War changed, and so did she.

Now, in the forgotten eastern reaches, where the empty forests fall to meet the glassy sea, the both of them learn to live with it.

With great and particular thanks to my pre-readers this go 'round, for getting through the longest story I've posted to date: Admiral Biscuit, Sunicathorsis, and my darling Dark River.

Time passes quickly in a beautiful world, and Twilight Sparkle knows it all too well: the sun is warm, the skies are bright, and Ponyville a richness of wonder and opportunity. The friends, the roads, the food and drink are all in their place, little dramas come and go, and her reports to Celestia proceed apace.

It’s imperfect perfection, and all things proceed exactly as usual until exactly the moment they don’t anymore.

With special thanks to my pre-readers: Luna Farrowe, Thornquill, and Sunicathorsis.

Featured, to my surprise.

The envelope reads:

||For Your Eyes Only||
||Clearance Sleipnir/0A||
||Privileged Documentation Within||
||RE: Kathiawari Mare||

The package is unfamiliar, but the name matches that of an old airship, lost in a military disaster some eight centuries ago. The pen-knife slides across the tight binding, and a sheaf of documents spills forth . . .

The body wakes. The body hungers. The body endures.

And so does She.

With great thanks to Suni herself for a quick and thoughtful spur-of-the-moment pre-read.

It’s a rare thing in life to have the certainty of knowing we’ve made the right decision. He was Fluttershy’s.

A horror story.

With very special thanks to the usual suspects: Admiral Biscuit, Luna Farrowe, Thornquill, Itssopanda, and Suni, as herself. Thank you all for your input and occasional efforts to convince me to reconsider the entire thing.

An anthology, condensed from that particular brand of madness one draws from a self-induced decade-long coma: subconscious tangents and half-formed thoughts that wouldn't fit anywhere else, one notable fever-dream, and a couple of short-form poems.

Unedited, in the way of such things.

Life is viewed through many windows – some thick, some thin; some clear, some whorled. Some we cut from the very walls around them; others we build to fill the holes those walls have worn.

But any eye with the will to see seeks a window for its mate; for what waking mind could look upon the vast infinitude of worlds beyond them and not be moved to rove still further afield?

A/N: Inspired by a recent spate of travel.

Preread through the effort and kind attention of Admiral Biscuit, Luna Farrowe, Neighrator Pony, Thornquill, and Illya Leonov.

Time is money is perception is image is reality, an infinite train of days stretching away infinitely beyond the limits of Equine ken.

One more day on the train.

A counterpoint and tribute to my friend of many years, Admiral Biscuit.

With great thanks to Luna Farrowe for pre-reading, and, ultimately, another kind of reading altogether.

A time without war, a time without fear—until it isn’t.

A story for our time.

Preread through the effort and kind attention of Admiral Biscuit, Luna Farrowe, Neighrator Pony, Thornquill, and the ever-loving Dark River.

Featured, 31 August 2018.
Reviewed by Seattle's Angels, 19 May 2020.

No audiobook readings, please.

Even in our darkest moments, the stars shine coldly down – distant and remote, but bright in the blackness. Refuse them, shut them out, and they remain. Let them in, and they may convince you of the warmth in their embrace.

This is not a story about stars.

This is a story about people and ponies, and what they visit on each other in moments of darkness.

With thanks to Neighrator Pony, Thornquill, Illya Leonov, and the ever-loving Dark River, who put themselves all through pre-reading this.

Inducted into the Royal Canterlot Library, 28 October 2017
Reviewed by Seattle's Angels, 4 November 2017

Now with a Russian translation by Doof Ex Machina.