The Life and Death of James Winterton
He must have taken a wrong step in the space between the worlds.
He’d been heading for the world he’d found that one time, the one that kind of reminded him of that planet from Star Wars prequels, covered in metal skyscrapers and flying cars. He’d been looking for a place where he could run from explosions and fire lasers and get involved in and shout passionate things about politics he didn’t really understand.
He always got all the nature he needed in the city, whenever he saw a potted plant cry and slowly die from loneliness and despair in the back corner of somebody's office. He hadn’t been looking to come to a world like this.
It wasn’t a complete loss, though. It hadn’t been a bad week. The natives were a friendly lot, and some of them were even as friendly as he was. He’d had a good time with that Sea Swirl, alright. Now there was a girl who how to treat a guy like him.
Yes, he might have been out of his element, but he’d still been amazing, hadn’t he? The locals had loved him, and he was pretty sure he’d saved the world at least twice during his stay. Or something like that, he hadn’t really been paying attention. But there was this one mare who’d said that he had to sleep with her or the world would end, so that was something. Of course, that might have been a joke or something.
Anyway. In short, he was awesome. All anyone had to do was ask him, and he’d tell them exactly how awesome he was. At length. Great length. Just like his...
The sliding machine beeped. He slid it out of his pocket to check the meter. It would be charged soon. In just a few minute he’d have enough magic to take him to the next world.
Maybe he’d come back someday. Not his usual type of world, but not bad. Besides, he should probably follow up with that mare he’d kind of accidentally gotten married to. What was her name again? He didn’t remember; she was a terrible kisser.
He looked over the side of the cliff where he’d come to find the best place to open his portal into the space between the worlds, hand rested on his hips, making himself look like Superman. There was a crack in the rock face, and on the other side the rock continued at a long slope until it ended abruptly for a second time. It looked like the cliff had been longer once, but something caused it to collapse in on itself in a way that frankly, didn’t quite make sense. Shouldn’t there be a bigger gap between the edge of the cliff and the slope?
He looked at the device again. Thirty seconds had passed. How is it that five minutes is no time at all when you have to get something done, but when you’re waiting on something it feels like five minutes just might last the rest of your life?
On his back--pressure. By the time he realized he’d been hit, he didn’t have time to turn and see who’d hit him, he was already rolling down the cliff face.
He reached for something to hold on to, but even if there had been anything there it would have been impossible to grab a hold of it while spinning. The back of his hand hit something sharp, and he wound up with a gash for the trouble he put into trying to save his own life.
Then he was in mid air, flying and spinning and covered in bruises and wishing he hadn’t made that wrong turn.
Fortunately, he missed the trees and landed on his back, although that wasn’t much consolation when the ground wouldn’t stop spinning and the back of his head felt like he’d hit it so hard his brain might start leaking out at any minute.
He steadied his breathing, and after what felt like an eternity, sat up to assess the damage he’d taken.
He had too many pains to differentiate one from another, so he was honestly surprised when he noticed what appeared to be bone sticking out of his right leg. Of course, part of his surprise might have been caused by the many blows to the head he’d just taken.
It wasn’t a problem. As soon as the machine charged, he’d be able to get himself to a high tech world where he could be treated and wind up good as new in a couple of days.
As long as whoever pushed him didn’t come down to finish the job.
He reached into the holster on his hip--but zark, it hurt to move his arm--and pulled out his laser. Best one he could afford--targeting system on the back, stun, kill, pulse, burn or cut settings, light weight, as strong as some of the ones on industrial grade spaceships.
That was when he noticed them. Three huge creatures like nothing he’d ever seen before. Tan fur, huge forepaws, standing up on skinny legs that hardly should have been able to support their weight--must have been an effect of all the magic around them. Giant wings, leathery and with tons of joints, like bat wings. Tails like a giant scorpion.
Walking towards him, slowly, menacingly.
He hoped his translator microbes hadn’t been damaged in the fall.
“I mean you no harm, my friends. Are you sentient?”
The one closest to him let out a deep, snarling growl in response.
He took that as a no. He also took it as a sign that they meant him all the harm in the world, which made his previous statement null and void.
He set his gun to stun--intelligent or not, there wasn’t any need to kill these creatures when he’d be safe and gone before they woke up. He didn’t have time to set the targeting computer, but the things were huge and moving slowly--for the moment--so how could he miss?
He fired at the closest one. It let out a loud roar as energy coursed through it, then collapsed to the ground.
He’d hoped that might frighten the other two off. No such luck; both of them broke out into a run and lept into the air. He switched the dial on his gun to “pulse.” The stun setting wouldn’t do him much good if they landed on him anyway.
The blast struck one of the beasts hard enough to throw it off course and knock it into a tree. It fell to the ground and didn’t get up.
He turned to face the third creature.
It was right next to him.
It’s giant front paws came down on his chest, hard, followed by the blade of it’s tail.
Mercifully, the venom did it’s work fast.
The sliding machine beeped, one last time, to show that it was fully charged. The creature that had killed James payed it no mind. It walked off to help its comrades to their feet.
Author's Note
I don't intend to go into a lot of exposition, so if any of you find it too confusing trying to piece together how these humans are getting to Equestria, what the space between the worlds is or what the World Walker's Association is (although the name says it all for those last two, I think) just ask away and I'll answer any questions in the author's notes.
This isn't my first story, or my first fan fic, but it is my first Fim fic and it is my first mystery, so be critical (No, not gentle, you read that right.) Yes, I want compliments on my work, but don't give them out if I don't deserve them and be sure to let me know something you think I can improve on. Nitpicking my grammar, though I don't mind it, isn't really what I want. Try to say how I could improve the story or the characters.
The Life and Death of James Winterton
My name is Dave, and I hate exposition, so I’ll just talk about myself for a bit and jump straight into my story. You’ll see some things here that don’t happen in day-to-day life, but nothing that I think merits a long explanation
There’s been a rising trend in fiction these days called deconstruction. The concept is for a writer to take a fantasy commonly shared by many people in his or her day, and explain through the story why the idea would be a bad idea in real life.
Thus we get superheroes whose powers cause a rift to form between them and their families, who wind up with PTSD after being punched through one building too many, who give up under the stress of realizing that they can’t help everybody or punch poverty or starvation into oblivion.
We’re supposed to feel sympathy, even pity, for guys who can freaking fly.
News for those guys: Everybody has problems. Life itself can suck sometimes. But when it gets you down, don’t forget that you can fly. When you’re having a hard time, just spend an hour or two in the stratosphere and get over it.
Look at me. I may not have superpowers, or lots of money, or magic, or the greatest life that’s ever been had. But I have a body, and I can run and swim, I can read a story or enjoy an apple. I can write a book, or study about physics or chemistry or biology.
And thus, my life is awesome.
Sure, I get mad at my friends, I stub my toe from time to time; life’s not perfect. But it’s life, and that, in an of itself, is awesome.
And then, there’s my friend Jim.
He is a world walker, a person with the power to travel from universe to universe by accessing the space between the worlds. Some use shiny gadgets to do this; Jim does it with magic. It’s a power he has. I’d tell you how he got it, but it’s a long story and it’s not that interesting.
The two of us are on a road trip, exploring all the worlds we can find before we have to go home and start college.
So far it has been the most awesome road trip ever to rock, in case you were wondering.
“Are you sure this is where the signal is leading?” he asked me, looking into the hole he’d just opened in the air in the space between the worlds.
I took another look at the phone in my hands. I didn’t know what half of the devices the World Walker’s Association had outfitted it with did, but the arrow that was on the screen quite clearly pointed straight forward.
“That’s where James is, all right,” I called through the window of my car’s driver seat. “Why?”
“Just... Doesn’t look like his kind of place.”
I’d ask to take a look myself, but I can never see the portals that Jim opens up in time and space. The space between the worlds never looks like anything but an endless, white expanse to me.
“Are you sure you’re sure?”
I rolled my eyes, trying to make my annoyance clear.
“Jim, if that’s not where James is, the problem is with the software, not me. That’s where the arrow is pointing. And if he’s not there, we’ll just come right back here and look in his usual hangouts, right?”
“I guess. It’s not like we’re in a hurry, or anything.” The sarcasm in Jim’s voice is evident.
I roll my eyes.
“Oh, what’s the worst that Coyote’s going to do to him? Besides, somehow I doubt he’s the highest guy on the old C’s list of targets.”
Jim looked at me, his eyebrows arched.
“Did you just call an aeons old god of mischief and confusion ‘the old C?’”
“Well,” I realized how lame the words sound as they came out of my mouth, “I didn’t want to say ‘Coyote’ twice in a row.”
Jim’s stare said all it needed to say.
“Shut up,” I said.
Jim opened the passenger’s side door and got in.
“The portal should be big enough to drive through, now.” He buckled his seatbelt. I pushed down on the gas pedal and drove straight forward.
As soon as we passed through the portal, I saw what Jim meant about this not being James’s kind of world. Bright, cheerful colors struck my eyes like a big, eye-striking thing. Nothing was paved, but the ground was flat enough that I didn’t have much trouble driving over it.
There were train tracks, not far off to the side. They were heading vaguely in the same direction that we were, leading up to a town off in the distance.
What looked like a town, I should say. Too big for a village but not what I’d call a city. Small, wooden buildings, mostly, like I’d expect American farm towns were made out of back when cement and bricks were too rare and expensive to get a hold of.
“It almost looks like a cartoon,” I said. It didn’t quite; I could see individual blades of grass and could make out details on the trees that I wouldn’t be able to see in a drawing, but those colors...
“I thought the same thing,” Jim said. “It looked a lot more like it when I was looking at it from a distance through the portal.”
I checked the phone in my left hand. The arrow was still pointing pretty straight forward.
“I can’t tell if he’s in the town, or somewhere on the other side,” I said.
“Let’s circle around on the outskirts of the town,” Jim said. “I’d rather know for sure that he’s in there before I get out of the car and start walking.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
As we got closer to the town, I could make out shapes, some kind of four legged creatures walking around between the buildings and the open fields just outside of the town. Some of them cast a glance in our direction, but quickly got back to their daily activities.
The things were
EVERY.
FREAKING.
COLOR.
Under the sun.
And then some.
You may think I’m exaggerating, or kidding, but if Doug had been about some kind of anthropomorphic dog creatures, it definitely could have been filmed in this world. Actually, I think this populace might have had a more diverse color scheme than the Doug universe.
When we got close enough to the town, I could make out more detail. The creatures, the ones I assumed to be adults, had manes and tails like horse, but they were hardly bigger than dogs. Too small to be ponies, even.
And this town was run by them, it appeared. I didn’t see any other kind of animals around the appeared sentient.
I saw some of them using magic, that much was obvious. I spotted the occasional creature with a horn walking around, and they’d levitate things and cast spells with them.
“Look up,” said Jim.
I did, and off in the distance I could see some of these same creatures flying around in the air, moving the clouds around.
Because why not?
“What in the world would James be doing here?” I asked.
“Wrong turn,” Jim said, “that’s all I can guess. Well, that, or Coyote turned around his personality again.” There was a contemplative silence. “I hope it’s the latter.”
“Jim!” I said.
“So do you.”
“Well, yeah, but... It’s still not a good thing to say.” I have to admit that I did have a lot of fun the last time James’s personality was turned around by Coyote. I feel bad saying it, but he was a lot more likeable.
Still, it’s not right to wish that kind of fate on somebody. If a person’s going to change, it should be their own choice. God gave us the power to choose, and nobody has the right to take that away. Sorry, I don't mean to preach or moralize, but I feel strongly about this.
So remember kids, if you get your hands on a brainwashing machine at any point in your day to day life, don't use it, because brainwashing is not cool.
And that's the moral of this story. You can get on with your day now.
We’d gone about a quarter of the way around the town, and the arrow on the phone’s screen had turned, still pointing towards the town. James was probably somewhere in there.
Going had been slow; my car was not made for off road driving. I’m not frankly sure what it was made for. I know nothing about cars. Even my very own car, I couldn’t tell you the make or model. I can tell you that it used to be red, probably, but that time and weather had turned it a dull pink. I can tell you there are five seats, although there was so little space between the front two and the back three that a person sitting there would have to lay himself across all three of them just to get something approaching comfortable. I can tell you that in the trunk were my suitcase and Jim’s and a few boxes of canned and boxed food, in case of an emergency.
I can tell you that my one-track mind has taken me completely off subject. None of this is necessary to understand the rest of my story.
One of the creatures, a pale yellow one with a curly orange mane and a pair of carrots tattooed onto it’s rump, galloped up to my car and started running alongside it. It’s mouth was moving, opening wide enough that it appeared to be yelling, but between the noise of my engine, the closed window and the air conditioning running, I couldn’t hear what it was saying.
I hit the brakes and killed the engine. We’d have to get out to search the town for James, anyway. There wasn’t enough space between the buildings to squeeze the car through.
As I opened the car door, the smells of a barnyard hit me like a bad metaphor, and the creature’s yelling hit me like a worse one.
“And I’ll have to plant a whole new crop and won’t be able to make any profit this year and I could lose the whole oh you stopped thank you so much.”
Oh. That’s what that was about. I’d noticed the carrot patch I was driving towards. I wasn’t close enough to worry about turning out of the way just yet, but apparently this critter felt otherwise.
“Now what the hey was that all about, barrelling towards my garden like that in this fancy metal contraption?”
The creature’s voice definitely sounded feminine to me, but I’d seen enough different worlds and species that I knew not to count that for too much.
“I’m sorry,” I said, taking charge of the diplomacy before Jim could open his mouth. “We’re looking for a friend of ours.”
“Oh my...” The creature said. “Oh my Celestia, ya’ll are humans, ain’t ya?” It bent it’s forelegs so that the front half of it’s body was low to the floor, in what I assumed to be a bow.
Bows are tricky across cultures. I, for example, am American. In my home country I’d never bow to anyone for any reason, unless they were from a culture that I knew would lead them to expect it.
However, it had only been a few weeks since Jim and I had gotten chased out of a small country by a mob of dignitaries armed with pitchforks, machetes and women’s clothing (I don’t want to know what they planned on doing with that) for not returning a bow the diplomat sent out to meet us gave, this being seen as a sign of disrespect. And it had only been a few days since we were force fed grape jelly (this being considered a form of torture in the world where we’d landed) for returning a bow the diplomat sent out to meet us gave, this being seen as a sign of disrespect.
Try that last paragraph again, you’ll get it.
I did the only safe thing I could do. The most boring option, as Jim would complain, but the safest.
“I’m sorry, we don’t know anything about your world’s culture. You’ll have to forgive me--I don’t know if I’m expected to return your bow.”
“Oh, no, I couldn’t dream--I’m only a simple farmer, and, I mean, well, humans... I’m sorry, I... You must be here for James.”
I gave an affectionate laugh.
“That old doofus has made a name for himself here, hasn’t he? Yeah, it’s him we’re looking for. Where is he?”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” the creature said. “I’m so, so sorry.”
Carrot Top was the creature’s name, and she brought us to the Ponyville veterinary clinic. It wasn’t much of a building, but when a being with alien anatomy is dying, where else do you bring it?
We were in a room in the back. It wasn’t what you’d call a mortuary. The bodies of animals were dumped on beds and shelves, not put away in sanitary, metal drawers. But the room was kept cold, and a doctor told us there was a preserving spell placed on it.
On top of one of the beds, lying on pristine, white sheets, was what was left of James.
Where his skin wasn’t the palest white I’d ever seen, it was bright purple with bruises. There was a massive hole in the center of his chest.
His shirt was gone--the vet had probably cut or torn it off to try to operate on him. I said a brief prayer of thanks that the ponies hadn’t figured out how to remove James’s pants. Something told me I didn’t want to see the true extent of his injuries.
I walked over to the corps’ side, and put two fingers to the side of his neck, just to be sure. I found the vein--or is it an artery?--the big, throbbing one in the middle of the side of the neck, and counted to thirty. When I didn’t feel anything, I kept counting until I reached sixty. And then I said what didn’t have to be said.
“He’s dead, Jim.”
Jim took off his baseball cap.
“He wasn’t that big of a jerk,” he said respectfully, because an often inappropriate sense of humor was the only coping mechanism he possessed. “He didn’t deserve this.”
“No,” I said. “He really wasn’t.”
After a courteous, paying respect to the dead sort of silence, Jim spoke again.
“Dave,” he said, “check for his sliding machine. Make sure it’s not lost or stolen.”
I reached into James’s pocket, and pulled out a small brick of metal and plastic. The casing was cracked, as was the screen, but apart from that it didn’t look too damaged. Of course, for all I knew about electronics, the thing could be totaled.
It was how James walked the worlds. Jim had his powers, his magic, and James had this.
“How’s it look?” Jim asked
“Functional, if I had to take a guess.”
“Hang onto it.”
“Shouldn’t we take it back to the World Walker’s Association?”
“You might need it to get home. You know, if something happens to me. We’ll probably give it to them when we go back.”
I wanted to argue that nothing was going to happen to him, but I knew he’d fight back, and even then I wasn’t naive enough to believe it was physically impossible for Jim to get hurt, captured or... or wind up like James.
“What happened to him?”
The veterinarian fell straight onto her rump as Jim’s hands fell forcefully onto the joints of it’s shoulders. He hadn’t meant to knock it out of it’s chair, at least I doubt he would have, but judging by the look on his face I’d say he really wasn’t in much of a mood to apologize.
“I... we don’t know. A couple of ponies from town found him in the woods, he was already like that. They took him straight here, and I did everything I could, but...”
“...But it wasn’t enough,” Jim said, although he probably didn’t believe her. Anything that could talk could be and probably was James’s killer, in his mind, and then a few beings who couldn’t. An accident still couldn’t be ruled out, but he wouldn’t believe that either.
That’s Jim. Always suspecting the worst of people. Yes, we’ve seen a few dead bodies on our travels, and yes, more than one of them turned out to be a murder victim. That didn’t mean they all were.
I... I always want to hope for the best. I might be deluding myself just as much as Jim is, but... It feels better this way.
“What could have done that to him?” I asked, standing behind Jim, my arms crossed and my best serious expression on. “What kind of creatures live in the forest with that kind of power?” Still hoping we’ll find the answer that way, hoping it was a wild beast rather than a person.
“Um... We get dragons out there, sometimes. A hydra might be strong enough for that kind of thing, too. Manticores, well... But they wouldn’t...”
“Don’t talk to us about creatures who’d be psychologically capable,” Jim said, sternly. “What would be physically capable of doing that kind of damage?”
“Then... A manticore would be your best bet, but those almost never attack unprovoked. And... no.”
“Tell us,” Jim said firmly.
“A unicorn could have inflicted those kinds of injuries. But one never would. Nopony in this town is the killer you’re looking for.”
“We need more information,” he said. “Who’s in charge of security in this town?”
“Ponyville, by the way,” I told Jim with a smirk as we walked off in search of the town hall the vet had described. It might have been a terrible time to be joking, but the two of us always work best in a lighter mood.
“And the people who live here are ponies,” Jim answered.
“Magical, talking, flying ponies,” I reminded him.
We shared a look that said something along the lines of “after everything else, what right do we have to be surprised by this?”
“Why not?” He shrugged. “Why the Zark not?”
“Not any stranger than the one with all the shrimp.”
“Don’t remind me of that one,” he said, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the memory.
It was pretty obvious the mayor didn’t want to talk to us. We’d seen a mare matching the description the vet had given us, and when we tried to call her over she’d looked at us with an expression like we were a dentist's appointment she’d been putting off for years and wasn't about to cave and go in for now. Then she’d sent a couple of town hall’s security guards over to escort us off the premise and turned to leave as fast as her hooves could carry her.
It appeared she’d met James.
The two armored ponies--both white with blond manes and horns--who approached us had a bigger, more muscular build than most of the ones we’d seen. I would have guessed they were males, but again, guessing much of anything doesn’t tend to pay when you’re a tourist. Especially when dealing with, for lack of a better word, aliens.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to ask you to vacate the premise, sirs... ma’ams... beings,” one of them said.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to learn some manners,” Jim said, “this is no way to treat a visitor.”
Have I mentioned Jim can be kind of a jerk, sometimes? This is why I don’t let him handle any of the diplomacy.
The pony who’d first spoken opened his mouth to reply, but I cut in before he could.
“I’m sorry for my friend’s impoliteness,” I said as considerately as I knew how. “But an associate of our recently passed away in this town.” The guardspony’s scoff told me this was no news to him. “And I’m afraid we can’t go anywhere until we have all the information available to this office concerning the circumstances of his death. It’s standard procedure, you see. The World Walker’s Alliance wants to know the exact details of the demise of any of it’s members, so that they can continue to ensure a safe world walking experience for all involved.”
“Mayor Mare’s schedule wouldn’t allow for her to meet with you right now. You’ll have to return another time.”
“Of course,” I said, trying to be accommodating. “But it’s not necessarily the mayor herself that we need to speak with. Anyone who can give us access to the... Ponyville... police department’s information on the circumstances of James’ death and of the time he spent here... in... Ponyville.”
I was trying hard to ignore the fact that I’d just said “Ponyville,” twice in the same sentence with absolutely no irony.
The guard didn’t seem to know how to respond to that. He took a step back, looked at his partner, and then back at us.
“The mayor’s schedule...” he tried again.
“Can kiss my rump, shampoo my crotch, threaten me with the venom of a genesvegien jumping dung beetle and still won’t get me to take one step from this spot,” said Jim.
All hope of solving this through kindness and diplomacy died there. I continued trying to argue the point with civility, but I’m fairly certain that what eventually caused the mayor to leave her office and come over to deal with us was the hope of finally getting us to go away.
She approached us with an admirable “I absolutely do not detest you right now” smile, the kind a kindergarten teacher might put on when inadvertently reminded by her students that she was thirty-four and still single.
“Hello,” she said. “My name is Mayor Mare, I’m in charge of just about everything that happens here in Ponyville. I’ve heard you wanted to speak with me?” I appreciate directness, especially in a politician.
I explained the situation to her just as I had to the guards.
“Ponyville has no police force,” the mayor said proudly. “Our crime rate is the lowest in all of Equestria, we have no need for one.”
I felt my jaw drop. No need for a... but... but... Then why the frak did she have guards?
“You’re aware there was a murder in the forest just outside town limits not more than a day or two ago?”
“Jim!” I said. “We don’t know it was murder.”
“Dave,” he said, “it’s James we’re talking about.”
“It might not have been.”
“I am aware of the unfortunate accident that befell James Winterton in the Everfree forest. Everypony knows the forest is dangerous, and he was warned not to go there alone. There’s no reason to suspect anypony in my town of murder. He was attacked by wild animals in a dangerous location that he was warned against going into. He thought he could handle himself, and he was wrong. There was no crime. Now if you’ll excuse me...”
She turned to go.
“Not yet.” Jim called to stop her. “We need a list of all the ponies that James spent time with while he was here. You may be confident that none of them were responsible for his death, and we’d like to believe that as well. But we’re going to investigate this and find out exactly what happened. The World Walkers’ Alliance looks out for it’s own. You can work with us, or we can come back with backup from the Alliance. Your call.”
The Mayor really didn’t want to deal with this.
“We won’t meet out any kind of punishment or justice without your say,” I said. “If we get a murder confession out of anything, we’ll bring them back to you to face the due process of the law. And if you’re right to be this confident that what happened was just an accident, then after you tell us what we need to know you won’t be seeing us again.”
The Mayor really, really didn’t want to deal with this.
“I know the first pony he met when he arrived was Lyra Heartstrings. Start with her, I’m sure she’ll know who else he spent his time with. She won’t be home right now, but I’m sure you can find her if you ask around.”
When we left town hall, we stopped the first pony we saw and asked--From here on out, I’m going to start referring to these creatures by the gender I assume them to be. If I get one wrong, who’ll ever know?
We asked the first pony we came across, a light red male with a close-cropped, orange mane, who also happened to be only just smaller than my car, where to find Miss Heartstrings.
He looked off into the distance and was silent for a few moments, then looked back at us.
“Ah cain’t say I know where she is right at this moment,” he responded with a slight southern drawl, “but I know a few places where she spends her time. Y’all need ta find ‘er?”
Jim would have called it a thick drawl. Jim has not met my grandfather.
“Yes,” Jim said, “that’s why we’re asking.”
The pony seemed to ponder that for a minute.
“Allright,” he said at last. “You all come along with me, we’ll see if we can find her.”
We tried to keep a conversation going with the pony as we walked, but it quickly got... awkward.
For example: I asked him why, exactly, he had an apple tattooed onto his rump. With a cheerful grin and a proud tone to his deep, gruff, masculine voice he said, “S’ ma cutie mark.”
Jim and I shared a look, and in that look communicated our deep, binding vow to ask no more questions on the subject. We didn’t want to know.
Author's Note
Just so the formatting doesn't confuse you, I'll warn you ahead of time that next chapter starts from Lyra's perspective, and that her interview with the boys is mingled with a flashback. The flashback contains all the same information that she gives the boys, but it should be a more interesting read than if I just wrote out the conversation. Jim's questions and comments during the interview will be in red, and Dave's in blue.
For those of you wondering about Jim, Dave and the Worldwalkers, I'll explain it this way: This story is a crossover with a show that doesn't exist yet, and probably never will. If I get into the television industry and get enough sway there, which will probably never happen, I'll pitch the idea of a show about the adventures of Jim and Dave.
The Life and Death of James Winterton
My name is Lyra Heartstrings.
I stood on the side of the road in the Ponyville marketplace, gently plucking the strings of my lyre, trying to calm a flaring bad mood. Ponies around town had told me there were some new humans hanging out around here, but I had no intention of meeting them. ... Not after the last one...
A few ponies stopped to enjoy my music as I played. I smile and nodded politely at them. That always made me feel better, to see ponies appreciating my work. Rarity, always one to support fine art, or a pitiful imitation of fine art in my case, dropped a few bits in the cup at my feet.
Humans. I’d grown up hearing stories about them. My parents would tell me about them all the time. Strange creatures of myth and legend, they’d journey journey from far away lands whenever ponies were in danger and come to rescue them, and do whatever good they could while they were in Equestria. In our times of darkest need, they were there to be our champions, our heroes. I remember stories about humans slaying evil monsters and saving kingdoms; falling in love and overcoming adversity until they could live happily ever after; doing the right thing when it was the hardest thing in the world.
Noble creatures, brave and virtuous and strong, full of love. People who went to great lengths to help perfect strangers, just because it was Good and Right and True.
They say you should never meet your heroes.
James was none of the things humans were supposed to be.
I spotted them, across the market, coming straight towards me. Two of them. A big, dark red stallion was leading them right to me. That Apple mare’s brother, what was his name? Big Macintosh, that was it. He must have been one of the only ponies in town who I hadn’t already told that I didn’t want to see them. I was pretty sure ponies were starting to wonder if I’d been replaced by a changeling.
I looked left and right for someplace I could run off to, maybe hide until they gave up looking, but ducking behind a cart would have been too conspicuous. There was a back alleyway down the street where I could probably duck in and lose them between the buildings and the houses, but it would have been too far to make it before they got to me.
Besides, running off in the middle of a song would have been just... well, wrong. A musician just doesn’t do that, even when the ship is sinking.
I sighed and resigned myself to the conversation that would surely ensue.
The humans joined the crowd of onlookers, some of whom gave them questioning glances before going back to watching me play.
“This is her?” the tall human asked Big Mac. He must have thought he was being quite, but he was failing miserably at it.
“Eyup.” Big Mac didn’t bother.
“Should we...” The short one took another step towards me, but the tall one put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him.
“Let her finish. It can’t go for too much longer. Besides, I like this song.”
“How can you know this one?”
“I don’t, but it sounds good, so shut up so I can hear it.”
Big Mac nodded his farewell to the two humans and excused himself to be about whatever business had brought him into town in the first place.
I thought of transitioning into the Ballad of Firebrand and Olivine, then maybe singing the eight extra verses I’d written on one long, boring afternoon that “subtly implied” that Princess Luna was Olivine, hoping they’d get bored and go away, but decided against it. It’d be better to just tell them I didn’t want to talk to them and have it over with than to put it off. More polite, anyway. There was no need to be rude.
Besides, at least one of them had an appreciation for music, and that counts for something in my book.
I got to the end of the song and let the last few notes fade slowly into the air, keeping the strings vibrating a little longer. The crowd clopped their hooves on the ground in polite appreciation, and the humans made a similar noise by beating their hands together. Some threw a few bits into my collection cup.
The crowd slowly dispersed, and the two humans approached me.
The tall one stuck out his hand in greeting. I recognised the gesture--a handshake. It was supposed to be a traditional greeting, although you’d be surprised how many different kinds there are for humans from different cultures.
Ponies can’t perform any of them. Not without fingers.
“Miss Heartstrings, my name’s Jim, and this is my travelling companion, Dreamy Cutebottom.” The second human shot the first a dangerous look.
I put a forehoof in Jim’s outstretched hand, and he shook it. That would have to do.
Dreamy shook my hoof as well. “He’s lying, by the way. My name’s Dave, ma’am.”
“We’re investigating the death of our mutual friend--”
“Acquaintance,” Dave corrected.
“Our mutual acquaintance, James Winterton. We’ve been informed that you knew the deceased.”
“We need to know everything you know about the circumstances of his death, and the time he spent here in Ponyville.”
I snorted dismissively and sat down on my plot. These humans thought they could just walk up to me, and I’d tell them everything about... About the human who broke my heart like a cheap, knockoff fire ruby.
“I don’t want to talk about James,” I said, hoping they’d notice the bitterness in my voice and take the hint that it was time to leave, waving my lyre in the air at them for extra effect.
“Join the club, lady,” said Jim. “He may not have been a friend. But he was a world walker. That makes him one of ours, and we need to know what happened to him. We look out for each other.”
This human...
Was he really...
Was that...
Loyalty?
I looked at the him, taking in all the features of his face, those small brown eyes, the rounded pyramid nose, the hair hardly a few inches long. I closed my eyes tightly, then opened them slowly. He was still the same thing. Still the same serious gaze. Still a human, acting out of loyalty. Not because he actually liked James, but because James was one of his own.
“Besides,” said Dave, “if what happened was murder, as my friend believes, then that means that the rest of the beings in this town will be in danger until the killer is caught. And so we have to determine if that was the case, and if so, track down whoever’s responsible.”
And there, again, that nobility that I’d been expecting in the first human I’d met.
Maybe... Maybe there were humans like the ones in my stories. Maybe humans were more like ponies than I’d thought, with heroes and villains and normal, day-to-day people who weren’t that impressive, but who tried their best to be good.
Maybe...
A tear fell from my eye, and a second later it was followed by a few more. And then the floodgates opened, and I couldn’t stop them, as hard as I tried.
The humans didn’t say anything. They sat down on the dirt in front of me and watched. They didn’t turn away, didn’t leave, and didn’t speak. They waited for me to start the conversation back up.
They didn’t know me. But they were there for me. They didn’t leave while I was hurting.
Treating a stranger like a friend. And of course, that didn’t help me calm down any.
Eventually, the tears dried up. I wiped my eyes on a foreleg.
“I’m sorry,” I said at last. “I don’t... I...” I couldn’t go on.
“Did James hurt you?” Jim asked. “Is that why you’re crying?”
I let out a short, sharp laugh.
“No,” I said. “He... He just disappointed me. A lot. I always... It doesn’t matter. I’m sure there were plenty of mares who got worse from him than I did. What do you need to know?”
“Start with everything,” said Dave with a friendly smile, “and we’ll try to make our questions vaguer and more frustrating as we go along.”
It was a few days ago. I’d just entered Bon Bon’s shop, and it took me a while to realize what was different about it. It looked the same as it usually did, wood floors, wood walls plain and undecorated, shelves and shelves of candy stacked up behind a counter on the far side from the front door.
I’m sorry, Bon Bon?
My sister. She owns a candy store--not too far from here, actually. I was going over there to visit her. I do that a lot. We’re close, even if she is about as deep as a puddle.
Case in point, she was skimming through the pages of a fashion magazine when I got there. Not for inspiration or ideas, she’s not much of an artist. Not even looking for things to buy. Not even trying to keep up on the trends. Just looking at the pictures, because.
As I was saying, it took me a while to notice what exactly was different about the shop.
Then I noticed the shining, white circle floating in the air in the middle of the room. There was a clearly magical gateway in the middle of her shop, and my sister was skimming a fashion magazine.
“Bonnie, has Vinyl been helping you make enchanted candies behind my back again?” I used to help her with those, until the noodle incident convinced me the whole thing was a bad idea.
Bon Bon sighed.
“Why is it always my fault when weird stuff happens around here?”
“Because it’s always you who causes it. That makes it your fault.” For most ponies I wouldn’t have felt the need to explain, but I’m honestly not sure my sister grasps that concept.
“Well, it wasn’t me this time.”
A leg stepped out of the circle. It was soon followed by a human being.
You have no idea excited I was. How ecstatic, how... I can’t begin to describe it. Humans have been a kind of fascination of mine, ever since I was a filly. Creatures of legend, you know.
Anyway.
The human looked at me, then at a little, gray box in his hands.
“I said cyberpunk, you stupid inanimate object, not cowpunk! Why do you never listen to me?” He turned to go, but the portal he’d come through vanished before he could get through it. “How long are you going to keep me here?” he asked the box. “A bucking week? Are you kidding me? I have to settle for furries for a bucking week?” At least, I’m pretty sure he said ‘bucking.’ It might have been another word, but not one I recognized. He looked at Bon Bon. “You know anywhere I can charge this thing?”
Bon Bon tilted her head. Her face screwed up in the same expression she got when she experimented with new recipes, mixed strawberry extract with vanilla and somehow got candies that tasted like root beer. Or something like that, I really don’t follow much of what she says about candy making.
“I need a shot of juice. For this thing.” He waved the box at her. It didn’t look like the kind of thing that would drink juice, but technology isn’t my thing anymore than candy making is.
“Don’t have any,” Bon Bon said. “There’s a place across the street that might, though. Sugarcube Corner. Can’t say for sure that they will or won’t, ‘cause they’re just a pastry shop, but they usually do.”
The human stood still, staring. Then he blinked. Then he said, “Sugarcube Corner. I’ve come to a world with shops that have names like Sugarcube Corner. By all the various religious deities I’ve met and several I’ve only ever heard of, this is going to be a bad week.”
He turned around to leave through the front door, but found himself unable to leave when he fell straight down onto his plot. I might also have been on top of him, giving him the hug of his life, but I’m sure that has nothing to do with the reason he fell. At all.
“Ohmigoshohmigoshohmigoshohmigoshohmigosh! You’re a human! A real live human! I never thought I’d see one face to face! A real human!”
“Right,” the man said to himself. I knew he was a man, then, because I felt his chest beneath mine, and it was flat. Most ponies don’t know that a human’s mammary glands are located on it’s chest. Ponies have ours right... Oh. I understand. I’ll get on with the story. “No humans in this world. Guess I am gonna’ have to settle for furries. Ah well, I’ve done worse.”
If I’d realized what he was talking about then and there, I might just have been the killer you two are looking for.
James behavior upset you?
He... Didn’t live up to what I thought a human would be like. He was...
When I was taking him to Sugarcube Corner, he... he put his hand on my rump and squeezed it. Hard.
I didn’t mean to hurt him, but bucking up and kicking him was my first response.
Good for you.
He fell to the ground, again, and he laughed.
“Alright, alright,” he said, picking himself up. “I can take a hint. The prude wants her personal space. Got it.”
But he wore this smug grin. Like he’d... won, somehow. He’d touched me, and there was nothing I could do about it, ‘cause he’d already done it. And that made him happy, to know that I felt violated and couldn’t do anything about it.
Maybe I’m just reading too much into that grin.
It was worse when we got finally got there.
Wait. We need to know everything. Did anything happen before you left your sister’s shop?
Um... Yes, actually
When he first started to go, Bon Bon blocked his way.
“Oh, no,” she said. “You don’t open up a vortex of magical energy in the middle of my shop, then step in and leave without buying anything.”
He blinked.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Bon Bon shot him a glare that said all it needed to.
He didn’t have anything we’d consider money, so he took some chocolates and peppermints and gave her his shirt in exchange.
And he never bothered to replace it the entire time he was here.
Why does that not surprise me?
Because you’ve met James?
Alright. Thank you for the information. Did anything else happen between leaving the candy shop and arriving at the pastry store? Did he say anything to you, did you say anything to him, did you meet anyone, did anyone look at you funny? Anything you can remember might be important.
No, there was nothing... I asked him a lot of questions about what being human was like. I didn’t understand many of his answers, but that might be because I wasn’t expecting so much innuendo.
Do you remember any of your questions or his answers?
A few.
I asked him how you humans balance on two legs all the time. He said “Can’t you tell, honey? I’ve got three legs.”
It took me forever to get the joke. And when I did, it wasn’t even funny.
I asked him what that small finger on the end was for. He said “It’s all for you, baby, just like the rest of them. And that leg I was talking about.”
I think we get the idea. What about the pastry shop? Sugarcube corner, wasn’t it?
That's it. Only Pinkie Pie was there when we got there. She’d been at the counter, but when we got there...
Have you met Pinkie Pie yet? Well, I’m sure you will before you leave. It’s kind of hard not to. She’s the friendliest pony you’ll ever meet. Always bouncing around with a smile on, talking your ear off. She’s always excited to meet new... Uh... People. I guess that word works.
When we got to the shop, she ran right over to us and started bouncing around us.
“Ohmigosh ohmigosh ohmigosh! It’s a real live human! Lyra, you were right, they do exist! This is the best day ever! Except for a lot of the other one’s I’ve had, but really, who can top that?”
“Um... Right. I’m looking for some juice to power this thing.” He showed her the box.
“Your box drinks juice? That’s so the opposite of how things normally work here in Ponyville, but okay.”
She was gone in an instant, in that special way that only Pinkie Pie can do. She doesn’t walk off, you see. She may take a step or two if she feels like it, but somehow Pinkie can be in one place one minute and somewhere else the next. A moment later she came back with a box of Apple Juice.
“That’ll be one bit.”
James scowled.
“No, look, I need power. You know, juice for the machine?” Which are of course two entirely different things, so why he was getting all mad at her for not understanding was beyond me.
“Oooohhh,” Pinkie said, “that’s different then. Why didn’t you say so? I have friends for whatever kind of power you need. If you want political power, I can take yo to my friend Twilight and she can take you to see Princess Celestia. If you want magic, I can take you to Twilight again, and she can teach you. But they say that knowledge is power, so maybe you want to go to the library, which is run by my friend Twilight. Pretty much whatever kind of power you need, you should go see my friend Twilight.” There was a brief pause. James opened his mouth to say something.
“Ooh!” Pinkie interrupted. “Unless you want to work out and get power by becoming stronger, in which case you should go see Snowflake. But if you want electric power, you need to speak to Time Turner. He knows about stuff like that. Or maybe...”
“Yes!” James cut her off. “That last one. Where can I find the electricity guy?”
“He’s usually at home with Dinky and Amethyst at this time of day. Unless he’s in another galaxy or century or something. You know how it is.”
“Right. And his home is...?”
“Oh, it’s not his home. Technically, it belongs to Derpy, only he sticks around to help the family on account of Derpy’s a little... Well, Derpy.”
James cupped a hand over his face in frustration.
“And where is Derpy’s home?” he asked.
“It’s across town,” I said. “I know the way, I can show it to you.”
“Cool,” James said. “Let’s get going.” He turned to go--without saying goodbye, then stopped. He sighed, and turned back around. For a second, I thought he was going to thank PInkie for her help. But of course, that would have been far too civil.
“Look, I hear you know a bit about everyone in town. So... Just in case I wind up staying here any longer than I intend to--like the rest of the day--can you just give me a list of the easiest girls to get into bed with?”
“Well, Twilight’s been throwing a lot of slumber parties lately... OH! You meant like in the same bed. So you can do icky grown up stuff. Right. Got it. Um...” I’ve never seen Pinkie Pie blush before. You can hardly tell through her fur if you’re not looking straight at her.
And why is that?
Because it’s pink.
... I don’t know what I was expecting.
Well, despite being obviously uncomfortable, Pinkie still couldn’t resist the chance to be helpful.
“Well, that depends. Are you a stallion or a mare?”
“If you called me a stallion, you wouldn’t be the first.”
Why are you laughing?
It’s just so James. Just... James.
And he wonders why we’re not friends.
Wondered.
Sorry, Lyra. Continue.
Alright...
“And are you looking for stallions or mares?”
“Mares, thanks.”
“The best pony to start with would probably be Sassaflash. I know she goes for stallions sometimes. And if not, she can direct you to somepony... or something... Who’d be willing to... do things. With you. And, um... Yeah.”
I’d never seen her at a loss for words before, either. I mean, ever.
“Anybody else you can think of?”
“Not off the top of my head, sorry. But I’m sure she’ll know plenty of others.”
“Cool.” He turned and left. I would have gone after him then, but I was momentarily stunned by the conversation I’d just witnessed.
“Your new friend,” Pinkie said, “he’s kind of a jerk. My Pinkie senses told me.”
“I noticed.”
“Oh! But I’m sure that doesn’t mean he’s nice deep down! I’m sure he’s a good po... Person. Just... If you’re going to to stick around that guy, just... Be careful, okay? Play it safe.”
“I will.”
And then I left to follow James.
I didn’t ask him any more questions on the way to Derpy’s house.
Why did you keep following him? If you already realized you didn’t like him?
He was the first human I ever met. I kept hoping it’d get better and I’d see something good or redeeming in him.
Like that time I sat through five episodes of Spaceballs the Animated Series in the hopes that something funny would happen.
They made a Spaceballs animated series?
Kind of, but not really. It was to Spaceballs what the Animorphs tv series was to the books.
Eww.
I know, right? So, you went to see this Time Turner? What happened then?
The door was open, so we stepped inside and I called for Time Turner. His wife, Amethyst Star, came to greet us.
Amethyst is a nice girl. Mostly stays at home, looking after her sister, but she goes out for groceries sometimes, and she has a part time job as a jeweler. That’s about all I know about her.
“Turner’s finishing up some work in his shop. He’ll be with you in just a moment.”
“So,” James said, “you’re here to entertain us while we’re waiting for your husband?”
He put a hand on Amethyst’s rump. I’m beginning to suspect he just does that to everypony. I’m not sure if he didn’t understand that that was the reason he kept getting knocked to the floor, or if he just didn’t care.
“There may be some cultural misunderstanding happening right now,” Amethyst said. “I’d appreciate it quite a lot if you’d take your hand off my hindquarters right now.”
“No problem,” James said, sliding his hand lower, off of her rump and towards her...
There was a loud crash as he hit the ground, blown back by a wave of magic.
Amethyst Star turned around, eyes burning with all the fire of her namesake.
“In Equestria,” her horn began to glow, “we have things,” bands formed around James’ wrists and ankles, holding him to the ground, “called boundaries.”
I hope what he said next was a wisecrack. I pray to Celestia that he didn’t seriously mean it. “Never have liked those,” James said. “They have a way of getting in the way between me and...”
A brown stallion with a spiky, short-cropped mane came into the room.
“Now darling, you know how I feel about violence. Is this really the example you want to set for Dinky?”
“If you knew what this man just did, you wouldn’t be asking me that question.”
“Amy,” he said, his voice almost condescendingly patient and moral. Not that I’d think Turner would want to be condescending, but he tends to come off that way.
With a dismissive and angry snort, she let go of James and walked out of the room.
“Thanks for that,” James said, sitting up and rubbing his wrists with his hands. “Women, amiright? So! All I need from you,” he took out the plastic and metal box, “is a shot of power--electric power to charge my machine, and I’ll be out of your hair. It’ll charge on it’s own with all the magic in the air here, but I don’t want to wait a week for that to happen. So, what do you say? Lend me a hand here?”
Turner picked the box up in his hooves and examined it, closely.
“Hello,” he said. “What an interesting contraption you are. In fact, I might just say that you are beautiful. Oh, so beautiful. Yes, I’d like to take you apart and find out all about you.” I’ve seen him flirt with machines before, but this time I was starting to blush. “Oh, are you a sliding machine? You are, aren’t you? Oh my Celestia, the fun Amy and I could have with you!”
“So?” James looked up with a hopeful grin.
“Oh, not you, the machine. You’re hardly more than dirt to me right now.” He waved a hoof casually in James’ direction. “My wife doesn’t get that angry without a reason, and I frankly don’t care what that reason was, if it was enough to make her act like that, it’s enough to make me dismiss you without further argument.” His expression fell as he looked at the machine and realized he wouldn’t get to spend any more time with it. He tossed it back to James. “Get out of my house.”
“Come on!” James said. “I just need a couple of Watts. Or Amps. Milliamp-hours, I think it is. I don’t quite know how it works, but it’s not a lot of power. Come on, bros before hoes?”
“I have asked you to leave. You are officially trespassing on my property. Would you prefer to escort yourself out, or should I call the authority?” It was only a few minutes later that I realised the use of the singular was intentional.
“Just give me a couple of seconds with your charger, man. A couple seconds. Come on.”
“Amy dear!” Turner called in the direction where she’d wandered off to. “Our guest is having trouble finding his way out the door, would you mind showing him the way?”
Amethyst complied. Violently.
A blast of magic sent James flying out the front door. Another spell, rather considerately I thought, caught him before he hit the ground and saved him from breaking his neck.
“Humans,” Turner said. “Of all the aliens who could have visited Equestria, did it have to be the humans?”
“You know about them?”
“I’ve met a couple. One of the most unpleasant races in the multiverse. Not actually evil, but bad tempered, bureaucratic, officious and callous.”
“But... The stories. The legends. Humans are always the heroes. Champions of courage and virtue. They’re... They’re good. They’re supposed to be...”
“Who do you think wrote those legends? Nothing but stories the humans tell to make them feel better about themselves. Pretending to acts of heroism they’d never be able to commit themselves. All of them brag about how brave they’d be in the face of a zombie apocalypse, the same people who have a panic attack when they see a spider in the shower. Makes me glad I was born a pony.”
I met James outside the house. He was talking to a mare I didn’t recognize, leaning in close and grinning hopefully. He kept his voice low enough that I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but the mare rolled her eyes, gave him a quizzical “Did you really expect that to work?” sort of look, said back something that I didn’t pick up, and walked off, laughing.
James took that in stride, shrugged, turned around and saw me standing there.
I froze. It was like... For a second, my brain shut down. All the pressure of that day had been building up on me, and... For a moment, I just couldn’t anything.
“I, um...” My voice caught in my throat as I struggled to maintain my composure. It was not the time for a nervous breakdown. There are good times for one, in my opinion, and in public with the only people around being complete or near-complete strangers is not one of them. “It’s starting to get dark. If you need a place to say, my house has a spare bedroom. You know, if you don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Cool.” He nodded, with a look that almost might have been called gratitude if it weren’t so smug. “Sure your bedroom’s not open?”
“Do you think about anything other than sex?” I snapped.
James was silent for a moment. After a while, I realized that he honestly had to ponder the question.
“Lasers,” he said at last.
I gave him some bread to eat when we got home. It was the only thing I had that he said he could eat. I’d heard lettuce, carrots and apples were part of a human diet, but he mumbled something about rabbit food and didn’t accept any of them. I might have been wrong.
I showed him to the spare bedroom, and left him at my kitchen table, eating and complaining about the bread being stale. The bread that I’d bought that very morning.
I slept well that night. My day had been exhausting.
It was a new morning, and I was going to give James one more shot. I made a fresh batch of pancakes for two--he ate them all in less time than I would have eaten one--and tried one last time to see something good in him.
I’m not the best classical musician in Equestria. No, that honor would probably have to go to my good friend Octavia. But I played my lyre for him.
It wasn’t the world’s best. But it was my best. I poured everything I had into it. I played with all my heart, all the feeling and soul could pour into it. I sung to him the sweetest, most meaningful and moving ballad I know, Lullaby For A Princess.
I was halfway through the first verse. I smiled as I saw tears begin to come to his eyes, but then... Then he yawned.
“This stuff’s so boring. I’ve never liked classical. Can’t play any rock on that thing, can you?”
They were tears of boredom. Tears of boredom. There I was, giving him everything I had, trying to connect the one way I knew I could connect with anyone, the most intimate show I’ve ever given...
I nearly dropped my lyre. My gaze fell to the floor, and I left the room.
When I went back to the kitchen, he was gone, as were all of the pancakes. I think he went to see Sassaflash.
“That was the last time I saw him. I don’t think there’s anything else I can tell you about him.”
“There’s just one more thing we need to know,” Jim said.
“Go ahead.”
“Where were you the night of James’ death?”
“Am I a suspect?”
“Of course you are. From my perspective, the only people who aren’t suspects are myself and Dreamy, and then only because I know for a fact that Mr. Cutebottom was nowhere near this world when it happened. Every one of you is guilty until proven innocent.”
“Stop calling me that!” Dave punched his friend’s arm.
Part of me felt like I should have been offended at being called a suspect. Or, not that I should have, but like I was supposed to. Like I was morally obliged to be offended by being accused of being capable of murder. But frankly, considering that these two were perfect strangers to me, it just seemed... Fair. They didn’t have any reason not to suspect me, and I had just told them that I didn’t particularly like James.
“I went to bed early last night. I spent most of yesterday at the recording studio with my friends Octavia, Vinyl Scratch and Neon Lights, working on an album together.” Combining classical music and techno was Vinyl and Octavia’s idea. Calling it Science Fantasy was Neon’s. “I can take you to them if you want to confirm that. Plus, the owner of the studio was with us, so he can back that up.”
“We’ll worry about that later,” Jim said. “I say we get a picture of what happened from start to finish, then worry about going back and confirming our facts. Fill in the details at the end.”
“So we go see this Sassaflash, find out what happened next?” Dave asked.
I couldn’t just let them leave. These... I was so sure that these were the humans I’d been waiting for my whole life.
Nothing was going to tear me away from their sides.
“I know where she lives,” I lied.
Author's Note
Here's chapter three. I think future chapters may continue the pattern of Dave and Lyra sharing the narration, switching off from chapter to chapter. This one had to be from her perspective, because there was information that I wanted to convey, but didn't think she'd be comfortable just telling the guys right away.