Cutie Mark Espionage Agencyby Impossible NumbersChapters"Ess-pee-own-arge"Comics and Kung FuSweet Millennium Spies"Ess-pee-own-arge""Well, there's one talent we ain't tried yet," said Apple Bloom, optimist extraordinaire. "Es-pee-own-arge." The three fillies were sitting on the grass in one of Sweet Apple Acres' many orchard fields. There was a fence next to them, and a feeding trough, though, since there was grass growing from it, it was safe to assume that it was no longer in use. The three of them had spent most of the week trying to think up what to do for the spring, and so far the only thing they had done was to have a lot of meetings trying to think of what to do for the spring. It was only recently, after a visit to Ponyville town with her sister and brother, that Apple Bloom had received her brainwave. Apart from her, there was Sweetie Belle, the unicorn, and Scootaloo, the pegasus. Unlike Apple Bloom's, their optimism had waned early this spring like crocuses, and they weren't taking anything at face value. "What's that?" said Sweetie Belle, admiring the sheen of the sun on the apples hanging overhead. "It's kinda like sneakin' into another farmer's fields and ruinin' all his crops, Ah think. That's how Applejack explained it to me." "Oh, you mean espionage?" Sweetie Belle cocked her head to one side. "That's what Ah said. Es-pee-own-arge." "Why would we want to go into another farmer's field and wreck it?" said Scootaloo, who was idly trying to swat butterflies out of the air beside her. This being Equestria, one of the butterflies was swearing and shaking a fist at her. "We get told off for wrecking our own fields. Think of the stink that would get around if Ponyville found out we'd run around pulling up somepony else's food." "Besides, I don't like pulling food out of the ground," said Sweetie Belle, absent-mindedly pulling up a tuft of grass. "That doesn't sound very sanitary to me." "Don't be silly, Sweetie Belle. You roll around in the mud all day." "Yeah, but I don't eat mud. Do you eat mud?" One of the butterflies delivered a slap to Scootaloo's face with a wing. Scootaloo nursed her nose and scowled as the butterflies drifted off over the fence. "I had a mud pie yesterday," she said. "EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW." "Mud pies don't have no mud in 'em," said Apple Bloom. "They're made of chocolate, an' stuffed with caramel an' cinnamon." "Are they?" said Sweetie Belle. "Well, that's what Applejack told me when she made me eat one." "I ate one for a bet," Scootaloo said proudly. "A bet of what?" said Apple Bloom. "What do you mean, a bet of what?" "Ah meant, what was it you woulda had a bet of for eatin' the mud pie?" Scootaloo blinked at her. "I had a bit of the mud pie?" she said slowly. "Yeah, you said that. What Ah mean is, what for did you make the bet for the bet of when you had the bet for a bet of mud pie?" Scootaloo did a remarkably good impression of a baffled pony, though method acting probably helped. "No, no, no, I made a bet," she said. "Did yer now? Which bet did yer make, the pastry or the fillin'?" "It was a dare, Apple Bloom. I bet Snips and Snails that I could eat a mud pie in five seconds." "An' did yer?" "No. I did it in six." "So, what did yer have to do as punishmen' for failin' the dare?" "I had to eat the mud pie!" Apple Bloom shook her head in annoyance. "So what yer sayin' is that you bet you could eat the mud pie in five seconds, an' if yer din't you had to eat the mud pie as punishmen'?" Scootaloo folded her forelegs and sulked, facing the fence. "You work it out, brainiac," she said as Apple Bloom walked over to her. "That doesn't make a blind bit of sense." "Of course it does. Eating mud pie is a pretty horrible punishment. It makes the bet interesting." "Which bet is the interestin' bet?" Scootaloo gave her a searching glare. "Do you know the difference between the words 'bet' and 'bit', by any chance?" "Course Ah do. One's the normal way of sayin' it, the other's the fancy way of sayin' it." "You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?" "I'm practisin' mah es-pee-own-arge. Yer see, part of it means yer make the enemy doubt 'emselves, so's they get worried about attack from within." "Oh, so you're saying I'm the enemy now?" "I can be the enemy, if you want, Apple Bloom," Sweetie Belle said. "No, Sweetie Belle. Ah was just tryin' mah skills to see if Ah'd be real good at it." "Well," she said, trying to hide her disappointment, "I think you're an agent provocateur more than an espionager." "Am not!" Apple Bloom said, folding her forelegs in a huff and faced the trough. "You don't even know what that means, do you?" "Yeah Ah do! It means a pony who goes around pickin' fights with other ponies, an' Ah don't want any part of that!" "Sounds good. I'll take it!" said Scootaloo, turning around. "Oh, no, no, no," said Sweetie Belle. "An agent provocateur is a pony who tricks other ponies into doing something naughty so that they can get punished for it." "Still sounds good. Still taking it." "But why'd any pony wanna do that?" said Apple Bloom, also turning around. "To get them into trouble," Sweetie Belle said. "It's a very clever tactic." "It sounds like cheatin', an' Applejack an' Big Macintosh an' Granny Smith don't approve of cheatin'. Besides, it's silly. If yer have to trick a pony into doin' somethin' that gets 'em into trouble, then shouldn't you be the one who gets into trouble? You tricked 'em into it." "No, silly," said Scootaloo. "It's because they're your enemy that you trick them." "Well, what kind of an enemy is that, that needs to be tricked into doin' somethin' bad? Sounds like a pretty poor enemy to me. Ah'd get a new one to replace 'em." "You know, I'm not sure this is actually what espionage is about," said Sweetie Belle. "I think we've got the wrong definition." "No we ain't. It said so in mah comics. Es-pee –" "Yeah, yeah, we get it," said Scootaloo. "What about it?" "Yer mean why'd Ah bring it up?" "Yes please, if you'd be so good as to tell us." "Alright. Mah idea is simplicity itself. We all become spies." Sweet Apple Acres became mysteriously quiet, except for the crickets, who were probably rehearsing. Even the sun seemed to keep still in stunned confusion. The three fillies gave up several moments of their life to stunned silence. Scootaloo spoke first. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." "Oh, an' Ah s'pose you have a better idea for gettin' our cutie marks?" Apple Bloom reared up, brandishing her front hooves. "I don't have that one, and I wouldn't want it if I did. Spies. Who would we spy on?" "The enemy, dopey!" "We don't have an enemy, Apple Bloom! We just have two jerks in our class who don't do anything, and I wouldn't want to look at them every morning, so forget about spying on them. No way. Nuh uh. No can do." "Sabotage!" shouted Sweetie Belle. "Yeah, yeah it is, Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo's turned chicken an' now she's sabotagin' on us." "No, I mean that's the word! Sabotage, not espionage. Sabotage is when you go around wrecking the enemy's crop, and espionage is the spying." "Well, alright!" said Apple Bloom. "She's the agent proo-vok-ee-tur, then!" "No I'm not," said Scootaloo. "I haven't tricked you into doing anything bad." "Oh yeah? Well, trick this!" WHAM! There was a thump on the grassy ground. "That bad enough for you, yer turncoat?" Apple Bloom rubbed her hoof. "You maniac! What did you hit me for?" Scootaloo touched her cheek, which felt raw. "For bein' a yellow-bellied agent proo-vok-ee-tur, an' for trickin' me into hittin' you, yer snake in the grass!" "Oh, oh," said Scootaloo, getting up, "so I tricked you into hitting me, did I? So I tricked you into hitting me out of revenge for tricking you into hitting me, did I?" "Don't you try to out-psyche me, you sabby tour!" "Oh no. No. I wouldn't out-psyche you, Apple Bloom. I'd be tricked into hitting you accidentally! Like this!" WHAM! There was a thump, and Apple Bloom bounced off the fence and onto the grass. Scootaloo froze up in sudden panic – she hadn't intended to hit that hard. But it quickly subsided when Apple Bloom came up fighting, knocking them both over. "Stop fighting, you guys!" shouted Sweetie Belle at the sky. "I don't like fighting!" "Why, that was lower 'n a pig in pig muck!" shouted Apple Bloom. "I'll muck you!" said Scootaloo, socking her in the mouth. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Sweetie Belle danced on the margins of the cloud in panic. "Um... Sweetie Belle," she shouted suddenly. "You did this! Admit it; you're an agent provocateur and a saboteur! OK, I admit it. Please don't hurt me! You admit it, then. Yes, just don't hurt me! I did it! Yeah! You guys? You can stop fighting now. I beat the enemy from within! Oh... stop fighting, you guys!" A loud and piercing scream struck their ears. Both ponies stopped, hooves raised to hit each other. It came from a distance. "See, now you've upset someone," said Sweetie Belle. The inside of a giant oak is an unusual place to keep a library, especially considering how ironic it must be for the tree. But such buildings as Ponyville's Twilight Library (renamed by popular demand, and by a series of elections mostly conducted by Twilight which involved her handing out ballot papers and knocking from door and door until her victims voted just to stop her lecturing) are commonplace in the kingdom of Equestria. This is a realm where town halls can be bigger on the inside than the town itself is on the outside, where pet shops canter from place to place, and where schools make their pupils write "I must not stick gum under the seats" on the blackboard even before the teachers get there. Most of these architectural wonders were to be found in towns and cities populated mostly by unicorns, which, being the magic-wielders of the pony species, sometimes just couldn't resist showing it off. Ponyville, being populated by the more mundane Earth ponies, was rather tame by comparison, which suited Twilight Sparkle, librarian of Twilight Library, just fine. Not a day passed when the wooden desk in the library corner was stacked with leaning towers of volumes, all flanking a lone piece of parchment and a quill, with Twilight biting her tongue and making page after page of notes in front of them and no sound being made but the scratch of quill on paper. It was no metaphor to say that she lived in the library. Indeed, it was no metaphor to say that Twilight probably used the library more often than even the Ponyville Homework Group, and had time left over to check, double-check and triple-check the list of ponies that had yet to return their loaned books. No demon of the underworld, poring over his book of the dead for sinners, ever giggled with such glee at the sight of an odd name out like Twilight did, but then he merely had to settle for damning them to eternal misery. She had a report to fill in. With triplicates. Who could top that? Twilight was filling in a report just now, cheerfully adjusting each incorrect punctuation mark on the script, and it was a while before she heard the tapping of hooves behind her. She looked around. "Oh, it's you, Cheerilee," she said, her face filling up with joyfulness. "I was just writing a report for you –" Cheerilee's expression jumped with fright and she wobbled to regain her balance. Tip-toeing was hard for a pony to pull off, but Cheerilee had been a gym teacher once during her career. "Twilight, good to see you," she said, the apology already worming into her voice. "Listen, I did try to return the book on time, you understand. Busy teacher's schedule and all…" "Cheerilee, you don't have to worry. It was only three hours, forty two minutes and sixteen seconds late," Twilight said. "There's no charge anymore because I scrapped the idea. Every pony kept complaining about it. So, I'm just putting a caution next to your name. If you go for twelve months without another such incident, I promise you it'll be wiped from our records." Twilight's horn glowed, and the parchment glowed in the same violet tint of magic. It rose off the desk and floated across the room as Twilight guided it towards a book on one of the carved shelves. The book slid out, opened up, and snapped up the report with a gobble before it replaced itself on the shelf. Cheerilee sighed, and, with her mouth, picked up the book she'd dropped. "Mah moss shinsheer aporogees, Schwigh-wigh," she said, before the book glowed and levitated out of her mouth. Twilight placed it between two books on its shelf. "I know I'm not usually late, but I must admit I'm feeling a little flustered at the moment." "I thought it was an odd book for you," Twilight said. " 'Six Easy Steps to Impossible Magic' by Mr Fine Horse?" "Well, yes." "But you're not a magic teacher. You're not even a unicorn." "I do have some unicorns in my class," said Cheerilee. "Twilight, can you keep a secret?" Twilight put a hoof to her chin and thought deeply for a moment. "Uh, yes," she said. "Yes, I can. And I'll swear on the Pinkie Pie promise." Cheerilee leaned forwards. Within the cylindrical confines of the wood, surrounded by an audience of tomes, and with furtive glances at the doors leading off from the hall and at the wood-carved staircase leading up to the more open areas of the library, Twilight leaned closer as well. Spike leaned closer too. "SPIKE!" There was a wail and a thump as a small round ball of scales fell onto its back in shock. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Twilight tapped a hoof impatiently. "Eavesdropping. I mean, leaves dropping. Yeah. Books falling out of shelves, Spike's gotta pick them up. Number One Personal Assistant and all, right?" He tried a winning grin, but it didn't quite reach his worried eyes. "Spike, there's nothing on the floor." Spike looked around the room awkwardly. Then with a flick, his tail knocked over a hardback from the shelf. "Oh, would you just look at that?" he said theatrically. "Deary me, what an unfortunate mess. I must clean it up. I must put it back on the shelf." He caught her expression. "Er, I must go now." There was a puff of smoke, and the bedroom door upstairs slammed shut. "I honestly don't know what's gotten into him recently," said Twilight, levitating the fallen book and slotting it back into place. "He's far too nosey. Anyway, sorry Cheerilee. You were saying – ahem. Spike? No listening at the top of the stairs!" "I wasn't listening," said a voice above them. "I can see your head peeking out up there." Between the railing balusters, the green head spines twitched in alarm and vanished. Pinkie Pie screamed and swung from the apple she had clutched between her hooves. The apple tree it was still attached to was suddenly agitated. "Come down from there, li'l pink lady!" Applejack shouted up to her, and with a kick she made the tree shake even more violently. Several leaves fell out. Pinkie Pie screamed harder. Over the muddy crest of the hill, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle came galloping, though being such little fillies their gallop was barely a canter. Scootaloo followed closely in the air above them. "Applejack!" cried Apple Bloom. "Stop! What are yer doin'?" "You keep out of this, li'l sis! This is a matter between me and that little scamp in that there tree!" She kicked so viciously that Pinkie swung nearly up and over herself. Her screams became louder. "Come on, you annoyin' li'l ball o' agony! Ah ain't stoppin' fer nothin'! Come down here, an' Ah'll mash you up and make a big pie out o' you! Come down!" "I can't hold on much longer!" Pinkie's hooves began to slip. "Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo… take care of Gummy for meeeeeeeeeeeee!" "Ah've seen enough!" Apple Bloom leapt from her gallop and tackled Applejack, soaring into her face, and sending both of them tumbling away from the tree. Pinkie wailed as the apple she was holding onto came loose. Sweetie Belle rushed underneath to catch her, which was a bad move as Sweetie Belle was half the size of the pink pony. Scootaloo plucked Sweetie Belle from the ground and carried her off just in time, as Pinkie bounced on her rump and sat on the grass, looking dizzy. "Whut in tarnation do y'all think yer doin'?" Applejack said, now lying on her back with Apple Bloom sitting on her stomach. "If you have a problem with Pinkie Pie, yer gotta talk sensibly 'bout it, sis," said Apple Bloom. "Y'all are s'posed to be friends! Friends ain't s'posed to fight." "Fight?" said Applejack. "We weren't fightin'." "You weren't?" "No, Ah was tryin' ter git that there apple ou' o' the tree." Apple Bloom looked stunned, and Applejack took advantage of this and flipped back onto her own hooves. Her sister landed on her belly next to her. "Whaaaaaaaat?" Apple Bloom said. "It wouldn't come down," said Pinkie Pie, "and since I was passing by, I decided to help, and so I climbed up the tree and tried to get it down. But then, silly me, I forgot I'm not good with heights! Oopsy!" Pinkie beamed proudly at this discovery. "But you called 'er a pink lady," said Apple Bloom. "And you threatened to bake her into a pie," said Sweetie Belle above their heads. "And you called her a scamp," said Scootaloo above Sweetie Belle's head. "Pink Lady apples, gals," said Applejack, as if it was obvious. "Yer wouldn't believe how stubborn it was. The li'l thin' wouldn' come down, so's Ah jus' kept goin', an' Pinkie Pie was comin' ter see me anyway an' decided ter help. Ah got a li'l irritated, Ah'll admit, an' maybe a mite stubborn mahself. Work horse's curse," she added. "So, we galloped our little hooves sore all the way here jus' to save… an apple?" Apple Bloom's hair bow drooped. "Yeah. So y'all can relax, now," said Applejack, as Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo landed next to Pinkie Pie. Applejack patted her sister affectionately on the forehead. "Aw, bless yer li'l sis, an' you thought we was actually fightin'. Come on, Pinkie. Lend me a hoof taking these babies down ter the barn." "Okey dokey lokey!" "This is crazy," said Scootaloo, once Applejack and Pinkie Pie were walking away down the hill with the apple cart in tow. "That's the third scream we've rushed to in one day, and none of them were anything interesting, like a pony getting eaten by a bear or something like that." "Well, at least Fluttershy had a good reason," said Sweetie Belle. "She saw a snake. I'd scream if I saw a snake." "Yeah, don't we know," said Scootaloo, still rubbing her ear at the ringing that hadn't quite gone yet. "But who screams when they find a snake because it has a paper cut? Besides, she only put a plaster on it afterwards." "She's so sweet and kind hearted," said Sweetie Belle. "She looked so happy when she tucked it into bed." "How would you know? You were hiding under the chicken coop the whole time." "I found an interesting egg while I was under there." "Yes, Sweetie Belle. It was green. That's called a bad egg." "And the second scream was kind of an emergency," said Sweetie Belle, scraping the grass with a hoof out of embarrassment. "No, Sweetie Belle. Sugar coat it all you want, but a little filly dropping a bit into a well is never going to be an emergency." "Aw, but she looked so sad when she dropped it." "She had wings. She could have swooped down and picked it up herself." Scootaloo shook herself down, splattering everything with bits of dust and soil. Sweetie Belle stroked her mane clean and looked sadly up at the offending apple tree as if hoping it would shrug apologetically at them. With a grunt of a little throat, there was a whack, the branches shook, and leaves fell down onto their heads. Apple Bloom panted and bucked the tree again. She was glaring at the soil. "Um, Apple Bloom?" said Scootaloo. "Are you OK?" "No," said Apple Bloom petulantly. "I'm not OK. I'm tired of wastin' my time, day in, day out. Nothin' interestin' ever happens here." "Well, not strictly true…" "Don't you start throwin' me references to things that have already happened, 'cos Ah already know 'em. An' Ah still stand by what Ah say. Nothin' interestin' ever happens. It's either borin' stuff or stuff that gets yer hopes up, an' since when have we ever come out of it any better off? We ain't done nothin' to deserve it, an' the one time we did do somethin' deservin', it was an accident. An' nothin' came of it, anyway." She looked sadly at her yellow rump. One day, she wished, just one day, she'd look back on it, and see that special symbol that told her what she was supposed to do with her life. The fact that today wasn't that day just bit into her harder. "We was destined to be blank flanks. An' Ah ain't gonna kid mahself no more." The others stepped aside as Apple Bloom hung her head and ambled silently away. "If anypony needs me, Ah'll be at Sugar Cube Corner. Doin' the only thing that Ah'm good at: eatin' mahself silly." The other two watched her slowly make her way downhill, Sweetie Belle with a scowl on her face, Scootaloo with a worried look. "You don't think I took it too far earlier, did you?" said Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle fumed. "She's quitting on us. Come on, Scootaloo. I'm not letting her do that to herself." "Um, Sweetie?" Scootaloo put up a hoof to stop her friend marching forwards, and when Sweetie Belle gave her a quizzical look Scootaloo shook her head, eyes downcast. Sweetie Belle sighed. "But, what do we do now?" she said. They watched Apple Bloom reach the trough of the hill under the sweltering sun of Sweet Apple Acres. A red-tailed eagle screeched overhead. Things within the library had turned darker. Curtains were shut, doors locked, stray books hastily shoved back into shelves. A lamp was lit. Cheerilee's and Twilight's faces were all that it illuminated, apart from a patch of wood on the floor surrounding it. Everything else was black. "You're sure?" said Twilight, once she'd sealed up the keyholes with bits of gum. Her horn stopped glowing violet. "Absolutely," said Cheerilee. "Spike isn't about to walk in on us, is he?" "I sent him down to Sugar Cube Corner with a list of things to buy. He'll be a while; he likes to window shop." "But just there? With one list? He might not be gone for long." "Cheerilee, I wrote the list." "Oh good," said Cheerilee, fully reassured by that bit of information. "Now, this might be a bit of a shock for you, Twilight, so be prepared. I'm… well… I'm… I'm nervous." Libraries were quiet places anyway, but now it became so quiet that Twilight's blinks were audible. "What's so shocking about that?" she asked. "Oh, nothing in itself, oh no no no. But it's what I'm nervous about that really bothers me." "Why? What are you nervous about?" Cheerilee gulped, and then wished it wasn't so quiet because she felt embarrassed at how loud it had been. "Nothing." A tap dripped somewhere. Twilight thought it was the kitchen. "What do you mean nothing?" she asked, reminding herself to pester Spike about the plumbing when he came back. "Well, I mean, yesterday, I was walking through the corridors of the school, nothing unusual; checking the children's trays for homework, eating Apple Bloom's apple gift, correcting the spelling mistakes on the graffiti, and then – I just felt it. Nervousness. This sense of nervousness just overwhelmed me. I didn't know where it came from. One minute, I was the happiest teacher in the whole wide world, the next – I was nearly gibbering. I shivered. I don't know how long I stood there, in the corridor, feeling like this, but it couldn't have been more than a minute because I remember hearing the bell ring and the yells of the children playing outside stopped. I shook my head, got a grip on myself and… well, it just vanished." "I don't see what so wrong with that. Every pony gets nervous from time to time. You have got some big event coming up, remember?" "No, you don't understand. I felt it again, just on my way here. It didn't feel like my own emotion. It was like I was somepony else for a few seconds. Somepony frightened. Nervous. Worried about something. I know I'm speaking in fragmented sentences rather than grammatically correct full ones, but it bothers me so much. I mean, what if it happens again?" Twilight sighed, making the lamp flicker slightly and threaten to go out. Her horn glowed and she summoned a quill and a roll of parchment to her side. There was a flutter of wings from upstairs. Cheerilee's face vanished from the light. "It's OK, it's just Owlowiscious," said Twilight, making notes. "I think he's waking up. He probably thinks we've plunged the place into night time. Keep talking." Cheerilee returned into view. Her normally lumpy fringe had a hair or two slightly askew. It seemed to pain her to continue. "I know this is going to sound silly," she said, "but you're the best at magic around here. You don't think…" She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the big hurdle. "You don't think I'm… I'm… cursed, do you?" The scratching noises ceased. Twilight's horn winked out and the quill and parchment landed on the floor. Cheerilee regretted her word choice at once. "Curses, don't, exist," said Twilight. "But what if they do?" "I can assure you that they do not. Over the past ten centuries in Equestria, there have been exactly eight hundred and forty two official claims for curses, hexes, enchantments, and evil enchantress magic generally. Do you know how many were investigated? All of them. Not one of them proved to be true." "Well, OK, no, but maybe, maybe some kind of enchantment?" "Cheerilee, I really think you're letting the preparations get to you. You just had a panic attack. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's perfectly normal. But it's not magic, and it surely isn't curses." "They surely aren't curses, or it surely isn't a curse," corrected Cheerilee, a teacher to the last. Indeed, her last thought would probably be a grammatical correction of one of her relative's grieving speeches, and she disliked herself for it, but it just happened automatically now. "I'm glad we've established that," Twilight said. "And just to prove my point, did you feel a tingly feeling, or did your skin glow when you felt those emotions?" The lamp was starting to die down. Cheerilee stared glumly at it, as if wishing it wouldn't leave her alone with this analytical pony. "No," she said. "No, I didn't." "There you are," said Twilight. "It's not unicorn magic." Cheerilee started biting her lip. Panic attacks? Really? "It was all just a misunderstanding," Twilight continued. "Have you ever felt this pressurised before? Can you think of a time when you were suddenly nervous and scared for a brief moment?" "No," lied Cheerilee. "No, not at all. Definitely not. I don't remember any time feeling like that." "Problem solved, then." Twilight clapped her hooves, and the lamp went out with a wisp of smoke. Twilight's horn glowed in the dark, and all the curtains magically opened, flooding the room with painful light. Cheerilee shrieked at the owl perched on Twilight's head. "How did he get there?" she said. "He was upstairs. I heard his wings shuffle from your study." "Amazing, isn't he?" Twilight hooted to the owl, who replied in kind and fluttered down to perch on her proffered foreleg. "I've been learning about owl communication from Celestia's guide to birds and birdsong. His feathers are extra soft and fluffy around the wings so that he can glide silently through the air without the rushing wind giving his position away. He's the perfect assistant in the library. Oh, I mean, after Spike of course." She grinned apologetically to Cheerilee, as though hoping she would pass on her expression to Spike if she saw him later, and in case he found out. Earth ponies had no magical powers of their own, at least not in the same calibre as unicorn ponies, but at times like this they prided themselves on their ability to keep their hooves on the ground. Cheerilee chewed over Twilight's words, and fought her ears' natural urge to droop at what thoughts she tasted as a result. "You mean, this is all just… me becoming emotional?" she asked. "I know it sounds bad, but... yes. Just a perfectly normal panic attack. And it's not magic whatsoever. Just take it easy over the next few days. Do something you enjoy. Ooh, maybe try out the spa, too - Rarity always goes there before one of her big fashion shows. She says it's a great way to relax." "Well, I'll try..." "Great! I bet you're feeling much better now that you've talked it over with me." At the time, Cheerilee nodded her head and said yes, but as she was trotting out of the door, a stack of books balanced on her back and a stack of thoughts balanced on her mind, she began to weigh the implications of what she'd said, and realised that she actually felt far worse than when she'd started. Elsewhere in Ponyville, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were crossing the little stone bridge that arched across Ponyville's little brook. There should have been a troll under it, or at least a Diamond Dog, but they had all left centuries ago because the sickly sweetness of the residents had put them off, and it's never a good idea to have too much sugar in your diet. "So what do we do now?" said Sweetie Belle. "Well, why don't we try Apple Bloom's suggestion and practice this espio-spying thing?" said Scootaloo. "That sounds great." There was a purr, and a bundle of white fur with a blue bow tie on top touched down softly in front of them. It curled its tail leisurely while they stopped to have a look at it in case it attacked. "Oh, it's you," said Scootaloo, relaxing. "Hi, Opal." The cat merely raised a supercilious eyebrow. Sweetie Belle suddenly looked downcast. "What's wrong with you?" said Scootaloo, nudging her with a wing. "Oh, I'm sorry, Scootaloo," she said, hanging her head in shame. "Opal just reminded me. I have to go back home and get ready for tonight's big festival. Rarity's going to New Alicornia later." "You have to be kidding me. She dragged you into going to that place?" Scootaloo said. Opal hissed in her face, then went back to licking her paws. "She said I needed to see her at work, and that I needed to get out in the world. I don't know why she's taking me. I don't want to go. I'll only wreck it for her, anyway." "Yeesh, you don't have any self-esteem issues at all, do you?" "Have you seen me around Carousel Boutique? I only have to sneeze and the place falls to pieces." Opal tapped a paw on the ground, casting Sweetie Belle a meaningful look. "OK, Opal, I'm coming," said Sweetie Belle, following Opal, who nodded her head approvingly and waddled away from the bridge. "Sorry Scootaloo. Maybe we could meet up for the spying and things tomorrow?" "Fine. In the meantime, I'll just find some pony else who'll join me." As Opal and the foal ambled over the bridge, Scootaloo did an about-turn and shot through the air in an orange and purple blur, aiming away from Ponyville. There was a shriek of outrage from within the Everfree Forest, followed by a babbling of Swahili. The Everfree Forest was not an inviting place to the ponies that lived just outside of it. Unlike the clean plants of the open fields, these ones reeked of wildness. They draped themselves in vines and moss and dead leafy things and fought for every last patch of sunlight, to make it perfectly clear to the nicer trees outside that this was a gang whose members you didn't invite to be planted in your patch for an afternoon rain and a bit of birdsong. The animal life was little better. It was populated by a lot of rare creatures, if only because they all made such a violent effort to keep each other rare. The total population of ponies within its borders could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and usually were if a hungry dragon ever caught up with them. Zebras, on the other hand… Upon the soil of a dingy glade, a tribal hut was placed, round like a squashed coconut, with bamboo window frames and elongated masks propped up on sticks surrounding it. The light was on, which meant that the fire under the cauldron was burning brightly and Zecora was probably mixing up a batch of noxious goo. It is amazing what ponies would eat if you told them there were natural herbs in it. A lot of glass shattered. Bottles tinkled and shelves snapped off and collapsed. Metal pinged. As the Swahili babbling burned more fiercely, there was a demented giggle and the front door burst open. Something raced out of it looking very much like a bulging sack on legs. Zecora rushed out after it. "Come back with my things, you little thief! "Or Zecora will give you so much grief!" Along a winding dirt track, the overflowing sack fled, snagging occasionally on low branches. A rip appeared in the fabric. Some leaves fluttered out of the tear. Zecora thundered behind, leaping over the leaves as they landed. She left the explosion behind her. A beaker full of purple liquid fell out and smashed, but she leapt over the resulting blue, starry cloud and galloped onwards. Three seeds landed in front of her, and giant stems shot out like hose pipes. Bulbs burst out of the ends, baring shark's teeth. She zigzagged between them, and in their attempts to snap her up, they got tangled in each other's stems and collapsed. Zecora made an angry noise, like a panicky guffaw to pony ears but like a demon rising from the spirit world to a zebra's, and put on an extra burst of speed. The stranger suddenly ducked to one side, through the trees, and Zecora skidded to a stop to catch sight of her thief. She looked right, and she looked left, but all she saw were tree trunks, and the Everfree Forest's ever-present shadowy mist. She gritted her teeth. "Zecora will never forget this slight! "Come out now, or I'll come in and fight!" She heard a whooshing overhead, and looked up. Three blue streaks passed overhead, leaving a trail of clouds behind them. From their aerial position, the Wonderbolts had an excellent view of the action below. Through the trees, they could still see the running sack threading its way deeper into the forest. The professional flyers didn't even need to communicate – as one, they simply inclined their wings and swooped down. They were keeping pace with the running figure, and closing in. They followed it through the gaps in the canopy, until suddenly they stopped. The running figure had vanished. As one, they looked at each other and nodded. All three Wonderbolts dived down and split apart, piercing through the canopy like three prongs of a gigantic smoke-made fork. Soarin' immediately switched to hovering, and scanned the surrounding dense mass of sprawling leaves and branches and stems. Spitfire weaved in and out of the trunks, trying to flush the thief out. Her partner on the other side did likewise. Nothing could be seen. Through the mist and dark vegetation, the Forest seemed empty. Soarin' held his position nonetheless. His teammates had completed their first sweep of the area. Nothing had appeared yet. As one, they rose out of the canopy and moved a little further ahead before diving down and repeating the procedure, this time with Spitfire taking point and her two partners circling around her, trying to flush out the thief. They heard someone shouting and looked back. Had they gone too far forwards? It was Zecora, crashing through the bushes and ferns behind them and shouting at them. As she came closer, they could hear some of the words. It sounded like a warning. A blast struck Soarin' out of the air. As his teammates turned around in shock, Zecora gasped. A blue glow flared from behind some leaves. Fire leapt out of it and engulfed another Wonderbolt, who fell to the ground. Spitfire rushed down to catch him and disappeared behind a bush at the same instant the third blast shot for her. The thief had evidently predicted she would do that. Zecora's fierceness returned. A fourth shot rushed at her, but she raised her hoof and blew the green dust out of it, covering herself in a smokescreen. The blue blast disappeared inside it, and came out of the other end. The blue glow vanished. Another burst of green dust produced another cloud near the spot. Zecora appeared out of it and pushed back the leaves, but she knew from the sound of distant clopping that her thief was long gone. She looked back nervously at the blue-smoking bushes. A few leaves were gingerly brushed aside. The zebra peered down, her rings and neck rings jingling as she did so. Her eyes flared with alarm and outrage, and a gasp escaped from her as she looked upon what remained of the Wonderbolts. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, this is not at all good, "My poor, dear friends! Though they did what they could, "A terrible fate has befallen them, "And now they may never soar the skies again." She bowed her head in sadness. A little while later, one of the Wonderbolts said; "Bdak?" Applejack bucked the tree. All the apples fell out, but a few missed her saddle baskets and she walked over to pick them up. As she lowered her head, she heard a crash and raised it again. "Wowwasa?" she said, mouth full of apple. She dropped it into the basket and pricked up an ear. From the trees in the distance, behind the fence and the bushes, someone said "ow." There was a lot of muttering, and a squeak as someone stepped on one of Winona's chew toys. More muttering followed. Applejack watched with mouth open as the bushes rustled and a beady eye peeped out. It swivelled right, and then left, and then ducked back down. The rustling traced the path of whoever was inside it as they made their way down the hedge row and stopped next to the gate. There was a bump, another "ow," and a loud shush. Somepony zipped from bush to fence, pressing their back up against the wooden post. Applejack could tell because their blue wings were sticking out. A while later, a second filly tried to follow, but she tripped and fell onto her face. Scootaloo looked up at Applejack nervously before disappearing behind another wooden post. One of Applejack's eyebrows climbed up her forehead to get a better view. A wooden bucket was lying nearby. Two blue hooves reached out and snatched it out of view. Applejack's mouth twisted up with scepticism. One upturned wooden bucket slid out from behind the post and made its way towards the nearest apple tree. Mentally, Applejack docked a few extra points for the rainbow tail still trailing behind it. The bucket moved from tree to tree, crossing the orchard towards Applejack. After a while, it disappeared behind a tree one along from Applejack's. However long she watched, it didn't come out again. From above, there was a shuffle from the branches of the tree, and a third "ow." A few leaves parted, allowing two pairs of eyes to swivel back and forth. They vanished. A streak cut from one tree to another. A few leaves fell on Applejack's face. She sighed. Rainbow Dash poked her upside-down head out of the branches. "ABOOGABOOGAWAAAAH!" she yelled in Applejack's face. She grinned expectantly. Scootaloo fell out and landed next to Applejack, who was giving Rainbow Dash's grinning face a look that was anything but surprised. Then Applejack turned around and bucked the tree. Dash fell to the ground in a heap. "An' jus' whut was all that about?" Applejack said at Scootaloo and at Dash, who shook herself off. Dash scowled. "Gee, Applejack, way to let a pegasus down lightly," she said, hitting one of her ears. Leaves poured out of the other one, all over Scootaloo, who shook them off. "Isn't it obvious? I am teaching young Scooters here the art of stealth." "The art of stealth?" Applejack yawned. "You sure you're not jus' dabblin'? Ah ain't seen a less stealthy way to get around since Granny Smith tried to run up behind me and shout 'Awoogabooga' on Nightmare Night, an' Ah had ter help her for half the way an' remind 'er what she was goin' to say." "Scootaloo came to me for a bit of company," said Dash, getting back onto her hooves and into a more dignified pose. "She asked me if I knew anything about sneaking around, so naturally I said I was the world expert on sneaking around and of course I'd bring her up to speed." "It's all part of the espio- whatever it's called that we were going to try," said Scootaloo. "I thought I'd learn a few things so that I could show the others later. Apple Bloom hasn't come back yet, has she?" "Sorry. Ah haven't seen her since this mornin'." Scootaloo's wings drooped. Applejack felt so bad she mentally awarded Scootaloo some sympathy points. But her back was starting to ache from the huge pile of apples she'd accumulated in her saddle baskets. "Say, why don't you use the south field for practice? It's right close to the barn, so you'll see Apple Bloom come back while you're stealthin'." "OK," said Scootaloo, and confidence filled her up as Dash nodded in agreement. "Sweet. Catch you later, AJ," said Dash, and she zoomed over the horizon, leaving a temporary rainbow in her wake. Scootaloo spread her wings and tried rushing after her, but she was conspicuously slower at it, and there was no trail to mark her wake. Applejack frowned after them. After a shrug, she turned back to work. Apple trees weren't in any hurry to drop their apples, but Applejack had her quota to fill, and she'd be blowed if she was going to break her winning streak against Big Macintosh's bets. Goodness knows, she used to wear Granny's girdles far too often in her younger years. Applejack walked over to the next tree, and gave it a gentle buck. Apples came streaming out of the branches and into her saddle baskets, which were already overflowing. She sighed and staggered over to the cart to unload. When she came back, she looked up into the tree and stopped. A lone apple was hanging out of reach. She shrugged and bucked the tree trunk again. It didn't fall down. "Huh," she said. "Guess this li'l sucker doesn't wanna come down. Come on, li'l Pink Lady. Mama's waitin' on you." She bucked harder, making the branches shake. The apple did not fall down. She bucked again, hard enough to shake the whole tree. The apple continued not to fall. The next buck knocked the trunk over until the roots tore out and it was nearly horizontal. The apple shook, then stayed still. "Well, well, it looks like we got us a smart alec," said Applejack, all mirth starting to drain from her voice. "Big Macintosh said ev'ry apple on ev'ry tree, an' by golly, Ah'll make sure it's ev'ry apple on ev'ry tree. You'll see if Ah don't." She turned to leave, then slipped because she'd trodden on a fallen apple. There was a thump, and a lot of leaves fell down on her. Applejack grinned sheepishly. "Might be an idea to clear the ground up first," she said. Inside Sugar Cube Corner, sitting up to the counter on a stool she couldn't possibly have climbed up herself, Apple Bloom stared gloomily into her mug of hot chocolate. A donut was floating in it. "Es-pee-own-arge," she said. "Puh. Apple Bloom, you are just kiddin' yerself. Whut could you an' Sweetie Belle an' Scootaloo possibly do that no pony else could do better?" She took another sip, and sighed. "Whut could possibly happen around here?" There was a scream from outside. The Cakes rushed out of the kitchen and past the counter. Apple Bloom shrugged. "Ah ain't answerin' it," she said, and took another sip of hot chocolate. To be continued... Comics and Kung Fu“The horror!" wailed Lily. "The horror!” “It’s awful! I… I can’t stand the sight of it!” “There’s so much… carnage!” Two fillies were standing next to each other, one trying to fan a third who was on the verge of fainting. They stared wide-eyed at the broken wood, at the jagged pieces of pottery, and at the brown mess strewn all over the road. Spike walked up to them. “I didn’t know you girls were selling ladders now," he said. "Though I think you’re going to need a bigger cart if you want to carry them around.” Daisy, who was still fanning her friend, threw a worried look at her pale companion, who was getting paler by the second. “Rose walked under a ladder,” Daisy said accusingly. The ladder was propped up against Sugar Cube Corner, or at least it had been. Now it was mostly propped up by a flower cart, and though the cart itself had only split a plank on one side, several flower pots had been broken, one of the compost sacks had been torn, and a lot of soil had been scattered over the floor of the cart and over the road. The third filly was coming around from her near-faint, though when she caught sight of the cart she almost went down again. “Rose! Oh, Rose, what have you done?” she said. The lily in her hair was askew. “She walked under a ladder! And do you know what this means?” said Daisy. Spike scratched his head. “That she knocked it over?” “There will be no flower stall to attend!” said Daisy. “We’ll be out of business!” said Lily. “I walked under a ladder!” said Rose, who was never first in the queue for the uptake. “Ladies, relax,” Spike said, picking up the ladder and moving it off the cart. He lifted it over his head and moved towards the Sugar Cube Corner window display, guiding it from horizontal to vertical until the ladder was back to its original place against the shop. Daisy, Rose and Lily blinked. “Amazing!” said Lily. “So simple!” “Why didn’t I think of that?” “At the risk of blowing my own trumpet,” said Spike, “I happen to be a dab hand, or a dab hoof – or a dab claw if you prefer – at the art of cleaning up unexpected giant messes. Twilight gives me plenty of practice, trust me. Just move all the flowerpots and compost sacks, and I’ll have this cart spick and span in no time.” Daisy and Lily looked at each other and at the soil-smothered and pot-peppered cart contents, before nodding to Spike. As one, they took up position either side of the cart and began unloading the pots. Rose was crouching in the middle of the road, biting both her front hooves now. “It was an accident. It doesn’t count if it’s an accident, right? I’m jinxed! I walked under a ladder! Oh, what will become of me?” With a thump, Rose was supine on the road, covering her upturned eyes with an empty flower pot that had survived the disaster. It looked like it was trying to eat her face. “I simply can’t imagine,” Spike muttered. He walked around the cart to the back. “Oh look, you have spare plant pots back here.” Lily went over to see. “So we have. Amazing!” “So simple!” said Daisy. “Why didn’t I think of that?” “You did,” said Rose, breaking out of her self-induced nightmare for a moment. “Well, I clearly didn’t tell me that, or I’d have known. Silly Lily never tells me anything,” said Lily. “My hero!” said Daisy, hugging Spike. Embarrassed, he tried to squeeze out of her grip. Lily, picking up a plant pot with her hooves, moved it away from the cart. “Where do we put them?” she said, when Daisy finally let go. Spike rolled his eyes. “Put them on my head, where they will most certainly be out of the way when I try to clean the cart.” Lily gave him a curious look, but shrugged and balanced it gently on top of his green spines. He snatched it off. “I was being sarcastic! It doesn’t matter where. On the road will do.” They began unloading the pots. Once Lily had encouraged Rose to join in, things were moving faster, though Rose kept looking at the ladder and placing her pots away from it, in case it fell over again. From up the road came Cheerilee’s voice, followed by the teacher herself. “Hello, Spike.” “Cheerilee! I thought you were still at Twilight’s.” “We didn’t have much to discuss." She peered over his shoulder. "Why are they putting their pots onto the road?” “Because if I didn’t tell them what to do, they’d still be standing there screaming at the ladder.” “It was horrible!” said Rose, making a dramatic pose with a flower pot on her head. “I’m cursed! I am cursed!” “Oh, give it a rest, will you? It was just a ladder.” Spike pointed at the wooden rungs. Rose dropped the pot, then realised what she'd done and jerked back when it shattered. Her teeth were clenched, holding back the bile of panic. “But I walked under it, and do you know what that means?” “Yeah: you left your common sense at the florist's. Honestly, is there anything you won’t scream at?” “Well, excuse us, purple dragon, for being a smidgen over-cautious,” said Rose, frowning. “But that is no way to address a jinxed filly.” “Scaredy little foal, more like,” said Spike. “You have no sympathy at all. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a festival to prepare for. Lily, did you pack the tickets?” “Um…” said Lily, reaching into the cart. “You didn’t pack the tickets?” “I thought Daisy did.” “Me?” said Daisy from the other side of the vehicle. “I thought you did, Lily.” “Me? I thought you did.” “You already said that!” “I was double-checking.” “Oh horsetails,” said Rose, burying her face in another empty plant pot. “My bad luck is kicking in already!” She tried to pull her head out, only to find that she was stuck. She tried again, more frantically this time. Then she collapsed, plant pot still upright and still stuck up to her neck. Cheerilee and Spike watched with astonishment as the two fillies began removing the pots faster. Soon, there was nothing but a layer of soil at the bottom of the cart, and both florists were trying to dig through it for the tickets. Cheerilee turned back to Spike. “Oh, and sorry for having to shut you out,” she said. “It was a little private. Between ponies.” “Oh,” said Spike. “Oh.” He seemed to be thinking about it. Then he said: “Ooooooooooooooooooh! Ah, gotcha. No problem, Cheerilee. No questions asked, no answers given, no awkward pauses in return." He winked, which completely confused her. "So how are you feeling now?” “Just a little down. Nothing a little Cheerilee Chocolate-Covered Cupcake with Caramel Cream and Chocolate Chip Cinnamon Cookies couldn’t cure!" "Can I have a cure for my bad luck, please?" said a muffled voice behind them - Rose was trying to prise the pot off her head, both forelegs braced against the rim. "Or a little butter, or something?" "Um… aren’t you coming in, Spike?” “Sure, sure. I’ll be there in a minute, just, er, just sizing up the goods…” He was ogling the cakes in the window. Behind him, Daisy tried to restrain a frantic Lily, who was screaming and pulling up planks from the bottom of the cart. Rose had somehow managed to wedge both neck and forelegs into the pot, and her rear end was dragging it against the paving slabs. Cheerilee shook her head and pushed the door open, upon which Mr Cake nearly bumped into her on his way out. He apologised before he carried on over to the cart. The bell tinkled. Cheerilee walked into Sugar Cube Corner, where she found Apple Bloom at the counter, snorting up hot chocolate with her face stuck in the mug. She was blowing bubbles. “Apple Bloom!" Cheerilee said. "Please take your nose out of your mug and bring your drink to your snout, not vice versa." Apple Bloom’s face came out of the mug with a pop. Her chocolate splattered snout turned guiltily at Cheerilee, who was standing at the door. “Sh'that you, Mish Cheerilee?” she slurred, pointing a foreleg at Cheerilee. “I didn't know you had twinsh.” Her foreleg wobbled so that she was variously pointing at Cheerilee, the cake display, and the bell above the door. Cheerilee noticed that the young filly’s eyes were out of focus. She nearly toppled the stool, and hastily straightened up to avoid falling off. “I know these are the holidays,” said Cheerilee, “and therefore I am not your teacher at the moment, but you really shouldn’t make a spectacle of yourself like this.” “Ah wash lookin’ for mah doughy nut,” Apple Bloom slurred. There was a donut on the floor next to her. “An’ Ah don’ wanna talk right now. 'M not feelin' sho good...” Painfully, she turned back to the counter and pretended not to notice Cheerilee as she approached. “Apple Bloom?” Apple Bloom made a non-committal hum. She had another gulp out of her hot chocolate mug, emptying it. Mrs Cake came up from below the counter. “I’d let her be, Miss Cheerilee. She doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. Now, what can I get you, deary?” “Oh, the usual please, Mrs Cake.” “Coming right up.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Cheerilee turned to face Apple Bloom. “Apple Bloom, my little filly, whatever is the matter? You look a little tired,” said Cheerilee. “That’s jush’ the hot chocolate. Applejack shaysh it goesh to mah head. Which ish shilly, becaush Ah tried payin’ atten-shion, an’ all Ah notished wa' that it goesh down to mah belly like everythin’ else doesh.” “Would you like to talk about it?” “About the hot chocolate?” “No. You look sad about something.” Apple Bloom didn’t respond. Instead, she was staring into her mug as if reading some depressing news from the chocolate sprinkles left at the bottom. Cheerilee put her forelegs on the counter. “Apple Bloom? You can tell little Miss Cheerilee about it. I like to help my students when I can, even if this is summer vacation.” Her reward was a yellow shoulder turning away, as if the fairy cake selection next to the little foal was slightly less uninteresting. "Surely there’s something I could do?” “No. You wouldn’t like it. You’d think Ah was bein’ shilly.” “There’s no such thing as a silly problem, Apple Bloom.” The young Apple pony sighed into her mug, but there were no ripples because the hot chocolate was gone, and it wasn’t as diverting without them. Her flank squeaked as she rotated in her stool. “You won’t laugh at all?” “Certainly not,” said Cheerilee, pulling up a stool of her own. “You can trust me.” There was a long pause while Apple Bloom examined Cheerilee’s expectant face. She cast dark looks at the cookies behind her, in case they were listening. “Enjoying the summer vacation?” said Cheerilee. Apple Bloom shook her head. “Ah ain’t got nothin’ to do.” “What about the farm? I’m sure Big Macintosh and Applejack are keeping you busy for the bucking season.” “No, they ain’t. I don’t help around the farm at applebuck. Applejack says that Ah only get in the way.” “Well, I’m sure you have many friends to play with.” This was rewarded with a sigh. “Miss Cheerilee, Ah’ve been with mah friends ever since we broke up.” “Well, that’s wonderful –” “An' the only thing Ah learned from it was that they was as bored as me.” “Oh dear. It looks like you’ve got the holiday blues.” “Aw, that too?” “Yes. I used to have that problem when I was a young filly. I used to spend my days… in a daze. But then I found the solution.” Apple Bloom gave her a thoughtful expression, or at least tried to while the hot chocolatey thoughts ran around inside her head, making her wobble on the chair. “How would you like to join the Ponyville Homework Group?” This sobered Apple Bloom up pretty quickly. It also made her recoil, toppling her stool and sending her crashing away from the counter. Cheerilee winced. “Ah couldn’t, Ah shouldn't!” Apple Bloom said, sitting forlornly on the floor. “Scootaloo would laugh at me!” “Now, don’t think so poorly of your friends. I’m sure Scootaloo would be very supportive of your decision. She would rather see you happy than bored.” With a steely look, the youngest Apple filly took a deep breath. “Miss Cheerilee, Ah haven’t done nothin’ for a whole week, an’ Sweetie Belle an’ Scootaloo an’ me have done nothin’ after nothin’, an’ so Ah was thinkin’ of an idea, an’ Ah said we should do ess-pown-ee-arge… uh, ep-see-own-arge, uh… an’ Ah said we should do spyin’, but they said spyin’ was dumb, an’ then Ah got into a fight, an’ Sweetie Belle had to fight herself, Applejack tried to turn Pinkie into a pie, Fluttershy laid a bad egg, Scootaloo ate a mud pie fer a bet at the bottom of a well, an’ we chased three screams for nothin’. Ah’m just runnin’ out of things to try, an’ there are still weeks an’ weeks of summer left. But joinin' the Ponyville Homework Group? They just get laughed at. Everypony in there gets laughed at. Ah can't do it.” “Oh, but those are the reasons why the group would be perfect for you, my little pony. And ponies used to laugh at you for not having a cutie mark, and that didn't stop you.” Apple Bloom glanced at her flank. Then she hummed to herself, sitting in a more comfortable position on the carpet, stroking her chin. “Maybe they are. Oh, but maybe they ain't! Ah don't know. Ah’ll have to think about it, Miss Cheerilee. But that ain’t a no – uh, Ah mean, but that ain’t a yes or a no. Maybe. If Ah think about it.” “No problem at all, Apple Bloom. Just come by the school tomorrow at midday if you decide you want to try it. Bye now,” Cheerilee said, as she accepted her order from the Cakes and turned to leave. Apple Bloom clambered back onto her stool and sat back at the counter. She traced a hoof around her mug’s rim and stared at it thoughtfully. A musical note sounded from it. She lifted her offending hoof and blinked in complete astonishment at it, then at the contents of the mug. Within the confines of Carousel Boutique, amid mirrors and models and kaleidoscopes of textiles, Rarity sighed with pleasure and began to write. “Dearest Sir Fancypants," she dictated, while the glowing quill danced over the parchment. “I am very grateful to you for inviting me to the Hoity Toity fashion gala. I cannot tell you what an honour it is to be considered for the line-up for this year’s New Alicornia Millennium Celebration. The fashionista festival would be the crowning jewel of my career. It is simply marvellous, so wonderful, so absolutely fabulous … no, cross that out, that’s too much.” The quill scratched viciously. Rarity regained her composure. “I shall be bringing the three suits you requested, as well as my latest ensemble for your friend.” The door opened. One corpulent cat waddled in, wearing a purple bow and a self-satisfied smirk. Sweetie Belle lagged behind her. “Ah, Opalescence. You found her. Excellent! Excellent timing! Just in time for your bath.” The smirk vanished at once. Opal's eye twitched, but before she could run the Persian cat was enveloped in a blue glow and dragged, clawing and screaming, across the room and out the door. Sweetie Belle winced in sympathy when she heard the dreaded splash. "I had the hot water going on for so long, too," said Rarity, before biting her tongue and picking up the quill again. “Rarity, why am I going to this thing again?” she said. “Sweetie Belle, it is about time we resolved our few remaining differences. One day, you’ll be a big girl, and I want my sister to have the best start in life when she comes of age.” A full stop was stabbed into place. “But I don’t have a cutie mark yet.” “Oh, but I want to help you gain your cutie mark too." Rarity turned to face her and lowered her spectacles. "Which is why I think this festival would be perfect for you. Maybe you’ll find your special talent when I take you to New Alicornia.” “In designing and fashion?” Sweetie shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Sweetie Belle, it is about time you learned from the fashionable ends of Equestria. Maybe something will rub off on you. The culture. The company. The sophistication. Fashion, finesse, and fabulous fabrics. You will be at the culture capital of all unicorn kind. Why, an experience like that would do you a world of good, or should I say: il sera une expérience incroyable?" Rarity giggled to herself. Whoever this Fancypants was, thought Sweetie, he was clearly a bad influence. "But come!" Rarity clapped her hooves and Sweetie found herself levitating above the floor. "The train will be leaving soon, and you’re not even in your dress yet.” "Would it make any difference if I let my sigh out now, or should I let it out in private?" said Sweetie. She knew her sister meant well, but she wished that her sister also listened well. At times, Rarity seemed to conduct both sides of the conversation in her mind, regardless of what the other pony actually said. "Why, whatever is the matter?" said Rarity, walking over to her. "You just do the same thing over and over again." Sweetie folded her forelegs - it looked less ridiculous than letting them dangle in midair. "We always end up doing what you want to do. You, you, you." "Please, Sweetie Belle! Don't say such things. We're all past that now, right?" Is that a winning smile, thought Sweetie, or her just showing off her teeth? She somehow managed to shuffle on her haunches in midair, not looking at Rarity, who broke ranks first. "Alright, my dear," said Rarity, ears falling. "It's only fair if I do a little giving as well. If you do this for me, I promise that when we come back, I will do something with you that you want to do. Is that acceptable, sweetums?" A hoof was extended towards her. Sweetie didn't budge, a good negotiation tactic that actually numbered sixth on the ancient scroll of The Art of Sisterhood. Rarity stretched her hoof further. "OK." Rotating in midair, Sweetie Belle extended her own hoof to touch her sister's. "Deal." "Now we have an understanding," said Rarity, smiling again. "It's time for your bath. I hope Opalescence isn't taking too long." A sarcastic hiss came from the bathroom. At almost the same moment, several miles away, a young filly's scream echoed over Sweet Apple Acres. Scootaloo leapt and aimed a hoof. Enraged, Rainbow Dash blocked with crossed forelegs held up like a shield, then aimed a sideways swipe that knocked into Scoot’s cheek and sent her other cheek smacking into the ground. “Show me what you’ve got, little filly!” Scootaloo screamed in fury and dived beneath her, sliding between her legs. A flip and a lunge had her on Dash’s back, but the wings opened and Dash fell heavily on her forelegs, her rump going up like a see-saw and bucking Scootaloo off. When Scootaloo tried to bite Dash’s leg, Dash simply raised it up and Scootaloo continued flying through the air. “No biting! If you want to play dirty, you’ll only make it harder for yourself!” Dash didn’t even move. Scootaloo simply soared over her left shoulder and landed face first on the trunk of the tree. Scootaloo thumped onto the ground. “What was that? Were you actually aiming that time?” To Dash's surprise, and then to her alarm, Scootaloo was whimpering. She was clutching her face where she’d hit the tree and suppressing cries of pain. Dash bit her own hoof. “Uh oh. Hey, kid,” she said, leaning close to pat her on the wither. “You OK? I thought you wanted rough and tough? Remember what you said? Scoots? Come here.” She cuddled Scootaloo with one leg, stroking her mane as Scootaloo held on tightly and buried her face in Dash’s other foreleg. It felt quite wet where her eyelids met it. A bit of blood dribbled out. Dash looked around with a panicky expression. "I'm not crying," said a voice into her fur. "I just, I just got some bark in my eyes." “It’s just a nosebleed. It’ll stop soon.” When this didn’t work, Dash tried shushing her gently. She didn’t know whether this would work either, but it was better than not saying anything and she wanted to drown out the half-stifled sobs - she really couldn't stand the sounds. There was a clattering of cart wheels. Big Macintosh came over the ridge of the hill, chewing on hay and hauling a cartload of apples behind him. Dash watched apprehensively, and as he was passing, he stopped and turned to look at her. Then he looked down at Scootaloo, who was wiping her face on her own leg, and stopped chewing. He blinked in puzzlement. “Uh,” Dash said, her eyes appealing to the sky. “We were fighting. I didn’t think she’d get hurt. Well, yeah, it’s fighting, so you’d expect somepony to get hurt, but I didn’t mean... well, I meant to, but I was… I… she…" A weak chuckle failed to explain things any more clearly. They both looked on awkwardly as Scootaloo sniffed and took a step back. "I'm OK, now. No biggie." “You sure, Scoots?” “It was nothing, really. I was… just surprised, that’s all. Yeah. Let’s keep fighting.” Dash threw a nervous grin at Big Macintosh. He shrugged. "She says she's alright," he said. "So Ah guess she's alright." With that, he continued chewing his piece of straw and pulled the cart downhill. “Keep fighting?" said Dash, once she was sure the red giant was out of earshot. "But what about the –?” “This? Nah, it’s nothing.” She winced as she poked her swollen nose. “I’m still ready. Come on.” A lightbulb flashed over Dash's head. “Why don’t we take time out for a bit?" she said. "I mean, obviously, I’m a little tired from all the fighting, and, um..." She stretched her legs back and forth, and then yawned like a lion. "Shall we get a drink?” “Uh, sure. Yeah.” It was some time later. The sun was setting, casting everything in an orange glow. The two of them were sitting with their backs against the apple tree, tactfully not mentioning the sore on Scoot's nose. “Today was so awesome," said Scootaloo, holding back a squeal. "Hey, Dash. Do you think I could be a spy one day?” “You can be whatever you want to be, kid," Dash said, folding her arms behind her head. "Personally, I had you down as a good hoof on a scooter.” “Nah. That’s nothing special. I’d rather learn kung fu fighting from a black belt any day of the week.” “Yeah? You gotta be good to keep up with me.” Scootaloo beamed. “I intend to be the best.” “Ooh, I heard some kick in that one." A back rolled forwards and four hooves rested on the fallen leaves. Scootaloo got up too. "Can we do this same time tomorrow?” "Sure, kid. Cloud duty's pretty easy in summer. If you're lucky, I might steal one of Rarity's dummies and bring it around for you to test your moves on." "Cool! I can't wait." Dash yawned again, genuinely this time, and flexed her wings. "For now, I think it's bed time for both of us. AJ’ll probably chase us off the fields if we’re not out of here before dusk. See you tomorrow, Scoots.” There was a whoosh, and Scootaloo's blossoming eyes reflected the rainbow streaming across the disc of the sun. Applejack panted, but took several more steps back until she was at the crest of the hill. She looked across the gap towards the peak of the next two hills, and spied, atop the third like an obnoxious King Harold, the apple tree. Two tufts of grass were churned up as the workhorse pawed the ground. Then, with a rear and a whinny, she went straight into a full gallop, down the hill, across the fields, through the valley, over the foot of the offending hill and nearer the base of the foliage fortress. She leapt up, and still carrying on under her own momentum, raised a leg and screamed woody murder. The kick was enough to split the trunk in half. Applejack whooped in midair as the apple trembled on its twig. There was a thud, an “oof,” and a crunch. A while later, Big Macintosh walked up the hill and towards the two halves of the tree, one lying on top of the other. A layer of orange fur was sandwiched between them, with four legs sticking out. Big Macintosh turned around and bucked the lower half, with both halves tumbling aside. A table that looked a lot like Applejack fell onto the ground and popped back into shape. There were little apples spinning around her head, but she shook off the dizziness and the illusion vanished. “Doncha think yer takin’ this a li’l seriously?” said Big Macintosh. Applejack snorted. “Ah ain’t gonna lose ter a Pink Lady. Ah’ll have her off that tree afore sundown.” “Yer can do it tomorrow. Get some rest fer now." Hooves smacked against the fallen trunk, but the apple still dangled from its twig. Applejack seized it in both hooves and braced herself against the trunk, pulling and twisting with all her might and with a lot of groaning. Big Macintosh watched patiently as she slipped and fell onto her croup. "It's time for feedin', now. Yer’ll have yer strength back in the mornin’.” Applejack heard sense, but she still growled with frustration and turrned to the tree. "You listen to me, li'l troublemaker. Ah ain't got time fer hangarounds. Ah've bucked bigger apples than you, so don't you go gettin' ahead o' yerself. An' so help me, Ah will not buck another tree until Ah have you down an' harvested like the rest o' 'em." Then she adjusted her hat before she passed her brother, trotting moodily downhill. Big Macintosh chewed his piece of straw, then looked back at the tree. "Ah guess she sure told you," he said, and followed his sister down a while later. Stealth isn’t really something that thrives in Equestria. Stealth requires secrets, and secrets require ponies to acknowledge someone as a potential enemy, which really doesn’t happen when you’re baking pies and singing ditties for the entire neighbourhood. There were simply no wars, there were never two opposing sides, and there was, most fatally, an enthusiasm for “talking things over” whenever a misunderstanding threatened to make things interesting. It wasn’t perfect; it was sickly sweet, and peril, intrigue, and war were all diabetics. But there had been periods in history when this was not the case, and the mentioning of such times - times before Celestia’s takeover of Equestria, for instance - drew shudders from the historians. They were principally known as the ‘Exciting Times’ but went under many names, including the Big Uh-Oh, the Bad Juju, the Moment We’reinforit, Things Differently Peaceful, Oshi, and several more names that had been lost through the mists of time, if only because this was the best way for the more sensitive ponies to read the words. And at the other side of the millennium, in more recent times, things had been shaken up again. Ponies had received that harsh wake-up call that complacent minds get when they are reminded that peace never comes for free and never stays for free. Thankfully, due to six unassuming ponies (whose efforts were historic and mighty and, for mysterious reasons, promptly forgotten about), the world was not cloaked in eternal darkness. It had been rescued from chaos, it was safe from mad gods, and it was not populated by ponies all fighting over one rather smelly grey doll that had its own homework set and a lot of bad stitching. Events like that lead to a lot of probing in museum attics and within underground library archives. They set minds racing. Through the U-turn of history, the echoes of the Exciting Times came back and an overture was created. The minds of artists became the notes of a new, furious melody that was heard across the realm. Throughout the more intellectual areas of Canterlot – or at least those areas where the word ‘intellectual’ wasn’t spelled with a ‘harumph’ at the end – the printing press began an enterprise between the artists and the historians. Comics were one of the results. Apple Bloom was staring up at the ceiling. The moon was shining onto the floorboards, next to her chest of toys in the corner. From down the hall, she could hear her sister muttering into the pillow. Big Macintosh’s and Granny Smith’s rooms were silent. The quilt was kicked off her stomach. It slumped onto the floor, cushioning four yellow hooves when she rolled out of her four-poster. Her bow’s shadow fell over the lid of the chest. A quick flick of the nose revealed a teddy bear, a blue ball, a green model of a spire, and several more useless items inside. Apple Bloom dipped her head like an apple bobber who’s just been told that she has to bob not only for the apples, but for her carnival prize too, and emerged with black fabric between her teeth. It had a few white stars on the legs and collar. Once she’d put on the bandana as well, a pink hoof struck the air and she beamed at an imaginary foe. Putting on the suit was a definite statement. The roof even seemed to slope upwards while she pressed her back against the door, as if making room for her raw confidence. Hinges groaned as the wooden door was pulled, like two guards briefly disturbed from their sleep. Two fiery eyes peered out. They looked to the left. They looked to the right. They looked to the left again, just in case something popped out of nowhere during the few seconds spent looking away – according to her comics, this was vitally important for avoiding villainous duck-billed platypuses. Then Apple Bloom's head craned around the doorframe and examined the corridor. Opposite her was a portrait of a pink pony with a white mane. Next to that was Applejack's bedroom door. Noises were coming from behind it, giving the impression that the door was sleepily asking for another apple fritter. Opposite the door were the stairs. Apple Bloom gulped. It occurred to her that anything with only raw confidence in it simply wasn’t well done. She eased her hoof around the doorframe, placing it gently onto the floorboards. There was no squeak. She tried a second hoof. No creak was heard. Remembering the spies from her comics, she took the bipedal option, wiping her back against the wall as she crossed the hall. She wished the window wouldn’t keep staring at her like that. Finally she reached the top of the stairs. The flight descended below her. From behind, she heard the apple decoration on the bedroom door mumble about lassoing runaway pies. There was plenty of shadow down the staircase, but perhaps the white stars on her costume would contrast with the black fabric enough to give her away in the dark. The rouge neck ribbon was probably overkill. One of the steps creaked: Apple Bloom instantly froze. An ear swivelled to face the door upstairs. She held her breath. The green door loudly groaned and complained about the rope being covered in apple sauce before a snore cut it off. Apple Bloom breathed again, but it took a long time for her limbs to unfreeze. There were no further creaks as her forelegs eased themselves down and off the handrail, which had bite marks on it, because a pony falling down the stairs isn’t fussy about what it grabs onto. The novice in stealth crossed the main room, regretting the lack of furniture to hide behind. It didn’t feel stealthy, but at least the round rug in the middle muffled most of her hoof steps. It was quiet outside, and in the barn when she slipped inside. All around her were mountains of apple crates. Straw crunched under her hooves before she stopped in front of an old cart wheel, spokes and hub made of that tough timber that seemed to fossilize instead of decaying. It was leaning against the crimson wall, near a white window frame. Apple Bloom traced a line with her nose as if following the moonlight pouring through the glass. Her little hooves worked feverishly, scattering straw. Then she was scattering dirt. She stopped, nose covered in earthy clumps, and beamed down at the prize. A while later, her small head poked through the gap between the barn doors. A quick adjustment of her jaw was all that was needed before she darted out and ran past the white fences into Sweet Apple Acre’s orchard. There were lights on within the treehouse, the yellow glow pouring through the heart-shaped gaps in the door and the shutters. Next to the L-shaped walkway leading up to the balcony, what looked like a blue skateboard with handles was leaning against the trunk. Occasionally, a “haiiiiiiiiiiiii-YA” punctuated the cricket chirps, which were coming along nicely now and the poor chaps probably wouldn’t need that rehearsal they’d scheduled for tomorrow night. Three buckets were placed upside-down on the floor. They sat and waited, woodenly. To a sufficiently hyperactive mind, they were squatting ninjas about to pounce. Their nonexistent eyes narrowed. Their imaginary arms tensed. Legs did not bend like sumo wrestlers squaring off. They were professionals, if you wanted them to be. Two purple eyes, both perfectly real, concentrated on each one. Enamel scraped against enamel, making a screech that would make a dentist rub his hands in glee. Toe bones cracked like knuckles. A drop of sweat dribbled down an orange forehead as if hoping to drop out of the fight. There wasn’t actually a bell, but if there had been, it would have pinged. Scootaloo rushed forwards, lungs exploding through her mouth, and kicked the first bucket. It sailed through the air and struck the door, or at least would have done if Apple Bloom hadn’t opened it first. When she came back up the steps a second time, Apple Bloom was moaning into her hoof. “Scoodnoo!” she cried, rubbing her nose. “Wha’ d’hay’re you doon?” “Apple Bloom!” “Ah dought somepony w’in dere.” Apple Bloom let go of her nose, which was still red and throbbing. She nearly shook her mane off until the pain vanished. “Ah saw the lights were on.” “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” “Aren’t you s’posed to be in bed?” Two pairs of lips were pursed. “Ah won’t tell if you won’t tell,” said Apple Bloom, before spitting on her hoof and extending it. After a pause, Scootaloo spat onto her own hoof and they shook. “O’ course,” added Apple Bloom, “if you do tell even one pony, Ah’ll crow it to the rooftops o’ every house o’ every pony in Ponyville with a megaphone that you kicked a bucket into mah face, but Ah feel that’s only to be fair. Keeps the deal on the sweet, yer know?” “I thought I’d stay up and learn some karate moves,” said Scootaloo, gesturing towards the buckets. She howled in Japanese - though since the only word she knew was "HAAAAAIIII", it wasn't exactly bilingualism at its finest - and delivered a kick which would have made any kung fu master witnessing it chew the back of his chair in outrage. Apple Bloom gave the resulting bucket-shaped hole in the wall a cursory glance. “I was learning karate in the fields with Rainbow Dash. Well, OK, we were supposed to be learning how to sneak around and stuff, but that was so boring, and then Dash said ‘hey want to know how to disarm somepony instead’, so I said ‘hey, why not’, and then we tried hitting each other's jugulars. Or at least we tried to. Is the jugular the one in the leg? It kinda went a little Oriental from there.” “So you think mah idea was righ’ after all?” Apple Bloom sat down on the floor, folded her forelegs and gave her pegasus partner a wry smirk. Scootaloo wiped the smile off her own face. “Nuh uh. I still think it’s a dumb idea. I just don’t think it’s too dumb, like way-stupid dumb. It’s more daft-dumb, with a bit of really weird and a lot of ‘ooooooooookay’. It’s not that dumb on the dumb-o-meter of dumbness, really. Um, it’s a smart-ish kind of dumb. “And karate is cool,” she added, pushing her luck a bit. The conversation was loyally dropped after that, which is the sort of thing friends can get away with without looking awkward. “Well, OK, we can try that out,” Apple Bloom said. “If yer want some hints and tips, Ah’ve got some comics ter show yer how it’s done.” The paper was slapped onto the floorboards. Scootaloo cast a shadow over them. “This one is Wolfenstein,” said her friend, nudging her aside. “The ninja warrior pony-wolf.” He had a peg-leg, an eyepatch, and a grin filled with kitchen knives. “He was a spy fer Princess Luna, when she was Nightmare Moon. Durin’ the day, he was a normal pony called Silver Platter, an’ a servant of Princess Celestia. But durin’ the nigh’, his real wolf form came out an’ he used to sneak around the palace, carryin’ out Nightmare Moon’s evil schemes an’ thwartin’ Celestia’s evil plans.” “Evil?” “They’re told from his point of view. An’ he was cunnin’. He never got caught.” “Was he real?” “Ah dunno. Mighta been. If he was, he was awful good. An’ sometimes he even won against Celestia.” “Gee, wouldn’t Princess Celestia find this kind of thing… disrespectful?” “She loves ‘em. She even suggested some o’ the plotlines herself. One o’ the stories was even hosted as a royal thee-atrical. Besides, Ah like stories with good bad guys.” Apple Bloom sighed. “Ah’d sure like ter be like him. Then Ah’d have all kinds o’ neat toys ter play with, an’, an’ super-slick moves an’ stuff.” “Who’s that guy?” Scootaloo pointed at a second comic. “Huh? Oh, that’s the Night Watch Pony. She sneaks out at night in Manehattan an’ catches criminals an’ bad ponies." Without warning, Apple Bloom leapt onto her back legs and pointed a hoof at the treehouse ceiling, shouting: "Come, Cloppin! TO THE PONY POLE!” She blushed at Scootaloo’s expression. "Hehe," she said. “It’s a, er, catchy-phrase she says. It goes like this: there's a scream of fear, then the two ponies look around all startled-like. Then Cloppin says 'What was that', and the night Watch Pony replied, 'That was our work bell.' Come, Cloppin, to the pony pole! An' then they get into the Ponymobile an' leap into action!” There was a scream. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo jumped off the floorboards. "What was that?" cried Scootaloo. "It's comin' from Ponyville!" "Well, shall we see what this one is?" "Are you crazy? At this hour?" Apple Bloom said, walking up to the window and peering out. "It could be dangerous." "Well, we wouldn't have to do anything, just look at it. See what it is. You know." The young pegasus leaned in close to Apple Bloom's ear. "Ess-pee-own-arge on it." "No." "Unless you're chicken?" "No, Ah'm not!" "Bdak, bdak, bdak!" "Alrigh', smart mouth, Ah'll come. But how're we gonna get there?" This was met with a broad grin. "Well, we kinda have a Ponymobile of our own." "Does it shoot lasers an' things from the front?" "Well, no, but..." "Does it have heat-seekin' rockets and giant magic tasers?" "No, but..." "Does it have an ejector seat? Rocket boosters? A magnetic lasso?" "NO, but..." "Does it even have a cup holder?" "Look, do you want to come or not?" "Answer the question!" "NO, it doesn't have a cup holder!" "Huh. Well, Ah guess it ain't a Ponymobile, now, is it?" "You're killing the mood." Scootaloo slapped on her helmet and marched towards the door. "Come on." As the last of the Ponyville house doors slammed shut, a motor growled and two fillies on a scooter zoomed down the street, losing some speed on the uphill. The passenger was pointing and shouting directions for the driver, who adjusted and turned tight corners before speeding down another street. They passed Sugar Cube Corner, where the lights were still on, and they passed the library tree, the lights of which were also on. Twilight lowered her quill and peered out the study window. She could hear the growling motor and was just in time to see the two Cutie Mark Crusaders whizz past. "Hm," she said, tapping her hoof. This was a common reaction to the sight of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, especially when they were looking so purposeful. The scooter ground the soil and skidded to a halt. Scootaloo stopped leaning back and Apple Bloom unwrapped her hooves, freeing the orange waist. Ponyville's main streets were empty of ponies, and in the half light it began to unnerve them. “Dang,” said Apple Bloom. “Ah was sure it came from around here.” They lingered nonetheless. Leaves rustled and were dragged past them in the low wind. The night was colder than usual, and though the stars were dutifully filling up the void, the moon seemed not to have cleared the trees yet. "I'll try the next road," Scootaloo said, leaning back again. Then she paused. "What? What's wrong?" "Sh! D'you feel those vibes?" At first, she felt nothing. There were no sounds except for the wind murmuring in her ear. But the longer she listened, the more she felt that things were out of place in the gentle rhythm of the night. She couldn't put her hoof on it. "Scootaloo...?" "Sh! Sh! There! D'you feel it?" The ground was shaking with each double thump. Apple Bloom looked around for the source of the noise. Scootaloo gripped her friend’s head in both hooves and rotated it by ninety degrees. That was how she saw what was coming up the road. The result was that Apple Bloom had Scootaloo’s wide-eyed expression to a T, though her eyes were a double ‘O’, her ears more a ‘V’, and her mouth an unmistakeable copy of the universal ‘AARGH’. The noises were getting louder. Scootaloo spun the scooter around and did a good impression of a V2 Rocket propelled by a combustible fuel of disbelief and fur-wetting fear. A bouncing black mass followed them up the street, like a drumbeat counting down the seconds they had. Apple Bloom seized Scootaloo’s waist again, then squeezed tighter as they took a hard right and sped down an alleyway. There was a fruit cart up ahead. There was always a fruit cart up ahead, because any chase vehicle has to smash through something and Hollywood hates healthy food just as much as you do. As they zoomed up, Scootaloo leapt off the shooting blue scooter and worked her wings, Apple Bloom fluttering behind her like a cape made of lead. The scooter fell on its side and slid beneath the cart before all hooves were reunited with it, knocking it back to an upright position and incidentally allowing a ninety degree turn before they zoomed down the next road. Their pursuer didn’t bother with such niceties. Planks and fruit rained down over the house opposite. Apple Bloom squeezed her eyelids tighter at the crunching noises. They sped on as the thing behind them began howling. Scootaloo saw a second cart, this one empty but leaning towards them. It made an obvious ramp for a scooter. She steered them to a good angle and then braced herself as the scooter hit the wooden planks and soared over the edge and onto the thatched roof, which gave way. There was a pause while the house let out light through the new and unplanned loft conversion. Then the front door opened outwards and they both shot out, revving the scooter. Apple Bloom looked around and behind them, but there was no sign of the beast. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Ah think," she breathed, "Ah think we're going to be OK!" Four paws landed in front of them. Scootaloo screamed as it bounced past, and wrenched the handlebars. The scooter spiralled down the road, despite her savaging the controls, and they both crashed into a pile of cardboard boxes. A dust cloud enveloped them all. Apple Bloom felt like the world had been snatched out from under her feet. It took some time to stop. Through the settling dust cloud, three silhouettes lay slumped in the wreckage. Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom’s forelegs, but they were wrapped tightly around the pegasus’ hips and the Apple pony was curled up in petrified fright. Scootaloo pushed again, more frantically. There was a thumping sound, and when they looked up, the giant dog was bounding down the street towards them. Slobbering jaws were agape, overloaded with shark-like teeth so large none of the mouths could even shut. It roared. Three times. Once per head. The thumping drowned out their own heartbeats as the two fillies closed their eyes and curled up together. Something else was thumping, too. Four ears swivelled, trying to locate the intruding sound. Twilight landed in the space between the boxes and the dog, and clenched her teeth as the purple glow flowed through her horn. A puzzled yelp, a skid of braced paws, and the loss of the thumps finally got the better of the two fillies. They opened their eyes. The dog skidded to a halt inches before Twilight's frown. All three heads looked down at her quizzically. There was a long silence while Twilight’s horn glowed more brightly. Six red eyes blinked. From outside of town, on the edge of the Everfree Forest, a vine-smothered tree glowed purple as if in response. Soil trembled at its roots. Finally, with a wrenching of its boughs, the tree burst through the ground, scattering clumps of earth. It hovered in midair, before it drifted over to the town's borders. The three-headed dog was waving a paw in front of Twilight's face and examining her for a reaction when the tree drifted into view. It floated down the road, and while the dog was scratching its left head, a bunch of leaves was thrust into its faces. They looked down. Twilight winked. They looked at each other uncertainly. Then all three faces beamed. Three tongues hung out and it rose up on its hind legs, panting. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo beamed as its gigantic tail wagged through the air like a hefted club. “Here boy," said Twilight, waving it about enticingly. "You want the stick? Get the stick, boy! Go get it!” With a swish of leaves, Twilight threw it in a high arc clear over Ponyville rooftops and into the depths of the forest. It didn't even hesitate; the black hellhound bounded after the tree, out of Ponyville and through the outlying trees, where it was out of sight. Behind her, Twilight heard two sighs of relief. “T-Twilight?” said Apple Bloom, getting to her hooves. The unicorn turned around. A blinding flash of light spread from her horn, enveloping the town. Splatterings of fruit drifted through the air. Planks rose off the ground. Beneath their feet, the dust stirred and the two fillies jumped back as cardboard boxes began stacking themselves. The hole in the roof shrank and sealed up. Soon, the shattered wood was fitting together, piece by piece, until the fruit cart was complete and it was gently placed back onto the ground. “We," began Scootaloo, as the last box topped the pyramid, "we can explain…” “Girls,” said Twilight, looking down at them. The glow in her horn vanished. “What are you doing out so late? It's not safe tonight." "But why not? Where'd that... thing come from?" "It ran out of the Everfree Forest a while ago and gave us a bit of a fright. But that doesn't concern you now. I think it would be a great idea to go back to your homes as soon as possible, girls. Your families must be worried about you.” Scootaloo and Apple Bloom hung their heads and traipsed off, Scootaloo dragging the scooter behind her with her tail. Once they were gone, and while chewing her lip, Twilight examined the giant paw prints in the ground. "A cerberus?" she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "But why would one of those be coming here?" From the distant forest, three cheerful howls rent the night. To be continued... Sweet Millennium SpiesNew Alicornia glowed with power. The town lay in the middle of an amphitheatre of mountains, overlooked by the snow-capped spires that reflected the town in an iridescence that would have made the aurora borealis gape in astonishment. And what a show New Alicornia had on for the mountains tonight: from above, the entire town was shaped like a winged unicorn in full flight, with the lights placed so strategically that the eyes, crown, necklace, royal golden shoes, and sun-shaped cutie mark could be distinguished. There were town planners, and then there were town artists, but this was the work of a town Rembrandt. Cathedral belfries and elevated mansions, some actually on hovering hemispheres of earth, overlooked the rainbow stepping stones of the path, which changed colour as unicorns walked on them. Festival decorations were draped from windowsill to windowsill, banners hung over the main streets thronging with ponies, and tents and wooden stalls were strung along the sidewalks like beads on a necklace. Every unicorn around the main festival near the town's "head" was dressed in frou-frou and frills, with gaudier costumes for the Earth ponies around the fair at the town's "forelegs", both groups looking like the hybrids of ponies and birds of paradise. The New Alicornia clock tower chimed the hour. A ripple spread out from its face as though it were on water, distorting space-time as it passed through the town, until everything else jumped ahead and all the ponies were now where they would be five minutes later. This instantly moved Rarity and Sweetie Belle straight from the train station in the town's "rear leg" to a street near the fair, where they were trotting side-by-side. There were scatterings of ponies around, so the fair hadn't started in earnest yet. "Now, Sweetie Belle," said Rarity, as the ripple reached the outermost point of the town and died away, "I know how much you dislike waiting around before the show, so perhaps you would like to have a stroll around the New Alicornia fair before tonight, hm?" Sweetie Belle was shaking her head at the time jump. Sure, Rarity had been forewarned, but she had neglected to tell her. "But," she said, once the memories of the last five minutes suddenly caught up with her, "you're going to do all that dressmaking and stuff, and you never let me go on my own." Rarity stopped outside a textiles stall, admiring the selection of silks and velvet cushions. Sweetie Belle played with a dangling selvage, somehow managing to unravel it. The stall owner shooed her away and she went to stand next to Rarity. "Oh, but you won't be alone, Sweetie Belle," Rarity said. "By good fortune, a… friend of mine happened to be in New Alicornia today." "Hey, Rarity!" From across the road, a green pony was stumbling over to her, trying to juggle a long pole with a window wiper on the end, a bucket full of water, and some coiled rope. On top of his brown mane, a green cap bounced as if it was as excited to see them as he was. Judging by the state of his shirt, which was technically white but seemed to be going off, he'd been doing some cleaning work recently. He tripped and landed face first in the coiled rope, dropping the pole and spilling the water over the road. Rarity raised a hoof to avoid the suds. "Hayseed, how nice to see you again," she said with a strained smile. "Sweetie Belle, meet Mister Hayseed Turnip Truck, an old… friend of mine." Sweetie Belle looked up at her as if at any moment Rarity's forehead would open and a cuckoo would pop out. If Rarity had told her that she had a friend here, Hayseed, who was so country that any pony who looked at him immediately heard banjo music, would have been a stellar example of who Sweetie Belle would specifically have chosen not to be an example. Hayseed sat back on his haunches, apparently none the worse for having the rope wrapped around both his snout and his buck teeth. "A right pleasure ter meet yer, Sweetie Belle." He extended a hoof so enthusiastically he nearly poked her in the eye. When they shook, Sweetie Belle had difficulty stopping her leg going up and down afterwards and was still vibrating as Rarity spoke. "He usually works up in Canterlot, but he happened to be in town for this day, and he kindly offered to help me out by looking after you." "You betcha. This place is a town o' oppor-toon-ity. Lots of dirty windows here," he said, pulling a cloth out of the bucket. Several ponies nearby overheard him and scoffed. Sweetie Belle finally stopped her hoof from going up and down, but it still felt numb. "Aren't there already window cleaners here?" she said. "Ah know that," whispered Hayseed behind a raised hoof. "But they don't." "You will make sure she comes back to the Ponydrome by midnight, won't you?" said Rarity. "She mustn't be a minute late." "You can coun' on me, Rarity!" He saluted, nearly knocking the cap off his head. "Excellent. I shall see you later, Sweetie Belle. Mwah," she said, giving her sister a peck on the cheek before she turned to Hayseed. "Remember, not even a minute. I am placing my trust in you." "Don't you worry yer li'l fancy hat off; ol' Hayseed's the trustingest pony you can find." They briefly shook hooves, and Sweetie Belle kept in a giggle as she noticed Rarity wince and massage her own pastern. Then she watched her elder sister walk away. Hayseed picked up his fallen items. "Ah jus' gotta drop this stuff of at mah place, then we can go to this fair in town," he said to Sweetie. "How's that sound?" "Um, great." They started to walk, Hayseed attracting a lot of funny glances for his insane balancing act. "How do you know Rarity?" said Sweetie. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but... Rarity hobnobs with the Canterlot sort of pony. I've never heard of her hobnobbing a window-cleaner before." Hayseed caught the bucket, saving a passing unicorn from having her dress insta-cleaned. "Oh, we met at one of the Apple family hoedowns at Sweet Apple Acres – we Turnips an' Apples go back a lon' way. It was cos o' her Ah got to know a pony who knew a pony who knew another pony who was datin' another pony who was the daughter of a pony who knew a pony's uncle who served a pony in the army of a commander pony who ran off with another pony who had a friend of a brother of a second cousin's wife's twin sister's dawg in Canterlot." "Wow, that's a long way to go from Ponyville." "You'd be amazed how many windows need cleanin', especially the dawg's." "What are you doing here?" "Why you know that. Ah'm taking these doohickeys back to mah lodgin'. Oh, wait, you mean in New Alicornia? Aw shucks, Ah was asked to come here by some fancy pants pony called, er… Fancypants. Tol' me he wanted his New Alicornia apartment to have clean windows, an' since Ah used to clean his mansion windows back in Canterlot, he asked me. Cos he knows Ah can deliver. An' it turns out Ah fill somethin' called a… a nitch here." They reached a small house with the sign "rooms to let" stuck to the window. Compared with the rest of New Alicornia, the Georgian timber design looked quite plain. Hayseed hurried inside and came out empty-hooved. "Well, that done. Wanna go get some milkshakes?" "Milkshakes? YAY!" One candle glowed in the darkness of the library. The pile of books surrounding it had shrunk to a mere thirty six, but they and the lone scroll lay on the desk, hoping to grow roots and branches again if they stood still long enough. To one side, Twilight summoned the candle over to her, illuminating one book's spine at a time with a gradual sweep over the shelves. Eventually, she found what looked like a slab of limestone that had been cut into the shape of a brick, and excavated it. The cover read: Mutton's Monstrous Mythical Monsters, and What To Do If You Meet Them – Two Books In One. Just out of interest, she flipped to the last page, looking for an index. Instead, the page she found was entitled Book Two: What To Do If You Meet Them, under which were the words: "Check life insurance policy is up to date, and having ascertained that it is, proceed to un-meet them as soon as possible." A rustle of pages was followed by a slight brightening as the candle was moved closer. "Cerberus," Twilight read aloud. "A very large three-headed canine beast of the species Fido hadesii. They are said to watch the entrances of secret lairs, acting as guard dogs on the behalf of any pony who can master them. Though they are friendly and loyal to those whom they trust, they are dangerous when excited and should only be handled by a powerful unicorn. Definitely not good with children. Needs no daily exercise. Apparently, they make excellent music critics." There were more paragraphs further below. Twilight moved over to the desk and set aside her previous essay, spreading a new scroll over the desk and dipping the quill into the inkwell. Carefully, she copied the notes from the page. She'd just finished when the candle flame shrank and turned to a wisp. "Now, Twilight, question time. What would a giant dog be doing around Ponyville?" she said, tucking the scroll into one of the books. "What's there around here to interest it? Owlowiscious," she called, while trying not to wake Spike upstairs. "Owlowiscious?" Glancing around the shelves, Twilight listened for a tell-tale sound. Perhaps she'd left a window open and banging, but then why would he go outside when everything he wanted was inside? A shadow flew through the round window of her room and landed atop one of the towers on her desk. Owlowiscious opened his beak, dropping a rolled up scroll. Messages were a little awkward for her. While Spike with his magic flame was capable of transporting letters to and from the Princess, and had recently learned how to direct letters to other locations, they had yet to work out a receiving system with his flame that was just as quick. It would have needed a sender at her friends' locations. But there were no other dragons in Ponyville, and Spike refused to submit to Twilight's cloning spell: even if the other man was him, he didn't fancy having a love triangle with Rarity. Twilight unfurled the scroll and glanced over the message, twisting her mouth as if hoping to wring some answers out of it. "Zecora?" she said to the name at the bottom. "At this hour?" There are some ponies you could set your watch by; with Twilight, you could set the standard definition for the base SI unit of time, and then plan out an entire calendar afterwards. She had worked out long ago that a pony only needed four or five hours a night for sleep, and she was used to working late and rising early, two habits rarely seen together. Even Zecora, who was not only out of town but out of what most ponies would call the habitable zone, had learned to work engagements with Twilight around this fact. She summoned her saddlebags, filling them with the books Zecora had requested, and hooted a thank you to Owlowiscious in owlspeak, though as her friend pointed out, she was still indulging too much in a snowy owl accent. To her surprise, there were thumps coming from outside, followed by a crash behind the front door. Several books fell off the shelves. From beyond the woodwork, she could hear scratching. She opened the door and immediately jumped back as a tree slammed into the ground in front of her. High above, three heads drooled and panted. It took her a while to take in what was occurring. "Oh, er," she said. "It's you again, I see." One of the dog heads barked and nudged the tree with a sticky nose. It was like watching a train bump into the buffers, complete with steam effects when it breathed out. "You, er, want me to throw it again?" All three heads nodded, drenching her with flying spittle. She shook it out of her mane and looked past the black mass. At this point, she wasn't quite prepared to plan time for playing fetch with a two-storey tall, three-jawed hellhound that made the Hound of the Baskervilles look like its favourite squeaky toy. It was while avoiding the gazes that Twilight noticed, and was surprised to see, a circular patch of white on its rump. The notes she'd just taken from the book hadn't mentioned anything about feathers. Yet clumps of them fell off the beast's flank and lay sadly on the ground. She glanced up at its faces, one at a time. "So, mister cerberus, tell me: who is your owner?" she asked. All three heads stopped drooling, which was a mercy for the grass beneath its paws. The right head looked out over the forest. "What's your name?" she asked, but when this earned a puzzled look, a frown, and an unintelligible bark, she tried: "OK, do you have a name?" The dog heads looked pleadingly at each other before they shook in unison. Twilight looked back at the tree. "Well, I'd prefer to call you by a name, so how about… Sticks?" The left head yipped with a question mark on the end. After the other two hastily barked back, it smiled and all three nodded. "OK, Sticks. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I'm a student of Princess Celestia. I'm currently on a royal mission to explore the magic of friendship, and I'm a great believer in extracurricular activities, so I'd rather the magic didn't stop flowing between us. But I'm going to have to ask you a few questions - since I don't usually accept strays at the doorstep - and then send you on your way. Can you tell me who your owner is?" A quick conference in barks established a nod from the middle head. A paw like a settee with scythes coming out of it pointed at her. "Me? I can't be your master." Sticks shook his heads vigorously and tapped her horn, then placed a paw on the middle head and pretended to make "shoot, shoot" noises through dangling lips. "Oh, I see. Your master's a unicorn." Twilight leaned closer. "OK, I'll make this quick, but two questions: first, where is your master now?" This one seemed to be a poser – the heads barked as if they were slouchy office workers asking after days of the week to establish when the boss had last checked in. The eventual consensus was a sigh and a shrug, both impressive feats of physiology for a creature sharing lungs and shoulder blades between three brains. "Very well. Second question: why did you attack Ponyville? You almost frightened everypony to death." Right head nodded cheerfully until he noticed the disapproving looks from the others, and he hung his ears in shame. All three looked back at Everfree Forest. To Twilight's surprise, they were whimpering. Granted, a wheezing steam train could make a less ear-traumatising noise, but the timbre of fear was still there. What was Sticks frightened of? Could there be a monster even worse than this one? "Well, thank you all the same. Must be going now. I recommend you find some place a little out of the way for a while. Try near the little cottage on the edge – Fluttershy happens to be very good with animals, so long as you don't startle her." The tree shot through the air and disappeared through the distant canopy. For her trouble, Twilight received three licks in quick succession and watched through a veneer of spittle as Sticks bounced away. She smoothed down her mane, which had conspired with the drool to defy gravity, and shut the door behind her. Something had frightened a beast which had its own entry in a book whose advice section largely consisted of not being around when it was hungry. Cheerilee had been reduced to Miserablee, however briefly. And the Cutie Mark Crusaders were sneaking out after dark: not that this in itself was beyond the Crusaders, but she doubted that even they were considering Fluffy taming as a talent for life. Coincidence? Definitely. Twilight was many things, but superstitious was not one of them, since she was a student of magic. That did not mean that events couldn't conspire to bring things together. Princess Celestia had been a great believer in destiny, though what she believed about it was anypony's guess. Twilight had her suspicions, anyway. Ponies didn't really understand what being a student actually involved. Visitors saw the books and the quills and the overflowing timetables and assumed that it was about obsessive study – cramming as much information in as possible so that you could answer the questions at the exams. Answering questions was a good steering force, Twilight would have conceded, but what really got the cart moving was an unwholesome desire to ask questions of your own. Twilight trotted under the moonlight, scattering white feathers beneath her hooves as she passed. At the bar of downtown New Alicornia, the two ponies sat near the door and sucked the chocolate milkshakes noisily through their straws. Hayseed was particularly noisy, but then he had reached the bottom and was trying his darnedest to suck up the last few drops. He broke off for a moment. "Say, Sweetie Belle, yer know what a spittoon is?" he said. When she shook her head, he turned on his rump and pointed at a jar on the bar top. Sweetie Belle had assumed it was for tips and had put some bits in there earlier. "That's one. We used to have 'em everywhere back at the farm. You use it like this." He made a noise like a drain being unplugged, and fired a gob of spit. It pinged when it hit the inside of the jar. "Ew. That's disgusting. Can I try it?" "Sure. It's all in the back o' the throat." Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, and gagged on her spit. It took a moment of patting her back before Hayseed dislodged it and it shot up to the roof and stuck there. The stain began to dangle and threatened to drip. "Nice range!" Hayseed said, looking up at it. "Jus' a bit o' aimin' an' yer'll be pretty good." Sweetie Belle beamed. The drip fell off the roof and into the mug of a customer, who was too busy reading the paper to notice. Hayseed and Sweetie exchanged looks and sidestepped out of the bar, whistling as they did so. Middle Hoof did not move an inch. This is a skill few ponies can really pull off. Though they certainly looked like they could achieve it to the naked eye, however much they concentrated, there was always that slight quivering of muscle that – to anyone inspecting closely – would have disqualified them from a really strict game of musical statues. Middle Hoof wouldn't have been caught out. He wouldn't even have moved when the music continued playing. The chamber was empty. It was full of emptiness. Whoever had designed it had clearly had a vicious inferiority complex, because the sheer overwhelming scream of silence in such a granite cavern made even the bulkiest of ponies feel like a midge in a dungeon. When ponies had actually lived there, the floor took great pleasure in magnifying every footstep for inspection, and the domed ceiling was often mistaken for a sky that had solidified. There were windows in the clerestory above, but only moonlight poured out and at this distance it wouldn't have penetrated far coming down anyway. Middle Hoof sat back, bathed in another light source entirely. Before him, the twin pillars glowed with an eerie blackness. A bubble of dark blue ether traced a circle in the air between them. Within its depths, he could briefly see a flash of a unicorn horn. A voice penetrated the darkness, terrible and eldritch and seductive as a succubus. It said: "I'm sorry. Your call is in a queue. Please hold." Classical music began playing. Middle Hoof sighed. "Ooh, ooh, can we go on the rollercoaster?" said Sweetie Belle, pointing to a sign overhead. Hayseed looked up from the grass and peered at the writing. "Uh, what's a rolly-coaster?" he said. Which was why, several minutes later, Sweetie Belle threw her forelegs up to the rushing air and screamed: "WHEEEEEEEEE!" "Ah'm sorry Ah asked!" Hayseed clutched the safety bar as the ride swooped and flew over the tracks. His face was turning greener than usual and he stuck a hoof into his mouth, bunching up his cheeks. "WHEEEE – Oh no, don't hold it in! Quick, here's a bag." "Thanks," he said, taking it from her. Which in turn was why, several minutes later still, they were both hurrying through the exit. "Ah'm sorry!" Hayseed shouted at the angry crowd behind him. "It was goin' so fast, Ah couldn't hold on ter the bag!" Scootaloo sat on her haunches in the middle of the street. She stared at the scooter for some time, as if daring it to ask her what was wrong. Without her friend, who (in her own words) would rather eat all the bad apples in the orchard than get caught out late, she was at a loss for what to do. Going home to bed didn't count because she didn't want to do it. Her wings fluttered feebly and she turned her head to watch, completely devoid of any better entertainment. It was as she was doing so that she noticed Twilight walking down another road, heading out of town. Scootaloo frowned. "She tells us not to stay out late," she muttered, patting the scooter. She leaned it against a nearby house. "You wait here. I'll be right back." From house to house she hurried, flapping with excitement. Twilight had passed the town boundary and was following the path towards the forest edge. Scootaloo ducked behind a bush. If Twilight was going into that place, things were bound to get interesting. All the same, she paused on the threshold of dark green. Scare chords began to rise in her ears. The forest was not a place to enter lightly, and Scootaloo had heard stories. Young fillies had disappeared. Some had come back several months later, with wide eyes and severe speech impediments. They also tended to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. She didn't know which stories scared her more; the ones about the fillies that never came back, or the ones about the fillies that did. Not forgetting what had happened the last time she'd wandered into this place… Her eyes focused on Twilight's retreating back, and she briefly felt a pang of relief before she remembered that Twilight had been there the last time, too. It was as she was thinking these thoughts that a new thought popped up in her mind: Well, that was then. This is now. This new thought caught her by surprise, as though a neatly organised toy box had just thrown a forgotten old jack-in-the-box at her. In her head, Scootaloo fancied that the new voice sounded like Rainbow Dash. It even puffed out its chest like she did, an impressive feat for a minor piece of cognition. Come on, Scoots. Twilight would know about last time. She's probably learned some nifty new magic trick to make sure that she doesn't get caught out again. She's an egghead after all. She isn't stupid. All the same, Scootaloo chewed her lip. Would Dash have said that if she was here, or was that merely what she, Scootaloo, thought her hero would say? You wanted to be a spy, didn't ya? So why wait? Stick close enough to her and you'll be as safe as she is. Go get her, kid! Go on! "Come on, Scoots," she repeated to herself. "You are not a chicken. You can be whatever you want, remember?" She breathed in, flared out her wings, and strode purposefully into the shadows. A while later, it occurred to her that she was supposed to be hiding, and dived into a nearby bush. Twilight paused and looked back. Scootaloo held her breath. When her mark continued walking, the stealthmaster-to-be let out a groan of annoyance and began zigzagging from bush to bush. Sweetie Belle and Hayseed were forced to shunt their way through the crowds now, passing through the main square. They guided themselves using the tall column in the centre of the square fountain, and in this way they were soon standing before one of the orange stalls. Sweetie Belle stopped. "What's that?" she asked. Hayseed turned to look. "Ah've seen one o' these before. It's called, uh, a coconut shy. Ah know how this works. Throw the three balls at the three coconuts an' yer get a prize." Sweetie Belle beamed as he produced some bits from a pocket. Three coins flipped through the air and into the waiting hoof of the stall owner, who pocketed them and continued sipping his orange juice. Sweetie Belle picked up a ball with her glowing horn, but was interrupted by the stall owner, who was tapping a sign behind him. It said: NO MAGIC. Instead, she picked it up in her mouth and angled her head carefully. A quick spit dislodged the ball, but it fell short and rolled to a halt at the base of one of the poles. The next two balls went the same way. Sweetie Belle's ears drooped. Hayseed noticed, and pursed his lips around his buck teeth. An idea seemed to strike him, for he then turned to the stall owner. The stall owner nodded, and for three bits, threw over three balls in front of Hayseed. "Hey," Hayseed said to Sweetie. "Watch this." He gave his hoof a flick, sending the ball skywards. When it came down, he surged forwards and his forelock impacted the rubber. The stall owner blanched and ducked as the ball nearly took his head off. It hit the sign (which later rolled up and fell off the wall), bounced off, struck one coconut, bounced sideways and struck another one, which shot over and took out the third. Having spilt the juice over his jacket, the stall owner, dusting himself off, saw the result and gaped. "Wow!" said Sweetie Belle. "That's amazing. How did you do that?" Hayseed chuckled. "You'd be amazed how many times Ah needed to do that on the turnip farm. Those turnips could sure get nasty. What did Ah win?" The stall owner gestured to a display. "Anything you want." "Wow, really?" "Yes, that's the prize for getting all three. In one shot." The stall owner's ears drooped. "Which I thought nopony would ever do." "Well, that's mighty swell. Anythin' you want, Sweetie Belle?" said Hayseed. Sweetie Belle tapped a hoof thoughtfully, then pointed. "That will do nicely." Throaty noises came from the darkness as Twilight stepped through. Even for a forest so moody and anti-authoritarian that it blocked out wind and sunlight just to keep up its public image, Everfree Forest was chillier than usual. She'd learned enough spells to banish the lesser sort of peril Everfree could throw at her – or which usually threw itself at her, often with great gusto – but she preferred to keep her eyes alert all the same. Twilight heard the crash and swung around. There was nopony behind her on the path. She walked back, and looked left and right. Above her, Scootaloo was flattening her back against a ceiling of leaves, all four legs stretched out to hook on the crisscrossing branches and vines. Twilight sighed. "I know you're directly above me, Scootaloo. I do have peripheral vision." Scootaloo kept quiet in case her mark was bluffing. The slight flaw in this plan did not go unnoticed by Twilight – and neither did Scootaloo when the unicorn actually did look up. "H-hey, Twilight," she said, leg muscles shaking from the effort. "I thought I asked you to return home. Scooting around Ponyville at night is one thing, but following me into Everfree Forest?" Scootaloo dropped down, using wing beats to steady her fall. "I figured if nothing would attack you, then so long as I stuck close, I'd be OK." "That's not good enough, Scoots. Why follow me at all?" Twilight said, as something nearby chirped. Scootaloo pursed her lips. "You know what espionage is?" When Twilight's eyes pleaded with her to make sense, Scootaloo added: "Please, Twilight, don't tell anyone about this?" "You really push the limit, Scootaloo, but alright. I'll not tell anyone you were out late sneaking up behind me if you go back home now –" "I meant not tell anyone that I got caught. It'd be really embarrassing if Rainbow Dash found out, and I wanted to impress her with my awesome sneaking skills, and I was just getting good at it, too." "Scootaloo, I can't agree to any of this. Will you please just go home now?" "If I come along with you to the hut, would you give me an escort home?" "No! This is business between me and my friend Zecora." "She won't mind if I'm there. I'm a friend of hers, too." Twilight rubbed a hoof against her eyelids, which were getting tired rapidly. Shaking off Scootaloo was like getting acrylic paint out of fur. "Alright, how about this: you stay close to me for protection while we're in Everfree Forest, and I'll escort you home once I'm done with Zecora. OK?" Scootaloo lined up next to Twilight, who was positioning herself to go. "It is on!" A while into the walk, however, Twilight noticed that Scootaloo kept dodging back whenever she looked around to check on her. "Er, Scoots, what are you doing?" "I'm still tailing you, aren't I? As far as you're concerned, I'm not really here. And you didn't hear that! Or that! Or that!" "Right. You're tailing me while walking next to me, right up close. In my shadow, in fact." "You know a metaphor involving sneaking and shadows? Of course you do: it's egghead stuff. Forget I said anything." Twilight winced as she walked along. It was understandable enough that Scootaloo would idolise Dash for her flying skills, but did she really have to start talking like her, too? Sweetie Belle and Hayseed were sitting on the bench, overlooking the fair and licking their ice creams. Sweetie now had a manticore costume on, with her horn sticking through its nose; Hayseed had a tailcoat, a cane, and a top hat, as well as a monocle that kept popping out and having to be shoved back in the area around his eye again. "How do they wear these whadjacallits? They sure are dang uncomfy. I'd rather have mah cleaner's gear on any day." "Tell me a story!" said Sweetie Belle. "Alrigh'. Did Ah ever tell yer about mah time at the hoedown?" "When you met Rarity?" "Nope. Ah was thinkin' o' one of the earlier ones. Ah remember mah firs' hoedown, cos that was the firs' time Ah had friends. Firs' time Ah met the Apple family, firs' time Ah even danced. An' Ah had mah firs' kiss there. They was good times." He leaned back in the bench and sighed at the fireworks, all of which were rising over the clock tower like ominous dragons. From a distance, they could hear laughter from the fortress of bright tents and arenas. "But Ah ain't seen any of 'em since Ah moved to Canterlot for good." Sweetie tipped the rest of the ice cream into her mouth, swallowing it, and looked up at him. "Maybe you could take time off work, you know, for a vacation?" she said. "You could go back to Ponyville to see your friends again." Hayseed appeared not to have heard her. He didn't even notice when his ice cream fell onto the floor with a pathetic splodge. Sweetie tapped him on the hoof, and he looked away from the fireworks and down at her smiling face. His eyes lit up again and he returned the smile. "That's a real nice thought. Say," he said more cheerfully. "D'you have friends, Sweetie Belle?" "Oh, yes. We formed our own secret society. We're called the Cutie Mark Crusaders." Liquid brew bubbled and slurped with the heat of the fire. Over the fumes of the pot, ancient words were chanted and sprinklings of sage drifted down. Zecora crooned into the depths as though calming an infant, and gently turned the pages of the reference book next to her. She winced, but only slightly, as a cluck spat at her from across the room. Honest Tongue flower petals were left to float on the surface of the scum, while a few logs were nudged under the fire, igniting new flames. A rising frenzy of bubbles erupted from the brew, while the herbalist waited for the petals to soak up the fluid and sink. Zecora coughed meaningfully as a flutter of wings swooped behind her. As she leaned forwards with a spoon of oak and a hungry expression, the pot was knocked over by a low flying object and she screamed out in frustration at the mess. "Oh, not again, you foolish thing! "Salvation to you, how can I bring "If you keep spilling what's left of my stock? "Back in the cage, you foolish cock!" With much squawking, the chicken was stuffed through the gap in the bamboo bars. Zecora slammed the door and bolted it before she heard the patter of hooves and turned around. "Twilight, my friend! At last, you came! "And now, Zecora will tell you her game." To her astonishment, Scootaloo zipped through the door between Twilight's legs and took up residence behind the bird cage, the occupants of which began squawking at her. Zecora looked at Twilight in confusion. "Don't ask," Twilight said. "She'll only say it's a covert operation, whatever that is. Whoa. What happened to your hut?" Shelves lay broken on the floor, amid the pieces of glass and torn leaves. The cauldron was replaced to its upright position, but the brew was oozing over the rug like a blob monster in a retirement home. Books had been torn apart and scattered over the ground. "There is a thief that's still at large, "Against whom a certain zebra would lay a charge." Twilight wandered across the hut, trying not to look disheartened at the wreckage. She had enjoyed very little contact with the outside world during her early years at Canterlot, and in such conditions affections tend to grow for the few things a mind engaged with. Her time in the libraries of the Princess' palace left a special place in her heart for books. Seeing them torn and left like this was like looking at the bodies of fallen friends. "But who would do such a thing?" she said. "Not who, but what. A unicorn of white, "Burst in and gave Zecora such a fright. "Without a word, my protests she ignored, "And in her sack, she stuffed most of my hoard. "Now, all gone, those things I worked so hard to find! "They are lost to a thief who must be out of her mind." "Erm, out of her mind?" said Twilight, as Scootaloo rested on the cage, a serious look on her face. "Out of your mind, you'd have to be, "To steal ingredients from me!" There was a crash – when Twilight and Zecora looked round, they were met with a small mountain of shelves and Scootaloo's head poking out of the rubble. She grinned at them apologetically. "I had expected you to be alone, "And this company I cannot condone. "The matter of which I speak is rather sticky. "And now you've made frank talk a little tricky. "It involves the shame of a few of my friends. "So how to achieve my secretive ends…" Zecora tapped a hoof thoughtfully against her chin, while Scootaloo disentangled herself from the invading armies of shelves. A thought struck her. "Trying to think of a way words might not show… "To Twilight; acrostics do you know? "Outsmart this young one – this we must do. "Scootaloo; behind those chickens with you!" A face ducked out of sight. The coding machine in Twilight's head whirred and hummed and eventually flicked on a green light. "Oh, I see," she said, leaning closer. Scootaloo was rather offended at the sidelong glance her egghead elder threw at her. "However, as for my stolen items, I am concerned," said Zecora. "Easy targets live around Ponyville – or so this thief has learned. "Now, though this thief a forest-dweller remains, "She may yet seek out Ponyville, for magical gains. "All magic artefact holders must beware: "Return to Ponyville, and tell the unicorns there. "Every magic crafter must this thief avoid…" Scootaloo no longer pretended to be listening and idly examined the chickens in the cage. They were mostly run-of-the-mill Rhode Island breeds, except – intriguingly enough – for their combs and wattles. One of the birds had a spiky variety, yellow and orange like a spit of fire. Another had a dark blue pair swept back. The third seemed to have a lighter blue set, with streaks. All three were staring at her, which unnerved her since they'd initially been squawking like crazy. This little filly might not have paid much attention to avian husbandry, but she was certain that an ornithologist would have something to say about coloured wattles. There was a box next to the cage. While the "big" ponies were still talking, the young pegasus nonchalantly swung a foreleg over to it and pulled it behind the cage. Biting the lids, she pulled them back one at a time and peered inside, and was rather alarmed to see the box peering back at her. Once she'd calmed herself down, she peered inside again. What she'd mistaken for eyes were goggles – three of them, piled one on top of another. Beneath them, she saw folded garments, mostly blue with a hint of yellow. She had a nagging suspicion – no offence to nags, she thought hastily – that she recognised that pattern… What was Zecora doing with this stuff? "Before disaster strikes again," continued the herbalist. "Otherwise, to be extra cautious, this I propose: "Legends tell of an ancient custom that arose… "Twilight, if magic artefacts are missing from your list, "Sly Zecora knows a pony that can assist." Both done, Twilight and Zecora shot a joint-look over at Scootaloo, who had returned to leaning over the bird cage to eavesdrop. To little purple eyes, it was like being hit by an arrow with a sucker on the end. The mystical zebra frowned impressively. At least Scootaloo had the grace to hide her blush. "I'll think about it," said Twilight, the verbal equivalent of writing a memo where everyone could see it. "In the meantime, I suggest you add some strong security around your house with some magic." Her horn flushed with light and the saddlebags flopped open, books rising like butterflies from the depths. "This one I'd recommend – Magical Protection for Mundane Ponies. It has a section on herbs near the back. And I'd move those chickens and give them to someone to look after. I'm not sure keeping them locked up in one cage is healthy." "Of course," said Zecora, as the three books laid themselves out gently before her. "This I will do. "Bye bye for now, Twilight and Scootaloo." "Time to get you home, Scoots," said Twilight, turning for the door. She paused while Scootaloo dawdled over to her side, muttering about being incognito and therefore nameless. As they were heading out to face the Everfree Forest, Scootaloo finally had her revelation. That was where she had seen that pattern. Of course! The Wonderbolts! The costumes, the funny colours of the birds' wattles – it all clicked into place. "I didn't know Zecora was a Wonderbolt fan," she said. "Otherwise, I'd have invited her to one of their rallies." The brass band came to a close. Through the crowd went Hayseed and Sweetie Belle, balancing all the toys they'd won on their backs. "That was the greatest fun I ever had!" she said, still wearing the manticore suit. "Ah had a great time too. It's been a long time since Ah been to a fair. But it looks like the clock's a-turnin', an' Ah said Ah'd take yer back ter yer sister at midnight." "Aw, can't we do one more fun thing before we go? Pretty please, please, please?" Hayseed lifted up his top hat and scratched around his green cap before replacing the top hat over it. He received a face full of shiny eyes, and a wobbling pout that suggested the owner had learned a thing or two about manipulative cuteness from watching puppies. "Aw, shucks, why not? One more fun thin' at the fair ain't gonna hurt none. Yer got anythin' in mind?" Sweetie Belle pointed down a side street, where a few wooden stalls had together conspired to create a market. One of them was hosted by three fillies, one pale, the others two shades of pink. "What do you mean he hasn't turned up yet?" said Daisy. "Nopony's picked up the bouquet," said Lily. "But he pre-ordered it." "Well, we can't wait until tomorrow. If they don't come now, we'll have to get rid of the Delicious Daisies," said Rose. All three hung their heads. "Oh, how tragic!" said Lily to the darkening sky. "What a waste of lovely flowers," said Rose sadly. "My bad luck just keeps building up." "The ladder!" shouted Lily, clutching Rose's face. "The ladder!" "And we worked so hard to get the arrangement right, too," said Daisy. The town clock of New Alicornia chimed the hour, and the ripple spread throughout the town. As it crossed over their street, Sweetie Belle and Hayseed went from one end of the crowd to the other, and were now laughing at the fun they'd had within the last five minutes. Sweetie Belle gathered herself up enough to look at the clock, and the alarm leapt onto her face. "Oh no," she said. "We're going to be late." "Heap o' horsefeathers!" Hayseed put a hoof to his buck teeth. "You're righ'!" "Come on, let's try this alleyway. It looks like it might be a short cut." They both ducked into the alleyway. Square shadows of darkness covered it, and the grey ground did not glow under their steps, which provided a strong contrast with the main streets they'd left. The buzz of the crowd died down behind them. Side alleys split away from the main one, and occasionally they turned and followed one or two branches. Soon, they were walking in complete silence. "Hm, that's strange," said Sweetie Belle, treading softly. "I can't hear anything." "Uh, Sweetie Belle? Ah don't wanna alarm you, but, but Ah think we migh' be a bit lost." They looked through the criss-crossing streets, but there wasn't a pony in sight. Most of the road was obscured by the shadows, and the tall buildings around them made it impossible to see landmarks like the clock tower. "Oh no, that's OK. We just simply have to go back the way we came. We'll find another way round," said Sweetie Belle, and Hayseed nodded. Sweetie looked ahead at the sound of a front door opening and shutting. It bounced off the frame and hung open. A pair of glowing green eyes opened in the shadow of one of the houses. They blinked, and the pupil slits grew until the eyes were dark pearls rimmed with emerald. Something growled. They saw bared teeth shining like ivory. Sweetie Belle began backing away quickly. "Uh…" said Hayseed through chattering buck teeth, also backing away, "m-maybe it's just a stray d-dawggie?" "Yyyyyyoooooouuuu'rrrrrrreeeeee nnnnnooooootttttt hhhhheeeeeeeeere!" said a voice. Sweetie Belle quailed – it had sounded like two throats had been horribly mangled in a cart accident. It moved forwards – they heard the patter of giant paws on paving slabs. The eyes rose higher when whatever it was stood up tall. "Ggggggeeeettttt ooooooouuuuuuutttttt nnnnoooooowwwwww!" "Number Seventeen, you're on. Grab your partner and go." "But," stammered Rarity, "my partner isn't here yet! Oh, isn't there some way we could delay this? Just give me a few minutes. I-I'm sure she'll be here soon." "No more delays," said the backstage manager. "It's go on now or don't go on at all." "Go on? B-by myself? I-In front of Hoity Toity?" Rarity felt her knees trying to become a new kind of percussive instrument. She gulped and peered through the curtains towards the stage. "Number Seventeen?" said the prompt. Rarity grinned nervously behind the curtain. She hadn't expected the turnout to be so… illustrious. She could make out ponies she'd idolised as a foal. In the front row, on the panel of judges, Hoity Toity looked at his cuffs as though checking his watch. The stage persistently and blatantly continued not having Rarity on it. "I can't go out there," she whispered to herself. "I can't go out there. I can't go out there. Oh, Sweetie Belle, where are you?" "Number Seventeen?" From the other side of the stage, a manager waved at her. She took a deep breath, resupplying her fear with fresh oxygen, and bit her lip. She was starting to sweat. From behind her, several of the candidates were looking up to see what the hold-up was. She tried not to shut her eyes. "Number Seventeen." Sweetie Belle trembled. From the shadows, something lunged, stood tall in front of them, and threw a howling roar at the sky. The roar was cut off by a bolas that snatched at the long jaws, knocking the thing back into the shadows. Both Sweetie Belle and Hayseed looked around, just in time to see a figure silhouetted atop a nearby roof, framed by a beam of moonlight, lowering a wing. Whatever lurked in the shadows growled, and claws snatched against slabs. The first figure braced her legs and sprang down on top of it, or at least would have done if her adversary hadn't been quicker. A flash of shadow rushed down the row of houses and round the corner. The newcomer moved, but stopped at the corner and peered round before giving an exasperated growl of her own. Relief flooded into Sweetie Belle as though warm rain was falling down her back. "Yay!" she cried. "That was spectacular! Do it again! Do it again!" To her alarm, the figure spotted her and both wings shot out and raised themselves, poised like twin snakes. Sweetie Belle backed away and ran to hide behind Hayseed's legs. "Friend or foe?" said a voice, in a tone that suggested being a friend was just like being a foe but with more letters. Hayseed swallowed a lump of spit. "Ah'd like a friend, please, if yer can get one." "What's the password, friend?" "Uh," he ventured. "Is this, er, one of them trick questions?" "Ah, so you've been around the block before, eh, laddie?" said the figure, moving through the shadow towards them. "I don't bother with passwords. Any fool with paper and pen and a barnload of patience could crack a password. If it's not foolproof, it's not spy proof. In any case, I keep getting passwords mixed up. Have so many now, I have to write down passwords on post-its just so's I can access the files that keep the passwords for the files containing the passwords. That's if I don't mix them up with my receipts and lose one at the coffee shop." She sniffed, still staring at them, and lowered her wings. Sweetie Belle poked a head around Hayseed's legs. "Did you," she began, still trying to muster up some courage. "Did you say… that you were… a spy?" The pony walked out of the shadows. An orange mane, smooth and luxuriant, swished back and forth over equally carrot-coloured eyes, which were locked in a frown as permanent as Arctic Circle frost. "Well, now, I could answer that question," she said. "But then I'd have to… I'd have to… well, I'd have to do something to you. Can't remember what it was though. Probably sign you up or something." They couldn't stop staring at her outfit. "Who are you?" said Sweetie Belle in awe. "Can you tell us?" "Not likely," she said. A wing was raised and she leaned forwards conspiratorially. "But here's a bit of advice, lassie. If you ever want to be cut out for a spy, there are two ways to go about it. Either you dress up like one and glue yourself to a cut-out book for kiddies, or you get yourself a proper guide on how to do it, eh? Nice disguise, by the way." Then, she tucked up and rolled backwards into the shadows – impressive, but singularly useless considering it would have been faster to walk – and came up with a foreleg raised. It bore a grappling hook loaded into a barrel strapped to her leg. "You didn't see anything!" she boomed, and pressed the trigger. The hook spat out and plopped onto the ground three feet away. Sweetie Belle and Hayseed watched for a long while before the pegasus dropped her dramatic pose and checked the mechanism, looking slightly flustered, which is impressive considering she was still locked in the Arctic Circle perma-frown. Again, she pressed the trigger, and began reeling in the length of rope. "You especially didn't see that," she said, once it had fully retracted. She spread her wings and leapt over them, and before they could turn around to watch her, she had vanished over the rooftops. They could still hear her hooves bounding from chimney to chimney before the sounds died away. "Well, she seemed real friendly," said Hayseed. "An' so professional!" Sweetie Belle didn't respond: she was lost in her own thoughts, and liking what she was thinking. "I didn't know there were real spies," she said eventually, an excited squeak leaping out of her voice. "That is so awesome! Wait until I tell Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. They're going to be so amazed!" One of the clock tower bells chimed, marking a quarter past midnight. Both of them shook themselves out of their private speculations and glanced around the alleyway. "C'mon, Rarity's waitin' on us. Ah think it's this way," he said, pointing at a random side street. They began walking, Sweetie Belle in the opposite direction until Hayseed waved a hoof in front of her face to distract her from her daydreams. It had been playing music at him. Brief snatches of a classical piece, he suspected, by the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. It went back to the beginning again and dragged like feet over a well-trodden path. The tune would haunt him forever. Middle Hoof let his gaze wander until the bubble of dark blue ether twitched and he could faintly see the glowing unicorn horn. All sound ceased. A distorted voice came through. It said: "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "As you requested," said Middle Hoof in a rugged voice that hadn't slept well, "I have searched every corner and centre of the town. Whoever this pony is, he – or should I say she – is one careful character. They must have known we were coming." "What makes you say that?" "We couldn't find the artefact, whatever it was. They never appeared." "Unless they somehow smuggled it in. Never mind that now. I hardly think they would resort to street-level conjuring tricks. And what of the materials?" "Begging your forgiveness, but is it really necessary to talk so enigmatically? It's not like any pony's listening." "No! This is supposed to be a cryptic conversation between ponies! We'll do this properly! Besides, given how experimental this new unicorn technology is–" "UniTech." "Yes, thank you, Middle Hoof. Given how experimental it is, I'd rather not take that chance." "It seems a tad unnecessary, though–" "Aw, pleeeeeeaase, Middle Hoof?" He sighed. Sometimes he wondered what the mental age of his employer actually was. "That's better. Now, where was I?" "Something about street-tricks," he said. "Oh yes. And what of the materials?" "Gathering the 'materials' as we speak, but we expect all unicorns to cooperate soon enough. It shouldn't come to that, though." "But it might." "It shouldn't, though." "But. It. Might." Middle Hoof blinked. "…It shouldn't though." "Oh, for Celestia's sake, do you always have to get the last word in?" "No." "Yes you do, you just did!" "No I didn't." "Yes you did! End of! Now. Where were we?" "You were saying it shouldn't come to that," said Middle Hoof, in a voice now training to become the next Reginald Jeeves. "Oh yes. Don't want to have to test our limits. Hm. Speaking of which, I wonder if Twilight Sparkle might be worth investigating." "The apprentice?" "Do not underestimate her power. And remember: she is very close to Princess Celestia. If I wanted power, I'd go to her first." Cue the fascinated eyebrow, he thought. He even timed its procession up his employer's forehead. "You want me to knock on her door and ask her?" "No. I shall deal with her indirectly. Continue performing your duty and stay in New Alicornia. Report any odd goings-on when they come up." "Your request is my duty, as always." "Hm. Tell me, do you practise that stony-faced expression in the mirror?" "Every morning." "You have the stoic minion manner to absolute perfection." "Try being Hoity Toity's agent during his early years and see what happens to your tendency to show emotion." "Fare well." "I shall indeed." The bubble fizzled out, stranding him in semi-darkness. With great satisfaction – though with much less polish than Hoity Toity could achieve – Middle Hoof adjusted his own cuffs and smoothed down the creases in his hemlock green jacket. Orders: there was something comforting about them, like letting your body fall into the flows of a thick padded safety mattress. Menial chores were his art, the world his canvas, and while he worked on it the job was bliss. He cast a look back at the pillars. Now, if only he could get that blasted Piano Concerto Equestria out of his head… "Sweetie Belle! Hayseed! Wherever have you two been?" Inside the dressing room, pacing back and forth before a row of mirrors and several excessively frilly poufs, Rarity gave Sweetie Belle the impression of being trapped in a cage with a rather effeminate Siberian tiger. Hayseed loitered at the doorway, knocking one leg against another and avoiding everyone's eye. "You're over an hour late! I had to pull out of tonight's show because I was one helper short, and now look what you've cost me! I told you not a minute later!" "We tried to get back in time," said Sweetie Belle, wishing she didn't feel so stupid in her manticore outfit. "Honest, we did. But we was chased down an alley. There was–" "We was? We WAS?" Rarity brandished her horn over her sister's head. "My word, what on Celestia's honour have you picked up? Is it catching? Urgh! I give you a little sweet indulgence, and this is how you repay me? I thought we had an understanding, Sweetie Belle." Hayseed backed out the door, biting his lip. A quick "ahem" made him shoot back into view again. Rarity swallowed down her anger, as she had just noticed in the mirror that it was disturbing her curls. "But we really were…" he began. "Thank you, Hayseed; that will be all." His head drooped. To Sweetie's surprise, so did Rarity's. She leaned forwards and peered beneath Rarity's hanging locks. The downcast look Sweetie saw her adopt hurt even more than the ranting had done. She opened her trembling mouth to speak. "I am very disappointed in you both," said Rarity, who raised her head again. "Sweetie Belle, to bed. Now." She was frowning at the bulbs on the mirror frame. Ears fell either side of Sweetie's mane. Slowly, she turned on the spot and dragged her hooves towards the door. "Night, Hayseed," mumbled Sweetie Belle, as she passed him in the doorway. He only looked on helplessly. Rarity waited until they had both shut the door behind them. Then she exploded into a mini-dance and screamed at her reflection. To be continued…
"Ess-pee-own-arge""Well, there's one talent we ain't tried yet," said Apple Bloom, optimist extraordinaire. "Es-pee-own-arge." The three fillies were sitting on the grass in one of Sweet Apple Acres' many orchard fields. There was a fence next to them, and a feeding trough, though, since there was grass growing from it, it was safe to assume that it was no longer in use. The three of them had spent most of the week trying to think up what to do for the spring, and so far the only thing they had done was to have a lot of meetings trying to think of what to do for the spring. It was only recently, after a visit to Ponyville town with her sister and brother, that Apple Bloom had received her brainwave. Apart from her, there was Sweetie Belle, the unicorn, and Scootaloo, the pegasus. Unlike Apple Bloom's, their optimism had waned early this spring like crocuses, and they weren't taking anything at face value. "What's that?" said Sweetie Belle, admiring the sheen of the sun on the apples hanging overhead. "It's kinda like sneakin' into another farmer's fields and ruinin' all his crops, Ah think. That's how Applejack explained it to me." "Oh, you mean espionage?" Sweetie Belle cocked her head to one side. "That's what Ah said. Es-pee-own-arge." "Why would we want to go into another farmer's field and wreck it?" said Scootaloo, who was idly trying to swat butterflies out of the air beside her. This being Equestria, one of the butterflies was swearing and shaking a fist at her. "We get told off for wrecking our own fields. Think of the stink that would get around if Ponyville found out we'd run around pulling up somepony else's food." "Besides, I don't like pulling food out of the ground," said Sweetie Belle, absent-mindedly pulling up a tuft of grass. "That doesn't sound very sanitary to me." "Don't be silly, Sweetie Belle. You roll around in the mud all day." "Yeah, but I don't eat mud. Do you eat mud?" One of the butterflies delivered a slap to Scootaloo's face with a wing. Scootaloo nursed her nose and scowled as the butterflies drifted off over the fence. "I had a mud pie yesterday," she said. "EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWW." "Mud pies don't have no mud in 'em," said Apple Bloom. "They're made of chocolate, an' stuffed with caramel an' cinnamon." "Are they?" said Sweetie Belle. "Well, that's what Applejack told me when she made me eat one." "I ate one for a bet," Scootaloo said proudly. "A bet of what?" said Apple Bloom. "What do you mean, a bet of what?" "Ah meant, what was it you woulda had a bet of for eatin' the mud pie?" Scootaloo blinked at her. "I had a bit of the mud pie?" she said slowly. "Yeah, you said that. What Ah mean is, what for did you make the bet for the bet of when you had the bet for a bet of mud pie?" Scootaloo did a remarkably good impression of a baffled pony, though method acting probably helped. "No, no, no, I made a bet," she said. "Did yer now? Which bet did yer make, the pastry or the fillin'?" "It was a dare, Apple Bloom. I bet Snips and Snails that I could eat a mud pie in five seconds." "An' did yer?" "No. I did it in six." "So, what did yer have to do as punishmen' for failin' the dare?" "I had to eat the mud pie!" Apple Bloom shook her head in annoyance. "So what yer sayin' is that you bet you could eat the mud pie in five seconds, an' if yer din't you had to eat the mud pie as punishmen'?" Scootaloo folded her forelegs and sulked, facing the fence. "You work it out, brainiac," she said as Apple Bloom walked over to her. "That doesn't make a blind bit of sense." "Of course it does. Eating mud pie is a pretty horrible punishment. It makes the bet interesting." "Which bet is the interestin' bet?" Scootaloo gave her a searching glare. "Do you know the difference between the words 'bet' and 'bit', by any chance?" "Course Ah do. One's the normal way of sayin' it, the other's the fancy way of sayin' it." "You're doing this on purpose now, aren't you?" "I'm practisin' mah es-pee-own-arge. Yer see, part of it means yer make the enemy doubt 'emselves, so's they get worried about attack from within." "Oh, so you're saying I'm the enemy now?" "I can be the enemy, if you want, Apple Bloom," Sweetie Belle said. "No, Sweetie Belle. Ah was just tryin' mah skills to see if Ah'd be real good at it." "Well," she said, trying to hide her disappointment, "I think you're an agent provocateur more than an espionager." "Am not!" Apple Bloom said, folding her forelegs in a huff and faced the trough. "You don't even know what that means, do you?" "Yeah Ah do! It means a pony who goes around pickin' fights with other ponies, an' Ah don't want any part of that!" "Sounds good. I'll take it!" said Scootaloo, turning around. "Oh, no, no, no," said Sweetie Belle. "An agent provocateur is a pony who tricks other ponies into doing something naughty so that they can get punished for it." "Still sounds good. Still taking it." "But why'd any pony wanna do that?" said Apple Bloom, also turning around. "To get them into trouble," Sweetie Belle said. "It's a very clever tactic." "It sounds like cheatin', an' Applejack an' Big Macintosh an' Granny Smith don't approve of cheatin'. Besides, it's silly. If yer have to trick a pony into doin' somethin' that gets 'em into trouble, then shouldn't you be the one who gets into trouble? You tricked 'em into it." "No, silly," said Scootaloo. "It's because they're your enemy that you trick them." "Well, what kind of an enemy is that, that needs to be tricked into doin' somethin' bad? Sounds like a pretty poor enemy to me. Ah'd get a new one to replace 'em." "You know, I'm not sure this is actually what espionage is about," said Sweetie Belle. "I think we've got the wrong definition." "No we ain't. It said so in mah comics. Es-pee –" "Yeah, yeah, we get it," said Scootaloo. "What about it?" "Yer mean why'd Ah bring it up?" "Yes please, if you'd be so good as to tell us." "Alright. Mah idea is simplicity itself. We all become spies." Sweet Apple Acres became mysteriously quiet, except for the crickets, who were probably rehearsing. Even the sun seemed to keep still in stunned confusion. The three fillies gave up several moments of their life to stunned silence. Scootaloo spoke first. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard." "Oh, an' Ah s'pose you have a better idea for gettin' our cutie marks?" Apple Bloom reared up, brandishing her front hooves. "I don't have that one, and I wouldn't want it if I did. Spies. Who would we spy on?" "The enemy, dopey!" "We don't have an enemy, Apple Bloom! We just have two jerks in our class who don't do anything, and I wouldn't want to look at them every morning, so forget about spying on them. No way. Nuh uh. No can do." "Sabotage!" shouted Sweetie Belle. "Yeah, yeah it is, Sweetie Belle. Scootaloo's turned chicken an' now she's sabotagin' on us." "No, I mean that's the word! Sabotage, not espionage. Sabotage is when you go around wrecking the enemy's crop, and espionage is the spying." "Well, alright!" said Apple Bloom. "She's the agent proo-vok-ee-tur, then!" "No I'm not," said Scootaloo. "I haven't tricked you into doing anything bad." "Oh yeah? Well, trick this!" WHAM! There was a thump on the grassy ground. "That bad enough for you, yer turncoat?" Apple Bloom rubbed her hoof. "You maniac! What did you hit me for?" Scootaloo touched her cheek, which felt raw. "For bein' a yellow-bellied agent proo-vok-ee-tur, an' for trickin' me into hittin' you, yer snake in the grass!" "Oh, oh," said Scootaloo, getting up, "so I tricked you into hitting me, did I? So I tricked you into hitting me out of revenge for tricking you into hitting me, did I?" "Don't you try to out-psyche me, you sabby tour!" "Oh no. No. I wouldn't out-psyche you, Apple Bloom. I'd be tricked into hitting you accidentally! Like this!" WHAM! There was a thump, and Apple Bloom bounced off the fence and onto the grass. Scootaloo froze up in sudden panic – she hadn't intended to hit that hard. But it quickly subsided when Apple Bloom came up fighting, knocking them both over. "Stop fighting, you guys!" shouted Sweetie Belle at the sky. "I don't like fighting!" "Why, that was lower 'n a pig in pig muck!" shouted Apple Bloom. "I'll muck you!" said Scootaloo, socking her in the mouth. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Sweetie Belle danced on the margins of the cloud in panic. "Um... Sweetie Belle," she shouted suddenly. "You did this! Admit it; you're an agent provocateur and a saboteur! OK, I admit it. Please don't hurt me! You admit it, then. Yes, just don't hurt me! I did it! Yeah! You guys? You can stop fighting now. I beat the enemy from within! Oh... stop fighting, you guys!" A loud and piercing scream struck their ears. Both ponies stopped, hooves raised to hit each other. It came from a distance. "See, now you've upset someone," said Sweetie Belle. The inside of a giant oak is an unusual place to keep a library, especially considering how ironic it must be for the tree. But such buildings as Ponyville's Twilight Library (renamed by popular demand, and by a series of elections mostly conducted by Twilight which involved her handing out ballot papers and knocking from door and door until her victims voted just to stop her lecturing) are commonplace in the kingdom of Equestria. This is a realm where town halls can be bigger on the inside than the town itself is on the outside, where pet shops canter from place to place, and where schools make their pupils write "I must not stick gum under the seats" on the blackboard even before the teachers get there. Most of these architectural wonders were to be found in towns and cities populated mostly by unicorns, which, being the magic-wielders of the pony species, sometimes just couldn't resist showing it off. Ponyville, being populated by the more mundane Earth ponies, was rather tame by comparison, which suited Twilight Sparkle, librarian of Twilight Library, just fine. Not a day passed when the wooden desk in the library corner was stacked with leaning towers of volumes, all flanking a lone piece of parchment and a quill, with Twilight biting her tongue and making page after page of notes in front of them and no sound being made but the scratch of quill on paper. It was no metaphor to say that she lived in the library. Indeed, it was no metaphor to say that Twilight probably used the library more often than even the Ponyville Homework Group, and had time left over to check, double-check and triple-check the list of ponies that had yet to return their loaned books. No demon of the underworld, poring over his book of the dead for sinners, ever giggled with such glee at the sight of an odd name out like Twilight did, but then he merely had to settle for damning them to eternal misery. She had a report to fill in. With triplicates. Who could top that? Twilight was filling in a report just now, cheerfully adjusting each incorrect punctuation mark on the script, and it was a while before she heard the tapping of hooves behind her. She looked around. "Oh, it's you, Cheerilee," she said, her face filling up with joyfulness. "I was just writing a report for you –" Cheerilee's expression jumped with fright and she wobbled to regain her balance. Tip-toeing was hard for a pony to pull off, but Cheerilee had been a gym teacher once during her career. "Twilight, good to see you," she said, the apology already worming into her voice. "Listen, I did try to return the book on time, you understand. Busy teacher's schedule and all…" "Cheerilee, you don't have to worry. It was only three hours, forty two minutes and sixteen seconds late," Twilight said. "There's no charge anymore because I scrapped the idea. Every pony kept complaining about it. So, I'm just putting a caution next to your name. If you go for twelve months without another such incident, I promise you it'll be wiped from our records." Twilight's horn glowed, and the parchment glowed in the same violet tint of magic. It rose off the desk and floated across the room as Twilight guided it towards a book on one of the carved shelves. The book slid out, opened up, and snapped up the report with a gobble before it replaced itself on the shelf. Cheerilee sighed, and, with her mouth, picked up the book she'd dropped. "Mah moss shinsheer aporogees, Schwigh-wigh," she said, before the book glowed and levitated out of her mouth. Twilight placed it between two books on its shelf. "I know I'm not usually late, but I must admit I'm feeling a little flustered at the moment." "I thought it was an odd book for you," Twilight said. " 'Six Easy Steps to Impossible Magic' by Mr Fine Horse?" "Well, yes." "But you're not a magic teacher. You're not even a unicorn." "I do have some unicorns in my class," said Cheerilee. "Twilight, can you keep a secret?" Twilight put a hoof to her chin and thought deeply for a moment. "Uh, yes," she said. "Yes, I can. And I'll swear on the Pinkie Pie promise." Cheerilee leaned forwards. Within the cylindrical confines of the wood, surrounded by an audience of tomes, and with furtive glances at the doors leading off from the hall and at the wood-carved staircase leading up to the more open areas of the library, Twilight leaned closer as well. Spike leaned closer too. "SPIKE!" There was a wail and a thump as a small round ball of scales fell onto its back in shock. "And just what do you think you're doing?" Twilight tapped a hoof impatiently. "Eavesdropping. I mean, leaves dropping. Yeah. Books falling out of shelves, Spike's gotta pick them up. Number One Personal Assistant and all, right?" He tried a winning grin, but it didn't quite reach his worried eyes. "Spike, there's nothing on the floor." Spike looked around the room awkwardly. Then with a flick, his tail knocked over a hardback from the shelf. "Oh, would you just look at that?" he said theatrically. "Deary me, what an unfortunate mess. I must clean it up. I must put it back on the shelf." He caught her expression. "Er, I must go now." There was a puff of smoke, and the bedroom door upstairs slammed shut. "I honestly don't know what's gotten into him recently," said Twilight, levitating the fallen book and slotting it back into place. "He's far too nosey. Anyway, sorry Cheerilee. You were saying – ahem. Spike? No listening at the top of the stairs!" "I wasn't listening," said a voice above them. "I can see your head peeking out up there." Between the railing balusters, the green head spines twitched in alarm and vanished. Pinkie Pie screamed and swung from the apple she had clutched between her hooves. The apple tree it was still attached to was suddenly agitated. "Come down from there, li'l pink lady!" Applejack shouted up to her, and with a kick she made the tree shake even more violently. Several leaves fell out. Pinkie Pie screamed harder. Over the muddy crest of the hill, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle came galloping, though being such little fillies their gallop was barely a canter. Scootaloo followed closely in the air above them. "Applejack!" cried Apple Bloom. "Stop! What are yer doin'?" "You keep out of this, li'l sis! This is a matter between me and that little scamp in that there tree!" She kicked so viciously that Pinkie swung nearly up and over herself. Her screams became louder. "Come on, you annoyin' li'l ball o' agony! Ah ain't stoppin' fer nothin'! Come down here, an' Ah'll mash you up and make a big pie out o' you! Come down!" "I can't hold on much longer!" Pinkie's hooves began to slip. "Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, Scootaloo… take care of Gummy for meeeeeeeeeeeee!" "Ah've seen enough!" Apple Bloom leapt from her gallop and tackled Applejack, soaring into her face, and sending both of them tumbling away from the tree. Pinkie wailed as the apple she was holding onto came loose. Sweetie Belle rushed underneath to catch her, which was a bad move as Sweetie Belle was half the size of the pink pony. Scootaloo plucked Sweetie Belle from the ground and carried her off just in time, as Pinkie bounced on her rump and sat on the grass, looking dizzy. "Whut in tarnation do y'all think yer doin'?" Applejack said, now lying on her back with Apple Bloom sitting on her stomach. "If you have a problem with Pinkie Pie, yer gotta talk sensibly 'bout it, sis," said Apple Bloom. "Y'all are s'posed to be friends! Friends ain't s'posed to fight." "Fight?" said Applejack. "We weren't fightin'." "You weren't?" "No, Ah was tryin' ter git that there apple ou' o' the tree." Apple Bloom looked stunned, and Applejack took advantage of this and flipped back onto her own hooves. Her sister landed on her belly next to her. "Whaaaaaaaat?" Apple Bloom said. "It wouldn't come down," said Pinkie Pie, "and since I was passing by, I decided to help, and so I climbed up the tree and tried to get it down. But then, silly me, I forgot I'm not good with heights! Oopsy!" Pinkie beamed proudly at this discovery. "But you called 'er a pink lady," said Apple Bloom. "And you threatened to bake her into a pie," said Sweetie Belle above their heads. "And you called her a scamp," said Scootaloo above Sweetie Belle's head. "Pink Lady apples, gals," said Applejack, as if it was obvious. "Yer wouldn't believe how stubborn it was. The li'l thin' wouldn' come down, so's Ah jus' kept goin', an' Pinkie Pie was comin' ter see me anyway an' decided ter help. Ah got a li'l irritated, Ah'll admit, an' maybe a mite stubborn mahself. Work horse's curse," she added. "So, we galloped our little hooves sore all the way here jus' to save… an apple?" Apple Bloom's hair bow drooped. "Yeah. So y'all can relax, now," said Applejack, as Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo landed next to Pinkie Pie. Applejack patted her sister affectionately on the forehead. "Aw, bless yer li'l sis, an' you thought we was actually fightin'. Come on, Pinkie. Lend me a hoof taking these babies down ter the barn." "Okey dokey lokey!" "This is crazy," said Scootaloo, once Applejack and Pinkie Pie were walking away down the hill with the apple cart in tow. "That's the third scream we've rushed to in one day, and none of them were anything interesting, like a pony getting eaten by a bear or something like that." "Well, at least Fluttershy had a good reason," said Sweetie Belle. "She saw a snake. I'd scream if I saw a snake." "Yeah, don't we know," said Scootaloo, still rubbing her ear at the ringing that hadn't quite gone yet. "But who screams when they find a snake because it has a paper cut? Besides, she only put a plaster on it afterwards." "She's so sweet and kind hearted," said Sweetie Belle. "She looked so happy when she tucked it into bed." "How would you know? You were hiding under the chicken coop the whole time." "I found an interesting egg while I was under there." "Yes, Sweetie Belle. It was green. That's called a bad egg." "And the second scream was kind of an emergency," said Sweetie Belle, scraping the grass with a hoof out of embarrassment. "No, Sweetie Belle. Sugar coat it all you want, but a little filly dropping a bit into a well is never going to be an emergency." "Aw, but she looked so sad when she dropped it." "She had wings. She could have swooped down and picked it up herself." Scootaloo shook herself down, splattering everything with bits of dust and soil. Sweetie Belle stroked her mane clean and looked sadly up at the offending apple tree as if hoping it would shrug apologetically at them. With a grunt of a little throat, there was a whack, the branches shook, and leaves fell down onto their heads. Apple Bloom panted and bucked the tree again. She was glaring at the soil. "Um, Apple Bloom?" said Scootaloo. "Are you OK?" "No," said Apple Bloom petulantly. "I'm not OK. I'm tired of wastin' my time, day in, day out. Nothin' interestin' ever happens here." "Well, not strictly true…" "Don't you start throwin' me references to things that have already happened, 'cos Ah already know 'em. An' Ah still stand by what Ah say. Nothin' interestin' ever happens. It's either borin' stuff or stuff that gets yer hopes up, an' since when have we ever come out of it any better off? We ain't done nothin' to deserve it, an' the one time we did do somethin' deservin', it was an accident. An' nothin' came of it, anyway." She looked sadly at her yellow rump. One day, she wished, just one day, she'd look back on it, and see that special symbol that told her what she was supposed to do with her life. The fact that today wasn't that day just bit into her harder. "We was destined to be blank flanks. An' Ah ain't gonna kid mahself no more." The others stepped aside as Apple Bloom hung her head and ambled silently away. "If anypony needs me, Ah'll be at Sugar Cube Corner. Doin' the only thing that Ah'm good at: eatin' mahself silly." The other two watched her slowly make her way downhill, Sweetie Belle with a scowl on her face, Scootaloo with a worried look. "You don't think I took it too far earlier, did you?" said Scootaloo. Sweetie Belle fumed. "She's quitting on us. Come on, Scootaloo. I'm not letting her do that to herself." "Um, Sweetie?" Scootaloo put up a hoof to stop her friend marching forwards, and when Sweetie Belle gave her a quizzical look Scootaloo shook her head, eyes downcast. Sweetie Belle sighed. "But, what do we do now?" she said. They watched Apple Bloom reach the trough of the hill under the sweltering sun of Sweet Apple Acres. A red-tailed eagle screeched overhead. Things within the library had turned darker. Curtains were shut, doors locked, stray books hastily shoved back into shelves. A lamp was lit. Cheerilee's and Twilight's faces were all that it illuminated, apart from a patch of wood on the floor surrounding it. Everything else was black. "You're sure?" said Twilight, once she'd sealed up the keyholes with bits of gum. Her horn stopped glowing violet. "Absolutely," said Cheerilee. "Spike isn't about to walk in on us, is he?" "I sent him down to Sugar Cube Corner with a list of things to buy. He'll be a while; he likes to window shop." "But just there? With one list? He might not be gone for long." "Cheerilee, I wrote the list." "Oh good," said Cheerilee, fully reassured by that bit of information. "Now, this might be a bit of a shock for you, Twilight, so be prepared. I'm… well… I'm… I'm nervous." Libraries were quiet places anyway, but now it became so quiet that Twilight's blinks were audible. "What's so shocking about that?" she asked. "Oh, nothing in itself, oh no no no. But it's what I'm nervous about that really bothers me." "Why? What are you nervous about?" Cheerilee gulped, and then wished it wasn't so quiet because she felt embarrassed at how loud it had been. "Nothing." A tap dripped somewhere. Twilight thought it was the kitchen. "What do you mean nothing?" she asked, reminding herself to pester Spike about the plumbing when he came back. "Well, I mean, yesterday, I was walking through the corridors of the school, nothing unusual; checking the children's trays for homework, eating Apple Bloom's apple gift, correcting the spelling mistakes on the graffiti, and then – I just felt it. Nervousness. This sense of nervousness just overwhelmed me. I didn't know where it came from. One minute, I was the happiest teacher in the whole wide world, the next – I was nearly gibbering. I shivered. I don't know how long I stood there, in the corridor, feeling like this, but it couldn't have been more than a minute because I remember hearing the bell ring and the yells of the children playing outside stopped. I shook my head, got a grip on myself and… well, it just vanished." "I don't see what so wrong with that. Every pony gets nervous from time to time. You have got some big event coming up, remember?" "No, you don't understand. I felt it again, just on my way here. It didn't feel like my own emotion. It was like I was somepony else for a few seconds. Somepony frightened. Nervous. Worried about something. I know I'm speaking in fragmented sentences rather than grammatically correct full ones, but it bothers me so much. I mean, what if it happens again?" Twilight sighed, making the lamp flicker slightly and threaten to go out. Her horn glowed and she summoned a quill and a roll of parchment to her side. There was a flutter of wings from upstairs. Cheerilee's face vanished from the light. "It's OK, it's just Owlowiscious," said Twilight, making notes. "I think he's waking up. He probably thinks we've plunged the place into night time. Keep talking." Cheerilee returned into view. Her normally lumpy fringe had a hair or two slightly askew. It seemed to pain her to continue. "I know this is going to sound silly," she said, "but you're the best at magic around here. You don't think…" She took a deep breath, preparing herself for the big hurdle. "You don't think I'm… I'm… cursed, do you?" The scratching noises ceased. Twilight's horn winked out and the quill and parchment landed on the floor. Cheerilee regretted her word choice at once. "Curses, don't, exist," said Twilight. "But what if they do?" "I can assure you that they do not. Over the past ten centuries in Equestria, there have been exactly eight hundred and forty two official claims for curses, hexes, enchantments, and evil enchantress magic generally. Do you know how many were investigated? All of them. Not one of them proved to be true." "Well, OK, no, but maybe, maybe some kind of enchantment?" "Cheerilee, I really think you're letting the preparations get to you. You just had a panic attack. There's nothing to be ashamed of. It's perfectly normal. But it's not magic, and it surely isn't curses." "They surely aren't curses, or it surely isn't a curse," corrected Cheerilee, a teacher to the last. Indeed, her last thought would probably be a grammatical correction of one of her relative's grieving speeches, and she disliked herself for it, but it just happened automatically now. "I'm glad we've established that," Twilight said. "And just to prove my point, did you feel a tingly feeling, or did your skin glow when you felt those emotions?" The lamp was starting to die down. Cheerilee stared glumly at it, as if wishing it wouldn't leave her alone with this analytical pony. "No," she said. "No, I didn't." "There you are," said Twilight. "It's not unicorn magic." Cheerilee started biting her lip. Panic attacks? Really? "It was all just a misunderstanding," Twilight continued. "Have you ever felt this pressurised before? Can you think of a time when you were suddenly nervous and scared for a brief moment?" "No," lied Cheerilee. "No, not at all. Definitely not. I don't remember any time feeling like that." "Problem solved, then." Twilight clapped her hooves, and the lamp went out with a wisp of smoke. Twilight's horn glowed in the dark, and all the curtains magically opened, flooding the room with painful light. Cheerilee shrieked at the owl perched on Twilight's head. "How did he get there?" she said. "He was upstairs. I heard his wings shuffle from your study." "Amazing, isn't he?" Twilight hooted to the owl, who replied in kind and fluttered down to perch on her proffered foreleg. "I've been learning about owl communication from Celestia's guide to birds and birdsong. His feathers are extra soft and fluffy around the wings so that he can glide silently through the air without the rushing wind giving his position away. He's the perfect assistant in the library. Oh, I mean, after Spike of course." She grinned apologetically to Cheerilee, as though hoping she would pass on her expression to Spike if she saw him later, and in case he found out. Earth ponies had no magical powers of their own, at least not in the same calibre as unicorn ponies, but at times like this they prided themselves on their ability to keep their hooves on the ground. Cheerilee chewed over Twilight's words, and fought her ears' natural urge to droop at what thoughts she tasted as a result. "You mean, this is all just… me becoming emotional?" she asked. "I know it sounds bad, but... yes. Just a perfectly normal panic attack. And it's not magic whatsoever. Just take it easy over the next few days. Do something you enjoy. Ooh, maybe try out the spa, too - Rarity always goes there before one of her big fashion shows. She says it's a great way to relax." "Well, I'll try..." "Great! I bet you're feeling much better now that you've talked it over with me." At the time, Cheerilee nodded her head and said yes, but as she was trotting out of the door, a stack of books balanced on her back and a stack of thoughts balanced on her mind, she began to weigh the implications of what she'd said, and realised that she actually felt far worse than when she'd started. Elsewhere in Ponyville, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo were crossing the little stone bridge that arched across Ponyville's little brook. There should have been a troll under it, or at least a Diamond Dog, but they had all left centuries ago because the sickly sweetness of the residents had put them off, and it's never a good idea to have too much sugar in your diet. "So what do we do now?" said Sweetie Belle. "Well, why don't we try Apple Bloom's suggestion and practice this espio-spying thing?" said Scootaloo. "That sounds great." There was a purr, and a bundle of white fur with a blue bow tie on top touched down softly in front of them. It curled its tail leisurely while they stopped to have a look at it in case it attacked. "Oh, it's you," said Scootaloo, relaxing. "Hi, Opal." The cat merely raised a supercilious eyebrow. Sweetie Belle suddenly looked downcast. "What's wrong with you?" said Scootaloo, nudging her with a wing. "Oh, I'm sorry, Scootaloo," she said, hanging her head in shame. "Opal just reminded me. I have to go back home and get ready for tonight's big festival. Rarity's going to New Alicornia later." "You have to be kidding me. She dragged you into going to that place?" Scootaloo said. Opal hissed in her face, then went back to licking her paws. "She said I needed to see her at work, and that I needed to get out in the world. I don't know why she's taking me. I don't want to go. I'll only wreck it for her, anyway." "Yeesh, you don't have any self-esteem issues at all, do you?" "Have you seen me around Carousel Boutique? I only have to sneeze and the place falls to pieces." Opal tapped a paw on the ground, casting Sweetie Belle a meaningful look. "OK, Opal, I'm coming," said Sweetie Belle, following Opal, who nodded her head approvingly and waddled away from the bridge. "Sorry Scootaloo. Maybe we could meet up for the spying and things tomorrow?" "Fine. In the meantime, I'll just find some pony else who'll join me." As Opal and the foal ambled over the bridge, Scootaloo did an about-turn and shot through the air in an orange and purple blur, aiming away from Ponyville. There was a shriek of outrage from within the Everfree Forest, followed by a babbling of Swahili. The Everfree Forest was not an inviting place to the ponies that lived just outside of it. Unlike the clean plants of the open fields, these ones reeked of wildness. They draped themselves in vines and moss and dead leafy things and fought for every last patch of sunlight, to make it perfectly clear to the nicer trees outside that this was a gang whose members you didn't invite to be planted in your patch for an afternoon rain and a bit of birdsong. The animal life was little better. It was populated by a lot of rare creatures, if only because they all made such a violent effort to keep each other rare. The total population of ponies within its borders could be counted on the fingers of one hand, and usually were if a hungry dragon ever caught up with them. Zebras, on the other hand… Upon the soil of a dingy glade, a tribal hut was placed, round like a squashed coconut, with bamboo window frames and elongated masks propped up on sticks surrounding it. The light was on, which meant that the fire under the cauldron was burning brightly and Zecora was probably mixing up a batch of noxious goo. It is amazing what ponies would eat if you told them there were natural herbs in it. A lot of glass shattered. Bottles tinkled and shelves snapped off and collapsed. Metal pinged. As the Swahili babbling burned more fiercely, there was a demented giggle and the front door burst open. Something raced out of it looking very much like a bulging sack on legs. Zecora rushed out after it. "Come back with my things, you little thief! "Or Zecora will give you so much grief!" Along a winding dirt track, the overflowing sack fled, snagging occasionally on low branches. A rip appeared in the fabric. Some leaves fluttered out of the tear. Zecora thundered behind, leaping over the leaves as they landed. She left the explosion behind her. A beaker full of purple liquid fell out and smashed, but she leapt over the resulting blue, starry cloud and galloped onwards. Three seeds landed in front of her, and giant stems shot out like hose pipes. Bulbs burst out of the ends, baring shark's teeth. She zigzagged between them, and in their attempts to snap her up, they got tangled in each other's stems and collapsed. Zecora made an angry noise, like a panicky guffaw to pony ears but like a demon rising from the spirit world to a zebra's, and put on an extra burst of speed. The stranger suddenly ducked to one side, through the trees, and Zecora skidded to a stop to catch sight of her thief. She looked right, and she looked left, but all she saw were tree trunks, and the Everfree Forest's ever-present shadowy mist. She gritted her teeth. "Zecora will never forget this slight! "Come out now, or I'll come in and fight!" She heard a whooshing overhead, and looked up. Three blue streaks passed overhead, leaving a trail of clouds behind them. From their aerial position, the Wonderbolts had an excellent view of the action below. Through the trees, they could still see the running sack threading its way deeper into the forest. The professional flyers didn't even need to communicate – as one, they simply inclined their wings and swooped down. They were keeping pace with the running figure, and closing in. They followed it through the gaps in the canopy, until suddenly they stopped. The running figure had vanished. As one, they looked at each other and nodded. All three Wonderbolts dived down and split apart, piercing through the canopy like three prongs of a gigantic smoke-made fork. Soarin' immediately switched to hovering, and scanned the surrounding dense mass of sprawling leaves and branches and stems. Spitfire weaved in and out of the trunks, trying to flush the thief out. Her partner on the other side did likewise. Nothing could be seen. Through the mist and dark vegetation, the Forest seemed empty. Soarin' held his position nonetheless. His teammates had completed their first sweep of the area. Nothing had appeared yet. As one, they rose out of the canopy and moved a little further ahead before diving down and repeating the procedure, this time with Spitfire taking point and her two partners circling around her, trying to flush out the thief. They heard someone shouting and looked back. Had they gone too far forwards? It was Zecora, crashing through the bushes and ferns behind them and shouting at them. As she came closer, they could hear some of the words. It sounded like a warning. A blast struck Soarin' out of the air. As his teammates turned around in shock, Zecora gasped. A blue glow flared from behind some leaves. Fire leapt out of it and engulfed another Wonderbolt, who fell to the ground. Spitfire rushed down to catch him and disappeared behind a bush at the same instant the third blast shot for her. The thief had evidently predicted she would do that. Zecora's fierceness returned. A fourth shot rushed at her, but she raised her hoof and blew the green dust out of it, covering herself in a smokescreen. The blue blast disappeared inside it, and came out of the other end. The blue glow vanished. Another burst of green dust produced another cloud near the spot. Zecora appeared out of it and pushed back the leaves, but she knew from the sound of distant clopping that her thief was long gone. She looked back nervously at the blue-smoking bushes. A few leaves were gingerly brushed aside. The zebra peered down, her rings and neck rings jingling as she did so. Her eyes flared with alarm and outrage, and a gasp escaped from her as she looked upon what remained of the Wonderbolts. "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, this is not at all good, "My poor, dear friends! Though they did what they could, "A terrible fate has befallen them, "And now they may never soar the skies again." She bowed her head in sadness. A little while later, one of the Wonderbolts said; "Bdak?" Applejack bucked the tree. All the apples fell out, but a few missed her saddle baskets and she walked over to pick them up. As she lowered her head, she heard a crash and raised it again. "Wowwasa?" she said, mouth full of apple. She dropped it into the basket and pricked up an ear. From the trees in the distance, behind the fence and the bushes, someone said "ow." There was a lot of muttering, and a squeak as someone stepped on one of Winona's chew toys. More muttering followed. Applejack watched with mouth open as the bushes rustled and a beady eye peeped out. It swivelled right, and then left, and then ducked back down. The rustling traced the path of whoever was inside it as they made their way down the hedge row and stopped next to the gate. There was a bump, another "ow," and a loud shush. Somepony zipped from bush to fence, pressing their back up against the wooden post. Applejack could tell because their blue wings were sticking out. A while later, a second filly tried to follow, but she tripped and fell onto her face. Scootaloo looked up at Applejack nervously before disappearing behind another wooden post. One of Applejack's eyebrows climbed up her forehead to get a better view. A wooden bucket was lying nearby. Two blue hooves reached out and snatched it out of view. Applejack's mouth twisted up with scepticism. One upturned wooden bucket slid out from behind the post and made its way towards the nearest apple tree. Mentally, Applejack docked a few extra points for the rainbow tail still trailing behind it. The bucket moved from tree to tree, crossing the orchard towards Applejack. After a while, it disappeared behind a tree one along from Applejack's. However long she watched, it didn't come out again. From above, there was a shuffle from the branches of the tree, and a third "ow." A few leaves parted, allowing two pairs of eyes to swivel back and forth. They vanished. A streak cut from one tree to another. A few leaves fell on Applejack's face. She sighed. Rainbow Dash poked her upside-down head out of the branches. "ABOOGABOOGAWAAAAH!" she yelled in Applejack's face. She grinned expectantly. Scootaloo fell out and landed next to Applejack, who was giving Rainbow Dash's grinning face a look that was anything but surprised. Then Applejack turned around and bucked the tree. Dash fell to the ground in a heap. "An' jus' whut was all that about?" Applejack said at Scootaloo and at Dash, who shook herself off. Dash scowled. "Gee, Applejack, way to let a pegasus down lightly," she said, hitting one of her ears. Leaves poured out of the other one, all over Scootaloo, who shook them off. "Isn't it obvious? I am teaching young Scooters here the art of stealth." "The art of stealth?" Applejack yawned. "You sure you're not jus' dabblin'? Ah ain't seen a less stealthy way to get around since Granny Smith tried to run up behind me and shout 'Awoogabooga' on Nightmare Night, an' Ah had ter help her for half the way an' remind 'er what she was goin' to say." "Scootaloo came to me for a bit of company," said Dash, getting back onto her hooves and into a more dignified pose. "She asked me if I knew anything about sneaking around, so naturally I said I was the world expert on sneaking around and of course I'd bring her up to speed." "It's all part of the espio- whatever it's called that we were going to try," said Scootaloo. "I thought I'd learn a few things so that I could show the others later. Apple Bloom hasn't come back yet, has she?" "Sorry. Ah haven't seen her since this mornin'." Scootaloo's wings drooped. Applejack felt so bad she mentally awarded Scootaloo some sympathy points. But her back was starting to ache from the huge pile of apples she'd accumulated in her saddle baskets. "Say, why don't you use the south field for practice? It's right close to the barn, so you'll see Apple Bloom come back while you're stealthin'." "OK," said Scootaloo, and confidence filled her up as Dash nodded in agreement. "Sweet. Catch you later, AJ," said Dash, and she zoomed over the horizon, leaving a temporary rainbow in her wake. Scootaloo spread her wings and tried rushing after her, but she was conspicuously slower at it, and there was no trail to mark her wake. Applejack frowned after them. After a shrug, she turned back to work. Apple trees weren't in any hurry to drop their apples, but Applejack had her quota to fill, and she'd be blowed if she was going to break her winning streak against Big Macintosh's bets. Goodness knows, she used to wear Granny's girdles far too often in her younger years. Applejack walked over to the next tree, and gave it a gentle buck. Apples came streaming out of the branches and into her saddle baskets, which were already overflowing. She sighed and staggered over to the cart to unload. When she came back, she looked up into the tree and stopped. A lone apple was hanging out of reach. She shrugged and bucked the tree trunk again. It didn't fall down. "Huh," she said. "Guess this li'l sucker doesn't wanna come down. Come on, li'l Pink Lady. Mama's waitin' on you." She bucked harder, making the branches shake. The apple did not fall down. She bucked again, hard enough to shake the whole tree. The apple continued not to fall. The next buck knocked the trunk over until the roots tore out and it was nearly horizontal. The apple shook, then stayed still. "Well, well, it looks like we got us a smart alec," said Applejack, all mirth starting to drain from her voice. "Big Macintosh said ev'ry apple on ev'ry tree, an' by golly, Ah'll make sure it's ev'ry apple on ev'ry tree. You'll see if Ah don't." She turned to leave, then slipped because she'd trodden on a fallen apple. There was a thump, and a lot of leaves fell down on her. Applejack grinned sheepishly. "Might be an idea to clear the ground up first," she said. Inside Sugar Cube Corner, sitting up to the counter on a stool she couldn't possibly have climbed up herself, Apple Bloom stared gloomily into her mug of hot chocolate. A donut was floating in it. "Es-pee-own-arge," she said. "Puh. Apple Bloom, you are just kiddin' yerself. Whut could you an' Sweetie Belle an' Scootaloo possibly do that no pony else could do better?" She took another sip, and sighed. "Whut could possibly happen around here?" There was a scream from outside. The Cakes rushed out of the kitchen and past the counter. Apple Bloom shrugged. "Ah ain't answerin' it," she said, and took another sip of hot chocolate. To be continued...
Comics and Kung Fu“The horror!" wailed Lily. "The horror!” “It’s awful! I… I can’t stand the sight of it!” “There’s so much… carnage!” Two fillies were standing next to each other, one trying to fan a third who was on the verge of fainting. They stared wide-eyed at the broken wood, at the jagged pieces of pottery, and at the brown mess strewn all over the road. Spike walked up to them. “I didn’t know you girls were selling ladders now," he said. "Though I think you’re going to need a bigger cart if you want to carry them around.” Daisy, who was still fanning her friend, threw a worried look at her pale companion, who was getting paler by the second. “Rose walked under a ladder,” Daisy said accusingly. The ladder was propped up against Sugar Cube Corner, or at least it had been. Now it was mostly propped up by a flower cart, and though the cart itself had only split a plank on one side, several flower pots had been broken, one of the compost sacks had been torn, and a lot of soil had been scattered over the floor of the cart and over the road. The third filly was coming around from her near-faint, though when she caught sight of the cart she almost went down again. “Rose! Oh, Rose, what have you done?” she said. The lily in her hair was askew. “She walked under a ladder! And do you know what this means?” said Daisy. Spike scratched his head. “That she knocked it over?” “There will be no flower stall to attend!” said Daisy. “We’ll be out of business!” said Lily. “I walked under a ladder!” said Rose, who was never first in the queue for the uptake. “Ladies, relax,” Spike said, picking up the ladder and moving it off the cart. He lifted it over his head and moved towards the Sugar Cube Corner window display, guiding it from horizontal to vertical until the ladder was back to its original place against the shop. Daisy, Rose and Lily blinked. “Amazing!” said Lily. “So simple!” “Why didn’t I think of that?” “At the risk of blowing my own trumpet,” said Spike, “I happen to be a dab hand, or a dab hoof – or a dab claw if you prefer – at the art of cleaning up unexpected giant messes. Twilight gives me plenty of practice, trust me. Just move all the flowerpots and compost sacks, and I’ll have this cart spick and span in no time.” Daisy and Lily looked at each other and at the soil-smothered and pot-peppered cart contents, before nodding to Spike. As one, they took up position either side of the cart and began unloading the pots. Rose was crouching in the middle of the road, biting both her front hooves now. “It was an accident. It doesn’t count if it’s an accident, right? I’m jinxed! I walked under a ladder! Oh, what will become of me?” With a thump, Rose was supine on the road, covering her upturned eyes with an empty flower pot that had survived the disaster. It looked like it was trying to eat her face. “I simply can’t imagine,” Spike muttered. He walked around the cart to the back. “Oh look, you have spare plant pots back here.” Lily went over to see. “So we have. Amazing!” “So simple!” said Daisy. “Why didn’t I think of that?” “You did,” said Rose, breaking out of her self-induced nightmare for a moment. “Well, I clearly didn’t tell me that, or I’d have known. Silly Lily never tells me anything,” said Lily. “My hero!” said Daisy, hugging Spike. Embarrassed, he tried to squeeze out of her grip. Lily, picking up a plant pot with her hooves, moved it away from the cart. “Where do we put them?” she said, when Daisy finally let go. Spike rolled his eyes. “Put them on my head, where they will most certainly be out of the way when I try to clean the cart.” Lily gave him a curious look, but shrugged and balanced it gently on top of his green spines. He snatched it off. “I was being sarcastic! It doesn’t matter where. On the road will do.” They began unloading the pots. Once Lily had encouraged Rose to join in, things were moving faster, though Rose kept looking at the ladder and placing her pots away from it, in case it fell over again. From up the road came Cheerilee’s voice, followed by the teacher herself. “Hello, Spike.” “Cheerilee! I thought you were still at Twilight’s.” “We didn’t have much to discuss." She peered over his shoulder. "Why are they putting their pots onto the road?” “Because if I didn’t tell them what to do, they’d still be standing there screaming at the ladder.” “It was horrible!” said Rose, making a dramatic pose with a flower pot on her head. “I’m cursed! I am cursed!” “Oh, give it a rest, will you? It was just a ladder.” Spike pointed at the wooden rungs. Rose dropped the pot, then realised what she'd done and jerked back when it shattered. Her teeth were clenched, holding back the bile of panic. “But I walked under it, and do you know what that means?” “Yeah: you left your common sense at the florist's. Honestly, is there anything you won’t scream at?” “Well, excuse us, purple dragon, for being a smidgen over-cautious,” said Rose, frowning. “But that is no way to address a jinxed filly.” “Scaredy little foal, more like,” said Spike. “You have no sympathy at all. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a festival to prepare for. Lily, did you pack the tickets?” “Um…” said Lily, reaching into the cart. “You didn’t pack the tickets?” “I thought Daisy did.” “Me?” said Daisy from the other side of the vehicle. “I thought you did, Lily.” “Me? I thought you did.” “You already said that!” “I was double-checking.” “Oh horsetails,” said Rose, burying her face in another empty plant pot. “My bad luck is kicking in already!” She tried to pull her head out, only to find that she was stuck. She tried again, more frantically this time. Then she collapsed, plant pot still upright and still stuck up to her neck. Cheerilee and Spike watched with astonishment as the two fillies began removing the pots faster. Soon, there was nothing but a layer of soil at the bottom of the cart, and both florists were trying to dig through it for the tickets. Cheerilee turned back to Spike. “Oh, and sorry for having to shut you out,” she said. “It was a little private. Between ponies.” “Oh,” said Spike. “Oh.” He seemed to be thinking about it. Then he said: “Ooooooooooooooooooh! Ah, gotcha. No problem, Cheerilee. No questions asked, no answers given, no awkward pauses in return." He winked, which completely confused her. "So how are you feeling now?” “Just a little down. Nothing a little Cheerilee Chocolate-Covered Cupcake with Caramel Cream and Chocolate Chip Cinnamon Cookies couldn’t cure!" "Can I have a cure for my bad luck, please?" said a muffled voice behind them - Rose was trying to prise the pot off her head, both forelegs braced against the rim. "Or a little butter, or something?" "Um… aren’t you coming in, Spike?” “Sure, sure. I’ll be there in a minute, just, er, just sizing up the goods…” He was ogling the cakes in the window. Behind him, Daisy tried to restrain a frantic Lily, who was screaming and pulling up planks from the bottom of the cart. Rose had somehow managed to wedge both neck and forelegs into the pot, and her rear end was dragging it against the paving slabs. Cheerilee shook her head and pushed the door open, upon which Mr Cake nearly bumped into her on his way out. He apologised before he carried on over to the cart. The bell tinkled. Cheerilee walked into Sugar Cube Corner, where she found Apple Bloom at the counter, snorting up hot chocolate with her face stuck in the mug. She was blowing bubbles. “Apple Bloom!" Cheerilee said. "Please take your nose out of your mug and bring your drink to your snout, not vice versa." Apple Bloom’s face came out of the mug with a pop. Her chocolate splattered snout turned guiltily at Cheerilee, who was standing at the door. “Sh'that you, Mish Cheerilee?” she slurred, pointing a foreleg at Cheerilee. “I didn't know you had twinsh.” Her foreleg wobbled so that she was variously pointing at Cheerilee, the cake display, and the bell above the door. Cheerilee noticed that the young filly’s eyes were out of focus. She nearly toppled the stool, and hastily straightened up to avoid falling off. “I know these are the holidays,” said Cheerilee, “and therefore I am not your teacher at the moment, but you really shouldn’t make a spectacle of yourself like this.” “Ah wash lookin’ for mah doughy nut,” Apple Bloom slurred. There was a donut on the floor next to her. “An’ Ah don’ wanna talk right now. 'M not feelin' sho good...” Painfully, she turned back to the counter and pretended not to notice Cheerilee as she approached. “Apple Bloom?” Apple Bloom made a non-committal hum. She had another gulp out of her hot chocolate mug, emptying it. Mrs Cake came up from below the counter. “I’d let her be, Miss Cheerilee. She doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk. Now, what can I get you, deary?” “Oh, the usual please, Mrs Cake.” “Coming right up.” She disappeared into the kitchen. Cheerilee turned to face Apple Bloom. “Apple Bloom, my little filly, whatever is the matter? You look a little tired,” said Cheerilee. “That’s jush’ the hot chocolate. Applejack shaysh it goesh to mah head. Which ish shilly, becaush Ah tried payin’ atten-shion, an’ all Ah notished wa' that it goesh down to mah belly like everythin’ else doesh.” “Would you like to talk about it?” “About the hot chocolate?” “No. You look sad about something.” Apple Bloom didn’t respond. Instead, she was staring into her mug as if reading some depressing news from the chocolate sprinkles left at the bottom. Cheerilee put her forelegs on the counter. “Apple Bloom? You can tell little Miss Cheerilee about it. I like to help my students when I can, even if this is summer vacation.” Her reward was a yellow shoulder turning away, as if the fairy cake selection next to the little foal was slightly less uninteresting. "Surely there’s something I could do?” “No. You wouldn’t like it. You’d think Ah was bein’ shilly.” “There’s no such thing as a silly problem, Apple Bloom.” The young Apple pony sighed into her mug, but there were no ripples because the hot chocolate was gone, and it wasn’t as diverting without them. Her flank squeaked as she rotated in her stool. “You won’t laugh at all?” “Certainly not,” said Cheerilee, pulling up a stool of her own. “You can trust me.” There was a long pause while Apple Bloom examined Cheerilee’s expectant face. She cast dark looks at the cookies behind her, in case they were listening. “Enjoying the summer vacation?” said Cheerilee. Apple Bloom shook her head. “Ah ain’t got nothin’ to do.” “What about the farm? I’m sure Big Macintosh and Applejack are keeping you busy for the bucking season.” “No, they ain’t. I don’t help around the farm at applebuck. Applejack says that Ah only get in the way.” “Well, I’m sure you have many friends to play with.” This was rewarded with a sigh. “Miss Cheerilee, Ah’ve been with mah friends ever since we broke up.” “Well, that’s wonderful –” “An' the only thing Ah learned from it was that they was as bored as me.” “Oh dear. It looks like you’ve got the holiday blues.” “Aw, that too?” “Yes. I used to have that problem when I was a young filly. I used to spend my days… in a daze. But then I found the solution.” Apple Bloom gave her a thoughtful expression, or at least tried to while the hot chocolatey thoughts ran around inside her head, making her wobble on the chair. “How would you like to join the Ponyville Homework Group?” This sobered Apple Bloom up pretty quickly. It also made her recoil, toppling her stool and sending her crashing away from the counter. Cheerilee winced. “Ah couldn’t, Ah shouldn't!” Apple Bloom said, sitting forlornly on the floor. “Scootaloo would laugh at me!” “Now, don’t think so poorly of your friends. I’m sure Scootaloo would be very supportive of your decision. She would rather see you happy than bored.” With a steely look, the youngest Apple filly took a deep breath. “Miss Cheerilee, Ah haven’t done nothin’ for a whole week, an’ Sweetie Belle an’ Scootaloo an’ me have done nothin’ after nothin’, an’ so Ah was thinkin’ of an idea, an’ Ah said we should do ess-pown-ee-arge… uh, ep-see-own-arge, uh… an’ Ah said we should do spyin’, but they said spyin’ was dumb, an’ then Ah got into a fight, an’ Sweetie Belle had to fight herself, Applejack tried to turn Pinkie into a pie, Fluttershy laid a bad egg, Scootaloo ate a mud pie fer a bet at the bottom of a well, an’ we chased three screams for nothin’. Ah’m just runnin’ out of things to try, an’ there are still weeks an’ weeks of summer left. But joinin' the Ponyville Homework Group? They just get laughed at. Everypony in there gets laughed at. Ah can't do it.” “Oh, but those are the reasons why the group would be perfect for you, my little pony. And ponies used to laugh at you for not having a cutie mark, and that didn't stop you.” Apple Bloom glanced at her flank. Then she hummed to herself, sitting in a more comfortable position on the carpet, stroking her chin. “Maybe they are. Oh, but maybe they ain't! Ah don't know. Ah’ll have to think about it, Miss Cheerilee. But that ain’t a no – uh, Ah mean, but that ain’t a yes or a no. Maybe. If Ah think about it.” “No problem at all, Apple Bloom. Just come by the school tomorrow at midday if you decide you want to try it. Bye now,” Cheerilee said, as she accepted her order from the Cakes and turned to leave. Apple Bloom clambered back onto her stool and sat back at the counter. She traced a hoof around her mug’s rim and stared at it thoughtfully. A musical note sounded from it. She lifted her offending hoof and blinked in complete astonishment at it, then at the contents of the mug. Within the confines of Carousel Boutique, amid mirrors and models and kaleidoscopes of textiles, Rarity sighed with pleasure and began to write. “Dearest Sir Fancypants," she dictated, while the glowing quill danced over the parchment. “I am very grateful to you for inviting me to the Hoity Toity fashion gala. I cannot tell you what an honour it is to be considered for the line-up for this year’s New Alicornia Millennium Celebration. The fashionista festival would be the crowning jewel of my career. It is simply marvellous, so wonderful, so absolutely fabulous … no, cross that out, that’s too much.” The quill scratched viciously. Rarity regained her composure. “I shall be bringing the three suits you requested, as well as my latest ensemble for your friend.” The door opened. One corpulent cat waddled in, wearing a purple bow and a self-satisfied smirk. Sweetie Belle lagged behind her. “Ah, Opalescence. You found her. Excellent! Excellent timing! Just in time for your bath.” The smirk vanished at once. Opal's eye twitched, but before she could run the Persian cat was enveloped in a blue glow and dragged, clawing and screaming, across the room and out the door. Sweetie Belle winced in sympathy when she heard the dreaded splash. "I had the hot water going on for so long, too," said Rarity, before biting her tongue and picking up the quill again. “Rarity, why am I going to this thing again?” she said. “Sweetie Belle, it is about time we resolved our few remaining differences. One day, you’ll be a big girl, and I want my sister to have the best start in life when she comes of age.” A full stop was stabbed into place. “But I don’t have a cutie mark yet.” “Oh, but I want to help you gain your cutie mark too." Rarity turned to face her and lowered her spectacles. "Which is why I think this festival would be perfect for you. Maybe you’ll find your special talent when I take you to New Alicornia.” “In designing and fashion?” Sweetie shrugged and raised an eyebrow. “Sweetie Belle, it is about time you learned from the fashionable ends of Equestria. Maybe something will rub off on you. The culture. The company. The sophistication. Fashion, finesse, and fabulous fabrics. You will be at the culture capital of all unicorn kind. Why, an experience like that would do you a world of good, or should I say: il sera une expérience incroyable?" Rarity giggled to herself. Whoever this Fancypants was, thought Sweetie, he was clearly a bad influence. "But come!" Rarity clapped her hooves and Sweetie found herself levitating above the floor. "The train will be leaving soon, and you’re not even in your dress yet.” "Would it make any difference if I let my sigh out now, or should I let it out in private?" said Sweetie. She knew her sister meant well, but she wished that her sister also listened well. At times, Rarity seemed to conduct both sides of the conversation in her mind, regardless of what the other pony actually said. "Why, whatever is the matter?" said Rarity, walking over to her. "You just do the same thing over and over again." Sweetie folded her forelegs - it looked less ridiculous than letting them dangle in midair. "We always end up doing what you want to do. You, you, you." "Please, Sweetie Belle! Don't say such things. We're all past that now, right?" Is that a winning smile, thought Sweetie, or her just showing off her teeth? She somehow managed to shuffle on her haunches in midair, not looking at Rarity, who broke ranks first. "Alright, my dear," said Rarity, ears falling. "It's only fair if I do a little giving as well. If you do this for me, I promise that when we come back, I will do something with you that you want to do. Is that acceptable, sweetums?" A hoof was extended towards her. Sweetie didn't budge, a good negotiation tactic that actually numbered sixth on the ancient scroll of The Art of Sisterhood. Rarity stretched her hoof further. "OK." Rotating in midair, Sweetie Belle extended her own hoof to touch her sister's. "Deal." "Now we have an understanding," said Rarity, smiling again. "It's time for your bath. I hope Opalescence isn't taking too long." A sarcastic hiss came from the bathroom. At almost the same moment, several miles away, a young filly's scream echoed over Sweet Apple Acres. Scootaloo leapt and aimed a hoof. Enraged, Rainbow Dash blocked with crossed forelegs held up like a shield, then aimed a sideways swipe that knocked into Scoot’s cheek and sent her other cheek smacking into the ground. “Show me what you’ve got, little filly!” Scootaloo screamed in fury and dived beneath her, sliding between her legs. A flip and a lunge had her on Dash’s back, but the wings opened and Dash fell heavily on her forelegs, her rump going up like a see-saw and bucking Scootaloo off. When Scootaloo tried to bite Dash’s leg, Dash simply raised it up and Scootaloo continued flying through the air. “No biting! If you want to play dirty, you’ll only make it harder for yourself!” Dash didn’t even move. Scootaloo simply soared over her left shoulder and landed face first on the trunk of the tree. Scootaloo thumped onto the ground. “What was that? Were you actually aiming that time?” To Dash's surprise, and then to her alarm, Scootaloo was whimpering. She was clutching her face where she’d hit the tree and suppressing cries of pain. Dash bit her own hoof. “Uh oh. Hey, kid,” she said, leaning close to pat her on the wither. “You OK? I thought you wanted rough and tough? Remember what you said? Scoots? Come here.” She cuddled Scootaloo with one leg, stroking her mane as Scootaloo held on tightly and buried her face in Dash’s other foreleg. It felt quite wet where her eyelids met it. A bit of blood dribbled out. Dash looked around with a panicky expression. "I'm not crying," said a voice into her fur. "I just, I just got some bark in my eyes." “It’s just a nosebleed. It’ll stop soon.” When this didn’t work, Dash tried shushing her gently. She didn’t know whether this would work either, but it was better than not saying anything and she wanted to drown out the half-stifled sobs - she really couldn't stand the sounds. There was a clattering of cart wheels. Big Macintosh came over the ridge of the hill, chewing on hay and hauling a cartload of apples behind him. Dash watched apprehensively, and as he was passing, he stopped and turned to look at her. Then he looked down at Scootaloo, who was wiping her face on her own leg, and stopped chewing. He blinked in puzzlement. “Uh,” Dash said, her eyes appealing to the sky. “We were fighting. I didn’t think she’d get hurt. Well, yeah, it’s fighting, so you’d expect somepony to get hurt, but I didn’t mean... well, I meant to, but I was… I… she…" A weak chuckle failed to explain things any more clearly. They both looked on awkwardly as Scootaloo sniffed and took a step back. "I'm OK, now. No biggie." “You sure, Scoots?” “It was nothing, really. I was… just surprised, that’s all. Yeah. Let’s keep fighting.” Dash threw a nervous grin at Big Macintosh. He shrugged. "She says she's alright," he said. "So Ah guess she's alright." With that, he continued chewing his piece of straw and pulled the cart downhill. “Keep fighting?" said Dash, once she was sure the red giant was out of earshot. "But what about the –?” “This? Nah, it’s nothing.” She winced as she poked her swollen nose. “I’m still ready. Come on.” A lightbulb flashed over Dash's head. “Why don’t we take time out for a bit?" she said. "I mean, obviously, I’m a little tired from all the fighting, and, um..." She stretched her legs back and forth, and then yawned like a lion. "Shall we get a drink?” “Uh, sure. Yeah.” It was some time later. The sun was setting, casting everything in an orange glow. The two of them were sitting with their backs against the apple tree, tactfully not mentioning the sore on Scoot's nose. “Today was so awesome," said Scootaloo, holding back a squeal. "Hey, Dash. Do you think I could be a spy one day?” “You can be whatever you want to be, kid," Dash said, folding her arms behind her head. "Personally, I had you down as a good hoof on a scooter.” “Nah. That’s nothing special. I’d rather learn kung fu fighting from a black belt any day of the week.” “Yeah? You gotta be good to keep up with me.” Scootaloo beamed. “I intend to be the best.” “Ooh, I heard some kick in that one." A back rolled forwards and four hooves rested on the fallen leaves. Scootaloo got up too. "Can we do this same time tomorrow?” "Sure, kid. Cloud duty's pretty easy in summer. If you're lucky, I might steal one of Rarity's dummies and bring it around for you to test your moves on." "Cool! I can't wait." Dash yawned again, genuinely this time, and flexed her wings. "For now, I think it's bed time for both of us. AJ’ll probably chase us off the fields if we’re not out of here before dusk. See you tomorrow, Scoots.” There was a whoosh, and Scootaloo's blossoming eyes reflected the rainbow streaming across the disc of the sun. Applejack panted, but took several more steps back until she was at the crest of the hill. She looked across the gap towards the peak of the next two hills, and spied, atop the third like an obnoxious King Harold, the apple tree. Two tufts of grass were churned up as the workhorse pawed the ground. Then, with a rear and a whinny, she went straight into a full gallop, down the hill, across the fields, through the valley, over the foot of the offending hill and nearer the base of the foliage fortress. She leapt up, and still carrying on under her own momentum, raised a leg and screamed woody murder. The kick was enough to split the trunk in half. Applejack whooped in midair as the apple trembled on its twig. There was a thud, an “oof,” and a crunch. A while later, Big Macintosh walked up the hill and towards the two halves of the tree, one lying on top of the other. A layer of orange fur was sandwiched between them, with four legs sticking out. Big Macintosh turned around and bucked the lower half, with both halves tumbling aside. A table that looked a lot like Applejack fell onto the ground and popped back into shape. There were little apples spinning around her head, but she shook off the dizziness and the illusion vanished. “Doncha think yer takin’ this a li’l seriously?” said Big Macintosh. Applejack snorted. “Ah ain’t gonna lose ter a Pink Lady. Ah’ll have her off that tree afore sundown.” “Yer can do it tomorrow. Get some rest fer now." Hooves smacked against the fallen trunk, but the apple still dangled from its twig. Applejack seized it in both hooves and braced herself against the trunk, pulling and twisting with all her might and with a lot of groaning. Big Macintosh watched patiently as she slipped and fell onto her croup. "It's time for feedin', now. Yer’ll have yer strength back in the mornin’.” Applejack heard sense, but she still growled with frustration and turrned to the tree. "You listen to me, li'l troublemaker. Ah ain't got time fer hangarounds. Ah've bucked bigger apples than you, so don't you go gettin' ahead o' yerself. An' so help me, Ah will not buck another tree until Ah have you down an' harvested like the rest o' 'em." Then she adjusted her hat before she passed her brother, trotting moodily downhill. Big Macintosh chewed his piece of straw, then looked back at the tree. "Ah guess she sure told you," he said, and followed his sister down a while later. Stealth isn’t really something that thrives in Equestria. Stealth requires secrets, and secrets require ponies to acknowledge someone as a potential enemy, which really doesn’t happen when you’re baking pies and singing ditties for the entire neighbourhood. There were simply no wars, there were never two opposing sides, and there was, most fatally, an enthusiasm for “talking things over” whenever a misunderstanding threatened to make things interesting. It wasn’t perfect; it was sickly sweet, and peril, intrigue, and war were all diabetics. But there had been periods in history when this was not the case, and the mentioning of such times - times before Celestia’s takeover of Equestria, for instance - drew shudders from the historians. They were principally known as the ‘Exciting Times’ but went under many names, including the Big Uh-Oh, the Bad Juju, the Moment We’reinforit, Things Differently Peaceful, Oshi, and several more names that had been lost through the mists of time, if only because this was the best way for the more sensitive ponies to read the words. And at the other side of the millennium, in more recent times, things had been shaken up again. Ponies had received that harsh wake-up call that complacent minds get when they are reminded that peace never comes for free and never stays for free. Thankfully, due to six unassuming ponies (whose efforts were historic and mighty and, for mysterious reasons, promptly forgotten about), the world was not cloaked in eternal darkness. It had been rescued from chaos, it was safe from mad gods, and it was not populated by ponies all fighting over one rather smelly grey doll that had its own homework set and a lot of bad stitching. Events like that lead to a lot of probing in museum attics and within underground library archives. They set minds racing. Through the U-turn of history, the echoes of the Exciting Times came back and an overture was created. The minds of artists became the notes of a new, furious melody that was heard across the realm. Throughout the more intellectual areas of Canterlot – or at least those areas where the word ‘intellectual’ wasn’t spelled with a ‘harumph’ at the end – the printing press began an enterprise between the artists and the historians. Comics were one of the results. Apple Bloom was staring up at the ceiling. The moon was shining onto the floorboards, next to her chest of toys in the corner. From down the hall, she could hear her sister muttering into the pillow. Big Macintosh’s and Granny Smith’s rooms were silent. The quilt was kicked off her stomach. It slumped onto the floor, cushioning four yellow hooves when she rolled out of her four-poster. Her bow’s shadow fell over the lid of the chest. A quick flick of the nose revealed a teddy bear, a blue ball, a green model of a spire, and several more useless items inside. Apple Bloom dipped her head like an apple bobber who’s just been told that she has to bob not only for the apples, but for her carnival prize too, and emerged with black fabric between her teeth. It had a few white stars on the legs and collar. Once she’d put on the bandana as well, a pink hoof struck the air and she beamed at an imaginary foe. Putting on the suit was a definite statement. The roof even seemed to slope upwards while she pressed her back against the door, as if making room for her raw confidence. Hinges groaned as the wooden door was pulled, like two guards briefly disturbed from their sleep. Two fiery eyes peered out. They looked to the left. They looked to the right. They looked to the left again, just in case something popped out of nowhere during the few seconds spent looking away – according to her comics, this was vitally important for avoiding villainous duck-billed platypuses. Then Apple Bloom's head craned around the doorframe and examined the corridor. Opposite her was a portrait of a pink pony with a white mane. Next to that was Applejack's bedroom door. Noises were coming from behind it, giving the impression that the door was sleepily asking for another apple fritter. Opposite the door were the stairs. Apple Bloom gulped. It occurred to her that anything with only raw confidence in it simply wasn’t well done. She eased her hoof around the doorframe, placing it gently onto the floorboards. There was no squeak. She tried a second hoof. No creak was heard. Remembering the spies from her comics, she took the bipedal option, wiping her back against the wall as she crossed the hall. She wished the window wouldn’t keep staring at her like that. Finally she reached the top of the stairs. The flight descended below her. From behind, she heard the apple decoration on the bedroom door mumble about lassoing runaway pies. There was plenty of shadow down the staircase, but perhaps the white stars on her costume would contrast with the black fabric enough to give her away in the dark. The rouge neck ribbon was probably overkill. One of the steps creaked: Apple Bloom instantly froze. An ear swivelled to face the door upstairs. She held her breath. The green door loudly groaned and complained about the rope being covered in apple sauce before a snore cut it off. Apple Bloom breathed again, but it took a long time for her limbs to unfreeze. There were no further creaks as her forelegs eased themselves down and off the handrail, which had bite marks on it, because a pony falling down the stairs isn’t fussy about what it grabs onto. The novice in stealth crossed the main room, regretting the lack of furniture to hide behind. It didn’t feel stealthy, but at least the round rug in the middle muffled most of her hoof steps. It was quiet outside, and in the barn when she slipped inside. All around her were mountains of apple crates. Straw crunched under her hooves before she stopped in front of an old cart wheel, spokes and hub made of that tough timber that seemed to fossilize instead of decaying. It was leaning against the crimson wall, near a white window frame. Apple Bloom traced a line with her nose as if following the moonlight pouring through the glass. Her little hooves worked feverishly, scattering straw. Then she was scattering dirt. She stopped, nose covered in earthy clumps, and beamed down at the prize. A while later, her small head poked through the gap between the barn doors. A quick adjustment of her jaw was all that was needed before she darted out and ran past the white fences into Sweet Apple Acre’s orchard. There were lights on within the treehouse, the yellow glow pouring through the heart-shaped gaps in the door and the shutters. Next to the L-shaped walkway leading up to the balcony, what looked like a blue skateboard with handles was leaning against the trunk. Occasionally, a “haiiiiiiiiiiiii-YA” punctuated the cricket chirps, which were coming along nicely now and the poor chaps probably wouldn’t need that rehearsal they’d scheduled for tomorrow night. Three buckets were placed upside-down on the floor. They sat and waited, woodenly. To a sufficiently hyperactive mind, they were squatting ninjas about to pounce. Their nonexistent eyes narrowed. Their imaginary arms tensed. Legs did not bend like sumo wrestlers squaring off. They were professionals, if you wanted them to be. Two purple eyes, both perfectly real, concentrated on each one. Enamel scraped against enamel, making a screech that would make a dentist rub his hands in glee. Toe bones cracked like knuckles. A drop of sweat dribbled down an orange forehead as if hoping to drop out of the fight. There wasn’t actually a bell, but if there had been, it would have pinged. Scootaloo rushed forwards, lungs exploding through her mouth, and kicked the first bucket. It sailed through the air and struck the door, or at least would have done if Apple Bloom hadn’t opened it first. When she came back up the steps a second time, Apple Bloom was moaning into her hoof. “Scoodnoo!” she cried, rubbing her nose. “Wha’ d’hay’re you doon?” “Apple Bloom!” “Ah dought somepony w’in dere.” Apple Bloom let go of her nose, which was still red and throbbing. She nearly shook her mane off until the pain vanished. “Ah saw the lights were on.” “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” “Aren’t you s’posed to be in bed?” Two pairs of lips were pursed. “Ah won’t tell if you won’t tell,” said Apple Bloom, before spitting on her hoof and extending it. After a pause, Scootaloo spat onto her own hoof and they shook. “O’ course,” added Apple Bloom, “if you do tell even one pony, Ah’ll crow it to the rooftops o’ every house o’ every pony in Ponyville with a megaphone that you kicked a bucket into mah face, but Ah feel that’s only to be fair. Keeps the deal on the sweet, yer know?” “I thought I’d stay up and learn some karate moves,” said Scootaloo, gesturing towards the buckets. She howled in Japanese - though since the only word she knew was "HAAAAAIIII", it wasn't exactly bilingualism at its finest - and delivered a kick which would have made any kung fu master witnessing it chew the back of his chair in outrage. Apple Bloom gave the resulting bucket-shaped hole in the wall a cursory glance. “I was learning karate in the fields with Rainbow Dash. Well, OK, we were supposed to be learning how to sneak around and stuff, but that was so boring, and then Dash said ‘hey want to know how to disarm somepony instead’, so I said ‘hey, why not’, and then we tried hitting each other's jugulars. Or at least we tried to. Is the jugular the one in the leg? It kinda went a little Oriental from there.” “So you think mah idea was righ’ after all?” Apple Bloom sat down on the floor, folded her forelegs and gave her pegasus partner a wry smirk. Scootaloo wiped the smile off her own face. “Nuh uh. I still think it’s a dumb idea. I just don’t think it’s too dumb, like way-stupid dumb. It’s more daft-dumb, with a bit of really weird and a lot of ‘ooooooooookay’. It’s not that dumb on the dumb-o-meter of dumbness, really. Um, it’s a smart-ish kind of dumb. “And karate is cool,” she added, pushing her luck a bit. The conversation was loyally dropped after that, which is the sort of thing friends can get away with without looking awkward. “Well, OK, we can try that out,” Apple Bloom said. “If yer want some hints and tips, Ah’ve got some comics ter show yer how it’s done.” The paper was slapped onto the floorboards. Scootaloo cast a shadow over them. “This one is Wolfenstein,” said her friend, nudging her aside. “The ninja warrior pony-wolf.” He had a peg-leg, an eyepatch, and a grin filled with kitchen knives. “He was a spy fer Princess Luna, when she was Nightmare Moon. Durin’ the day, he was a normal pony called Silver Platter, an’ a servant of Princess Celestia. But durin’ the nigh’, his real wolf form came out an’ he used to sneak around the palace, carryin’ out Nightmare Moon’s evil schemes an’ thwartin’ Celestia’s evil plans.” “Evil?” “They’re told from his point of view. An’ he was cunnin’. He never got caught.” “Was he real?” “Ah dunno. Mighta been. If he was, he was awful good. An’ sometimes he even won against Celestia.” “Gee, wouldn’t Princess Celestia find this kind of thing… disrespectful?” “She loves ‘em. She even suggested some o’ the plotlines herself. One o’ the stories was even hosted as a royal thee-atrical. Besides, Ah like stories with good bad guys.” Apple Bloom sighed. “Ah’d sure like ter be like him. Then Ah’d have all kinds o’ neat toys ter play with, an’, an’ super-slick moves an’ stuff.” “Who’s that guy?” Scootaloo pointed at a second comic. “Huh? Oh, that’s the Night Watch Pony. She sneaks out at night in Manehattan an’ catches criminals an’ bad ponies." Without warning, Apple Bloom leapt onto her back legs and pointed a hoof at the treehouse ceiling, shouting: "Come, Cloppin! TO THE PONY POLE!” She blushed at Scootaloo’s expression. "Hehe," she said. “It’s a, er, catchy-phrase she says. It goes like this: there's a scream of fear, then the two ponies look around all startled-like. Then Cloppin says 'What was that', and the night Watch Pony replied, 'That was our work bell.' Come, Cloppin, to the pony pole! An' then they get into the Ponymobile an' leap into action!” There was a scream. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo jumped off the floorboards. "What was that?" cried Scootaloo. "It's comin' from Ponyville!" "Well, shall we see what this one is?" "Are you crazy? At this hour?" Apple Bloom said, walking up to the window and peering out. "It could be dangerous." "Well, we wouldn't have to do anything, just look at it. See what it is. You know." The young pegasus leaned in close to Apple Bloom's ear. "Ess-pee-own-arge on it." "No." "Unless you're chicken?" "No, Ah'm not!" "Bdak, bdak, bdak!" "Alrigh', smart mouth, Ah'll come. But how're we gonna get there?" This was met with a broad grin. "Well, we kinda have a Ponymobile of our own." "Does it shoot lasers an' things from the front?" "Well, no, but..." "Does it have heat-seekin' rockets and giant magic tasers?" "No, but..." "Does it have an ejector seat? Rocket boosters? A magnetic lasso?" "NO, but..." "Does it even have a cup holder?" "Look, do you want to come or not?" "Answer the question!" "NO, it doesn't have a cup holder!" "Huh. Well, Ah guess it ain't a Ponymobile, now, is it?" "You're killing the mood." Scootaloo slapped on her helmet and marched towards the door. "Come on." As the last of the Ponyville house doors slammed shut, a motor growled and two fillies on a scooter zoomed down the street, losing some speed on the uphill. The passenger was pointing and shouting directions for the driver, who adjusted and turned tight corners before speeding down another street. They passed Sugar Cube Corner, where the lights were still on, and they passed the library tree, the lights of which were also on. Twilight lowered her quill and peered out the study window. She could hear the growling motor and was just in time to see the two Cutie Mark Crusaders whizz past. "Hm," she said, tapping her hoof. This was a common reaction to the sight of the Cutie Mark Crusaders, especially when they were looking so purposeful. The scooter ground the soil and skidded to a halt. Scootaloo stopped leaning back and Apple Bloom unwrapped her hooves, freeing the orange waist. Ponyville's main streets were empty of ponies, and in the half light it began to unnerve them. “Dang,” said Apple Bloom. “Ah was sure it came from around here.” They lingered nonetheless. Leaves rustled and were dragged past them in the low wind. The night was colder than usual, and though the stars were dutifully filling up the void, the moon seemed not to have cleared the trees yet. "I'll try the next road," Scootaloo said, leaning back again. Then she paused. "What? What's wrong?" "Sh! D'you feel those vibes?" At first, she felt nothing. There were no sounds except for the wind murmuring in her ear. But the longer she listened, the more she felt that things were out of place in the gentle rhythm of the night. She couldn't put her hoof on it. "Scootaloo...?" "Sh! Sh! There! D'you feel it?" The ground was shaking with each double thump. Apple Bloom looked around for the source of the noise. Scootaloo gripped her friend’s head in both hooves and rotated it by ninety degrees. That was how she saw what was coming up the road. The result was that Apple Bloom had Scootaloo’s wide-eyed expression to a T, though her eyes were a double ‘O’, her ears more a ‘V’, and her mouth an unmistakeable copy of the universal ‘AARGH’. The noises were getting louder. Scootaloo spun the scooter around and did a good impression of a V2 Rocket propelled by a combustible fuel of disbelief and fur-wetting fear. A bouncing black mass followed them up the street, like a drumbeat counting down the seconds they had. Apple Bloom seized Scootaloo’s waist again, then squeezed tighter as they took a hard right and sped down an alleyway. There was a fruit cart up ahead. There was always a fruit cart up ahead, because any chase vehicle has to smash through something and Hollywood hates healthy food just as much as you do. As they zoomed up, Scootaloo leapt off the shooting blue scooter and worked her wings, Apple Bloom fluttering behind her like a cape made of lead. The scooter fell on its side and slid beneath the cart before all hooves were reunited with it, knocking it back to an upright position and incidentally allowing a ninety degree turn before they zoomed down the next road. Their pursuer didn’t bother with such niceties. Planks and fruit rained down over the house opposite. Apple Bloom squeezed her eyelids tighter at the crunching noises. They sped on as the thing behind them began howling. Scootaloo saw a second cart, this one empty but leaning towards them. It made an obvious ramp for a scooter. She steered them to a good angle and then braced herself as the scooter hit the wooden planks and soared over the edge and onto the thatched roof, which gave way. There was a pause while the house let out light through the new and unplanned loft conversion. Then the front door opened outwards and they both shot out, revving the scooter. Apple Bloom looked around and behind them, but there was no sign of the beast. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Ah think," she breathed, "Ah think we're going to be OK!" Four paws landed in front of them. Scootaloo screamed as it bounced past, and wrenched the handlebars. The scooter spiralled down the road, despite her savaging the controls, and they both crashed into a pile of cardboard boxes. A dust cloud enveloped them all. Apple Bloom felt like the world had been snatched out from under her feet. It took some time to stop. Through the settling dust cloud, three silhouettes lay slumped in the wreckage. Scootaloo pushed Apple Bloom’s forelegs, but they were wrapped tightly around the pegasus’ hips and the Apple pony was curled up in petrified fright. Scootaloo pushed again, more frantically. There was a thumping sound, and when they looked up, the giant dog was bounding down the street towards them. Slobbering jaws were agape, overloaded with shark-like teeth so large none of the mouths could even shut. It roared. Three times. Once per head. The thumping drowned out their own heartbeats as the two fillies closed their eyes and curled up together. Something else was thumping, too. Four ears swivelled, trying to locate the intruding sound. Twilight landed in the space between the boxes and the dog, and clenched her teeth as the purple glow flowed through her horn. A puzzled yelp, a skid of braced paws, and the loss of the thumps finally got the better of the two fillies. They opened their eyes. The dog skidded to a halt inches before Twilight's frown. All three heads looked down at her quizzically. There was a long silence while Twilight’s horn glowed more brightly. Six red eyes blinked. From outside of town, on the edge of the Everfree Forest, a vine-smothered tree glowed purple as if in response. Soil trembled at its roots. Finally, with a wrenching of its boughs, the tree burst through the ground, scattering clumps of earth. It hovered in midair, before it drifted over to the town's borders. The three-headed dog was waving a paw in front of Twilight's face and examining her for a reaction when the tree drifted into view. It floated down the road, and while the dog was scratching its left head, a bunch of leaves was thrust into its faces. They looked down. Twilight winked. They looked at each other uncertainly. Then all three faces beamed. Three tongues hung out and it rose up on its hind legs, panting. Apple Bloom and Scootaloo beamed as its gigantic tail wagged through the air like a hefted club. “Here boy," said Twilight, waving it about enticingly. "You want the stick? Get the stick, boy! Go get it!” With a swish of leaves, Twilight threw it in a high arc clear over Ponyville rooftops and into the depths of the forest. It didn't even hesitate; the black hellhound bounded after the tree, out of Ponyville and through the outlying trees, where it was out of sight. Behind her, Twilight heard two sighs of relief. “T-Twilight?” said Apple Bloom, getting to her hooves. The unicorn turned around. A blinding flash of light spread from her horn, enveloping the town. Splatterings of fruit drifted through the air. Planks rose off the ground. Beneath their feet, the dust stirred and the two fillies jumped back as cardboard boxes began stacking themselves. The hole in the roof shrank and sealed up. Soon, the shattered wood was fitting together, piece by piece, until the fruit cart was complete and it was gently placed back onto the ground. “We," began Scootaloo, as the last box topped the pyramid, "we can explain…” “Girls,” said Twilight, looking down at them. The glow in her horn vanished. “What are you doing out so late? It's not safe tonight." "But why not? Where'd that... thing come from?" "It ran out of the Everfree Forest a while ago and gave us a bit of a fright. But that doesn't concern you now. I think it would be a great idea to go back to your homes as soon as possible, girls. Your families must be worried about you.” Scootaloo and Apple Bloom hung their heads and traipsed off, Scootaloo dragging the scooter behind her with her tail. Once they were gone, and while chewing her lip, Twilight examined the giant paw prints in the ground. "A cerberus?" she said, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "But why would one of those be coming here?" From the distant forest, three cheerful howls rent the night. To be continued...
Sweet Millennium SpiesNew Alicornia glowed with power. The town lay in the middle of an amphitheatre of mountains, overlooked by the snow-capped spires that reflected the town in an iridescence that would have made the aurora borealis gape in astonishment. And what a show New Alicornia had on for the mountains tonight: from above, the entire town was shaped like a winged unicorn in full flight, with the lights placed so strategically that the eyes, crown, necklace, royal golden shoes, and sun-shaped cutie mark could be distinguished. There were town planners, and then there were town artists, but this was the work of a town Rembrandt. Cathedral belfries and elevated mansions, some actually on hovering hemispheres of earth, overlooked the rainbow stepping stones of the path, which changed colour as unicorns walked on them. Festival decorations were draped from windowsill to windowsill, banners hung over the main streets thronging with ponies, and tents and wooden stalls were strung along the sidewalks like beads on a necklace. Every unicorn around the main festival near the town's "head" was dressed in frou-frou and frills, with gaudier costumes for the Earth ponies around the fair at the town's "forelegs", both groups looking like the hybrids of ponies and birds of paradise. The New Alicornia clock tower chimed the hour. A ripple spread out from its face as though it were on water, distorting space-time as it passed through the town, until everything else jumped ahead and all the ponies were now where they would be five minutes later. This instantly moved Rarity and Sweetie Belle straight from the train station in the town's "rear leg" to a street near the fair, where they were trotting side-by-side. There were scatterings of ponies around, so the fair hadn't started in earnest yet. "Now, Sweetie Belle," said Rarity, as the ripple reached the outermost point of the town and died away, "I know how much you dislike waiting around before the show, so perhaps you would like to have a stroll around the New Alicornia fair before tonight, hm?" Sweetie Belle was shaking her head at the time jump. Sure, Rarity had been forewarned, but she had neglected to tell her. "But," she said, once the memories of the last five minutes suddenly caught up with her, "you're going to do all that dressmaking and stuff, and you never let me go on my own." Rarity stopped outside a textiles stall, admiring the selection of silks and velvet cushions. Sweetie Belle played with a dangling selvage, somehow managing to unravel it. The stall owner shooed her away and she went to stand next to Rarity. "Oh, but you won't be alone, Sweetie Belle," Rarity said. "By good fortune, a… friend of mine happened to be in New Alicornia today." "Hey, Rarity!" From across the road, a green pony was stumbling over to her, trying to juggle a long pole with a window wiper on the end, a bucket full of water, and some coiled rope. On top of his brown mane, a green cap bounced as if it was as excited to see them as he was. Judging by the state of his shirt, which was technically white but seemed to be going off, he'd been doing some cleaning work recently. He tripped and landed face first in the coiled rope, dropping the pole and spilling the water over the road. Rarity raised a hoof to avoid the suds. "Hayseed, how nice to see you again," she said with a strained smile. "Sweetie Belle, meet Mister Hayseed Turnip Truck, an old… friend of mine." Sweetie Belle looked up at her as if at any moment Rarity's forehead would open and a cuckoo would pop out. If Rarity had told her that she had a friend here, Hayseed, who was so country that any pony who looked at him immediately heard banjo music, would have been a stellar example of who Sweetie Belle would specifically have chosen not to be an example. Hayseed sat back on his haunches, apparently none the worse for having the rope wrapped around both his snout and his buck teeth. "A right pleasure ter meet yer, Sweetie Belle." He extended a hoof so enthusiastically he nearly poked her in the eye. When they shook, Sweetie Belle had difficulty stopping her leg going up and down afterwards and was still vibrating as Rarity spoke. "He usually works up in Canterlot, but he happened to be in town for this day, and he kindly offered to help me out by looking after you." "You betcha. This place is a town o' oppor-toon-ity. Lots of dirty windows here," he said, pulling a cloth out of the bucket. Several ponies nearby overheard him and scoffed. Sweetie Belle finally stopped her hoof from going up and down, but it still felt numb. "Aren't there already window cleaners here?" she said. "Ah know that," whispered Hayseed behind a raised hoof. "But they don't." "You will make sure she comes back to the Ponydrome by midnight, won't you?" said Rarity. "She mustn't be a minute late." "You can coun' on me, Rarity!" He saluted, nearly knocking the cap off his head. "Excellent. I shall see you later, Sweetie Belle. Mwah," she said, giving her sister a peck on the cheek before she turned to Hayseed. "Remember, not even a minute. I am placing my trust in you." "Don't you worry yer li'l fancy hat off; ol' Hayseed's the trustingest pony you can find." They briefly shook hooves, and Sweetie Belle kept in a giggle as she noticed Rarity wince and massage her own pastern. Then she watched her elder sister walk away. Hayseed picked up his fallen items. "Ah jus' gotta drop this stuff of at mah place, then we can go to this fair in town," he said to Sweetie. "How's that sound?" "Um, great." They started to walk, Hayseed attracting a lot of funny glances for his insane balancing act. "How do you know Rarity?" said Sweetie. "Not to put too fine a point on it, but... Rarity hobnobs with the Canterlot sort of pony. I've never heard of her hobnobbing a window-cleaner before." Hayseed caught the bucket, saving a passing unicorn from having her dress insta-cleaned. "Oh, we met at one of the Apple family hoedowns at Sweet Apple Acres – we Turnips an' Apples go back a lon' way. It was cos o' her Ah got to know a pony who knew a pony who knew another pony who was datin' another pony who was the daughter of a pony who knew a pony's uncle who served a pony in the army of a commander pony who ran off with another pony who had a friend of a brother of a second cousin's wife's twin sister's dawg in Canterlot." "Wow, that's a long way to go from Ponyville." "You'd be amazed how many windows need cleanin', especially the dawg's." "What are you doing here?" "Why you know that. Ah'm taking these doohickeys back to mah lodgin'. Oh, wait, you mean in New Alicornia? Aw shucks, Ah was asked to come here by some fancy pants pony called, er… Fancypants. Tol' me he wanted his New Alicornia apartment to have clean windows, an' since Ah used to clean his mansion windows back in Canterlot, he asked me. Cos he knows Ah can deliver. An' it turns out Ah fill somethin' called a… a nitch here." They reached a small house with the sign "rooms to let" stuck to the window. Compared with the rest of New Alicornia, the Georgian timber design looked quite plain. Hayseed hurried inside and came out empty-hooved. "Well, that done. Wanna go get some milkshakes?" "Milkshakes? YAY!" One candle glowed in the darkness of the library. The pile of books surrounding it had shrunk to a mere thirty six, but they and the lone scroll lay on the desk, hoping to grow roots and branches again if they stood still long enough. To one side, Twilight summoned the candle over to her, illuminating one book's spine at a time with a gradual sweep over the shelves. Eventually, she found what looked like a slab of limestone that had been cut into the shape of a brick, and excavated it. The cover read: Mutton's Monstrous Mythical Monsters, and What To Do If You Meet Them – Two Books In One. Just out of interest, she flipped to the last page, looking for an index. Instead, the page she found was entitled Book Two: What To Do If You Meet Them, under which were the words: "Check life insurance policy is up to date, and having ascertained that it is, proceed to un-meet them as soon as possible." A rustle of pages was followed by a slight brightening as the candle was moved closer. "Cerberus," Twilight read aloud. "A very large three-headed canine beast of the species Fido hadesii. They are said to watch the entrances of secret lairs, acting as guard dogs on the behalf of any pony who can master them. Though they are friendly and loyal to those whom they trust, they are dangerous when excited and should only be handled by a powerful unicorn. Definitely not good with children. Needs no daily exercise. Apparently, they make excellent music critics." There were more paragraphs further below. Twilight moved over to the desk and set aside her previous essay, spreading a new scroll over the desk and dipping the quill into the inkwell. Carefully, she copied the notes from the page. She'd just finished when the candle flame shrank and turned to a wisp. "Now, Twilight, question time. What would a giant dog be doing around Ponyville?" she said, tucking the scroll into one of the books. "What's there around here to interest it? Owlowiscious," she called, while trying not to wake Spike upstairs. "Owlowiscious?" Glancing around the shelves, Twilight listened for a tell-tale sound. Perhaps she'd left a window open and banging, but then why would he go outside when everything he wanted was inside? A shadow flew through the round window of her room and landed atop one of the towers on her desk. Owlowiscious opened his beak, dropping a rolled up scroll. Messages were a little awkward for her. While Spike with his magic flame was capable of transporting letters to and from the Princess, and had recently learned how to direct letters to other locations, they had yet to work out a receiving system with his flame that was just as quick. It would have needed a sender at her friends' locations. But there were no other dragons in Ponyville, and Spike refused to submit to Twilight's cloning spell: even if the other man was him, he didn't fancy having a love triangle with Rarity. Twilight unfurled the scroll and glanced over the message, twisting her mouth as if hoping to wring some answers out of it. "Zecora?" she said to the name at the bottom. "At this hour?" There are some ponies you could set your watch by; with Twilight, you could set the standard definition for the base SI unit of time, and then plan out an entire calendar afterwards. She had worked out long ago that a pony only needed four or five hours a night for sleep, and she was used to working late and rising early, two habits rarely seen together. Even Zecora, who was not only out of town but out of what most ponies would call the habitable zone, had learned to work engagements with Twilight around this fact. She summoned her saddlebags, filling them with the books Zecora had requested, and hooted a thank you to Owlowiscious in owlspeak, though as her friend pointed out, she was still indulging too much in a snowy owl accent. To her surprise, there were thumps coming from outside, followed by a crash behind the front door. Several books fell off the shelves. From beyond the woodwork, she could hear scratching. She opened the door and immediately jumped back as a tree slammed into the ground in front of her. High above, three heads drooled and panted. It took her a while to take in what was occurring. "Oh, er," she said. "It's you again, I see." One of the dog heads barked and nudged the tree with a sticky nose. It was like watching a train bump into the buffers, complete with steam effects when it breathed out. "You, er, want me to throw it again?" All three heads nodded, drenching her with flying spittle. She shook it out of her mane and looked past the black mass. At this point, she wasn't quite prepared to plan time for playing fetch with a two-storey tall, three-jawed hellhound that made the Hound of the Baskervilles look like its favourite squeaky toy. It was while avoiding the gazes that Twilight noticed, and was surprised to see, a circular patch of white on its rump. The notes she'd just taken from the book hadn't mentioned anything about feathers. Yet clumps of them fell off the beast's flank and lay sadly on the ground. She glanced up at its faces, one at a time. "So, mister cerberus, tell me: who is your owner?" she asked. All three heads stopped drooling, which was a mercy for the grass beneath its paws. The right head looked out over the forest. "What's your name?" she asked, but when this earned a puzzled look, a frown, and an unintelligible bark, she tried: "OK, do you have a name?" The dog heads looked pleadingly at each other before they shook in unison. Twilight looked back at the tree. "Well, I'd prefer to call you by a name, so how about… Sticks?" The left head yipped with a question mark on the end. After the other two hastily barked back, it smiled and all three nodded. "OK, Sticks. My name is Twilight Sparkle. I'm a student of Princess Celestia. I'm currently on a royal mission to explore the magic of friendship, and I'm a great believer in extracurricular activities, so I'd rather the magic didn't stop flowing between us. But I'm going to have to ask you a few questions - since I don't usually accept strays at the doorstep - and then send you on your way. Can you tell me who your owner is?" A quick conference in barks established a nod from the middle head. A paw like a settee with scythes coming out of it pointed at her. "Me? I can't be your master." Sticks shook his heads vigorously and tapped her horn, then placed a paw on the middle head and pretended to make "shoot, shoot" noises through dangling lips. "Oh, I see. Your master's a unicorn." Twilight leaned closer. "OK, I'll make this quick, but two questions: first, where is your master now?" This one seemed to be a poser – the heads barked as if they were slouchy office workers asking after days of the week to establish when the boss had last checked in. The eventual consensus was a sigh and a shrug, both impressive feats of physiology for a creature sharing lungs and shoulder blades between three brains. "Very well. Second question: why did you attack Ponyville? You almost frightened everypony to death." Right head nodded cheerfully until he noticed the disapproving looks from the others, and he hung his ears in shame. All three looked back at Everfree Forest. To Twilight's surprise, they were whimpering. Granted, a wheezing steam train could make a less ear-traumatising noise, but the timbre of fear was still there. What was Sticks frightened of? Could there be a monster even worse than this one? "Well, thank you all the same. Must be going now. I recommend you find some place a little out of the way for a while. Try near the little cottage on the edge – Fluttershy happens to be very good with animals, so long as you don't startle her." The tree shot through the air and disappeared through the distant canopy. For her trouble, Twilight received three licks in quick succession and watched through a veneer of spittle as Sticks bounced away. She smoothed down her mane, which had conspired with the drool to defy gravity, and shut the door behind her. Something had frightened a beast which had its own entry in a book whose advice section largely consisted of not being around when it was hungry. Cheerilee had been reduced to Miserablee, however briefly. And the Cutie Mark Crusaders were sneaking out after dark: not that this in itself was beyond the Crusaders, but she doubted that even they were considering Fluffy taming as a talent for life. Coincidence? Definitely. Twilight was many things, but superstitious was not one of them, since she was a student of magic. That did not mean that events couldn't conspire to bring things together. Princess Celestia had been a great believer in destiny, though what she believed about it was anypony's guess. Twilight had her suspicions, anyway. Ponies didn't really understand what being a student actually involved. Visitors saw the books and the quills and the overflowing timetables and assumed that it was about obsessive study – cramming as much information in as possible so that you could answer the questions at the exams. Answering questions was a good steering force, Twilight would have conceded, but what really got the cart moving was an unwholesome desire to ask questions of your own. Twilight trotted under the moonlight, scattering white feathers beneath her hooves as she passed. At the bar of downtown New Alicornia, the two ponies sat near the door and sucked the chocolate milkshakes noisily through their straws. Hayseed was particularly noisy, but then he had reached the bottom and was trying his darnedest to suck up the last few drops. He broke off for a moment. "Say, Sweetie Belle, yer know what a spittoon is?" he said. When she shook her head, he turned on his rump and pointed at a jar on the bar top. Sweetie Belle had assumed it was for tips and had put some bits in there earlier. "That's one. We used to have 'em everywhere back at the farm. You use it like this." He made a noise like a drain being unplugged, and fired a gob of spit. It pinged when it hit the inside of the jar. "Ew. That's disgusting. Can I try it?" "Sure. It's all in the back o' the throat." Sweetie Belle took a deep breath, and gagged on her spit. It took a moment of patting her back before Hayseed dislodged it and it shot up to the roof and stuck there. The stain began to dangle and threatened to drip. "Nice range!" Hayseed said, looking up at it. "Jus' a bit o' aimin' an' yer'll be pretty good." Sweetie Belle beamed. The drip fell off the roof and into the mug of a customer, who was too busy reading the paper to notice. Hayseed and Sweetie exchanged looks and sidestepped out of the bar, whistling as they did so. Middle Hoof did not move an inch. This is a skill few ponies can really pull off. Though they certainly looked like they could achieve it to the naked eye, however much they concentrated, there was always that slight quivering of muscle that – to anyone inspecting closely – would have disqualified them from a really strict game of musical statues. Middle Hoof wouldn't have been caught out. He wouldn't even have moved when the music continued playing. The chamber was empty. It was full of emptiness. Whoever had designed it had clearly had a vicious inferiority complex, because the sheer overwhelming scream of silence in such a granite cavern made even the bulkiest of ponies feel like a midge in a dungeon. When ponies had actually lived there, the floor took great pleasure in magnifying every footstep for inspection, and the domed ceiling was often mistaken for a sky that had solidified. There were windows in the clerestory above, but only moonlight poured out and at this distance it wouldn't have penetrated far coming down anyway. Middle Hoof sat back, bathed in another light source entirely. Before him, the twin pillars glowed with an eerie blackness. A bubble of dark blue ether traced a circle in the air between them. Within its depths, he could briefly see a flash of a unicorn horn. A voice penetrated the darkness, terrible and eldritch and seductive as a succubus. It said: "I'm sorry. Your call is in a queue. Please hold." Classical music began playing. Middle Hoof sighed. "Ooh, ooh, can we go on the rollercoaster?" said Sweetie Belle, pointing to a sign overhead. Hayseed looked up from the grass and peered at the writing. "Uh, what's a rolly-coaster?" he said. Which was why, several minutes later, Sweetie Belle threw her forelegs up to the rushing air and screamed: "WHEEEEEEEEE!" "Ah'm sorry Ah asked!" Hayseed clutched the safety bar as the ride swooped and flew over the tracks. His face was turning greener than usual and he stuck a hoof into his mouth, bunching up his cheeks. "WHEEEE – Oh no, don't hold it in! Quick, here's a bag." "Thanks," he said, taking it from her. Which in turn was why, several minutes later still, they were both hurrying through the exit. "Ah'm sorry!" Hayseed shouted at the angry crowd behind him. "It was goin' so fast, Ah couldn't hold on ter the bag!" Scootaloo sat on her haunches in the middle of the street. She stared at the scooter for some time, as if daring it to ask her what was wrong. Without her friend, who (in her own words) would rather eat all the bad apples in the orchard than get caught out late, she was at a loss for what to do. Going home to bed didn't count because she didn't want to do it. Her wings fluttered feebly and she turned her head to watch, completely devoid of any better entertainment. It was as she was doing so that she noticed Twilight walking down another road, heading out of town. Scootaloo frowned. "She tells us not to stay out late," she muttered, patting the scooter. She leaned it against a nearby house. "You wait here. I'll be right back." From house to house she hurried, flapping with excitement. Twilight had passed the town boundary and was following the path towards the forest edge. Scootaloo ducked behind a bush. If Twilight was going into that place, things were bound to get interesting. All the same, she paused on the threshold of dark green. Scare chords began to rise in her ears. The forest was not a place to enter lightly, and Scootaloo had heard stories. Young fillies had disappeared. Some had come back several months later, with wide eyes and severe speech impediments. They also tended to wake up screaming in the middle of the night. She didn't know which stories scared her more; the ones about the fillies that never came back, or the ones about the fillies that did. Not forgetting what had happened the last time she'd wandered into this place… Her eyes focused on Twilight's retreating back, and she briefly felt a pang of relief before she remembered that Twilight had been there the last time, too. It was as she was thinking these thoughts that a new thought popped up in her mind: Well, that was then. This is now. This new thought caught her by surprise, as though a neatly organised toy box had just thrown a forgotten old jack-in-the-box at her. In her head, Scootaloo fancied that the new voice sounded like Rainbow Dash. It even puffed out its chest like she did, an impressive feat for a minor piece of cognition. Come on, Scoots. Twilight would know about last time. She's probably learned some nifty new magic trick to make sure that she doesn't get caught out again. She's an egghead after all. She isn't stupid. All the same, Scootaloo chewed her lip. Would Dash have said that if she was here, or was that merely what she, Scootaloo, thought her hero would say? You wanted to be a spy, didn't ya? So why wait? Stick close enough to her and you'll be as safe as she is. Go get her, kid! Go on! "Come on, Scoots," she repeated to herself. "You are not a chicken. You can be whatever you want, remember?" She breathed in, flared out her wings, and strode purposefully into the shadows. A while later, it occurred to her that she was supposed to be hiding, and dived into a nearby bush. Twilight paused and looked back. Scootaloo held her breath. When her mark continued walking, the stealthmaster-to-be let out a groan of annoyance and began zigzagging from bush to bush. Sweetie Belle and Hayseed were forced to shunt their way through the crowds now, passing through the main square. They guided themselves using the tall column in the centre of the square fountain, and in this way they were soon standing before one of the orange stalls. Sweetie Belle stopped. "What's that?" she asked. Hayseed turned to look. "Ah've seen one o' these before. It's called, uh, a coconut shy. Ah know how this works. Throw the three balls at the three coconuts an' yer get a prize." Sweetie Belle beamed as he produced some bits from a pocket. Three coins flipped through the air and into the waiting hoof of the stall owner, who pocketed them and continued sipping his orange juice. Sweetie Belle picked up a ball with her glowing horn, but was interrupted by the stall owner, who was tapping a sign behind him. It said: NO MAGIC. Instead, she picked it up in her mouth and angled her head carefully. A quick spit dislodged the ball, but it fell short and rolled to a halt at the base of one of the poles. The next two balls went the same way. Sweetie Belle's ears drooped. Hayseed noticed, and pursed his lips around his buck teeth. An idea seemed to strike him, for he then turned to the stall owner. The stall owner nodded, and for three bits, threw over three balls in front of Hayseed. "Hey," Hayseed said to Sweetie. "Watch this." He gave his hoof a flick, sending the ball skywards. When it came down, he surged forwards and his forelock impacted the rubber. The stall owner blanched and ducked as the ball nearly took his head off. It hit the sign (which later rolled up and fell off the wall), bounced off, struck one coconut, bounced sideways and struck another one, which shot over and took out the third. Having spilt the juice over his jacket, the stall owner, dusting himself off, saw the result and gaped. "Wow!" said Sweetie Belle. "That's amazing. How did you do that?" Hayseed chuckled. "You'd be amazed how many times Ah needed to do that on the turnip farm. Those turnips could sure get nasty. What did Ah win?" The stall owner gestured to a display. "Anything you want." "Wow, really?" "Yes, that's the prize for getting all three. In one shot." The stall owner's ears drooped. "Which I thought nopony would ever do." "Well, that's mighty swell. Anythin' you want, Sweetie Belle?" said Hayseed. Sweetie Belle tapped a hoof thoughtfully, then pointed. "That will do nicely." Throaty noises came from the darkness as Twilight stepped through. Even for a forest so moody and anti-authoritarian that it blocked out wind and sunlight just to keep up its public image, Everfree Forest was chillier than usual. She'd learned enough spells to banish the lesser sort of peril Everfree could throw at her – or which usually threw itself at her, often with great gusto – but she preferred to keep her eyes alert all the same. Twilight heard the crash and swung around. There was nopony behind her on the path. She walked back, and looked left and right. Above her, Scootaloo was flattening her back against a ceiling of leaves, all four legs stretched out to hook on the crisscrossing branches and vines. Twilight sighed. "I know you're directly above me, Scootaloo. I do have peripheral vision." Scootaloo kept quiet in case her mark was bluffing. The slight flaw in this plan did not go unnoticed by Twilight – and neither did Scootaloo when the unicorn actually did look up. "H-hey, Twilight," she said, leg muscles shaking from the effort. "I thought I asked you to return home. Scooting around Ponyville at night is one thing, but following me into Everfree Forest?" Scootaloo dropped down, using wing beats to steady her fall. "I figured if nothing would attack you, then so long as I stuck close, I'd be OK." "That's not good enough, Scoots. Why follow me at all?" Twilight said, as something nearby chirped. Scootaloo pursed her lips. "You know what espionage is?" When Twilight's eyes pleaded with her to make sense, Scootaloo added: "Please, Twilight, don't tell anyone about this?" "You really push the limit, Scootaloo, but alright. I'll not tell anyone you were out late sneaking up behind me if you go back home now –" "I meant not tell anyone that I got caught. It'd be really embarrassing if Rainbow Dash found out, and I wanted to impress her with my awesome sneaking skills, and I was just getting good at it, too." "Scootaloo, I can't agree to any of this. Will you please just go home now?" "If I come along with you to the hut, would you give me an escort home?" "No! This is business between me and my friend Zecora." "She won't mind if I'm there. I'm a friend of hers, too." Twilight rubbed a hoof against her eyelids, which were getting tired rapidly. Shaking off Scootaloo was like getting acrylic paint out of fur. "Alright, how about this: you stay close to me for protection while we're in Everfree Forest, and I'll escort you home once I'm done with Zecora. OK?" Scootaloo lined up next to Twilight, who was positioning herself to go. "It is on!" A while into the walk, however, Twilight noticed that Scootaloo kept dodging back whenever she looked around to check on her. "Er, Scoots, what are you doing?" "I'm still tailing you, aren't I? As far as you're concerned, I'm not really here. And you didn't hear that! Or that! Or that!" "Right. You're tailing me while walking next to me, right up close. In my shadow, in fact." "You know a metaphor involving sneaking and shadows? Of course you do: it's egghead stuff. Forget I said anything." Twilight winced as she walked along. It was understandable enough that Scootaloo would idolise Dash for her flying skills, but did she really have to start talking like her, too? Sweetie Belle and Hayseed were sitting on the bench, overlooking the fair and licking their ice creams. Sweetie now had a manticore costume on, with her horn sticking through its nose; Hayseed had a tailcoat, a cane, and a top hat, as well as a monocle that kept popping out and having to be shoved back in the area around his eye again. "How do they wear these whadjacallits? They sure are dang uncomfy. I'd rather have mah cleaner's gear on any day." "Tell me a story!" said Sweetie Belle. "Alrigh'. Did Ah ever tell yer about mah time at the hoedown?" "When you met Rarity?" "Nope. Ah was thinkin' o' one of the earlier ones. Ah remember mah firs' hoedown, cos that was the firs' time Ah had friends. Firs' time Ah met the Apple family, firs' time Ah even danced. An' Ah had mah firs' kiss there. They was good times." He leaned back in the bench and sighed at the fireworks, all of which were rising over the clock tower like ominous dragons. From a distance, they could hear laughter from the fortress of bright tents and arenas. "But Ah ain't seen any of 'em since Ah moved to Canterlot for good." Sweetie tipped the rest of the ice cream into her mouth, swallowing it, and looked up at him. "Maybe you could take time off work, you know, for a vacation?" she said. "You could go back to Ponyville to see your friends again." Hayseed appeared not to have heard her. He didn't even notice when his ice cream fell onto the floor with a pathetic splodge. Sweetie tapped him on the hoof, and he looked away from the fireworks and down at her smiling face. His eyes lit up again and he returned the smile. "That's a real nice thought. Say," he said more cheerfully. "D'you have friends, Sweetie Belle?" "Oh, yes. We formed our own secret society. We're called the Cutie Mark Crusaders." Liquid brew bubbled and slurped with the heat of the fire. Over the fumes of the pot, ancient words were chanted and sprinklings of sage drifted down. Zecora crooned into the depths as though calming an infant, and gently turned the pages of the reference book next to her. She winced, but only slightly, as a cluck spat at her from across the room. Honest Tongue flower petals were left to float on the surface of the scum, while a few logs were nudged under the fire, igniting new flames. A rising frenzy of bubbles erupted from the brew, while the herbalist waited for the petals to soak up the fluid and sink. Zecora coughed meaningfully as a flutter of wings swooped behind her. As she leaned forwards with a spoon of oak and a hungry expression, the pot was knocked over by a low flying object and she screamed out in frustration at the mess. "Oh, not again, you foolish thing! "Salvation to you, how can I bring "If you keep spilling what's left of my stock? "Back in the cage, you foolish cock!" With much squawking, the chicken was stuffed through the gap in the bamboo bars. Zecora slammed the door and bolted it before she heard the patter of hooves and turned around. "Twilight, my friend! At last, you came! "And now, Zecora will tell you her game." To her astonishment, Scootaloo zipped through the door between Twilight's legs and took up residence behind the bird cage, the occupants of which began squawking at her. Zecora looked at Twilight in confusion. "Don't ask," Twilight said. "She'll only say it's a covert operation, whatever that is. Whoa. What happened to your hut?" Shelves lay broken on the floor, amid the pieces of glass and torn leaves. The cauldron was replaced to its upright position, but the brew was oozing over the rug like a blob monster in a retirement home. Books had been torn apart and scattered over the ground. "There is a thief that's still at large, "Against whom a certain zebra would lay a charge." Twilight wandered across the hut, trying not to look disheartened at the wreckage. She had enjoyed very little contact with the outside world during her early years at Canterlot, and in such conditions affections tend to grow for the few things a mind engaged with. Her time in the libraries of the Princess' palace left a special place in her heart for books. Seeing them torn and left like this was like looking at the bodies of fallen friends. "But who would do such a thing?" she said. "Not who, but what. A unicorn of white, "Burst in and gave Zecora such a fright. "Without a word, my protests she ignored, "And in her sack, she stuffed most of my hoard. "Now, all gone, those things I worked so hard to find! "They are lost to a thief who must be out of her mind." "Erm, out of her mind?" said Twilight, as Scootaloo rested on the cage, a serious look on her face. "Out of your mind, you'd have to be, "To steal ingredients from me!" There was a crash – when Twilight and Zecora looked round, they were met with a small mountain of shelves and Scootaloo's head poking out of the rubble. She grinned at them apologetically. "I had expected you to be alone, "And this company I cannot condone. "The matter of which I speak is rather sticky. "And now you've made frank talk a little tricky. "It involves the shame of a few of my friends. "So how to achieve my secretive ends…" Zecora tapped a hoof thoughtfully against her chin, while Scootaloo disentangled herself from the invading armies of shelves. A thought struck her. "Trying to think of a way words might not show… "To Twilight; acrostics do you know? "Outsmart this young one – this we must do. "Scootaloo; behind those chickens with you!" A face ducked out of sight. The coding machine in Twilight's head whirred and hummed and eventually flicked on a green light. "Oh, I see," she said, leaning closer. Scootaloo was rather offended at the sidelong glance her egghead elder threw at her. "However, as for my stolen items, I am concerned," said Zecora. "Easy targets live around Ponyville – or so this thief has learned. "Now, though this thief a forest-dweller remains, "She may yet seek out Ponyville, for magical gains. "All magic artefact holders must beware: "Return to Ponyville, and tell the unicorns there. "Every magic crafter must this thief avoid…" Scootaloo no longer pretended to be listening and idly examined the chickens in the cage. They were mostly run-of-the-mill Rhode Island breeds, except – intriguingly enough – for their combs and wattles. One of the birds had a spiky variety, yellow and orange like a spit of fire. Another had a dark blue pair swept back. The third seemed to have a lighter blue set, with streaks. All three were staring at her, which unnerved her since they'd initially been squawking like crazy. This little filly might not have paid much attention to avian husbandry, but she was certain that an ornithologist would have something to say about coloured wattles. There was a box next to the cage. While the "big" ponies were still talking, the young pegasus nonchalantly swung a foreleg over to it and pulled it behind the cage. Biting the lids, she pulled them back one at a time and peered inside, and was rather alarmed to see the box peering back at her. Once she'd calmed herself down, she peered inside again. What she'd mistaken for eyes were goggles – three of them, piled one on top of another. Beneath them, she saw folded garments, mostly blue with a hint of yellow. She had a nagging suspicion – no offence to nags, she thought hastily – that she recognised that pattern… What was Zecora doing with this stuff? "Before disaster strikes again," continued the herbalist. "Otherwise, to be extra cautious, this I propose: "Legends tell of an ancient custom that arose… "Twilight, if magic artefacts are missing from your list, "Sly Zecora knows a pony that can assist." Both done, Twilight and Zecora shot a joint-look over at Scootaloo, who had returned to leaning over the bird cage to eavesdrop. To little purple eyes, it was like being hit by an arrow with a sucker on the end. The mystical zebra frowned impressively. At least Scootaloo had the grace to hide her blush. "I'll think about it," said Twilight, the verbal equivalent of writing a memo where everyone could see it. "In the meantime, I suggest you add some strong security around your house with some magic." Her horn flushed with light and the saddlebags flopped open, books rising like butterflies from the depths. "This one I'd recommend – Magical Protection for Mundane Ponies. It has a section on herbs near the back. And I'd move those chickens and give them to someone to look after. I'm not sure keeping them locked up in one cage is healthy." "Of course," said Zecora, as the three books laid themselves out gently before her. "This I will do. "Bye bye for now, Twilight and Scootaloo." "Time to get you home, Scoots," said Twilight, turning for the door. She paused while Scootaloo dawdled over to her side, muttering about being incognito and therefore nameless. As they were heading out to face the Everfree Forest, Scootaloo finally had her revelation. That was where she had seen that pattern. Of course! The Wonderbolts! The costumes, the funny colours of the birds' wattles – it all clicked into place. "I didn't know Zecora was a Wonderbolt fan," she said. "Otherwise, I'd have invited her to one of their rallies." The brass band came to a close. Through the crowd went Hayseed and Sweetie Belle, balancing all the toys they'd won on their backs. "That was the greatest fun I ever had!" she said, still wearing the manticore suit. "Ah had a great time too. It's been a long time since Ah been to a fair. But it looks like the clock's a-turnin', an' Ah said Ah'd take yer back ter yer sister at midnight." "Aw, can't we do one more fun thing before we go? Pretty please, please, please?" Hayseed lifted up his top hat and scratched around his green cap before replacing the top hat over it. He received a face full of shiny eyes, and a wobbling pout that suggested the owner had learned a thing or two about manipulative cuteness from watching puppies. "Aw, shucks, why not? One more fun thin' at the fair ain't gonna hurt none. Yer got anythin' in mind?" Sweetie Belle pointed down a side street, where a few wooden stalls had together conspired to create a market. One of them was hosted by three fillies, one pale, the others two shades of pink. "What do you mean he hasn't turned up yet?" said Daisy. "Nopony's picked up the bouquet," said Lily. "But he pre-ordered it." "Well, we can't wait until tomorrow. If they don't come now, we'll have to get rid of the Delicious Daisies," said Rose. All three hung their heads. "Oh, how tragic!" said Lily to the darkening sky. "What a waste of lovely flowers," said Rose sadly. "My bad luck just keeps building up." "The ladder!" shouted Lily, clutching Rose's face. "The ladder!" "And we worked so hard to get the arrangement right, too," said Daisy. The town clock of New Alicornia chimed the hour, and the ripple spread throughout the town. As it crossed over their street, Sweetie Belle and Hayseed went from one end of the crowd to the other, and were now laughing at the fun they'd had within the last five minutes. Sweetie Belle gathered herself up enough to look at the clock, and the alarm leapt onto her face. "Oh no," she said. "We're going to be late." "Heap o' horsefeathers!" Hayseed put a hoof to his buck teeth. "You're righ'!" "Come on, let's try this alleyway. It looks like it might be a short cut." They both ducked into the alleyway. Square shadows of darkness covered it, and the grey ground did not glow under their steps, which provided a strong contrast with the main streets they'd left. The buzz of the crowd died down behind them. Side alleys split away from the main one, and occasionally they turned and followed one or two branches. Soon, they were walking in complete silence. "Hm, that's strange," said Sweetie Belle, treading softly. "I can't hear anything." "Uh, Sweetie Belle? Ah don't wanna alarm you, but, but Ah think we migh' be a bit lost." They looked through the criss-crossing streets, but there wasn't a pony in sight. Most of the road was obscured by the shadows, and the tall buildings around them made it impossible to see landmarks like the clock tower. "Oh no, that's OK. We just simply have to go back the way we came. We'll find another way round," said Sweetie Belle, and Hayseed nodded. Sweetie looked ahead at the sound of a front door opening and shutting. It bounced off the frame and hung open. A pair of glowing green eyes opened in the shadow of one of the houses. They blinked, and the pupil slits grew until the eyes were dark pearls rimmed with emerald. Something growled. They saw bared teeth shining like ivory. Sweetie Belle began backing away quickly. "Uh…" said Hayseed through chattering buck teeth, also backing away, "m-maybe it's just a stray d-dawggie?" "Yyyyyyoooooouuuu'rrrrrrreeeeee nnnnnooooootttttt hhhhheeeeeeeeere!" said a voice. Sweetie Belle quailed – it had sounded like two throats had been horribly mangled in a cart accident. It moved forwards – they heard the patter of giant paws on paving slabs. The eyes rose higher when whatever it was stood up tall. "Ggggggeeeettttt ooooooouuuuuuutttttt nnnnoooooowwwwww!" "Number Seventeen, you're on. Grab your partner and go." "But," stammered Rarity, "my partner isn't here yet! Oh, isn't there some way we could delay this? Just give me a few minutes. I-I'm sure she'll be here soon." "No more delays," said the backstage manager. "It's go on now or don't go on at all." "Go on? B-by myself? I-In front of Hoity Toity?" Rarity felt her knees trying to become a new kind of percussive instrument. She gulped and peered through the curtains towards the stage. "Number Seventeen?" said the prompt. Rarity grinned nervously behind the curtain. She hadn't expected the turnout to be so… illustrious. She could make out ponies she'd idolised as a foal. In the front row, on the panel of judges, Hoity Toity looked at his cuffs as though checking his watch. The stage persistently and blatantly continued not having Rarity on it. "I can't go out there," she whispered to herself. "I can't go out there. I can't go out there. Oh, Sweetie Belle, where are you?" "Number Seventeen?" From the other side of the stage, a manager waved at her. She took a deep breath, resupplying her fear with fresh oxygen, and bit her lip. She was starting to sweat. From behind her, several of the candidates were looking up to see what the hold-up was. She tried not to shut her eyes. "Number Seventeen." Sweetie Belle trembled. From the shadows, something lunged, stood tall in front of them, and threw a howling roar at the sky. The roar was cut off by a bolas that snatched at the long jaws, knocking the thing back into the shadows. Both Sweetie Belle and Hayseed looked around, just in time to see a figure silhouetted atop a nearby roof, framed by a beam of moonlight, lowering a wing. Whatever lurked in the shadows growled, and claws snatched against slabs. The first figure braced her legs and sprang down on top of it, or at least would have done if her adversary hadn't been quicker. A flash of shadow rushed down the row of houses and round the corner. The newcomer moved, but stopped at the corner and peered round before giving an exasperated growl of her own. Relief flooded into Sweetie Belle as though warm rain was falling down her back. "Yay!" she cried. "That was spectacular! Do it again! Do it again!" To her alarm, the figure spotted her and both wings shot out and raised themselves, poised like twin snakes. Sweetie Belle backed away and ran to hide behind Hayseed's legs. "Friend or foe?" said a voice, in a tone that suggested being a friend was just like being a foe but with more letters. Hayseed swallowed a lump of spit. "Ah'd like a friend, please, if yer can get one." "What's the password, friend?" "Uh," he ventured. "Is this, er, one of them trick questions?" "Ah, so you've been around the block before, eh, laddie?" said the figure, moving through the shadow towards them. "I don't bother with passwords. Any fool with paper and pen and a barnload of patience could crack a password. If it's not foolproof, it's not spy proof. In any case, I keep getting passwords mixed up. Have so many now, I have to write down passwords on post-its just so's I can access the files that keep the passwords for the files containing the passwords. That's if I don't mix them up with my receipts and lose one at the coffee shop." She sniffed, still staring at them, and lowered her wings. Sweetie Belle poked a head around Hayseed's legs. "Did you," she began, still trying to muster up some courage. "Did you say… that you were… a spy?" The pony walked out of the shadows. An orange mane, smooth and luxuriant, swished back and forth over equally carrot-coloured eyes, which were locked in a frown as permanent as Arctic Circle frost. "Well, now, I could answer that question," she said. "But then I'd have to… I'd have to… well, I'd have to do something to you. Can't remember what it was though. Probably sign you up or something." They couldn't stop staring at her outfit. "Who are you?" said Sweetie Belle in awe. "Can you tell us?" "Not likely," she said. A wing was raised and she leaned forwards conspiratorially. "But here's a bit of advice, lassie. If you ever want to be cut out for a spy, there are two ways to go about it. Either you dress up like one and glue yourself to a cut-out book for kiddies, or you get yourself a proper guide on how to do it, eh? Nice disguise, by the way." Then, she tucked up and rolled backwards into the shadows – impressive, but singularly useless considering it would have been faster to walk – and came up with a foreleg raised. It bore a grappling hook loaded into a barrel strapped to her leg. "You didn't see anything!" she boomed, and pressed the trigger. The hook spat out and plopped onto the ground three feet away. Sweetie Belle and Hayseed watched for a long while before the pegasus dropped her dramatic pose and checked the mechanism, looking slightly flustered, which is impressive considering she was still locked in the Arctic Circle perma-frown. Again, she pressed the trigger, and began reeling in the length of rope. "You especially didn't see that," she said, once it had fully retracted. She spread her wings and leapt over them, and before they could turn around to watch her, she had vanished over the rooftops. They could still hear her hooves bounding from chimney to chimney before the sounds died away. "Well, she seemed real friendly," said Hayseed. "An' so professional!" Sweetie Belle didn't respond: she was lost in her own thoughts, and liking what she was thinking. "I didn't know there were real spies," she said eventually, an excited squeak leaping out of her voice. "That is so awesome! Wait until I tell Apple Bloom and Scootaloo. They're going to be so amazed!" One of the clock tower bells chimed, marking a quarter past midnight. Both of them shook themselves out of their private speculations and glanced around the alleyway. "C'mon, Rarity's waitin' on us. Ah think it's this way," he said, pointing at a random side street. They began walking, Sweetie Belle in the opposite direction until Hayseed waved a hoof in front of her face to distract her from her daydreams. It had been playing music at him. Brief snatches of a classical piece, he suspected, by the Royal Canterlot Orchestra. It went back to the beginning again and dragged like feet over a well-trodden path. The tune would haunt him forever. Middle Hoof let his gaze wander until the bubble of dark blue ether twitched and he could faintly see the glowing unicorn horn. All sound ceased. A distorted voice came through. It said: "To what do I owe the pleasure?" "As you requested," said Middle Hoof in a rugged voice that hadn't slept well, "I have searched every corner and centre of the town. Whoever this pony is, he – or should I say she – is one careful character. They must have known we were coming." "What makes you say that?" "We couldn't find the artefact, whatever it was. They never appeared." "Unless they somehow smuggled it in. Never mind that now. I hardly think they would resort to street-level conjuring tricks. And what of the materials?" "Begging your forgiveness, but is it really necessary to talk so enigmatically? It's not like any pony's listening." "No! This is supposed to be a cryptic conversation between ponies! We'll do this properly! Besides, given how experimental this new unicorn technology is–" "UniTech." "Yes, thank you, Middle Hoof. Given how experimental it is, I'd rather not take that chance." "It seems a tad unnecessary, though–" "Aw, pleeeeeeaase, Middle Hoof?" He sighed. Sometimes he wondered what the mental age of his employer actually was. "That's better. Now, where was I?" "Something about street-tricks," he said. "Oh yes. And what of the materials?" "Gathering the 'materials' as we speak, but we expect all unicorns to cooperate soon enough. It shouldn't come to that, though." "But it might." "It shouldn't, though." "But. It. Might." Middle Hoof blinked. "…It shouldn't though." "Oh, for Celestia's sake, do you always have to get the last word in?" "No." "Yes you do, you just did!" "No I didn't." "Yes you did! End of! Now. Where were we?" "You were saying it shouldn't come to that," said Middle Hoof, in a voice now training to become the next Reginald Jeeves. "Oh yes. Don't want to have to test our limits. Hm. Speaking of which, I wonder if Twilight Sparkle might be worth investigating." "The apprentice?" "Do not underestimate her power. And remember: she is very close to Princess Celestia. If I wanted power, I'd go to her first." Cue the fascinated eyebrow, he thought. He even timed its procession up his employer's forehead. "You want me to knock on her door and ask her?" "No. I shall deal with her indirectly. Continue performing your duty and stay in New Alicornia. Report any odd goings-on when they come up." "Your request is my duty, as always." "Hm. Tell me, do you practise that stony-faced expression in the mirror?" "Every morning." "You have the stoic minion manner to absolute perfection." "Try being Hoity Toity's agent during his early years and see what happens to your tendency to show emotion." "Fare well." "I shall indeed." The bubble fizzled out, stranding him in semi-darkness. With great satisfaction – though with much less polish than Hoity Toity could achieve – Middle Hoof adjusted his own cuffs and smoothed down the creases in his hemlock green jacket. Orders: there was something comforting about them, like letting your body fall into the flows of a thick padded safety mattress. Menial chores were his art, the world his canvas, and while he worked on it the job was bliss. He cast a look back at the pillars. Now, if only he could get that blasted Piano Concerto Equestria out of his head… "Sweetie Belle! Hayseed! Wherever have you two been?" Inside the dressing room, pacing back and forth before a row of mirrors and several excessively frilly poufs, Rarity gave Sweetie Belle the impression of being trapped in a cage with a rather effeminate Siberian tiger. Hayseed loitered at the doorway, knocking one leg against another and avoiding everyone's eye. "You're over an hour late! I had to pull out of tonight's show because I was one helper short, and now look what you've cost me! I told you not a minute later!" "We tried to get back in time," said Sweetie Belle, wishing she didn't feel so stupid in her manticore outfit. "Honest, we did. But we was chased down an alley. There was–" "We was? We WAS?" Rarity brandished her horn over her sister's head. "My word, what on Celestia's honour have you picked up? Is it catching? Urgh! I give you a little sweet indulgence, and this is how you repay me? I thought we had an understanding, Sweetie Belle." Hayseed backed out the door, biting his lip. A quick "ahem" made him shoot back into view again. Rarity swallowed down her anger, as she had just noticed in the mirror that it was disturbing her curls. "But we really were…" he began. "Thank you, Hayseed; that will be all." His head drooped. To Sweetie's surprise, so did Rarity's. She leaned forwards and peered beneath Rarity's hanging locks. The downcast look Sweetie saw her adopt hurt even more than the ranting had done. She opened her trembling mouth to speak. "I am very disappointed in you both," said Rarity, who raised her head again. "Sweetie Belle, to bed. Now." She was frowning at the bulbs on the mirror frame. Ears fell either side of Sweetie's mane. Slowly, she turned on the spot and dragged her hooves towards the door. "Night, Hayseed," mumbled Sweetie Belle, as she passed him in the doorway. He only looked on helplessly. Rarity waited until they had both shut the door behind them. Then she exploded into a mini-dance and screamed at her reflection. To be continued…
