reflected in the stone, an accentuation to the beauty of the monumental find. I carefully wrapped my hands around Amber and squeezed her. 

The pony sank back into me, a tired smile playing a cross her lips as she focused on the mineral. “This is the purest sample I’ve ever excavated from the Canterlot area…”

For all the listening I had supposedly left undone, I knew enough to recognize the fact that not many ponies had such a fine piece of crystalline pink quartz… not like this piece… not like this at all.

An immense wave of pride washed over me. I was so proud of the little mare… here she was, reaching new heights in every waking moment of her life, while I was practically a house sitter. But I didn’t mind our situation. I was happy to see my friend achieving so many goals within her life’s passion, and she was happy that I was there for her all the way.
> untitled-Alleyway: Homeless man and bat pony
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today had been the day. James would have finally gotten his job, and things would only have been on the rise from there.  Now, all the crumb-paths had since spoiled over, and the only thing left between hope and despair were a few thin slices of bread, and a nigh-empty, day-old tub of butter. To James, buttering bread with his fingers wasn’t the most attractive prospect in the world, but it was much more preferable to sleeping through the cold night on an empty stomach.

It was a delicate series of events that had led up to James’ loss of the job opportunity; there was much left to be desired from the hiring-pony’s honesty, but the ultimate path that had given way was the one full of financial burdens, a path that James had been unfortunate enough to be lured onto. He had been promised food, shelter, good company, and money. 

For the most part, James had lived without such promises for the last several months he’d spent traveling Equestria. The sudden change of pace in his life style had come about as a result of his arrival in Fillydelphia; it was a small, quiet town, in need of labor, and ponies willing to settle down.

James had been more than willing, but the buffeting winds of society had turned him back to his worn-out hiking boots. 

As if to prove its loyalty to the nature of the world Equestria lived by, the weather, too, turned down upon James with an onslaught of icy bullets. He pulled his cotton hood over his head and finished his bread with dignity. The hush of his breath went unheard in the downpour as he stood from the steps of the tavern and disappeared into the night.





A few frantic, candle-wielding lamplighters flitted about on their wings, no doubt desperate to escape the mixture of equally icy hail and rain, and possibly further empowered by a desire to return to their homes and families. 

James pulled his rucksack’s straps taut and hurried down a turn, this time choosing a rather narrow street. His eyes flickered back and forth. The chosen alley—one he’d scoped out just before the sunset a few hours before—found its way into his line of sight, and he rushed forward, eager to once more shelter himself from the rain. 

The pitter-patter of boots in rain was something all too familiar to James’ ears, but so too was the sound of his boots skipping over cobblestones as he ground to a halt. Standing stock-still in the rain, James stared at the pony who had dared to occupy his haven.

The grullo mare was clearly downtrodden; the dreadful weather was unable to disguise the awful mood pooled into her visage. Her inky black mane, split by a large splice of gray-silver, was tousled and damp. She—the earth pony mare—was bereft of any belongings, or even one of the ponies’ distinct ‘cutie marks,’ and that knowledge allowed James to calm himself a little; she was a blank slate, just like him.

When he stepped out of the rain and into the coverage of the building-cornered alley the mare took notice. Her ears twitched up from their hunched position, and their eyes met. James’ heart thumped much more loudly for a moment; he had been caught off guard by the lone amber-gold iris that peeked from beneath her long frazzled mane. His mind ticked over the curious detail briefly, and ultimately he decided to speak up first. He drew a breath while the mare gave him her own inspection.

“Your eyes. They’re… different.”

Sniffling, the mare shuddered and leaned away. “What?” she croaked in a dry voice; the mare cringed at the sound. “What do you mean?” she said, the rasp mostly cleared.

He scratched at his stubble, which was arguably as messy as the mare’s mane. “Most ponies eyes are ‘cool’ colored. Yours are a ‘warm’ color.” 

In reply, she gave him an exhausted, cautionary glance. 

“And a dark alley is no place for a bright-eyed pony.”  James settled onto a dry piece of cardboard across from the mare, and leaned against his framed rucksack. “Rough night?”

The mare leaned back against the door of the building behind her. “... yes,” she relented quietly. James saw one of her idle hooves play over a discarded kitchen apron. “I’ve been working here since I was a filly. Well, I used to.” Her face tinged faintly with resent, but it slipped away so swiftly that it was almost as if it hadn’t even existed. “I messed up an order. And it was bad, a really bad mistake, but…” The mare closed her eyes and sighed. “I didn’t expect to lose… everything,” she finished.

James blew a puff of air from his mouth. “I can’t say I know exactly how you feel, but… I can try.” The mare’s ears perked up slightly and tilted vaguely in his direction. “I was about to get a job, my first real one in months. But they just… up and left me on the streets. But I guess that’s just how it is for people like us; every day is just one more we lose.”

A morose laugh was coaxed out of her. “It’s nice to meet a somepony who understands that.” The tiniest fraction of a smile peeked out from the corner of an upturned lip. “I’m Mercury.

“James, and likewise. I’d shake your hoof, but it’d be kind of awkward to do with both of us on opposite sides of the alley here.” 

Another laugh wove its way out of Mercury’s chest, more boisterous and longer than the last. “You’re funny, James.”

“Funny-looking!” he quipped.

The mare’s smile fully manifested. “That too.” Her head tilted with curiosity. “But how’d a funny-looking guy like you end up here?”

“See, I… when I got to Equestria, I wasn’t exactly crossing at a legal point of entry. A Royal Guard patrol saved my life from some highwaymen—highwayponies, and I was brought over to an actual checkpoint into the country.”
> Brass Burner
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Brass Burner, against all aspects of his personality, hesitated. He swallowed thickly. “Sir, I—”

“We’ve gone over this already, Mister Burner. Do as you’re told.”

He had no choice but to comply.

Burner’s yellow hoof tightened around the red padding of the metal lever, sweat licking at the fur of his hoof. Waiting no longer, the guardspony slammed the switch back. He ignored his boss’ comments about the delicate mechanism and focused on the room beyond the obsidian glass. With the process initiated, now all he could was watch.

The platform within the shielded chamber shook violently as the magic in the area began to conglomerate. Runes that had been etched in pale check glowed brilliantly, a sign that the safety measures were active. Slowly, tendrils of magic began to visibly weave together into a strange form. The ponies all around him were extremely excited by the sight, but Burner, having seen the simulated equations for himself, stood stock still.

In an eye blink, everything went wrong.

Unable to properly control the magic being filtered into the artifical spell, the runes lining the floor exploded. Chunks of searing silver tile shot off in all directions as energy instantaneouly became heat. Without proper control, magic was rapidly poured into the purple wireframe without restraint. All the ponies were in a state of full-blown panic, their fate dependent upon the strength of the wall between them and the spell. 

As his vision turned white, Brass Burner gave one last silent prayer.

Blinded and deafened by the spell’s finale, the ponies all tumbled to the floor.

Brass Burner stood after a time, his vision and hearing undamped. He tried to focus on the aftermath through blurry goggles and the now soot-covered safety glass, but had no success. Stumbling to the chamber’s entrance, he pulled a pouch off the wall and opened the hatch to the room.

The crackling of flames assaulted his ears. The smell of burning rubber and the scent of something similar to ethanol filled his sense of smell. The hideous black smoke made his eyes water. Whatever it was that had just been summed into the chamber, it needed to be extinguished, and fast. Gritting his teeth, Brass Burner pushed through [painful headache and levitated a batch of fire-foam balls from the bag.

After pushing past the acrid smoke, Burner found himself before a metal carcass. He hastily began tossing the fire-foam pellets to precise points on the firey husk. The fire quickly fizzled out as foam sprayed over the red hot metal. With his job done, Burner dropped everything, including himself. He slowed his breathing to accommodate for the hostile mixture that permeated in the air, its threat to his lungs enhanced by proximity. Thankfully, the ventilation in the room was able to clear up the smog just enough to allow the unicorn to inspect the results of the experimental project.

The anomaly had slammed into one of the walls as a result of its momentum prior to teleportation. Black skid marks were drawn across what remained of the floor. Four metal spokes encased in rubber sat smoking at the bottom of the object. Green metal carved out the now mangled frame of the object, and Burner wasn’t sure what exactly the material was. 

Despite the explosive results, the evidence was undeniable; the ponies at the facility had successfully summoned alien technology from another world.

As Brass Burner stood again, he noticed that the alien device had glass windows. After wiping away the ash blanket covering the resilient material, the unicorn found the object had an interior.
> Bloomers
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roseluck realized it was so very simple. 

The rusted chain had snapped into two clean halves, leaving the piece unusable. The mare had a spare lying around her shop, though, so it wasn’t too hard to dust off and bring out of storage. The wood of the sign had taken it worst, however, having thoroughly rotted through the back and to the front in the time it’d been out in the elements, but Rose had been at least smart enough to purchase a new board to replace the sign. She hadn’t taken enough time to realize that the hardest part would be painting, and embarrassingly enough, she’d given in to her friend’s demands that he be the one to paint it. He had a job to do, after all; digging a few holes into a piece of wood wasn’t enough to warrant the pay that Rose had offered him.

John dipped his brush into the paint bucket. “Almost done painting the background.”

“It looks good.”

John laughed softly as he put the brush to the wood. “Well, I always did want to be an artist. Bit too simple to call this ‘art,’ though.”

Roseluck’s ears perked up at that. “You wanted to be an artist?”

“I wanted to be a lot of things.” The human went back for another fresh dip.

“Like?”

“God…” He froze a moment. “A psychologist, an author, an engineer, a veterinarian… There’s just so many things out there that you can get into.” John shook himself and resumed his work quietly. 

Rose shifted slightly from her spot on the floor. “I like to draw things…”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

“Very, but it’s so very worth it.”

“Amen to that.”

Rose sat quiet, prompting John to continue the conversation.

“How much do you like growing flowers?”

The tan mare’s muzzle twitched slightly. “It’s not just about growing them. You have to breed them, you have to cut them just the right way…” She trailed off.

“Alright, I get it,” John chuckled. “There’s a lot more to a florist than just ‘growing flowers.’ It’s another art of its own.”

“An art of its own?” Rose whispered.

“What was that?”

The mare blinked. “You said that being a florist is another art of its own?”

John paused, then turned his body enough to look at Rose. “I did… yes.”

Rose hummed thoughtfully as she stared up at the ceiling. “I’ve never thought of it that way.” She smiled lightly to herself.

John was smiling at her as Rose looked back down. The mare blushed at the eye contact, then went back to looking at the floor as she had before.

“I thought the same thing about fixing things when I first started doing it.“ John had his back facing Roseluck again. “That is, that there wasn’t much to it besides the technical details.”

“But I thought that you’ve only been fixing things since you moved to Ponyville?”

John nodded. “True.”

“So what changed?”

“I got bored. Also, the paint’s done.” 

“We’ll let it dry.” John turned around to face Roseluck. “What do you mean, you got bored?”

“The sound of pulling out nails and grinding out rough edges just bores into your skull.” He tapped on the side of his head for emphasis. “Y’know?” 

John sighed. “Anyway, I just sat up one day and realized that I could make my job a little fun. I talked to the ponies a bit more while working, started adding little flourishes to my woodwork, that sort of thing. The more I incorporated my fun ideas into my work, the more I realized that the things I were doing had a bit of a pattern to them.”

Rose giggled. “So you made art?”

“I made art,” John agreed.”

“Maybe I should start doing that… I like the idea of adding unique cuts to my flowers.”

John leant back on the palms of his hands. “What’s it like being an entrepreneur, anyway?”

“Entrepreneur?” Rose blinked. “I wouldn’t call myself that… I’m more of a… hobbyist.”

“Then you should have already been adding those little details!”

Roseluck’s ears slapped against the sides of her head at John’s energetic outburst. “I mean… I guess.”

“Sorry.” John scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s just that I’ve always wanted to do my own art, and it’s just really neat that I can basically do that as my job. It’s kind of surprising that you wouldn’t already be doing that.”

Rose sighed. “It’s fine, it’s like I said; I never thought about being a florist as an art. I just opened up this shop with my sisters and I…” she made a motion in the air with her hoof.
> SE1: Spitfire Asks the Questions
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

There was a terrible rumbling from somewhere near my sleeping spot.

I sat upwards in alarm and cocked my head to the nearest wall of the cavern. The cave system fell silent in the wake of the roar, but the beat soon made its presence known once more. Sighing, I fell backwards and placed a hoof on my grullo stomach. My friend rumbled again, and all I could do was give him a consoling pat.

“S’alright buddy, we’ll get you some grub.”

I groaned as I heaved myself upwards. My sore hoof cried out in pain under the pressure, so I let up on it and limped my way out of the cave. It was easy for me to find my way out as I had only settled around the first turn in the tunnel, leaving me with line of sight of the noon sunlight.

The first thing I noted when I stepped out into the sunlight was that something had come through my area. I thought it curious at first, as I believed the hoofprints to have belonged to a deer I knew that wandered by the cave every few days, but they were much smaller and pressed far too daintily into the ground to be a deer. Another thing that struck me peculiar was the fact that there were yellow feathers strewn about the place. 

Now, I wasn’t an expert on birds, but I was aware of two facts about the local avians: they were not as large as the feathers suggested, and they definitely weren’t the yellow kind either. My black mane bobbed in front of my vision for a moment as I crouched down to inspect one of the bright feathers. 

“Agh!”

My ears perked upwards and I carefully brought my head up. Another cry of pain, more muffled than the first, pointed me in the direction of the hoofprints. In fact, I realized that the prints started in the middle of the clearing, which signified that whoever was in pain was an yellow pegasus.

“Stay—” I clamped my mouth shut. Paranoia flooded me as I asked myself the question; what if the pony was hostile? The last ponies I’d seen were the reason I was hiding in the forest to begin with... 

So instead of speaking up, I forced my sore hoof back down on the ground and began trotting with delicate, yet urgent steps.

Sure enough, there was the yellow pegasus. She was in a bit of a bad spot, that was for sure; rose thorns sprinkled her side under a wing, a result of the rose bush she had evidently stumbled into. I wasn’t sure how painful it was to pluck those out with her mouth, but if the small drops of crimson dotting her lips meant anything, then it definitely didn’t feel good.

Before I could say or do anything, she spotted me. At first, she looked relieved, but it quickly turned worrisome.

“The hay are you doing out here, kid?”

I blinked; I hadn’t been ready to answer questions. “...stuff.” My hoof met my face mentally.

She opened her mouth to say something, but she winced in pain; in her shift in focus, she had accidentally shut her wing right on top of the thorns. She grit her teeth and fluffed out the wing again. “You can tell me in a second what’s going on… just… help me out, will ya?”

“You don’t need to tell me twice,” I agreed grimly. My hooves carried me swiftly over, and in a few seconds, I had my green magic lit and wrapped itself around each of the thorns.

The mare’s eyes widened in shock. “W-Wait—!”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish, instead opting to yank the pricks free. On closer inspection, her body didn’t seem to be too injured. I threw the thorns as far away from us as possible and stepped back to give her room to breath.

“Celestia kid…” she wheezed. “I… I can’t say it doesn’t feel better, but you could’ve given me a little warning.”

I shrugged. “It was quick and easy.”

She smiled weakly at that, still breathing heavily. “I can agree with that logic.” The pegasus turned to face me and stuck a hoof out. “I’m Spitfire, and you are…?”

“...Crisper,” I relented after a moment. “Crisper Oak.”

With an eyebrow raised, she lifted a hoof up and wiped a bit of the blood from her mouth. “And what brings you out here, Oak?”

“Um…” I began to sweat a little under her hardening glare. “T-The nature! Right!”
> Salt
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Salt.

Ponies love the stuff. Only one place they can get it from reliably though, and it doesn't come cheap. That does make it quite the valuable commodity, however. 

Most salt on the Equestrian continent is mined from the 'safer' sections of the Appleoosan Desert's rocky mountain ridges, but there's only so much room to spare for a heavy mining industry, so the smaller mining companies look elsewhere. Some salt miners find themselves trapped with the conglomerates, others left to fruitlessly digging up samples for the family-enterprises, but most succumb to the pressures of the salt life and trudge back to Dodge Junction to clamber aboard the next train home. Everyone tries to dip their appendage into the honey pot of salt mining, and most fail. Because where there's value, there's danger. The salt flats of the Badlands are a testament to that. 

I should know—I grew up here.

The Badlands are the last place on Equus one would expect to see civilization, and one would most certainly be correct. Out here, there’s nothing but the dry cracked ground, baking heat, and the riches of an untapped land; rare-earth minerals, gemstones of all kinds, and a nigh-endless sea of salt. Salt, salt, and salt. This place might not be as reliable for civilization as 

I’d have left already if it weren’t for the fact that the one thing keeping me here is the thing I hate most. Maybe I’ll join up on the caravan and





“Gallant!”

The griffon shot up in his chair and quickly scribbled away at the notebook with his quill. “Y-yeah?” he called, still frantically smudging the paper.

“Caravan’s coming! Get your butt over here ASAP!”

The sandy-feathered griffon sent the book into his desk drawer with a flick of his talons, grumbling all the while as he slammed the drawer shut.

“You die in there or something? Your girlfriend’s almost here!”

He double-checked himself in the standing mirror placed in the dusty corner of his room and pulled himself together with a huff.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” were the first words out of the griffon as he came through the front door bleary-eyed.

The human snorted and clasped him on the back. “You sure, champ? I’m seeing some tears in your eyes.”

Gallant glared up at the man and pushed him away with a thwack of a wing. “It’s the dust out here.”

“S’alright, Gallant. I don’t mind you crying, I just don’t think it’s a good impression for your girl.”

“She is not my—”

“Gallant!”

The griffon’s attention was swiftly stolen by the soft feminine call. “Hey, Amethyst!” he replied as he strode forward with a broad smile and wave.

Coming down from the crest of the hill, the tan-coated earth pony came trotting up to the two desert-residents. Out of sight on the other side of the hill, the sounds of the caravan rang forth. A few more ponies crested the hill, but they took their time descending the slippery slope, as opposed to the gallop that Amethyst had adopted.

“Ms. Arkin, it’s great to see you again!”

“Garrett!” Amethyst Arkin’s smile doubled as she came close. “It’s good to see you!” 

“I see you finally had your mane styled,” Garrett said with a pleasant laugh as the two shook hand-in-hoof. “Have to say, you’re definitely looking great for all the time you spend out here!” 

Amethyst tittered gently. “It’s all thanks to you, you know? I wasn’t going to get it done, but you convinced me.”

Garrett stuffed his hands back into his pockets and maintained his bright tone. “Just doing my part, little lady. Can’t let the only pretty mare I talk to let herself go.”

Gallant rolled his eyes. Hard.

“Well, you’re looking fine yourself, Gallant!” Amethyst said as her smile resurged. “Did you do something with your feathers lately? They look… different.”

The griffon and his feathers fluffed up in pride. “Well, I—”

“He had a lot of fun preening with that oil we snagged from you guys last time,” Garrett interrupted with a mischievous grin. “And I mean a lot.”

Gallant’s brain and mouth sputtered. “I—dad?!” His eyes widened as he processed his own words.

“Aw, you finally got him to call you dad?” Amethyst giggled.

“Yup, he’s a big ‘ole softie.” Garrett replied with a good-natured smile. “Guess it was the oil that finally convinced him to love me.”

“Well, whatever the case, you look great, Gallant.” Amethyst’s piercing violet eyes sent a bolt of shock through the griffon as he met her gaze.

“T-thanks!” he squeaked, drawing out further embarrassment at Garrett and Amethyst’s reactions.

“Alright, that’s enough teasing,” Garrett grinned as his laughter settled. “Now then, shall we get down to business, Ms. Arkin?”

Defeated and deflated, Gallant numbly set to work loading the arriving caravan’s wagons with salt. He had come out of his adobe home with a plan, and it had completely fallen apart. His ‘dad’ always seemed to know what to say to the ponies when they came, and once more, Gallant had failed to properly do something on his own. Humiliation had come and gone, just as it always had in the ever-ruthless Badlands. And not even the weight of the bags of salt were enough to distract him.

But the cute mare following him might’ve been enough.
> Mystical Golf
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mystical Golf is advertised as an authentic golfing experience, and by the layout of the three courses, one would most certainly see the resemblance of the Scottish Highlands. The courses are immaculately designed: each hole experiences a multitude of elevations; a great deal of hilly inclines block views and shots alike; the population of select species of plants and a lack of trees around the green; and the massive freshwater lake is truly something to soak in. It truly is a golf club that anyone can see the beauty in.

Well, as long as you can look past their advertisements of ‘fantasy creatures.’ I’ve had enough encounters with Canadian Geese to last me a lifetime over.





I had been fairly impartial to the prospect of getting a part-time job while going to college, but the boredom of my relatively short four-day weeks had sunk in by the end of the second week in college.

Mystical Golf was the last place I expected to find a job. I saw myself as more of the run-of-the-mill college student working the fast food line, not someone down in the sandtraps and the cart depot. Funnily enough, management had put me on the part-time list for the upcoming Labor Day weekend, and I was slated to get some training done for cart maintenance for my first day on the job. That actually got me excited to go to work; I was already on the educative-track to go into work as a biomedical equipment technician, so getting to work on some machines was something I was all for.

However, they neglected to mention to me that I would be spending a great deal of time cleaning and dealing with batteries. I hated how sweaty my hands could get under gloves, and now I had a job where a good portion of my time was going to be spent with gloves.

At least I didn’t need gloves to check tire pressure.





Saturday was a more laborious affair than Friday; a course had some debris that needed clearing.

The Mystical Golf Club is actually separated into three separate courses: the Witch Golf Course, which is more swamp than turf; the Man-o-War Golf Course, which shares the right side of Mystical Golf’s lake; and the Wizard Golf Course, which shares the left half of the lake.

Thankfully enough, I got to work on the ‘nicer’ courses, which were the side-by-side turfs of the Man-o-War and the Wizard.

And unfortunately enough, all the geese in the Carolinas seemed to live there.

I later learned from a coworker that the reason all those birds were there was because of the golf club’s desire to bring even more nature to the course; supposedly, ‘nature sold well. That answer left me with even more questions. How much money could they make off nature? Why would they choose geese of all things to bring in? Did they realize how much excrement they left lying around on the courses? How did they manage to call geese ‘fantasy creatures,’ without jest? And more importantly, how did they attract all the geese?

The answer to the last question was delivered in a pastel package.

I was finishing up my process of loading some fallen branches and bags of leaves onto my golf cart when I noticed something off about the geese across the lake. For the most part, the geese spent their time in and on the edge of the water, but suddenly they were shuffling about to organize into an absurdly neat lines. It didn’t take too long to see what had them going about the strange ritual.

The pony had a bright yellow coat and violet mane that marred the otherwise bland terrain with its mixture. They seemed to be waving on the geese with one of their front hooves; how they managed to stay balanced so well, I wasn’t sure. The pony also seemed to call out to the geese, but the voice was lost on the wind. The geese all eventually crossed the road the pony was stood on, wandering past the parked golf cart and out of sight. I watched the pony trudge down to where the geese had been, cautiously stepping around the messes they’d left. A pair of protective goggles were pulled from their mussy mane over their eyes, and with a roar, the engine of the orange weed wacker awkwardly held with a foreleg and a mouth spun up.

I played with the idea of sitting there and watching them for a tad bit longer, but I had my own work to do.

I piled into my cart, looked once more at the pony, and turned the key with a curious hum.





For once, Sunday was true to its name; a light fog that had descended upon Myrtle Beach early that morning lifted off within a few hours of the waking day, and I was off to the golf club to work under a blue, and cloudless, summer sky.

Like the pony the day prior, I was armed with a cordless orange trimmer. There was a great deal of rain in the Carolinas, and with the coming hurricane, even more rain was being hurled our way; combined with the warmth of the summer sun, it was a perfect recipe for unruly plant growth.

Most of the sandtraps needed trimming quite badly, and I ended up driving myself all across both the Wizard and Man-o-War courses to catch the edges of the eighty-odd sandtraps scattered across the thirty-six holes. I was ‘working’ with someone the whole time—I continued to come across trimmed sandtraps throughout the morning—but by the time lunch rolled around, I was more than ready to drop on the ground from the heat.

While we had our own breakrooms, employees were allowed to use the kitchens on-site so long as they cleaned up after themselves. I ended up using the Wizard’s clubhouse, and not just because the building was a faux castle; it had the better kitchen of the two clubhouses, and was equipped with a superior microwave.

And although I hadn’t expected it, but the pony inside was a sort-of bonus.

She greeted me from her position near the center of the room as I stepped through the door. The pony had her hooves propped up on the marble-top island in the kitchen, a mug of cinnamon-colored coffee to one side of her hooves, and a closed blue flip phone on the other. I stumbled a bit in surprise, but we both shared a laugh at my expense when I recovered. I settled into one of the bar stools and set my meal down on the counter.

We exchanged names, and conversation kicked up swiftly. 

She preferred the name Yam, and said she didn’t have much of a story to tell, but that was a plain-flat lie. I didn’t see a need or desire to pry any further, as I felt I’d been told enough; I learned that she was from a family of farmers, and all of them—her included—proudly worked some good farmland up in North Carolina. They had plans to purchase some of the land for their own at some point, but Yam’s family were satisfied with the deal they’d struck with one of the major family-owned farms; magically-enhanced crops still saw some scrutiny, but the massive improvements to harvests definitely held some leverage. For her own part, she had plans in South Carolina to try her hoof at hemp farming later down the line, but for now she was content with studying at the local university for a BSBA in Management.

After a bit of talk about our pasts and goals, we inevitably sank into conversation about work. While I was new to the golf club, Yam had been working there for a few months. I was pleasantly surprised to find we were both fulfilling the same position, though she had a few additional roles that I had gotten a taste of the previous day. It turned out that she had been the one to enable the management to add ‘fantasy creatures’ to the golf club’s features list, and while I couldn’t get an exact answer out of how she managed to do it, I did get the feeling that it was a very unique characteristic.

We spoke for a little longer, but eventually we had to part. 

I felt a bag of longing on my shoulders for the rest of the day, and by the time I’d gotten home, I still was unable to remove that aching feeling. I’d never spoken to a pony in the decade they’d been on Earth, or even spent time around them, but it made me wonder why exactly I’d feared approaching them to talk.

They seemed just like us.





No matter how much she tried, though, Yam couldn’t get me to accept the pest known as geese.

It was Labor Day, and I was working alongside a pony to maintain a golf course while the sound of golf drivers flooded the air. It turned out that Yam actually had trouble wielding the trimmers we used for the courses; I was surprised she was able to hide her discomfort so well. The blower, however, seemed to work perfectly for her. With me on point and Yam holding the rear, we made quick work of the remaining trim on the lake, and were off to deal with the branching ponds of the Man-o-War course.

Hurricane Dorian was a menace to our work; the storm was getting close, as evident by the gray clouds above that sprinkled us with precise shots of rain every so often. I came close to calling off our work when a particularly large pack of clouds popped up on the horizon, but Yam seemed confident we would be able to finish up. It was through her careful planning that we managed to plow through all the flocks of geese and work before the rain came pouring down on our heads.

It never did, but that didn’t stop me from enjoying the time I spent working on a golf course of all things.





I’d expected to go back to school on Tuesday since the weekend and national holiday had passed, but I was clearly mistaken. The governor called for emergency services to be available as mandatory evacuations were sent out across several of the coastal counties. All of the local colleges and universities closed, and urged students to ensure safety was their number one priority; education definitely remained the second-most priority for the schools, however. While I wasn’t in an evacuation zone by a healthy margin, I still remained vigilant and kept an eye on the local TV whenever it was in view. 

I heard one of the ponies living in the apartment complex arguing with my downstairs neighbor. From the bits and pieces I’d heard, it seemed to be a controversial debate over whether or not Tom had put his trash in the pony’s bin.

Of course Tom did, because ponies had been good neighbors to us for the past decade, and people like Tom had been everything but accommodating to them.

But mostly because Tom is the only one who cooks a Digiorno every night. Nobody, or anypony for that matter, in the neighborhood eats that much pizza.





I had been a bit apprehensive to go into work on Wednesday.

I was really glad I did.

Dorian had been knocking on the doors to the Carolinas for the past few days, but that day it outright broke it down. Rain has been scattering all around my apartment and the golf club, leaving behind pools of standing water and the echoing gurgle of the storm drains. That didn’t stop management from calling in those available for maintenance. Unfortunately, I didn’t get to work on the golf carts; I was off to the course.

I was once again on the journey to visit as many sandtraps as possible, but it was for a task I’d never even considered; the sand inside them needed to be maintained, too. There was a lot of constant heaving and drawing with my rake and broom, but I just couldn’t get the right consistency across the board for the sand. It wasn’t until Yam came up with her own rake and broom that life finally found a way.

Yam had repeatedly shown that she was capable of making things look easy, and her work with the sandtraps was the purest sample of her efficiency.
> YWN: Decontaminate Celestia upon her arrival to the Earth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia had been to several nations during her lifetime appointment as a ruling princess of Equestria. In that time, she had met many species, brokering deals of peace between her ponies and their people. It was a constant of her life that had its own variables: the customs of other species were always different. That in itself was a facet of nationhood that many of her little ponies struggled to confront. But rather than bristling at each encounter, Celestia had come to enjoy these differences; it was the spice to her travels, with each ceremony a refreshing insight into a distant people.

It was fitting, then, that humanity humored her the most; few could claim to greet a princess by leaving her naked and soaking wet.





Humans had certainly mastered the art of metallurgy and glass. The industrial steel and reinforced glass of the dome-shaped building was an impressive calling card; many first-time visitors to Earth could recall the ‘hub’ building in intimate detail. The steel frame of the dome was filled in with a complex glass that filtered sunlight in a harmless way: it prevented the sun from blinding those inside the building, while also keeping the place well and naturally-lit. 

Celestia took a moment to peer out at the now bare trees; the alien giants had shed their leaves for winter. 

Beside her, the thrumming of magic was palpable and crystal clear. The gateway was a marvelous human invention that allowed the portal to maintain itself without user interference, so long as Celestia's spell remained unsevered. It was a sturdy steel alignment shaped in a horseshoe-bend around the blue vortex. Rivets lining the forged metal plates held the irregular shape together, and tough bolts secured the arch to the floor beneath.

Celestia turned to the double doors ahead of the gateway. Like the rest of the building, the doors were of a glass and steel construction, but imbued with an intricate set of quiet machinery that allowed them to glide open on their own. As the alicorn approached with a practiced gait, they did just that. Celestia stepped through the doorway as it closed behind her. The room sealed once more with a short hiss of air.

The two figures in the room looked up at the sound of the room repressurizing. Thick, layered faceshields hid their faces from sight, and carapaces of orange fabric protected their gangly forms. The ‘environmental protection suits’ were another peculiar condition of Equestrian visits to Earth. Celestia, to her chagrin, could not understand the worries that the suit-wearers regularly allayed her with; she could do little to harm them. Radiation was a concept she understood well—especially as one who raised the sun for her planet—and magic was an ocean that stood separate from the world of gamma rays. Worse, she was forced to contend with the feeling of shame each time she stepped into this room.

The figure on the right bowed at crisp angle. “Good morning, your majesty.” The woman’s voice, as projected through the suit’s speaker, crackled with static.

Celestia gave a polite nod. “It’s delightful to see you again, Dr. Cooper.” She turned to the motionless figure on the left. “And it is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Bradford.”

The figure jumped slightly. “She knows my name,” came a hiss. Cooper turned to face the man, and at a snail’s pace, tapped the side of her suit’s helmet. After a brief, stunned moment, Bradford slammed his rubbery mitten’s palm to the side of his own helmet.

Celestia smiled at the nervous response; she knew the man had neglected to speak into his short-range radio, and for that he would pay a grievous price. “Unless the nameplate has fooled me, and you are not Dr. Bradford.”

‘Bradford’ turned away from Cooper, a new stiffness to his form. He made a few wild gestures, and lowered his arms. Celestia held her amusement withdrawn as the man’s mitten slunk back to where his ear would be. There was a click. 

“I am,” came the delayed reply, as led by a forlorn sigh.

“Sorry about that, princess,” Cooper crackled. “Would you like to begin with the procedure?”

Celestia decided that Bradford had suffered enough for now. “I would very much like that, Catherine.” 

Cooper was much less pliant than her colleague: a slight, inconceivable pause preluded her walk to the panel of flashing lights on the side of the glass hallway. Bradford chuckled, but said nothing more.

“Beginning decontamination procedure,” Cooper called. 

Celestia stood still while the woman fiddled with the control panel. Soon enough, a telltale hiss started to worm its way through the floor beneath her. A moment later, several metal rods on either side of her began to rise from the floor. Immeasurably small holes dotted the pipes, and traces of steam rose from them. The pipes paused briefly in their ascent, stopping level below Celestia's withers. At the panel, a few inputs from Cooper allowed them to continue on their journey. They came to their apex just above Celestia’s horn. Another pair of pipes revealed themselves to extend from the side of the pipes’ tops, driving over her to meet one another. The hiss of steam had reached a crescendo, and the sound of gushing water filled the room.

Celestia readied herself by closing her eyes. 

Steam and hot water flushed against her. Celestia had to resist the urge to curl into the soothing feeling, as her horn was already close enough to hit the overhead pipes. The floor began to vibrate, and she felt the ground beneath the pipes shift as the platforms moved to lase along the rest of her figure. Her mane and tail were drenched by the beaming water-onslaught in a matter of moments: her mane draped down beside her, completely obscuring one side of her head, and came to rest grazing the floor; her tail turned limp as well, and it trailed behind her at quite some length.

The body-hugging heat of the enveloping spray came to an end far too quickly for Celestia's liking. 

There were no more games to play as the rest of the procedure continued. She reigned in her teasing. Amid the steam and clicks of metered equipment, Celestia was the perfect picture of royalty. And as was procedure, that too came to a swift end.

The princess waited patiently in front of the door leading out of the chamber. Dr. Cooper turned away from the intercom panel, and clicked her speaker on one last time.  

“Your guards are waiting for you, princess.”

The heavy magnetic locks on the entrance racked loudly to the side, and the doors cranked open.

Princess Celestia thanked the bowing doctors, stepped out into the wintry dawn, and smiled ahead for her latest day on Earth.
> Red Growth
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roseluck was growing tomatoes.

Lily had suggested that Rose expand her garden. “Past flowers.” Roseluck had thought it an odd remark at first, but things became clear: the roses needed some friends! There simply wasn’t enough natural red in their world.

Tomatoes were red, and red came easy to Roseluck: her neighbor had been more than willing to part with their crop in exchange for a few of Rose’s own; her spare planter-building supplies made for a cheap conversion to stakes; and a tender touch assured the roses that they would be fine making room for new friends. Space was a precious commodity in the little hollow they called home, and one they’d widely explored under Roseluck’s watch. There was little room for other colors in the mass of green growth and red roses.

As the clouds gave way to morning, the flowers and vines stretched upward. The tomatoes threatened to keel over, and the roses bared their thorns. Roseluck tutted softly and trotted over to tend to the sagging vine. The tomatoes were proving to be a stubborn sort, but she could mend those traits with time; the greenhorns still had long to ripen red. They would learn that there was no hierarchy in their new home, and that no-one was to be treated the same. Every day was a cautionary tale, but mistakes were best made before they joined the roses in their parade of color.

Roseluck set her watering can down. Her left ear flicked, and she paused to listen. The town’s clock chimed for noon. The bell wavered off into the new afternoon breeze, and Roseluck left her garden to tend to her stock.

When she returned, she sat down before the patch of roses and tomatoes. They stretched lazily about in the sunshine, tempting Roseluck to join them. She smiled, shook her head, and stalked off for her shears; while the gophers had moved on, the weeds were ever eternal. She wouldn’t let them strangle her friends, even if the flowers and vines wanted to undo one another. They’d foster their mistakes in Roseluck’s garden: safe, yet ever-growing.
> NN21: Applejack and Applebloom Inquisition
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The target was far too inviting.

It was absurdly well-lit: nearly a dozen warding-lamps hung from posts over a small tabled area before the building. And it was too clean: the wood was immaculate, and painted in vibrant hues. Flowers of all kinds wrapped themselves up and down trusses and patches about the building, and a larger communal garden bloomed. From the further hints scattered about, the establishment was often-traveled: it was a place ponies had been flooding in droves for many moons.

‘The Surly Mare’s Inn’ was too kind for its namesake.

But Applejack was not going to let underestimation fail her duties as a proctor.

“Applebloom.”

The burdened yellow filly sidled up beside her, shucking her packs with a huff.  Her smile gleamed in the moonlight. “Yeah, sis?”

“I’m taking point tonight. This place is throwing me off.”

Applejack held close to her dark-black stetson, the vicious gusts of the night whipping her cloths to-and-fro. Her cloak billowed out around her, shading the ground from the full moon at her back. She grit her teeth, and spat into the dirt of the trodden trail as she approached the beacon among the plains. Her eyes stuck to the nearby trees, and to the edges of the woodland west, but the only movement she drew upon was the billowing smoke of a chimney overhead.

Applejack pat down the edges of the door, before cautiously reaching for the handle with a hoof.

It turned easily.

She pushed into the lit room.

Her ears rang.

She leapt all the way in, and spun about.

Her withers fell slack.

“A tavern with a bell?” Applebloom hummed, stepping in after her sister. “That’s, um…” She trailed off, and a smile crept up. “Funny.”

Applejack grumbled, opting to secure the room. “Yeah, ‘funny.’”

The two sisters paused.

“You hear that, Bloom?”

Applebloom pursed her lips, and held close behind Applejack. They scanned the empty first-floor. “Yeah.” 

The stoked stone-fireplace crackled.

Heavy thuds emanated from elsewhere.

Applejack readied a hoof under her cloak.

And then a white behemoth emerged from a backroom doorway.

The sisters gawked.

“WELCOME TO THE SURLY MARE!”

“Sweet Celestia…”

“You’re huge!” Applebloom burst.

“YEAH!” the white ‘pegasus’ reared from across the counter. The mares almost blew back at the stallion’s guttural bellow. 

“…real tiny wings, though.”

Having recovered, Applejack moved her hoof from her cloak. She thwacked her sister’s hat lightly. “What she meant to say, is that we’re with the Guild.” She cast wary eyes about the place. “You sent a missive out our way, that right?”

The pegasus blinked. Slowly. “UHHH. NO?” he tried.

While Applebloom rubbed at her ears, Applejack snorted. “No?” Her voice filled with irritation. “What do you mean, no? You saying you ain’t the proprietor?”

“I am.” A relatively minute butter-yellow mare stepped out from behind the bulky stallion. Applejack relaxed, and the mare smiled, albeit uneasily. “I’m glad you got here safely. And so soon.”  She paused, then looked up to the stallion. “Bulk, could you get them some drinks?”

“Yeah,” he whispered back. The stallion trudged off to the side.

Applebloom beamed. “Drinks?”

Applejack’s eyes flicked to her sister, but found her eyes hardening on the yellow mare approaching the counter. “Drinks?”

“Oh, of course! You’ve come all this way and—”

“And we’ve got little time to play traveler,” she cut in. Reaching into her cloak, she drew a ribbon-bound scroll, and placed it on the counter. “We’re here to assist you. You are Miss Shy, ain’tcha?”

She nodded. “You can call me Fluttershy.”

Applejack acquiesced. “Fluttershy. So like I was saying, we need you to give us the rundown on this ‘urgent critter problem,’ as you wrote.” She glanced around again. “The Crown’s charter gives the Apple Guild the authority to deal with monsters, so I’m hoping that ‘critter’ doesn’t refer to plague rats. That ain’t our business.”

“Oh, no, of course not! No, the plague rats and I made a deal a long, long time ago!”

The cloaked mare stared.

“It’s… well, I don’t know.” Fluttershy shuddered. “If they’re not critters, they’re sneaky, and awful, whoever they are.”

Bulk returned, balancing two tiny cups on his two tiny wings. He bent down, and down, and miraculously slid them from his back to the sisters across from him. 

Applejack gave another eyeful to Applebloom. “You speak with Mister… Bulk there, Bloom.” 

“I know, I know,” the filly waved. She sipped at the cup. “Hey, this is pretty good!”

The stallion took a breath.

“Inside voice, please,” Fluttershy chirped automatically.

Bulk nodded, but maintained his wide, manic grin. “Tea,” he whispered.

Applejack seated herself at the counter, and kept all her attention on the mare before her. “Now, ‘they’? Have you seen ‘em? And what’s this about them being awful? I reckon they haven’t been wrecking your place here, seeing how pristine it is.”

“It’s um…” Fluttershy’s eyes shifted between Bulk and Applebloom. She turned back. “It’s probably best I show you.”

Applejack gave her tea a sip. “O’course. Lead the way.”
> Forest Rain: So the kirin wants to be an adventurer, eh?
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Come on, you’re already in here!”

“No. Being here for water is far enough.”

The room’s equine ears prickled at the shrill giggle that followed. 

“Bat!” The slurring accent of the barkeep boomed, buzzing a few ponies to consciousness. He trot along the edge of the counter toward the two seated mares. “Drink?” 

“I’m fine, thank you,” the more sweetly-spoken earth pony replied. 

The bat pony cackled. “Drinks!” she emphasized. With a hoof, she slid a few golden coins forward. She tapped twice. “Two.”

“I—” The mare saw the stallion’s grin, and switched gears. “Okay. Drink. One.”

“Drinks,” the stallion corrected. He dropped a clay cup in front of her, and stepped away. 

The pony turned to the battier of the two, expression neutral.

“Why are you such a prude whenever it ain’t the two of us?” The bat snickered. “You don’t have a reputation to uphold out here.”

The mare rolled her eyes. “I have standards.”

“That why you don’t want these fine, fine drinks?”

“No, it’s why I put up with you.”

Hotfang clucked her tongue, and settled back into her chair. “Okay. Good answer.”

“But it’s mostly because we’re tied together.”

“Aw… wait. You didn’t…” She glared at her lightly smiling companion. “Yeah, real funny, Heart.”

“You bats always know what we’re thinking, hm?”

She shivered. “H-hey, I only like it when the civvies call me bat.”

Heart cocked her head at Hotfang, but said nothing.

After a moment, Hotfang’s cheeks flushed, and she turned to her empty cup. “…C’mon, you know I don’t like that, either.”

“You slipped. Again.”

“Slipped? Again?” She glared into the remaining drops of her previous drink, then groaned. “Oh.”

Heart fussed with Hotfang’s mane with a hoof; the mare’s blush deepened. “You’re lucky that we’re the only foreigners in here.” 

Hotfang’s wings flickered, and her voice rapidly flattened. “Hold that. Got an odd one.”

Heart leaned over the counter. “Where?” She spoke smoothly, but Hotfang knew about the anxiety beyond the shroud.

“Right. Far end.”

Heart sat up and looked to the left, just in time for the barkeep’s return. She slid her cup over, and dipped her head in a bow. The silent stallion tilted out a pour for her and Hotfang, and left with the jug. Heart took a sip of her water, and set it aside from her new drink. “Threat?”

“Cloaked.” Hotfang brought her refilled cup in, but didn’t drink. “They’re staring.”

After an unsigned countdown, the two mares drowned their drinks simultaneously. The citrus-punching flavor of the drink washed down Heart’s throat, and she gave a vigorous shake. “Oh,” she murmured. “Strange tea.”

“Yeah, it’s good orange juice. Got some of it to go while on my supply run.” Hotfang paused, and dialed her voice down again. “Still staring.” 

“Orange juice?” Heart leaned back in her seat, and looked about the right side of the room. “Interesting stock for a tea café.”

“Think it’s from that orchard we saw on the way in.”

Heart surveyed the decorated walls before leaning back to the counter. “Well, that makes sense.”

Hotfang sipped at her orange juice. She turned to train her eyes past Heart. “What do you think?”

“They’re definitely overdressed.”

“And we aren’t?”

“We’re not hiding anything. They are.”

“Well… if we’re not hiding.” Hotfang sat up, and looked directly to the right. “Stare any longer, and a mare’ll get thoughts.”

“…Sorry,” a masculine voice weakly replied. “I, er…”

“C’mon, bring you and that drink over. I’ve got straying eyes, too.”

Heart looked over. “Take it easy, Hotfang.” She didn’t receive a reply.

The great brown cloak draped over the figure was clearly not of the highest craftsmareship. It got the job done in shading the wearer beneath, but it was over-sized, and split in places. At the bottom of the cloak, frayed and weathered ends of the fabric dragged across the packed-clay floor, coating it with an ever so-slight dusting of orange and red. Nonetheless, the eyes in the dark recess of the hood were the only remarkable landmarks to the naked eye.

A normal pony’s eye, that is.

“Hang on...” Hotfang hunched over; Heart recognized the form of the bat’s trademark squint. “Take that hood off, greenie.”

With an admirable lack of hesitation for a cornered pony, he lifted his hood, airing his green muzzle and red horn for them to see.

Heart gasped. “A kirin!” She held a hoof to her chest. “Amazing! I haven’t seen one of you in-pony before. I’ve wanted to meet one of you.”

The kirin nearly jumped at her words; he looked to the front door. “You… have?”

Hotfang rolled her eyes. “She says that about every non-tribe pony she sees. Trust me.” She pat the seat. “Take a seat, feller.” 

“Okay…”

He sat.

The mares stared.

He stared back.

“Wow,” Hotfang started. “Are all you guys this awkward?”

The stallion opened his mouth, but Heart cut in with an informative, chipper voice. “Maybe their magically-induced silence had a greater biological effect than what was reported.”

“No! It’s—” The mares stared at his outburst. His ears wilted. “Not… like that. Sorry.”

Hotfang laughed. “Don’t worry, we’re not so good with ponies, either. Or so I’ve heard. Maybe it’s just Heart…” She simmered down. “’Magical silence’, huh?”

“…Yes.” The stallion bent his head down, and lapped at his cup.

The bat allowed him to finish his drink before she continued. “Well anyways… I’m pretty sure you were listening, but the name’s Hotfang.” 

Heart received a look. 

“What? You’re the one who slipped up.”

“Oops,” Hotfang playfully peeped.

Heart shook her head. but leveled a smile on the kirin. “And I’m Gildheart.”

“…My given name is Forest Rain.” He paused, his eyes trailing down… again. “I’m sorry but, is there a reason for the… metal, you wear? Are you not uncomfortable?”

“It’s armor,” Hotfang clarified. “We’re… adventurers, by trade, so it’s better to have it than to not. But you,” she booped him, “are not.”

Forest’s muzzle scrunched. “By… trade, no…” He lightly pushed her hoof away. “But, I am adventuring.” A small smile touched his lips.

“Fair enough,” Hotfang shrugged. “But you sure as hay look lost.”

His smile drooped ever so slightly. “That is part of any… great adventure, I’m sure.”

“Eh, depends on the stakes. And I’m getting the feeling that they’re not so high for you.”

He looked away. “Yes… I suppose.” He tapped his hooves on the counter. “I haven’t… adventured far, really.”

“Far enough to get lost?”

Forest fell further into sheepishness. “Well, far enough for that.” He looked up. “How far is Appleoosa from here?”

Hotfang laughed. “You pulling my tail?”

“No? And I would never.” He licked his lips. “It was my hope to see the plains. I have heard much of their vast fruit-bearing orchards.”

Heart blinked. “You’re… you’re nowhere near Appleoosa. You’re very, very far past the end of the line. Far west of Appleoosa.”

“Oh.”

“’Oh?’” Hotfang’s tone turned bemused. “There’s no way…” She stared. “You… you did.”

Forest clicked his cloven hooves together on the counter. “I eventually had to get off…”

“Sweet Celestia,” Heart whispered. “How did you not know?”

“Your books did not prepare me for the Equestrian railroad. It is… strange and… complicated.”

“What?” The irate and confused bat teetered in her seat. “But it’s so simple! Even a bunch of foals could go it alone! How did you manage to get this far? You’re treading the borders to the Undiscovered West!” Hotfang slipped to her drink. “By Luna’s stars… we need to get you back home.” 

He winced. “But… you are… adventurers,” Forest began. “I only wish to see Equestria as you do. I can feel that it is what I truly wish to see. You are kind mares, please…” He swallowed thickly. “Will you allow me to join you?”

“What?” Hotfang shook her incredulous words out. “We can’t just—”

“Please, if only until you return to greater ponykind.” He bowed his head. 

“We travel alone,” Hotfang stated flatly. She glanced over at Heart. “You heard me, right? We need to… get somepony to take him back.”

The earth pony sat with pursed lips. 

Hotfang frowned. “Heart…”

Forest lifted his head. “I feel your hesitation...” He brightened. “But I can aid you! I have foraged long for my supplies. Foodstuffs. Plantstuffs. R-rockstuffs! Much of Equestria’s natural bounty is of use in my hooves. I have lived and trained in such a way. ”

“It doesn’t matter, this is no place for a pony like you. You’re not trained for… this land. You’re not an adventurer!” Hotfang took a slow breath. “Heart, come on, sweetbite, tell me what you’re thinking.”

“…You’re willing to assist us, Forest Rain?”

“Yes, to my best abilities.”

“Why?” Heart set her hoof on the nape of Hotfang’s neck. The bat pony bristled at the touch, but didn’t move. “We’re two strangers.”

“I see two friends.”

Hotfang blinked. “Yeah, so?”

“You do not understand… and that is warranted, and just.” He took a deep breath. “I left my village to seek out the wonders of the greater world. Equestria, as I have read from your finest books, is said to be the land of friendship and magic. These are your wonders. Wonders which I have sought to capture and record.” A pained look crossed Forest’s face. “My village… many have chosen to stay. They fear the exploration of the unknown wonders. The exploration of the proverbial wilderness beyond our ancestral home. I wish to change that. To show my kin that Equestria and its ways is a a world we can thrive in. But first, I must experience what I wish to provide.” He bowed his head. “Friendship is wonderful, but I wish to know it better.” Forest lifted his whole self up in his seat. “You ponies are adventurers. You thrive on this exploration of the unknown. Together. I have seen so little of friendship in the time I have spent crossing your land. Your wonders… many of you appear to have taken for granted. A… an adventuring party is what I feel I need to experience to bring friendship and magic to the light.”

“I offer you my service, for I wish to see your world as you do.”

The sounds of the café slowly filtered back into being.

“Look… don’t take this the wrong way, but…” Hotfang wriggled away from Heart’s hoof. “That’s making an awful lot of assumptions about us, Forest.” She gave him a strained look. “We’re not your typical… adventurers, and I really don’t think you’ll find what you’re looking for if you stay with us.”

Forest nodded. “I… understand.” He looked to Heart. “…You still hesitate?”

Heart frowned. “I wish I could give you an easy answer, Forest Rain. But… Hotfang’s right. We’re probably not what you need. We’re just two mares on a mission.”

He cracked a smile. “I am a stallion on a mission.”

“Yes, yes you are.” Hotfang smirked. “You’ve certainly got attitude.”

There was a small, amiable pause.

“You know what? I think we could make this work.”

“Really?” Hotfang looked to her left. “But we’re active. On the trail. That was mainly why I didn’t want a plus one.” She looked back at Forest Rain. “It’s not against you, it really just isn’t… how we operate.”

“We just kicked off this season, so we won’t be back for a check-in for a while,” Heart muttered. “We can afford to slack on protocol for a while. But my bigger thought… is just how much we really, feasibly can offer you, Forest Rain. We can keep you safe out here, and get you close to… things most ponies don’t know, but… we’re really not all that special.”

“You ponies work closely together, but I can see that you are good friends, even if you are not explicit about such a notion.”

“Being friends is one thing, but you’re asking for us to set an example for your whole home? A whole village? We’re… adventurers, first and foremost.” 

“Yeah, we’re adventurers.” Hotfang chuckled darkly. “Let me be the first to say we’re not exactly the finest friends you could ask for.”

“Regardless of your work, you are good friends, you don’t deny it. And still, I may not know much about friendship, but I know that good friends are hard to come by.” He smiled. “I don’t wish to intervene. I only wish to aid you, and learn more about you on a more intimate level.”

Hotfang snorted. “Phrasing.”

Forest tilted his head. “What?”

“Nothin’.”

“So…” Heart snuck her hoof back onto Hotfang’s neck. “What are you thinking, now?”

Hotfang groaned. “I’m thinking you’re getting too big for your harness with all the touching.”

“Quit stringing the stallion along, Hotfang.”

“Okay, okay.” The bat pony nibbled on her lower lip, sporting her fangs for Forest to stare at. “Well… I guess if he’s been able to avoid trouble for this long, then when push comes to shove, he’ll keep his head down and out of our way.”

“Then I think that’s settled.” Heart aimed her smile at Forest. “So, you really want to stick with us?”

“Nothing would humble more than to be able to see Equestria from a position such as your own.”

“Okay, Forest Rain.” She reeled her hoof back in, and wrapped it around her cup. “I don’t regret many things, but I would hate to regret this, because you’re so sweet.” She tilted her cup to him with a playful smile. “You better behave yourself, because if not, know that we’re trained, red-ribbon mares, alright?”

“…I don’t understand.”

“We’ll buck you,” Hotfang replied. She picked up her own cup. “Like, to hurt you. For real.”

“Ah… Then these are agreeable terms.” He lifted his cup with a wisp of magic. “To… friendship, in lieu of pain.”

“To pain!”

Heart rolled her eyes. “To friendship.”
> Star Ruby
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

What happens next? Well, I’ll tell you what came first.

Even when she was a filly, she was the Crystal Empire’s little sweetheart.

She nailed her first big gig singing on the grand stage at the Equestria Games. That was most ponies’ first introduction to her. Back home, she’d had a long-standing career that wrapped around every street corner. Diamond of the Empire, on account of her original name, Diamond Trill. At that point in time, all she was and had to be was a young, talented filly with a beautiful voice, and a whole lot of heart. Really, she still is, even if her style’s fostered a little more amid all her tours of Equestria.

Compare that to Equestria’s own Pony of Pop, and you can see quite a few parallels. Everypony knows the struggles Miss Sapphire faced in bringing her style to the center-stage. We’ve seen plenty of that reflected in the unique tonal qualities that a crystal pony has. Most ponies found it more irritating than enjoyable, but given trust and time, fans have emerged to appreciate their work. They both started out with only close-knit communities to support them, and now they’ve established that they’re out to take Equestria by storm. And if you ask me, in the Windigo-cold Equestria of today, ponies could do with some more soul on the radio.

So, do I think Star Ruby is on the decline, even after her announcement? No, she’s more boldhearted than ever before. You’re going to like the next songs she has to sing. I can guarantee it.

Up next on our show...





A set of eye-catching reds and blues popped out against the drab brown of the theater’s outside walls. 

‘Sapphire Stars on Ruby Shores! Tickets on sale now!’

The poster had faded in the time it’d been posted up; it was almost a year to the day, in fact.

Sapphire Shores puffed one last time on the holder clenched between her lips. The sweet-smelling smoke drafted up and into the dark Manehattan sky. “Take five, ponies. I’ve just got one little thing I need to see to.”

The eager replies from the yes-mares and bodyguards behind her barely registered as she stepped into the theater.

As she wound through the corridors, the work of the staff was evident: the walls and floors had been thoroughly scrubbed and dusted of the night’s previous excitement. The stains of concessions and grimy hoofprints had been replaced with a clean that the theater only saw on nights like these. Sapphire hoofed the whole cleaning bill herself, especially in Manehattan. Something about ponies in the world today, just...

She hummed high, cutting her own thoughts off. Her white-gold and gemstone-set dress bobbed as she puffed up. Twenty performances of their show had come and gone in the last two years, and she still found herself slipping from time to time.

In truth, it was probably for the best that Star Ruby...

Brightly and suddenly, “Hey!” Sapphire chirped. Her voice echoed through the theater, and the pleasant reverb sent ripples right down her back.

“Sensational,” she whispered. She paused, then laughed for herself.

Holding her head high, the twinkling mare slipped into the lonely depths of the vacated performance hall, and her giggle cracked its way through her core.





The Pony of Pop had a very special protégé indeed.

Star Ruby was flamboyantly red for a crystal pony. Her warm colors diverged quite strongly from the cooler of her counterparts, and that made her stand out all the more to Equestrians. The crimson of her coat and the doubly dark red gradient occupying her mane and tail positively glimmered under the right conditions. On stage, Sapphire made sure to direct the spotlight operators to her as often as she could. Oh, of course she wanted to standout, but what better way to stand out then to have a partner who could match your shine?

Still, Ruby’s crystal coloration was about as natural as the name she’d adopted. That was why it fell on Sapphire to make sure the young mare was bright at all times.

Practically prancing on her hooftips, Sapphire glided into the back VIP room. Normally, there would have been a good pair of stallions to watch the door, but out of preference, only Sapphire had bodyguards. Ruby may have been a star, but she didn’t have the complement that Sapphire liked to keep around. It spoke more about her increasingly soloist attitude than anything else.

Again, Sapphire had to kick her negative and negligent thoughts out of the way.

“Ruby!” she sing-songed. She was ready to continue that trend, but her voice mellowed out in an instant. “What’s cooking, pretty filly?”

“Hi, Sapphire.”

‘Oh, that’s not going to do it at all, Ruby!’ was what she wanted to say, but those words died on her lips. Sighing, Sapphire settled into a chair close to Ruby. A bit of a twirl and tuck of her dress had her right in place.

The bright red crystal pony shimmered before her. The lamp on the vanity in front of them was the room’s only source of light. Its white glow bounced brilliantly off of Ruby’s coat. On either side of her rump, the trademark star-shaped seams of white sprouted out in an effervescent spray. When Sapphire had first met Ruby, it had been barely noticeable. But with her new—and ever-deepening—red pigments, Star Ruby’s faux cutie mark shone through.

Draped over the single hangar on the coat rack adjacent to her, Ruby’s glorious flowing dress idled in a slow wave; the air coming through the room’s vents was cool and chill. The dress had been a gift to Ruby from Coloratura, and perhaps the catalyst as to why Ruby had not left the building quite yet.

It was clear the mare was thinking. And Coloratura’s recent revelations were certainly to blame. Blame was too strong a word, really. But Sapphire wasn’t as much of a thinker as Ruby was.

This was one of the few times in her life where Sapphire remembered the limits sensationalist philosophy could have. It seemed so impossible, and yet, it was.

So, Sapphire let Ruby think. 





“I don’t like stardom, Sapphire.” 

Ruby’s voice was soft and slow, but the jump from silence was still jarring.

“Coloratura was telling me all about what it did to her and her music. I think more than ever before, this is what I need to do.”

“You love to work with ponies, Ruby.”

“And I love to work with you. These shows have been the best thing in my whole life.”

“And I’m very glad to hear that.” Sapphire tried to put energy in her voice, but she just couldn’t do it without feeling as if she was talking over Ruby. Something she had tried very hard to work on in the last year of their shows.

“But they’re still... ponies need more than this. You’re genuine. I know how much love you put into your craft. But ponies today are hurting, and the music we do together... I think it hurts some ponies, leaves them feeling like there’s no music that speaks to them.”

“Rara’s music doesn’t do well on the radio, sweetheart.” Sapphire touched at a bob of her own mane pooling down.

“That’s my point, Sapphire.” Ruby sat up. Her eyes were aimed fiercely into the mirror, but the slack in her withers said it all. “I think... you’re made for this. I’ve learned a lot from you. Enjoyed so much of our time together. But at the end of the day, there’s more enjoyment that ponies need than Pop. They don’t need another Pony of Pop. They need somepony who can pull them out. Not just to make them smile, but to make them remember their heart. Songs to make a pony think.”

“...I’m sorry you’re not happy, Diamond.”

The mare shuddered. The hoof she’d pressed to the vanity slid away as she turned a sullen muzzle to Sapphire. “You don’t have to be sorry for me. I just have a lot I need to work on. And I can’t convince myself that staying here is what I need.”

Sapphire breathed. “All I wanted was for you to be sensational. And you are.”

“And I’m sorry that I don’t want to do Pop anymore.” Ruby squeezed her eyes shut. “It just feels like I’m going through the motions.”

Deep down, Sapphire wished she could understand. But she didn’t want to break Ruby’s heart any further.

“I’m not saying that your work isn’t important. After all the shows we’ve been to, I can tell there are a lot of ponies who depend on your success. Just like home in the Crystal Empire. But there are some, maybe even just as many ponies, who don’t feel that. And I want to make them feel.”

Ruby wriggled in her seat.

And in that moment, Sapphire realized she could understand.

“It just feels like you should be fighting me more on this.”

Totally taken aback, Sapphire jumped back in with a squeak. “Why would I ever do a thing like that? I want you to be your best!”

“Don’t you think I’m betraying you like Coloratura did?”

“No! She might not be the Countess, but she’s still very much the pony she wants to be.”

Ruby blinked. “You know that song? I thought you didn’t like that kind of music.”

“Of course I do, filly!” Sapphire bobbed her head along while waving a hoof. “It’s not so sensational, but it’s still got that ‘oomph’.”

“Oomph?”

“You know, moxie! Your own way of shining on ponies!” It had been a long time since Sapphire’s heart had swelled at Ruby like this—very near to the time she’d taken her on in tutelage—but the realization and understanding of the needs plaguing Ruby finally surged up. “Oh, filly, you need to do this.”

The young mare’s ears perked up. She gently tipped her muzzle down. “Really?”

“Really. At first, I was thinking I had scared you too much with all the sensationalism! But I can see now that you’ve been trying to work on your own kind of magic!”

“It’s not so sensational as you think it is...”

“But you can make it work.” Sapphire came down, reigning in the fires just enough to speak ‘normally’ again. “I was being worried for my own sake. You were right. And maybe it will be hard to bring a certain kind of sensationalism to a certain kind of pony, but that’s a trip I know you can take.”

“So... you’re letting me go?”

“Filly, you could’ve left at any time. But now... now I’m not so worried.” Sapphire smiled.

Instead of the happiness she expected, Ruby’s muzzle seemed to sour. It wasn’t particularly malign, but it was still a face. “I don’t want to leave you. I just feel compelled to.”

“My door will always be open for you, filly.” Sapphire winked. “Anytime you need a little extra sensationalism, you can come back to me.”

“...Thank you.”

“No, thank you for all the wonderful shows. I can’t wait to see what you do next.”

Star Ruby smiled. There was a great deal of pain behind it—Sapphire could see that, now—but it was still a start.

It wouldn’t happen overnight, but eventually, this filly from the Frozen North could warm the other cold hearts in Equestria.