Misfit Six

by Don Quixote

Rating: everyone
Tags: Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia, Adventure, Derpy Hooves, Crossover, DJ P0N-3, Doctor Whooves
Length: 10724

When the all-powerful Alicorn Amulet falls into the wrong hooves, the fate of the world rests upon six ponies who would have preferred to remain in the background.

When the Alicorn Amulet, a cursed relic of unspeakable power, goes missing, Equestria begins to wither and die. The only ponies brave enough to prevent its annihilation are six misfits—a criminal, a malcontent, a reject, an outcast, an exile and a fool—who would have preferred to remain in the background and leave the heroics to someone else.

Published 2013-05-04 00:00:03 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-20 04:57:52 UTC

Part 1 - The Criminal

On the day before the Summer Sun Celebration, Ponyville died.

Its death was sudden. The grass turned from green to yellow, from yellow to brown. The river stopped flowing and became a muddy ditch. Overhead, blue drained out of the sky, leaving behind an endless expanse of gray. Birds stopped singing.

That was what hurt most.

My name is Octavia, and I am a classical musician. I live in Ponyville with my friend Vinyl Scratch. She is also a musician, or so she tells me. Vinyl is a disc jockey: a performer who draws upon the infinite marvels of modern technology to produce the loudest, most dreadful noises possible.

The day Ponyville died dawned bright and clear. Winter had been wrapped up months before, and trees had burst into extravagant bloom. In every street lay pink and white petals, stirred occasionally into little explosions of color by the breezes of summer. Birds sang. Ponies strolled through town, pausing to sniff the fragrance of flowers and the warm smell of chocolate drifting from Sugarcube Corner, Ponyville’s bakery.

As Vinyl and I breakfasted, sunshine pouring through the open window, we discussed the strange catastrophes that had afflicted our town in months past.

“At first, Ponyville seemed so innocent, so peaceful,” I observed, pouring tea. “I am amazed at the staggering number of disasters it has suffered.”

Vinyl’s mouth was packed with toast, but neither food nor good manners could prevent her from speaking her mind. “Just what I thought,” she mumbled, spraying the table with crumbs.

“There have been minor incidents,” I said. (It seemed best to overlook my friend’s disregard for etiquette.) “Consider the parasprite plague and the rampaging Ursa Minor.”

Vinyl swallowed. “Don’t forget the time Pinkie Pie made copies of herself.”

We both shuddered.

“Horrible catastrophes,” I agreed, “but hardly surprising. We are so near the Everfree Forest, the most dangerous place in Equestria, that incidents are inevitable.”

Vinyl peered into the coffeepot. “Empty,” she muttered. “Talk about horrible catastrophes.”

“What surprises me,” I continued, “is how many wicked lunatics have taken an interest in Ponyville. Nightmare Moon enveloped our town in darkness, a preternatural night she meant never to end. Discord plunged us into a surreal nightmare. The so-called Great and Powerful Trixie used the power of the Alicorn Amulet to become a despot, ruling Ponyville with an iron hoof.”

“It’s like Ponyville attracts criminals,” declared Vinyl, still glaring at the coffeepot.

I cringed. Without knowing it, Vinyl had touched quite a sensitive nerve.

I changed the subject.

“Speaking of the Alicorn Amulet, whatever happened to it?”

“Zecora took it,” said Vinyl, shrugging. “Maybe she chucked it in a volcano.”

I repressed an unladylike desire to giggle. “Vinyl, you have quite an imagination.”

“Hey, it happens,” she protested. “Anyway, we were bucking lucky Twilight and her friends were here to challenge Trixie.”

“Please mind your language, Vinyl, and do show some respect. Our resident scholar is now Princess Twilight.”

Vinyl, still preoccupied with the coffeepot, held it above her head and tipped it over. A solitary drop fell into her open mouth.

“Really!” I exclaimed, unable to suppress my indignation. “It is bad enough that you wear sunglasses and those horrid headphones to the table, but this is intolerable. Vinyl, have you no manners at all?”

“What are these ‘manners’ you’re talking about?” she inquired. “No, don't tell me. I don’t really want to know. Now then, speaking of our favorite librarian: the whole Twilight-getting-wings-and-becoming-a-Princess thing seemed kinda random at first, but you’ve gotta remember she and her friends are always saving our rumps.”

“They have served Ponyville well,” I conceded. “Every time we have faced a disaster, they have succored us.”

Vinyl made a face. “That’s kinda harsh. Twilight and her pals haven’t suckered me once. You know who suckered me? Flim and Flam. They suckered us all, those danged con ponies.”

Correcting Vinyl is like plowing the sea. I did not even bother trying.

“Princess Twilight and her friends have gone to the Crystal Empire this week for the Summer Sun Celebration, have they not?” I asked.

Vinyl leaned back in her chair and plopped her hind hooves on the table, rattling the tableware.

“Yup,” she said. “So have all the other Princesses. Dang, we’ve got a lot of them. Four? I’ve lost count. Even Mayor Mare is attending the event. That boring brown pony—what’s his name?—Time Turner is filling in as mayor this week.”

My friend withdrew her hooves from the table. Her chair crashed to the floor, causing the tableware to shake again as though in fright.

“Wait a sec!” she said. “I just had a horrible thought and I’ve gotta share it. What happens if we have any disasters this week? Who’ll look out for Ponyville with the Twilight Sparkle Rescue Team gone?”

Were it not beneath my dignity, I would have rolled my eyes. “I am confident Ponyville can survive a few days without its Princess,” I said. “The town survived for generations before Princess Twilight arrived from Canterlot, and… Vinyl, are you listening?”

“Not to you,” she murmured, and took off her sunglasses. “Do you hear that, Octy?”

I listened for a moment. “I hear nothing.”

“That’s just it,” said Vinyl. “The birds. They’ve stopped singing.”

Part 2 - The Malcontent

I had almost finished unpacking my equipment when I heard screams outside. This came as hardly any surprise. For some reason, crises happen pretty often in Ponyville. I dropped everything and trotted outside to see what was going on.

Minutes before, Ponyville had been a splintered rainbow: blue sky and green grass and flowers of every color jumbled together like pieces in a stained glass window.

That Ponyville was gone.

The world had turned brown and black and gray: the earth, the sky, the trees, everything. Think of those old-timey films in which everything is colorless and blurred and silent. That was Ponyville, except for the screams.

These were loud and mostly incoherent, though I thought I heard cries of “The horror!” rising above the rest. Ponies ran to and fro. A few were sobbing. Up and down the street, doors and windows slammed shut as residents locked themselves in their homes.

Anxious, I turned back into my clinic—I haven’t introduced myself, have I? My name is Colgate. I’m a unicorn and a dentist, and also a freak of nature. At least that’s what I’ve been told.

My clinic didn’t get much business in those days. On that particular day, I knew it wouldn’t get any. I decided to leave. After repacking my stuff, I swung my bag onto my back, locked up my clinic and began walking home.

There was no wind, but the air was tinged with a faint smell of decay. The petals underfoot were beginning to rot. Looking around, I saw blossoms wilting on the trees and grass fading. I glanced upward at the empty hole where the sky had been. There were no clouds: just a faint smudge of brightness that I guessed was the sun.

As I neared the center of town, I heard ponies stamping and shouting. I rounded a corner to see Time Turner—a mild, irritable brown pony with an hourglass Cutie Mark—standing on the terrace of town hall, waving a hoof and trying pathetically to address a crowd of restless ponies.

They were the ones brave enough to venture outside.

“Keep calm!” he yelled. “Don’t panic!”

I felt sorry for Time Turner, a minor secretary who worked part-time keeping Ponyville’s clocks in sync. Mayor Mare left him in charge when she left town for the Summer Sun Celebration in the Crystal Empire. Time Turner could handle routine stuff, but not an emergency like this.

We needed… oh, no.

As I gazed up at Time Turner, who was still trying desperately to be heard, I felt my heart sink to the very tips of my hooves. We needed our Princess, Twilight Sparkle. We needed her friends. We needed Celestia and Luna, the almighty guardians of day and night.

They were all far, far away.

We were on our own.

The crowd threw questions at Time Turner faster than he could answer them. A few rowdy ponies, dissatisfied with flinging questions, flung vegetables instead.

“We’ve sent a letter to the Princess,” bellowed Time Turner, ducking a cabbage. “Yes, Twilight and her friends are on their way. Yes, Celestia and Luna are coming too. No, they won’t arrive until tomorrow.”

“Why not?” demanded one pony. Another threw an onion, hitting Time Turner square in the forehead.

“The Princesses have been delayed by a blizzard,” he said, slightly cross-eyed. “Yes, I know Celestia controls the sun. The clouds are the problem. The Crystal Empire isn’t covered by polite, friendly Ponyville clouds. Our Princesses are dealing with storm clouds, and storm clouds answer to no pony.”

The crowd was panicking. Time Turner danced back and forth like a marionette jerked by its strings, trying (mostly without success) to avoid being hit by vegetables. The scene was almost funny. I repressed a hysterical desire to laugh.

Then a voice rose above the rest.

“Listen, ponies, do not rage and shout! We shall die if you don’t hear me out!”

The crowd fell instantly silent. The hail of vegetables ceased. Time Turner took a shaky breath, and a bedraggled pony—no, a zebra—staggered onto the terrace of town hall. It was Zecora, the local apothecary, wild-eyed and drenched in perspiration.

After gasping once or twice, she began to address the crowd.

“Dear ponies, there is cause for great alarm! Forgive me. I have done you all great harm.”

She paused for breath. The crowd waited, anxious.

“The Amulet whose power Trixie knew,” continued Zecora, “I locked away securely out of view. Today I chanced to open up its box. To keep it safe, I meant to change the locks. The moment I had taken off the lock, there came upon the door a gentle knock. I locked the door, but then the window broke! The box was snatched, gone like a puff of smoke!”

With that, the crowd resumed rioting.

It took Time Turner at least a minute to be heard. “Did you see the thief who took the box?” he thundered.

Zecora shook her head and said something, but I couldn’t hear her over the crowd.

“It could be any pony in Equestria?” demanded Time Turner.

Zecora nodded.

A lettuce sailed over Time Turner’s head, and I decided to go home.

Ponyville had become a cemetery, drab and empty. Only the houses retained their color. They seemed unnaturally bright against the blank sky and withered brown grass. Apart from the noise of the crowd around town hall, whose shouts diminished to whispers as I reached the edge of Ponyville, there was silence.

A few ponies had ventured forth from their homes. They wandered aimlessly, alone or in pairs, staring in horror at the eerie devastation around them.

As I trotted through the park, I noticed a pony standing on a bridge, staring at his reflection in the pond beneath. It was Time Turner. I stared at him. How he had escaped the crowd and reached the park before I did, I couldn’t imagine.

More confusing to me, however, was his hat. It looked a bit like an upside-down bucket with a yellow tassel hanging down one side.

“Another problem,” he said as I came up to him. His face was very serious. “There’s always another problem. Hang it, why is there always another problem?”

Then he turned to me and grinned. “Hallo!” he exclaimed. “Just talking to my reflection. Do you ever talk to your reflection? Mine’s a patient listener, and he’s a dashed lot cheaper than a therapist.”

There was something strange about Time Turner’s accent. It was different, yet I knew I’d heard it before.

“Time Turner,” I began, “what are you doing here?”

He laughed. “Ah, you’ve gone and mixed me up with that other chap. Common mistake. I’m the Doctor. Have we met?”

“Doctor who?” I inquired.

“Hooves,” he corrected, and giggled. “I never get tired of saying that.” The somber look came over his face again. “Things are a mess,” he added in a low voice. “Perhaps you’ve noticed?”

I looked around at dead grass and dying trees. I gazed at Ponyville, whose colorful buildings stood grotesque and garish against an ashen landscape. Last of all, I leaned over the railing of the bridge and peered down at my reflection. It gazed back at me from the reflected depth of an empty sky.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, and glanced up at my companion.

The pony who wasn’t Time Turner leaned back against the railing and took off his hat. He seemed tired. When he spoke, it was with weary resignation.

“I suppose we’ll have to save the world. Now where in the blazes did I leave Derpy Hooves?”

Part 3 - The Reject

I stepped outside, took one look around and began to swear.

Octy—Octavia, I mean—gets awfully hot under the saddle when I swear. She says cursing isn’t proper for a lady, which is probably true. I always have to remind her I’m not a lady.

This time, Octy didn’t get upset at my language. She stood beside me on our front porch and stared with blank eyes at the blank world around us. Everything had gone black and white and brown, like… like… how the heck do I put it?

Ponyville was like a watercolor painting with the color washed out: all blurry shapes and empty spaces. It’s hard to explain. I’m not good with words, okay?

My name’s Vinyl Scratch, professional DJ. I make music. It’s my thing—my passion or calling or whatever. Octy’s a classical musician, which means she puts audiences to sleep by playing songs written centuries ago by ponies in waistcoats and white wigs.

I met Octy on a train two years ago. We were both musicians trying to get a start, so we hit it off and rented a house together in Ponyville. She wound up buying the place and insisting I stay.

One morning over breakfast, we were talking about all the crazy crises that had hit Ponyville since we arrived, and how it was always Twilight Sparkle and her friends who had saved our rumps with rainbows and the power of friendship and stuff.

I suddenly realized it was awfully quiet. No birds singing. Nothing.

Then we heard screams.

I rushed for the window to see what the heck was going on, and then out the front door for a better look. That was when the swearing started.

After standing and staring (and swearing) for a few seconds, we beat a panicked retreat indoors. I made another pot of coffee. Octy had some tea. We shut the kitchen curtains, lit some lamps and slumped into chairs across the table from each other. For a good ten minutes, neither of us said a thing.

“You drink too much coffee,” said Octy at last, and sipped shakily from her teacup.

“There is no such thing as too much coffee,” I growled. “Don’t we have bigger things to worry about right now? I could be worse, you know. I could be Berry Punch.”

Berry Punch, a violet pony with a messy mane, lived in the basement of Ponyville’s one and only bar. Berry worked as a barmaid during the day and downed record amounts of booze every night. She was notorious for breaking dishes, singing rude songs and finding new ways to shatter Octy’s rules for being a proper lady. It would have been pretty funny if it weren’t, you know, heartbreaking.

Octy strongly disapproved of Berry Punch, so comparing my addiction to Berry’s was a pretty good way to put things in perspective.

“Never mind Berry Punch,” exclaimed Octy, and slammed her teacup into its saucer. “I am going for a walk.”

I snatched off my shades and stared at her. “A walk? Out there? You crazy?”

“There is nothing to be gained by cowering indoors,” she said, getting up and trotting to the sink to rinse her dishes. “Perhaps we can find some help. Are you coming, Vinyl?”

Ponyville had become a graveyard. From the grass, which had turned a murky brown, to the trees, whose leaves wilted and drifted hopelessly to the ground, everything was lifeless. The buildings were the only things not to have lost any color, and they made me feel sick.

Just imagine a funeral. You know: weeping ponies with black veils and soggy handkerchiefs. You got that? Now imagine a dozen clowns honking horns and riding unicycles up and down the aisles. That’s what those buildings were like. They just looked obscene: misplaced blocks of color in a colorless world.

We hurried out of town, away from its sickening rainbow buildings, and entered the park. It was almost nice to see a nice plain stretch of gray and black and brown, gashed by a scar of wet mud where the river had flowed, dotted with leafless trees—and rudely interrupted by a greenish pony sitting on a park bench not far from where we stood.

“Hey!” she said, waving a hoof.

“Dang it,” I mumbled. “It’s Lyra.”

Lyra was a harpist. Even though we were both musicians, I tried to keep away from her. She was nice and all, but she had this creepy obsession with humans. Have you ever heard of humans? They’re these imaginary creatures that walk on their hind legs and have no fur or scales or feathers. How freaky is that?

Anyway, Lyra spent her free time reading about humans and other weird stuff at the library. Every time I saw her, she had some new book about monsters or curses or something.

Lyra had spotted us, so escape was impossible. We trotted reluctantly over to her bench beneath the tall, twisted bones of a tree. It held out empty branches, which did absolutely nothing to shield us from the sight of a bleak gray sky. Rotting leaves covered the ground in a thin, squishy carpet. The smell was awful. Lyra looked every bit as depressed as I felt.

“Good morning, Lyra,” said Octy politely.

“What are you guys doing here?” asked Lyra. “This is like, an emergency. Shouldn’t you be hiding or something?”

“Same to you,” I retorted. “What do you think you’re doing out here?”

I never found out. At that second, totally out of the blue—out of the dingy gray, I mean, if you want to be literal—hurtled a pony who smacked right into Octy and knocked her down.

“I’m so sorry!” exclaimed the stranger, bouncing back up. “Can I help you? Are you okay?”

“I have been better,” said Octy, standing and brushing soggy leaves out of her mane. “My name is Octavia. Have we met?”

The stranger, a gray pegasus with wonky eyes and a blond mane, was dancing with impatience. “Nice to meet you. I’m Derpy Hooves, and I’m also really sorry. I need to go. Have you seen a brown pony with an hourglass Cutie Mark?”

“Time Turner?” I asked. “The sap Mayor Mare left in charge of Ponyville?”

“No, no, the other brown hourglass pony,” exclaimed Derpy.

“Is he like, a doctor or something?” asked Lyra. “I think I met him once.”

“Hang on,” I said. The word doctor called up a strange memory. “Does this doctor guy have a funky accent?”

“I’d hardly call it that,” said a voice behind me. “Different perhaps—unusual even—but funky is a bit strong. Personally, I think it’s rather a charming accent. I suppose I’m biased.”

I whirled round. There stood two ponies with hourglass Cutie Marks. One, a blue unicorn, carried a satchel embroidered with toothbrushes. (It looked just as dorky as it sounds.) The other pony looked just like Time Turner, except for something like an upside-down bucket on his head.

“Do I know you?” I asked. “How the heck did you sneak up on us like that? And what in Celestia’s name are you wearing?”

“It’s a fez,” said the brown pony, exasperated. “Dash it all, some things never change. You needn’t gawk at it. Fezzes are cool. Don’t hate the fez.”

Lyra leaped off her bench and gave the Doctor a hug. “It’s you!” she cried. “It’s like, so good to see you, bro.”

“Get off!” he yelped. “Personal space! Please!”

“Sorry,” said Lyra, letting go. “I didn’t mean to be like, a space invader.”

The Doctor’s reply was cut short by another hug. “Doctor,” whispered Derpy, clinging to him, “I’m really scared.”

This time, the Doctor didn’t seem to mind. “It will be all right,” he said, patting her awkwardly on the head. “I’ve seen worse.”

Looking up, he noticed Lyra, Octy and I staring at him. “Yes, yes, we’ve met,” he said impatiently. “The fire at town hall: bombs, broken instruments and all that. That’s ancient history now. We’ve a new problem.” He frowned and added under his breath, “No rest for the weary.”

The blue unicorn spoke up. “I think I know why things have gone wrong. I’m Colgate, by the way. It looks like you’ve all met the Doctor.”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’m Vinyl Scratch. That’s Octy—sorry, Octavia—and Lyra and Derpy Hooves. What the heck is going on?”

Colgate pointed to a sinister line of trees bordering the park: the edge of the Everfree Forest. Apart from Zecora, a weird zebra who speaks in rhymes for some reason, no pony is crazy enough to live in the Forest. It’s pretty much the most dangerous turf in Equestria.

“Somepony broke into Zecora’s and stole the Alicorn Amulet,” explained Colgate. “You remember: the evil relic that helped Trixie take over Ponyville a few months ago.”

“Great,” I said. “The Amulet of doom, now in the hooves of some stupid crook or bully. Who has it this time? Chrysalis? Gilda? Lightning Dust?” A terrible possibility crashed into my mind. “Flim and Flam? It’s the Flim Flam Bros, isn’t it?”

Colgate ground a leaf beneath her hoof. “Nopony knows. Whoever it is, they’re apparently using it to suck all the life out of Ponyville. The Princesses were visiting the Crystal Empire for the Summer Sun Celebration, but they’ve been delayed. We’re on our own.”

Lyra began to panic. “Princess Twilight and her friends have always been here to rescue us!” she gasped. “Without them, we’re like, toast! Ponyville is doomed.”

“No!”

This word, spoken with fiery resolve, made us all turn and stare. Derpy Hooves blushed, but stared back. There was a glint of determination in her unfocused eyes.

“Don’t you get it?” she said. “The Princesses are gone. It’s up to us.”

“We can’t rescue anypony!” I objected. “I mean, look at us! There’s a reason Twilight and her friends are always the ones to save the day. They’re bucking heroes.”

“Heroines.”

“Shut up, Octy. They’re heroes, and they can use the Elements of Harmony. Twilight and her friends are special. We’re not, Derpy. We’re the ones who stand in the background doing nothing. Face it. We don’t have any great gifts or magical treasures, and there’s not a danged thing we can do to help.”

Derpy looked ready to break down in tears. Even so, she stood her ground and said, “Maybe we can’t help, but we can try. This isn’t about us. It’s about Ponyville. Somepony has to do something. If we don’t, who will?”

There was a long silence. We all looked everywhere but at each other: at the dying grass beneath our hooves, at the skeletons of trees around us, at the blank space above us that had been the sky.

“Well,” I muttered at last, “Let’s get this over with.”

Octy nodded curtly. “Whether we succeed hardly matters. Our duty is simply to try.”

“Totally,” added Lyra. “Trying and failing is better than like, not trying.”

“I agree,” declared Colgate.

“I was afraid you would all want to come along,” sighed the Doctor. “Well, I supposed it can’t be helped. Lead the way, Derpy.”

Part 4 - The Outcast

“Why we are we like, walking into the deepest depths of the Everfree Forest?” I demanded. “I can hardly see in the dark. And something keeps howling. And there are spiders.”

“We agreed to work together to find the Alicorn Amulet and save Ponyville,” said Octavia, stepping over tree roots in like, the daintiest way possible. She was one seriously proper mare.

“I know that,” I grumbled. “But the Forest? The Amulet could be like, anywhere. It could be in Ponyville. It could be in the library. We should totally have started looking there.”

“Libraries are lame,” said Vinyl, hopping over a fallen tree.

“Why are you wearing shades in the dark?” I asked. “Also, libraries are not lame. Books are like, the awesomest. You should listen to books on tape since you’re always wearing those huge headphones.”

The Doctor, who was leading our group, turned around and flashed light in our eyes.

“Ah!” I yelled. “Too bright! Put away the wand, Doctor.”

He sighed and put out the light. “For the last time, it’s a sonic screwdriver,” he said. “Not a magic wand. More like a flashlight. Does Equestria have flashlights yet? What year is this, Ms. Lyra?”

“Stop calling me that!” I exclaimed. “Ms. Lyra makes me sound like a frumpy old librarian.”

“I think it fits,” said Vinyl.

“Stop it!” snapped Colgate. As she paused for breath, whatever it was howling in the dark snarled savagely. “You two have been sniping at each other since we entered the Forest,” she continued. “We’re all on edge, but this is no time to fight.”

The Doctor began to fiddle with his screwdriver-thingy. “To answer your question, Lyra,” he said without looking up, “Derpy got a good view of Ponyville from a cloud and saw the effects of the curse—or whatever is sucking the life out of everything—concentrated in the Everfree Forest. Since the Amulet was stolen from Zecora’s home, we’re assuming it’s still in here somewhere, causing the curse to spread outward like ripples in a pond.”

The creature in the dark kept yowling. We walked on, stumbling over roots, blundering through patches of weeds and trembling in like, abject terror. (I’m pretty sure abject is the word I mean. It might be verdant.) I’d describe more, but there really wasn’t much to see.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been to the Everfree Forest, but I really hope not. It’s terrifying. The trees are all gnarly and twisty, and they make nasty faces at you. Plus there are monsters. I like monsters in books—in real life, not so much. Did I mention spiders?

These things make the Everfree Forest pretty horrible. With the dark shadow curse of doom sucking the life out of everything, the Forest got like, a million times worse. You couldn’t even see the scary stuff, which made it scarier.

“May we take a rest?” asked Octavia. “I think we are all a little worse for wear.”

Colgate shivered. “Let’s make a fire,” she said. “It’s chilly.”

Derpy and the Doctor began gathering sticks. The rest of us flopped onto the ground. There was a super-awkward silence, broken only by the howling and growling and yowling of whatever monsters were out there.

It was so gloomy that I decided to make some cheerful conversation. “Do you know how humans make fires?” I asked. “They take sticks in their hands and like, rub them together till the friction heats up the wood and makes it burn.” I sighed. “Hands are awesome. I wish I had hands.”

“Give it up already,” said Vinyl. “Humans aren’t real.”

I sat up and glared at her in the dark. “They totally are! Ask Princess Twilight. She went through a magic mirror and became a human with hands. Pinkie Pie told me all about it. It was like, the coolest thing.”

Even though I couldn’t see Vinyl’s face clearly, I was pretty sure she was scowling. “The world’s falling apart,” she said. “We’re tramping across some seriously dangerous turf, and all you can think about are hands? You’ve got issues, Lyra.”

“Stop it!” yelled Colgate. “We’re trying to save the world here, and it’s stressful enough without listening to you argue. Lyra, Vinyl, what’s your problem?”

Right then I made like, a seriously serious mistake. I lost it.

“What’s our problem?” I asked. “Why don’t you tell us about yours, Colgate? Your Cutie Mark like, not good enough for you? What kind of pony gives up her destiny to become a dentist? You don’t even get clients! Nopony trusts a hack who ignores her special talent.”

“Quiet, Lyra,” said the Doctor, dumping a bundle of sticks on the ground. “I’m disappointed in you—all three of you. You should know better.”

“The Doctor is right,” said Octavia in a haughty sort of way. “Vinyl, teasing Lyra is neither considerate nor proper.”

Vinyl stood up and took off her shades. Even in the dark, I could see the fury in her face. “That’s it!” she growled. “I’m having a bad enough day without a lecture from you, Ms. Goody-four-shoes. We’ve heard the rumors, Octy. You’re no saint.”

When Octavia spoke, it was in a quiet voice scarier than any scream. “At least I make an honest living. I am paid for my music. What about you, Vinyl? How much do ponies pay to hear those noises you make?”

The Doctor stamped. “That’s enough!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t ask for any of this. All of this, your blasted curses and evil relics and howling dark forests, are your ruddy problem, not mine. I’ve been dragged into it again, as always, and I’ll be dashed if I sit around listening to you bicker like schoolgirls.”

“What are you talking about?” I demanded. “You haven’t been dragged into anything, Doctor. You can leave whenever. Isn’t that like, what you do? You’re here and you’re gone. You were so nice last time we hung out. I thought we were friends. Then you disappeared without like, saying goodbye.”

The Doctor took off his hat. With his eyes burning and mane sticking up everywhere, he looked kind of terrifying. “Friends?” he muttered. “When do I ever have the luxury of friends? I have companions, companions who get lost and need rescuing and make a deuced nuisance of themselves before dying or getting left behind. The number of times I’ve had my hearts broken—”

He stopped, silenced instantly by the soft sound of a stifled sob.

Derpy Hooves, whom we’d all completely forgotten, had dropped to the ground and begun to cry. “I’ll go ahead and say it,” she quavered. “Derpy Hooves, your eyes are weird and you’re kind of stupid and you always mess things up. You’re a ditz and a fool. There. I said it before anypony else could. Are we done? Can we stop telling each other how messed up we are?”

Derpy broke down.

Well, I guess I’ll be honest here. We all broke down, except Vinyl and the Doctor. I think Vinyl might have been crying behind her shades. The Doctor just sat looking at the ground. I guess he’d run out of tears to cry.

Colgate and the Doctor eventually piled up the wood and made a fire, whether with magic or the Doctor’s screwdriver-thingy I didn’t see. We sat round it with our backs to the dark. The fire was like, totally un-cursed, and it was good to see some plain old reds and yellows.

Derpy sniffled and held out a tray. “Anypony want a muffin?”

“Wait, where did those come from?” asked Colgate, gaping.

Derpy almost smiled. “My friend Pinkie Pie told me I should always have muffins on hand in case of Muffin Emergencies.”

“I believe this qualifies,” said the Doctor. He sounded like his old silly self again. “It’s well past noon, I think, around teatime. Anybody—any pony, I mean—want butter with her muffins?”

“Where did you get butter?” demanded Vinyl.

The Doctor shrugged. “Dash it all, I’m allowed to like butter! Don’t ask questions.”

Derpy giggled. The tray was passed round, and we had like, the most delicious snack in the history of history. Those muffins were fantastic. Even the howling in the dark all around us hardly messed up our unexpected picnic.

Once we’d finished, we sat around the fire trying to work up the nerve to keep moving.

I jumped when Octavia blurted out, “Vinyl, those rumors are true.”

Vinyl yanked off her shades and stared wide-eyed at her friend. “Seriously, Octy? I was just being a jerk by bringing them up—not for a sec was I serious. You were really a crook?”

“I was a bodyguard and enforcer,” said Octavia. “The mob in Canterlot hired me when they needed a pony kept safe… or broken. Music was my hobby, a distraction from dirty work. At last I decided to make music my life. I fled the mob and began a new life in Ponyville.”

Vinyl could only stammer. “I—but you—seriously, Octy?”

“I have returned to Canterlot only for important performances, and then only with extreme caution. Neither police nor criminals are quick to forgive and forget. Fortunately, I have found the spotlight to be a very good hiding place for a criminal. Vinyl… I am sorry.”

“Aw, that’s fine,” said Vinyl. “We can still be friends, right? At least you’re making an honest living now. I’m not even doing that. You were right, you know. I’m no great musician, and I don’t get paid much… when I get paid, which isn’t often.”

Vinyl put on her shades. This is just a guess, but I think she might have been hiding a tear or two. “The Scratches earn their living fair and square,” she said. “I guess that makes me the exception. I’ve tried to make it big, like Odyssey and MandoPony and—and you, Octy—but I can’t catch a break. Call me a reject.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, and then I finally pulled together like, enough pluck or nerve or whatever to speak up.

“Well,” I said, “I should confess something too. You know, since we’re all like, awkwardly confessing things. I’m pretty strange.”

Nopony seemed surprised by my confession.

“I like humans,” I went on. “I want to be more like them, even if it means hanging out with books instead of friends. Books are definitely easier to find. Ponyville usually pretends I’m not there, except when it’s laughing at me. I’m like, some kind of super-weird outcast.”

“I can relate,” said Colgate. “I’m a freak, you know. What sort of pony ignores her Cutie Mark and rebels against her destiny? I’ve scandalized Ponyville, but I can’t make myself believe that my fate is dictated by a mark on my rump. I am the master of my fate. I am the captain of my soul! I’m also a pathetic malcontent, or so everypony tells me.”

It was Derpy’s turn to pipe up. “I’m not very bright,” she announced. “It’s okay. I’m used to it, and the ponies in Ponyville are so nice to me. Especially Pinkie Pie. She’s nice to everypony! It just hurts to look at myself with my weird eyes and see how foolish I am.”

“How about you, Doctor?” I asked. “Come on, bro, we’re listening.”

The Doctor tugged nervously on his hat’s tassel and declared, “I have nothing to say.”

Vinyl scoffed. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to talk about my bucking feelings?” she demanded. “Come on, Doc. Out with it.”

“Nothing to say,” he insisted. “I don’t care much for this sort of wibbly-wobbly, feely-weely stuff.”

“We care,” said Derpy. “Please tell us.”

A moment passed, and then the Doctor took off his hat and bowed his head.

“I’m tired,” he said. “That’s all. I’ve lived too long, traveled too much, seen too many people—ponies, dash it all—come and go. Everywhere I go, disaster follows, and I never seem to stop cleaning up the mess. No thanks, no rest, no peace. Just regrets and goodbyes and, occasionally, little flickers of joy that make everything else harder by comparison. Hang it all, I am so, so tired.”

“Don’t worry, Doctor,” said Derpy. “Once we find the Amulet, you can go home and get some rest.”

The Doctor smiled crookedly. “Easier said than done, Derpy. For a daft old exile like me, home is everywhere and home is nowhere.”

“You know, this is almost funny,” said Vinyl. “All six of us have issues. So much for being heroes! We’re just a lousy bunch of misfits.”

Derpy beamed. “Princess Twilight was a misfit once. She told me so. Not until she came to Ponyville did she—”

“Quiet,” said Octavia.

I objected. “Hey, that’s not very—”

“Everypony quiet!” said the Doctor.

There was a second or two of silence, and then some crazed, vicious howling. By now, the sound was familiar.

It was also like, really, really close.

I glanced at the others. Derpy was clinging to the Doctor. Vinyl and Colgate stood with their backs to the fire, staring out into the dark. Octavia listened with her head tilted a little to one side.

“What was that?” asked Colgate.

“That,” I said, “was some crazed, vicious howling.”

“To what sort of creature did it belong?” asked Octavia.

I shrugged. “Beats me. Probably like, a crazed, vicious one.”

Part 5 - The Exile

Not to boast, but I’ve survived quite a number of sticky situations. This particular problem was stickier than most. It took teamwork and a few strokes of genius (and a dentist’s drill) to get us out alive.

I’m the Doctor. You might call me a professional wanderer. I drift from place to place, seeing the sights and getting involved in things. It’s hardly a profitable line of work, but it’s never dull.

I was passing through Ponyville when things took a nasty turn. Nearly everything died. Bright colours evaporated, leaving behind a muddled mess of grey and brown. The lovely blue sky became an empty void. Ponies panicked and ran indoors.

To wit, things were quite a mess.

I very naturally became tangled up in the whole affair. There were five ponies, you see, who had the courage (or perhaps the lunacy) to investigate. We trooped off together into the Everfree Forest in search of an Amulet which seemed to be the root of the problem.

The Everfree Forest is a rough-and-tumble place at the best of times, and the Amulet transformed it from a dark, dangerous maze of twisted trees into a pitch-black deathtrap.

My companions and I felt nervous and a trifle irritable. (Nothing puts a fellow out of sorts like the looming threat of deadly peril.) Arguments broke out. Insults were flung with careless abandon, and Derpy Hooves—a sweet-tempered mare with whom I’d shared one or two little adventures—finally broke down in tears.

Well, one thing led to another, and before long my companions were talking about their deepest regrets and insecurities and whatnot. It was quite touching. (I, of course, said absolutely nothing of significance; I have no insecurities or regrets.) This tender scene was interrupted by a deafening series of howls.

Derpy attached herself to me and refused to let go. The others crowded round our campfire, casting terrified glances into the darkness. Only Ms. Octavia the classical musician (and criminal, apparently) remained calm. She stood listening with her head on one side.

“What was that?” asked Ms. Colgate the dentist.

“That,” said Lyra the harpist, “was some crazed, vicious howling.”

“To what sort of creature did it belong?” asked Ms. Octavia.

“Beats me,” said Lyra, and added helpfully, “Probably like, a crazed, vicious one.”

A shape emerged from the darkness into the wavering circle of firelight.

“Is it a wolf?” I wondered aloud. “Yes! A wooden wolf!”

“A timberwolf,” said Scratch the disc jockey.

“Marvelous!” I exclaimed. “Is it plant or animal?”

“Stay focused, Doctor,” said Ms. Colgate.

“Yes, quite,” I conceded. “More to the point, is it flammable?” Several wolves stepped into the flickering light, prompting me to add, “Are they flammable?”

Ms. Octavia snatched a burning branch from the fire. “Let us hope,” she said, and plunged into the darkness.

“Octy!” bellowed Scratch. “Get back here! Dang it, please get back here! You’re going to get yourself killed.”

The fiery branch blazed through the dark like a comet, illuminating a seething mass of black shapes. The howls became louder, and for the first time they sounded afraid.

“Ms. Octavia seems to know what she’s doing,” I said. “Now then, she has bought us a few moments. Let’s not waste them. What do we know about timberwolves? Anything? Speak up!”

“Timberwolves are predatory carnivores that travel in packs,” said a familiar voice. “Impelled by the arcana of natural magic, they are capable of assimilating wood from their environments to recover from injuries or increase their size. Their sensitive hearing is greatly pained by high sonic frequencies.”

I’ve heard my share of strange things, but this one staggered me. This precise, professional lecture was delivered by our very own Lyra.

“That’s what Professor Dusty Tomes wrote in his Compendium of Natural and Magical Fauna,” she added. “It’s one of my favorites. I’ve got like, half the book memorized.”

Ms. Octavia darted to the fire to snatch another branch and bore it blazing back into the dark.

“We haven’t much time,” I said. “All right, we need a high sonic frequency—a high-pitched noise. What have we?”

Ms. Colgate rummaged through her bag (a fetching little satchel embroidered with toothbrushes) and pulled out an uncomfortable-looking device. “I’ve got a drill,” she said, and switched it on. It sounded like a cloud of mosquitoes.

“Perfect,” I said. “We need to amplify the frequency—make it louder.”

Scratch took off her headphones and tossed them at me. “That’s all I got,” she said. “Crank up the volume and those’ll blast as much noise as you need. Dang it! We need a microphone or something to hook up the drill to the headset.”

It was my turn. I’ve a sonic screwdriver—a handy little instrument that does nearly anything—and it was the work of a moment to convert it into an impromptu microphone and connect it wirelessly to the headphones.

(Are you getting all this? I generally get blank stares every time I explain things. To sum up: drill makes noise, screwdriver sends noise to headset, headset makes noise louder. All clear? No questions? Excellent.)

A deafening whine blared from the headphones. My companions grimaced. In the dark all round us, the snarling of the timberwolves rose in a din of anguished howling. The clamour receded steadily until all we could hear was the shrill buzz of the drill.

I pocketed my sonic screwdriver. Scratch took back her headphones. Ms. Colgate switched off her drill, and for the first time in hours there was complete silence. Ms. Octavia stepped into the firelight: soaked in blood and perspiration, but decidedly alive. With a cry of relief, Scratch ran and embraced her friend.

“Well,” I said, my ears ringing, “That, I suppose, is that.”

Derpy leapt into the air and squealed, “We did it!”

“Not bad,” said Ms. Colgate, “for a band of misfits.”

“Misfits!” I exclaimed, and burst into helpless laughter. “That’s splendid—too blasted perfect—ruddy fantastic!”

Ms. Colgate seemed concerned. “Doctor, are you all right? You’re acting hysterical. We’re all shaken, but we’ve got to keep it together.”

“Hush,” I gasped. “Don’t you see?”

“He’s like, totally snapped,” said Lyra in a hushed voice. “We need to get him to a doctor.”

That was taking it too far.

“I—what?—shut up!” I exclaimed. “I’m not hysterical. You lot! You’re brilliant!”

“What the heck are you talking about?” demanded Scratch.

“See here,” I said. “Not one hour ago, you were all lamenting the things that make you misfits. Don’t you realize those things just saved our lives?”

I looked round at five puzzled expressions. (I told you I get a lot of blank stares.)

“Lyra,” I continued, “your obsession with strange creatures gave us the wolves’ one weakness. Ms. Colgate, your unnatural desire to be a dentist supplied the all-important drill. You, Scratch, may not be a successful musician, but you’re a dedicated one—dedicated enough to carry those headphones everywhere you go. As for you, Ms. Octavia: we’re all grateful to you for your shady past; you held off the wolves like a true bodyguard. Lyra, why the devil are you crying?”

“You—you too, Doctor,” sniffed Lyra. “You may not be there when we want you, but you’re like, totally there when we need you. That’s why we only see you when there’s trouble, isn’t it? Healthy ponies don’t need a doctor—only sick ones do. You never stick around because you’ve got other ponies to help.”

Derpy Hooves, bless her, hung her head, apparently dismayed at being the only one who had done nothing to help.

It was my pleasure to prove her entirely wrong.

“As for you, Derpy,” I exclaimed, “I’ve saved best for last. You convinced this whole daft pack of ponies to go tripping into the Forest in the first place! These magnificent misfits, whose awful oddities just saved our lives, only came along because you asked.”

Derpy began to cry—hang it, this tale is drenched in tears, isn’t it? She also gave me a hug, much to my discomfort. This story has too many hugs. I’m not cut out for all this sappy, twee nonsense.

We finally got moving again and walked for hours through a dark, dank wilderness. The slivers of blank sky we saw through the tangled branches overhead faded as night fell, and the Forest sank into utter blackness. Ms. Colgate managed to make that horn of hers glow—I’m still put out I wasn’t a unicorn instead of a plain pony—and I lit up my sonic screwdriver.

The Everfree Forest was as dead as a door-nail, as Dickens would have put it—hold on, Dickens wasn’t a pony. Dash it. Forget I said anything about Dickens. The Everfree Forest was dark and dead, thanks to the Alicorn Amulet and whatever poor blighter pinched it from Ms. Zecora.

“There’s like, a crumbly old ruin up ahead,” said Lyra. “It’s where Princess Twilight ran into Nightmare Moon just after arriving in Ponyville.”

“That was early in the morning on the day of the Summer Sun Celebration,” noted Ms. Colgate. “What a coincidence! At this moment, it’s just after midnight on the exact same date. Today is the Summer Sun Celebration.”

Ms. Octavia gave a ladylike little gasp and added, “There are six of us, just as Princess Twilight and her friends numbered six.”

“Difference is,” observed Scratch dryly, “they’re heroes, and we’re misfits. They also had the bucking Elements of Harmony. What have we got? Muffins?”

“And butter,” I hastened to add. “What are muffins without a spot of butter?”

“There’s another problem,” said Ms. Colgate. “The Alicorn Amulet can only be removed by its wearer. We can’t just take it. Whoever is wearing it, we’ll have to persuade him to give it up of his own free will.”

“I bet it’s Flim and Flam,” declared Scratch. “Well, Flim or Flam. I guess it can’t be both.”

“Whatever happened to that Sombra guy?” wondered Lyra. “Did he like, die? I never found out for sure.”

“Iron Will is precisely the sort of self-serving ruffian who would take an interest in a powerful relic,” said Ms. Octavia.

“Cranky Doodle Donkey scares me,” said Derpy. “Think it’s him?”

“Whoever it is,” I said, “I bet he’s in that ruin. The effects of the Amulet are stronger than ever. I think we’re close. Onward!”

I charged forward into the darkness and ran squarely into a tree. After disentangling myself from some clinging lianas, I adjusted my fez and pressed onward: over a patch of withered grass, across a rickety rope bridge spanning a gorge and up to the shattered gates of a crumbling castle.

The ruins lay pale in the light of my sonic screwdriver, like the bleached bones of some vast prehistoric monster. It must have been a splendid castle in its day. My companions caught up to me, panting.

“Well,” I said. “Here we are: exhausted, scared, sweaty and hopeless, with no plan, no Elements of Harmony and no inkling of who is waiting for us.”

Derpy shook, but spoke bravely: “We’ll be okay. We have each other.”

I looked round at the wan, weary faces of my misfit companions.

“Right-ho, then,” I said. “Shall we knock?”

Part 6 - The Fool

There’s a nice town called Ponyville. Maybe you’ve been there. Ponyville is full of pretty colors and wonderful ponies. There was a time those colors turned gray and those ponies got scared. Only a few ponies were brave enough to make things right.

This is a story about those ponies, and also a story about me.

I’m Derpy. I’m a mail carrier in Ponyville, and I like muffins. My mane is blond and my eyes are crossed and my Cutie Mark is a bunch of bubbles. Bubbles are beautiful, but they also make me sad. They go away after just a few seconds. When this story happened, all the life and color and happiness in Ponyville had gone away—poof! Just like bubbles.

Ponyville turned dark and dead, so I went looking for my friend the Doctor. He’s good at fixing things. We met some other nice ponies, too. Colgate was a dentist. Lyra and Octavia and Vinyl were all musical ponies. It turns out an Amulet was making things go wrong, so I suggested we try making them go right again.

We went looking for the Amulet in the terrifying Everfree Forest, which was black and cold and full of wolves. During our search, we realized we were all misfits with big problems. It was okay, though, because we discovered something else. We weren’t just misfits. We were also friends.

At last we reached a crumbly old castle full of echoes and shadows and cobwebs. We crept inside, leaving hoof prints in the dust. Colgate and the Doctor had lights. They flashed them everywhere. A few bats, annoyed by the glare, swooped out into the night. It was quiet.

Then we heard somepony crying.

There ahead of us was a big black throne. A pony was sitting in it. We saw the Amulet glinting around the pony’s neck, but not till we came right up to the throne in the dark did we see who it was.

“Berry?” gasped Vinyl. “Berry Punch? You’re behind all this? Seriously?”

I knew Berry from my delivery route in Ponyville. She was a purple pony with a messy mane. Berry drank too much, but that was usually the second thing I remembered about her. The first thing was that she was always sad.

She slumped on the throne like a big sack of flour, crying and crying and crying.

“I knew you’d come,” she said in a blurry kind of voice. “I took it. I took the Amulet from Zecora’s.”

The Doctor smiled and asked, “What were you doing there, Ms. Punch?” His voice was soft and polite. He’s nice, the Doctor.

Berry scrunched up her face. I guess she wanted to stop crying. “Zecora’s the only bucking pony in Ponyville who doesn’t treat me like trash. She brews a potion for my hangovers. I went for potion and saw the Amulet sitting there and just took it.”

“Why?” asked Colgate in a kind, gentle way. She’s a nice pony, too.

Berry sobbed. “I—I don’t know—ponies think I’m a sick joke—I wanted to show them, to get some respect—I didn’t want to be me anymore. Well, I got my wish. I’m not just a boozy, good-for-nothing floozy now. I’m worse. I’m the bad guy. The second I put on the Amulet, things fell apart. So here I am, the evil queen on her ruined throne, just waiting for the heroes to show up and end it all.”

“Please take off the Amulet,” said the Doctor. “We’ll start there. You can make things right again, Ms. Punch.”

Berry’s head snapped up. There was a red gleam in her eyes that scared me.

“Too late,” she said. “I’ve made my choice. I’m the bad guy now. There’s no making up for it. Go on, do your worst. Put me out of my misery. Be heroes.”

None of my friends said anything. Since they didn’t speak, I did.

“Princess Twilight and her friends are heroes,” I said. “We’re just misfits.”

Vinyl stamped, raising a little cloud of dust, and said, “Derp’s right! Look at us, Berry. Look at us! No Elements of Harmony. No epic friendship rainbow powers. We’re no heroes, and you’re no bad guy.”

“If there is a villain here,” said Octavia, “I am she. I am a wanted criminal, Berry.”

Colgate spoke up. “I’m a malcontent with a failing business.”

“Me?” said Vinyl, shrugging. “Just a reject.”

Lyra grinned. “I’m like, an outcast with weird obsessions, and also a total freak.”

“Since we all seem to be confessing things,” said the Doctor pleasantly, “I’ll admit to being a grouchy old exile.”

“I’m Derpy,” I finished. “Um, I guess that’s it. I’m a fool. You know? I’m okay with it. We all are.”

Berry stared at us. That awful red light in her eyes was fading.

“You’ve made mistakes,” said Colgate. “You’re not perfect. Neither are we. Don’t follow our bad example and sit around moping! We can be better. Let’s try.”

“Please,” I said.

Slowly, very slowly, Berry Punch unclasped the Amulet. It slipped from her hooves and clattered onto the floor.

Instantly the air felt clean, like it does after rain. A starry sky blazed through the dusty, broken windows. Colors were crisp and sharp again.

The nightmare was over.

Berry covered her face and sobbed. The others gathered around her with words of comfort, except for the Doctor. He scooped up the Amulet and tucked it away somewhere.

“I believe you owe Ms. Zecora an apology,” he said. “Shall we go together?”

Berry followed us outside. The grass was green again, and the stars above us were brighter and prettier than any I’d ever seen.

“Thence we came forth to see again the stars,” said the Doctor. “Dante put it so well. Dante? Anybody? Dash it, that’s right. You wouldn’t know him. Never mind.”

We left the ruins, and this time the Forest wasn’t scary. It seemed happy to be green again. Above us, the stars disappeared as the sky turned pink and gold. At last we reached Zecora’s house. Zecora met us at the door and hugged Berry before she could say one word to apologize.

“I suggest getting rid of this,” said the Doctor, holding out the Amulet.

Zecora took it solemnly. “I promise you, this thing I will destroy! Its evil curse shall never mar our joy.”

We all wondered later why the Amulet had sucked the life out of Ponyville. Lyra finally did some research in the library and explained everything.

“The Alicorn Amulet draws its power from the magic of its wearer,” she read. “If its wearer does not possess magic, the Amulet tries vainly to compensate by draining vitality and color from its surroundings. Only the magic of a unicorn or alicorn can satiate the relic; thus, for as long as the Amulet is worn by a non-magical creature, its deadly effects spread in an endless and ever-increasing radius. Capable of reducing all Equestria to an ashen waste, the Alicorn Amulet is unquestionably the most dangerous known magical relic.”

Lyra put down her book. “That’s what Professor Tomes had to say about the Amulet, anyway. I guess it’s like, a good thing Berry took it off.”

We didn’t know any of this when we gave Zecora the Amulet on the morning of the Summer Sun Celebration. I was just happy it was back in good hooves.

The sun was rising as we left Zecora’s. By the time we reached Ponyville, which gleamed like bubbles in the sunshine, I was pretty hungry. We’d had a snack in the Forest, but that seemed like a long time before.

Then I smelled something familiar, something delicious. Only one thing in the whole universe smelled that good.

Pinkie Pie was baking muffins.

This made me guess Princess Twilight and her friends were back from the Crystal Empire, and I was right. They’d arrived just in time to see life and color flood back into Ponyville. Pinkie told me afterward that she’d immediately rushed to Sugarcube Corner and begun baking—to celebrate, she said.

A crowd had gathered in town square: all the ponies of Ponyville, from Princess Twilight and her friends (except Pinkie) to Mayor Mare and Princess Celestia, all talking in loud, excited voices.

My friends and I were walking along a cobblestone street lined with market stalls. The instant we saw the crowd gathered round town hall, my friends stopped.

“What’s wrong, guys?” I asked.

“This is usually when I slip away quietly,” said the Doctor.

“But the Princesses will want to thank you!” I said.

“Exactly,” he replied, glancing around anxiously. I guess he was looking for a quick escape. “I can’t stand sentiment,” he added. “Gratitude is absolutely the worst sort of wibbly-wobbly, feely-weely stuff.”

Octavia hung her head. “A criminal has no right to consort with Princesses. I should go as well.”

“I’m pretty tired,” said Vinyl, pretending to yawn. “I’d better head home and get some sleep.”

Lyra and Colgate made excuses of their own, but I don’t remember what they were. I was distracted by Berry Punch. She looked ten times as scared on that sunny Ponyville street as I ever felt in the darkest parts of the Everfree Forest.

“I—I can’t do it,” she whispered. “It was all my fault. Zecora was one thing, but—but—I can’t face all those ponies. I can’t.”

“Don’t worry, Berry,” I said. “We’ll all go with you. Right, guys?”

The others glared at me.

“You win,” grumbled the Doctor at last. “Lead the way, Derpy.”

Everypony stopped talking as we trotted slowly into town square. We stood awkwardly, saying nothing, shuffling our hooves and not looking anywhere in particular.

“Hello there,” said a warm, kind voice.

I looked up. Princess Celestia was gazing down at me—and smiling.

“I think you have something to tell us,” she said.

I could feel myself turning red. “I—we—I mean—we did it,” I stammered.

One of us, I think Colgate, told the full story of our adventure. (She left out the bit about Octavia’s crimes, since we didn’t want to get our friend in trouble.) The Princesses thanked us, and everypony cheered.

Then Pinkie Pie appeared out of nowhere—she does that—fired off her party cannon and began passing out muffins. A celebration broke out with balloons and music, and a few ponies burst out singing, which happens a lot in Ponyville.

That’s pretty much all I remember. The whole morning is kind of a bright, happy blur in my memory—except for one thing. One thing stands out clear as crystal.

After hearing about our adventure, Princess Celestia trotted over to Berry and lifted up her tearstained face.

“You did the right thing,” said the Princess. “Thank you, Berry. You’re my hero today.”

Things pretty much went back to normal after that. The Princesses went back to their palaces, except for Princess Twilight. She’s living in the library. I’m not sure why, but I’m glad she’s still with us.

Since Mayor Mare was back, Time Turner, her replacement, returned to his usual job after a long vacation. He really needed one, he said, and muttered something I didn’t understand about hating vegetables.

The Alicorn Amulet is gone forever. Zecora traveled deep into the Everfree Forest and threw it into a volcano. I guess volcanoes are a good way to destroy things.

The day after the celebration, Princess Twilight asked me and my friends to write out the story of our adventure. We decided each to write one chapter. This is mine, in case you hadn’t guessed.

The Doctor disappeared soon afterward, and his chapter of our story reached Princess Twilight through the mail. I haven’t seen the Doctor since our adventure. We all miss him. Lyra gets letters from him, though. I deliver them myself! There’s also a box of muffins waiting for me at the post office every week. I’m sure they’re from him—each box comes with a stick of butter.

Octavia and Vinyl took a train recently to Canterlot, where Vinyl met a famous musician called Mando-something. They even made some music together. Their album, The V-Scratch Records, is a huge hit. Vinyl has finally earned her break.

Octavia made up her mind to turn herself in to the Canterlot police and confess her crimes. She expected to go on trial, but when the police pulled her record they found only a note and a little bag of money.

The note read, To the Canterlot Police Department: I’ve borrowed Ms. Octavia’s criminal files. (I hope you don’t mind.) In the meantime, there’s a shop called Donut Joe’s down the street. Take the enclosed coins and treat yourselves to a well-earned snack. Doctor’s orders!

Hours later, Princess Celestia herself arrived at the police station with an official pardon for Octavia.

“A friend of yours in a stylish hat gave me your record and asked me to consider pardoning you,” said the Princess. “You’ve earned it, Octavia. You’re forgiven. All you had to do was ask, you know!”

Lyra is still fascinated by humans. For the first time since her adventure in the world of human beans, Princess Twilight had time to sit down and tell Lyra all about it. They recently started a book club together at the library. Much to the Princess’s satisfaction, it’s given Lyra the chance to make friends.

Colgate went back to work as a dentist. I recommended her clinic to Pinkie Pie, who immediately recommended it to every single pony in Ponyville. Colgate’s clinic is doing great. A few stubborn ponies still mutter about her decision to ignore her Cutie Mark, but Colgate doesn’t seem to mind anymore.

The best story belongs to Berry Punch. She quit getting drunk and gave up her job at the bar. Applejack, who owns a farm, offered Berry a job as a hired worker. A month later, Applejack gave Berry a few acres of farmland as a gift. Berry Punch now has a little farm of her own with a vineyard and fruit orchards.

While she was working for Applejack, Vinyl and I visited Berry every week for coffee and muffins. I guess Berry realized she likes coffee. It’s pretty much all she drinks now. She has a glass of wine or cider sometimes, but she never gets drunk.

Berry smiles a lot now. I guess that’s what makes me happiest.

As for me, I’m still working at the post office. The mail won’t deliver itself, you know!

Since our adventure, a few new problems came up. Princess Twilight and her friends solved them all. It’s nice to have our heroes back! All the same, if Ponyville needs its misfits, we’ll be waiting in the background. We may not always be able to help, but we’ll always be ready to try.

That’s our story, I guess, the story of six brave ponies and Derpy. We’re still misfits, and that’s okay. Everypony has problems. We can still choose to be friends, and to help each other, and to enjoy muffins.

Those are the things that matter!

Introduction - Zecora's Apology

In legends, heroes won by strength and pride, but all those ancient storytellers lied.

True heroes are not those who bravely fight. They’re those who risk their all to do what’s right.

Six misfits on redemption bent: sad exile, reject, outcast, malcontent,

Brave fool and criminal—a motley band, these saviors of our peaceful, happy land!

In this strange tale, I play a dreadful part: one that I regret with all my heart.

The fault is mine. Forgive my error great, and thank the six who turned aside our fate.

These misfit six—who seemed so weak and small—turned out to be the ones who saved us all.