Today I Am A Monsterby Cloud WanderChaptersPathfinder 1Pathfinder 2Kimono's Last LessonPathfinder 1PATHFINDER This way! This way! This way! Now now now! shouted the incessant nudges in his head as he flew across the badlands. He followed their direction fearfully, hugging the nap of the earth, trying not to fly too high, which would attract attention, or too low, which would invite attacks from the ground. Please don’t be a lie, he thought, desperately. Tears blurred his vision, but he flew on, heart and lungs and wings aching, just for the chance of escape. I know I’m a bad pony. I know I don’t deserve this chance. I’ll be good, I promise, I swear, if only I can go back, even for a day. I will give my life for one good day among friends. Celestia! Good goddess! Please! I am yours forever, for this one boon! He saw where he was headed. Ghastly Gorge. Of course. He hoofed tears and sweat from his eyes and plunged on. This way! This way! Now! And then he saw it. Despite his fatigue, despite his fear and longing and shame, he looked down and saw the gateway, a glowing form, a smear of light in the fierce shadow of the Gorge. He felt awe. Another world! There, right there! If only I can get there before it disappears! And before the bats kill me. Once upon a time, he had heard, there were giants that occupied Ghastly Gorge, mighty worms of the earth that had carved their burrows out of the living rock and lived their strange lives in vast caverns and halls under the skin of the land. Surely, they had lived, loved and cared for their young, in their fashion. The bats had devoured them all. The bats were mad things, driven not by hunger or rage or any comprehensible instinct. They flew in great clouds, driven by an insane need to rend and tear and kill. And the deep caverns of Ghastly Gorge were now their homeland. So it was not surprising, as he bulleted heedlessly towards the glimmering light, that the caves exploded in darkness. If I don’t make it, he thought, let them take me. I won’t live one minute longer in this sad world. He couldn’t see any more. His eyes were clouded with tears. The light was so far. The swarm of bats hurtled towards him, swelling the darkness as they came. He dove and reached out. Let me just touch it. Just touch a better world, for an instant. So near. And then the bats were upon him, on his legs, his back, leather wings gripping, smothering…. *** He awoke with a start, terrified. “Get off me!” he shouted, throwing the suffocating blanket to the floor. He stamped on his blades and spun about, searching the shadows for threats, panting with fear, heart racing. Okay. I’m okay. I can handle this. I can take them. Calm down. Focus. There was a knock. His head came up. He tensed to flee. Or fight. “Mister Pathfinder?” asked Derpy Hooves, quietly. “Are you okay?” Derpy. It’s Derpy. Don’t hurt her. Calm down. “Yes. I’m okay, thank you, Derpy,” he said with deliberate calm, slowly stepping out of his blades. “There’s oatmeal, if you want some,” she said. She tapped lightly against his door. Ponyville. I’m in Ponyville. I’m okay. His heart finally began to slow. “Thank you, Derpy,” he said. “That sounds very nice. I’m sorry if I upset you. You are a good pony.” “Okay. Hurry now! Don’t let it get cold!” Derpy’s hooves retreated. Pathfinder inhaled and let it out, shuddering. I stink, of dung and sweat and fear. A shower then. Come on, get up, you worthless clot. The Pony Express station had two tiny stalls for couriers. Each consisted of a floor, a ceiling, four walls and a bunk. One wall was striped with a rainbow. The opposite wall displayed a tiny window and a small notice: “Please leave this room as clean as you found it. Thanks!” Smiley face. Pathfinder thought it was nicest place he’d slept in years. The shower was cold. There was a hot water tap, but he ignored it. Don’t get comfortable, idiot. That’s how they’ll trap you. He shook himself dry. He walked back to the courier stall, braced the door shut with the bunk’s frame, lifted the mattress and took out his blades. He cleaned and oiled them, tested them to verify that they would lock tightly into the slots in his fore shoes. He rotated them with the other blades he concealed in his courier jacket, and stowed the second pair under the mattress. Then he pulled on his jacket, checking the inner pockets for his other hidden weapons and devices. He looked around nervously and drew out his strongbox. The outer and inner telltales were still in place. Inside were weapons, ammo, medpaks, stimpaks, maps, other gear. The little packet of D’s letters. Everything seemed to be where he had left it. He locked his strongbox, reset the telltales and slid it all back under his bunk. Into the dark. Got to do something about that, he thought, looking, in his mind, at the strongbox. Hiding something under the bed. A child’s trick. Stupid. I’ve been in Equestria, this Equestria for five months. I’ve settled in Ponyville for three. I live out of this stall, but it’s not mine. Sooner or later, Mr. Packet or Derpy will start to ask questions, or just get curious. And they might find my stuff. Then they’d know me for what I am. And then I might have to hurt them. I’ve got to get a place of my own. Some place where I can hide my stuff. Where I can sleep in safety. Near my blades. He took a deep breath. For a little while, pretend you aren’t a monster, he thought. He shook himself and forced a smile. Oatmeal sounds good. *** DERPY She loved the early morning hours in the Pony Express office because she was in charge! Important! Not much mail came in, so early in the day, but there was always last night’s mail to sort and think about. Town Hall had its own bag. Red-banded letters (most important!) came through every other day. She was extra careful with them. The Apple Family mailbag had its own place. So many letters and postcards! Worse, so many packages that smelled of apples and cloves and cinnamon and exotic spices! She felt a little guilty, sniffing at the packages, but they all smelled so good! Oh my! The Carousel Boutique must be having a sale or something! Look at all the letters to Miss Rarity! Wow! She is something special! I like her. I wish she would talk to me, sometime, she thought wistfully. Ugh! Big boxes of books. For the Library, of course. That Miss Sparkle, Derpy thought. So smart! She made a note to schedule a delivery by the big teamster ponies. There! Done! All the mail sorted and ready to go! She smiled. Then Mister Pathfinder stalked into the Pony Express ready room. The big blue roan pegasus glanced around, nodding to her. He smiled his strange, sad smile. Mister Pathfinder looked into the pot of oatmeal, drew a bowl out of the overhead cupboard, then scooped out a glop. He sat at the ready room counter, eating slowly, ignoring the sugar and syrup bottles in front of him. “Good morning, Mister Pathfinder,” Derpy said cheerily. “Good morning, Derpy,” Mister Pathfinder said gravely. “And, again, it’s just ‘Pathfinder.’” “Okay, Mister Pathfinder,” she said, giggling. She liked Mister Pathfinder. He was big and a little scary, but he was always polite and kind to her. Once, after a long day when she and Mister Pathfinder had been working to clean and inventory the storerooms, they had sat together, dusty, sweaty, tired and laughing. He had looked at her, smiling wearily, and said, “You are so much like what I imagine your sister was, when she was alive.” And then he had startled, ducked his head as if ashamed and rushed away, and never explained what he meant. (She had talked to Ditzy after that. Ditzy said she didn’t know Mister Pathfinder at all. Strange.) Still, Mister Pathfinder was a good courier. When he was in station, he collected all of the letters to Canterlot and was faster than that old train. (Okay, Derpy liked the train. Wow! Just going along, clickety-clack, clickety-clack! Wasn’t that great? She loved to stick her head out the window and shout, woo-woo! She would ride the train all the way to Cloudsdale if she could!) Mister Pathfinder carried the mail from Las Pegasus to Baltimare without complaint. He had even carried packets as far as the Shetland Islands and the Griffon Lands. And to the Tartarus Gate, which Derpy thought was a super-scary place and was glad to not have to go there. He is brave and strong, she thought. I wonder if he likes honey and butter? She nudged the plate of honeycomb and the plate of butter towards Mister Pathfinder. He shrank away. She nudged a bit more. He withdrew some more. She nudged a bit more. “I’m going to make you enjoy breakfast,” she declared impishly. “Like it or not.” Mister Pathfinder finally ducked his head and grinned. “All right, all right,” he said amiably. He added a pat of butter and a small dollop of honey to his oatmeal. He tasted the result. “S’good,” he admitted. “Yay!” she beamed. Derpy helped herself to a big bowl of oatmeal, raisins, pine nuts and maple syrup. Mister Pathfinder finished his bowl, licking it clean. He stood, walked over to the little basin, washed the bowl and put in back in the cupboard. “There’s more,” Derpy said. “Best leave it. Perhaps some other pony will want some,” said Mister Pathfinder. “Then we can make more,” she said reasonably. “There’s always more.” Mister Pathfinder stood silently, his tail to her. “Not always. Not for everypony,” he said, at last. “If I get hungry, I’ll crop the grass. I’ll go get my bag. Thank you for breakfast, Derpy. You are a good pony.” As she munched her breakfast, she watched Mister Pathfinder examining the sorted mail. He collected the Canterlot post, of course; he knew Canterlot was important. He looked over the rest, then stopped. “The Everfree?” he asked, looking up, displaying a small bag. “The Wild Lands?” She nodded. “We have friends in the Everfree Forest. Miss Zecora lives there. Oh, she is so nice. And that funny Mister Magnet lives there, too. He and Rarity are pen pals. “But, Mister Pathfinder, it’s a long way from Canterlot to the Forest. Don’t worry about it; I’ll take it.” “NO!” The big blue roan stormed at her, angrily. “No! You are not to enter the Wild Lands! Ever! Do you hear me? I will take this!” She shrank down as Mister Pathfinder stood over her. Eeep! she thought. Then his gaze softened. “Derpy… I’m sorry but, please, never place yourself in danger. You are a good pony. And there are things I can do that a good pony can’t.” Mister Pathfinder collected his bags and left without a further word or backward glance. But, Mister Pathfinder, she insisted silently, you are a good pony. *** NAMELESS The first time he had crossed over had been a miracle. He was originally from Hailcrest, this little village up north, near the waste of the old Crystal Empire before its return. He and his Pa and Ma had worked collecting rain seeds and snow crystals for Cloudsdale. It was hard work, but they got by okay. Both his Pa and Ma were Earth Ponies. He was a pegasus. As a colt, he couldn’t understand why Pa was so cold to him or why Ma looked at him with shame. I’ll do better, you’ll see! he promised them. You’ll be proud of me. Maybe, you’ll like me. But nothing he did was ever enough. He had always had this knack for direction. He never got lost and, better, if he thought for awhile, he’d get these nudges that said, Go there, that way!, even when he didn’t know where he was going or why. He asked Pa about it once, but Pa had smacked him hard for it. “Don’t get above yourself, boy!” So he didn’t ask again. Ma, she had told him not to make Pa angry, so he had done his best to be a good colt, work hard and be quiet. One day, in summer, he wished to go some place fun. He knew it was wrong of him to wish that; Ma and Pa relied on him so much, particularly after Pa’s back started to pain him. But still, he had thought, it would be nice to find some place beyond work, someplace fun, just for a day. Hey, this way! This way! his nudges called, irresistibly. And that summer morning he abandoned the fields of cloud and mountain fog to follow something he didn’t understand. He flew south, south, south, further from home than he had imagined he could go. He knew that Pa would beat him when he got home and that Ma would be disappointed in him again, but he still felt that there was something important, something urgent, right there beyond the horizon, if he could only reach it in time. Then, there, on the far horizon: Canterlot. The castle pennants flowed in the breeze. The walls glowed in the light of late afternoon. His heart soared. But Canterlot was not his destiny. In the dusk, between the moment that Celestia’s Sun fell and Her Moon arose, the first gateway opened for him. Here! Here! Now now now! exclaimed his nudges. A pane of light, pink, purple and white, appeared in the gathering dark. He flew towards its warm light. Here! Now! He put his head down and, trusting, flew into the gateway and was lost to the world for many years. *** He sat quietly, terrified of her judgement. Kimono’s teahouse was in a tiny glade near a small pond. Frogs beeped, dragonflies buzzed. The afternoon Sun glanced down at them. An ancient plum tree shaded them. The teahouse was immaculate, as if prepared just for him. Kimono entered, smiled and bowed. Kimono moved through the tea ceremony like a dancer, grace in every motion. The ladle is here, then here. The water, the fire, the pot, the tea, the whisk, the cup, just so. She scarcely seemed to touch them, but they all obeyed her will. The two of them sat, enclosed, in the tiny teahouse, where he could not retreat from her gaze. When she had, at last, offered him a small, clay cup of green liquid, he had accepted it gently, as if it cradled his soul. He sipped his tea. As did she. Then, she spoke. “Little Pathfinder, welcome,” she said, smiling. “‘Pathfinder’ I name you, for you have found your way to my house. “I see that you are unlike my sisters and brothers, for you have wings. Astonishing! Not the wings of our dear cousins, the Breezies, but the wings of the mighty eagles, falcons and griffons that adorn our mountains.” Kimono regarded him carefully. “You are not of this world,” she said, at last. He hung his head. “No. No, I’m not. It was not my intention upset anypony….” Kimono laughed heartily. “But, of course, you have upset everypony! Even as we sit here, Pinkie Pie and Minty scheme to lure you into their contest of Pink and Green! Razzaroo and Sparkleworks are in deep discussion about how best to welcome you! Why, even level-headed Wysteria and Rainbow Dash are excited by your appearance and the implications for Equestria.” Kimono smiled. “Do not be embarrassed. You bring challenge and joy to Ponyville, and for that, we are all grateful.” Pathfinder (I am Pathfinder! he thought eagerly) blushed. “If I can help anypony….” Kimono set aside her cup and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was fierce. Looking into her eyes was like facing a terrible headwind and he could only cower before it. “The book of the world is large,” Kimono said. “This world, this Equestria, is but one leaf of the Great Book of Harmony. I have thought on this. It humbles me, but it provides me with strength and wisdom. “Know this, my Pathfinder: the pages of the Great Book are broad, but they are thin. Some few ponies have the knack of finding the thin places and can travel from world to world. You could not imagine their adventures or the joy they have brought here! Oh, if only you could meet Wind Whistler! She could guide you better than I! “I have the gift and curse of foresight. I can see a little ways down the trail you must trod. Steel yourself: your road is hard beyond my understanding. But, also, have faith: I think you will also know joy and peace, if only you can persevere.” Kimono was then interrupted. Three tiny ponies, each no larger than Pathfinder’s hoof, suddenly burst into Kimono’s teahouse and danced around Pathfinder's head. “See! Here he is!” exclaimed Honey Dew. “Told you! Isn’t he handsome?” “Wings! Big Wings! Ha ha ha! Can you fly?” asked Blue Belle excitedly, flipping upside-down. “Of course he can!” declared Whoopsie Daisy, brushing up against Pathfinder’s cheek. “Brother! Big Brother! Hay! Do you want to go on an adventure with us? Honey Dew thinks she can find the best strawberries in the land! Do you want to come with us and see? Please?” Pathfinder gathered the three tiny ponies out of the air, entranced by the Breezies’ eager friendship. Kimono chuckled. “Perhaps this is best. Go with them, my Pathfinder, then return to me with your story. “Know this: you will have a place here, until you desire to depart. And before you go, I will have one last lesson to give you. In the meantime: learn about life!” Pathfinder 2PATHFINDER The Canterlot leg was easy. He had flown north-east across Saddle Lake to the thermals that roiled the Cloudy Peaks. Up, up, up and then down towards the city. On approach, he saluted the guards that hovered about Canterlot. They nodded back. By now, they knew him. Or thought they did. The Canterlot Pony Express office offered a broad landing area. He touched down and almost at once a messenger appeared to collect the red-banded letters and carry them on. He had no reason to remain in Canterlot, but he lingered. He stamped the solid stone floor and walked a little way into the city, looking around. It’s here. Alive. It’s real. She’s real, he told himself. He had only seen Princess Celestia once, from a distance. He had been standing in the Pony Express service area, looking down. She had been deep in conversation with her ministers, trotting to her next appointment. And there had been this one instant when she seemed to glance up, looking directly into his eyes and soul, had smiled at him encouragingly, and moved on. I am yours forever, he had thought then, watching her recede. Perhaps this moment was all in his mind. Who am I, that you are mindful of me? Still, he hugged that one instant to him, as a miser hoards the tiniest coin. Having delivered the Canterlot pouch, he checked himself. The blades and poisons in which he clothed himself were intact. He withdrew from the city. I have no place here. Pathfinder beat his wings. His hooves departed Canterlot and he turned himself towards the Wild Lands. *** “Steven Magnet” was a small name for someone so vast. And yet the enormous serpent seemed to relish it. “Call me Steve,” he assured everypony that talked to him. Pathfinder stood to one side while “Steve” settled a dispute between a manticore and a turtle. “It is entirely understandable that you, Mrs. Poison Tail, would want to devour Mrs. Mudwallow. She is, I’m sure, quite delicious and delectable,” said Steve. Mrs. Mudwallow blushed. “Still,” continued Steve, reasonably, “there is her clutch to consider. One hundred fourteen eggs! Most commendable!” Mrs. Mudwallow nodded. “Aye, t’was a lot of work. Faith! Ye canna know! But t’was worth it, every one.” “I acknowledge your effort, Madam,” said Mrs. Poison Tail gravely. “I bow before your fecundity. And yet, now that your effort is complete, I desire your flesh. For myself and for my young.” Mrs. Mudwallow cried. “Can I not see my wee bairns before I go? My last clutch! Please, good mother!” “But it will be weeks before your children hatch!” exclaimed Mrs. Poison Tail. “And my children are hungry now!” Pathfinder circled quietly around to the manticore’s rear. He set down his messenger bags, reached into his coat and drew out his blades, silently stamping them onto his fore hooves. He knew manticores. He knew their rages, their hungers. He knew the soft places above the shoulder, under the mane. In the belly, below the ribs. This is it, then, he thought sadly, after I do this, after I kill her, my life here is over. But I can’t stop myself. Then the river dragon rose up. “Allow me to suggest this: Mrs. Mudwallow’s clutch, firmly implanted on my shore, shall be allowed to hatch and walk to the water. I think we can all agree that the preservation of life is our greatest concern.” The dragon glanced briefly in Pathfinder’s direction. “And after that blessed day,” Steve continued, “Mrs. Mudwallow will give herself, freely, to the manticores or other predators, without appeal to me. If, of course, they can catch her.” “And in the meantime? Now?” growled Mrs. Poison Tail. “What of my hungry young?” The river dragon pondered. “Have you ever considered a vegan diet? You know, lentils and beans? Not forever, but just until Mrs. Mudwallow is ready? A variety of wholesome foods would benefit you and your offspring, I think.” “BEANS? YOU OFFER ME BEANS?” shouted the manticore. “Beans give me gas. Have you ever been in a lair fed with beans? Ah, the stench! Celestia, preserve me!” Mrs. Poison Tail hunched and raked her claws across the turf. “Still,” she admitted reluctantly, “I can understand her point.” Steve raised an eyebrow, hopefully. Pathfinder backed off. “All right then,” sighed Mrs. Poison Tail. “In consideration for the future, we will avoid Mrs. Mudwallow and her brood. I would not deprive her of the sight of her last clutch achieving the water. I am a manticore, but I am not deliberately cruel. “And there will be more of them to eat later, in any case. “In the meantime, ‘lentils and beans’? Any help you could offer in this area would be appreciated.” Steve and Mrs. Poison Tail huddled together, exchanging recipes. Mrs. Mudwallow waddled away, happy, with the assurance that her children would be safe for at least a little while. Pathfinder silently put his blades away, his face burning with relief and shame. At last, the disgruntled manticore departed, muttering about “wind.” Steve noticed Pathfinder and waved him forward. “What now, my little pony?” Steve asked, reclining against the river shore. “Letters, sir,” said Pathfinder. He drew the packet from his messenger bags and offered them to the great serpent. “Ooooh! Winter fashions!” exclaimed the river dragon. “Ah! Miss Rarity! You are the best ever! Look at the colors! So-oo fabulous!” Steve eagerly accepted his parcels, cooing over their contents. After a moment, the river dragon looked up at Pathfinder. The serpent’s gaze narrowed and something ancient and terrible burned there. I have eaten your kind, the dragon’s eyes said. I know the taste of you. I know what is inside you, for I have relished it. A spike of fear struck Pathfinder: he knows me for what I am! “Thank you for sympathizing with Mrs. Mudwallow’s situation,” the serpent said quietly, at last. “And for your restraint with Mrs. Poison Tail. “Life in the Everfree is painful, sometimes. At times, one’s life is only purchased through another’s loss. We all have our hostages to fortune. Even the apple trees must sigh when their fruit is harvested. None of us escape survivor’s guilt. “At the end of our lives, sometimes the best we can say is that we hurt no one more than was necessary. C’est la vie. “So, whatever you may think, you are not a bad pony, Mister…?” “Pathfinder, sir.” “Mister Pathfinder,” said Steve. “I am the River. And, as they say, you can never step into the same river twice. Perhaps you should consider this: you will never be the pony today that you were yesterday. Always ask yourself: who am I today?” Steve returned to his catalogs, excited. Pathfinder nodded and flew on, to the zebra. *** Pathfinder fought to choke down his hatred of zebras. Before, in the last Equestria he had found, the zebras had poisoned the world. They had poisoned him, to the point where he knew he was beyond redemption. If you all had but one throat, I’d hack it through, he thought miserably. I know, in my head, that you are different. Derpy says you are wise and kind and I believe her. But my heart remembers the cages your folk stood over. The whips. The ropes. The surgical instruments. The calculated degradation. The combat arena. The terrible things you made me do to others, just to exist another day. He checked his hidden weapons and felt ashamed. You are Derpy’s friend and I value her judgement. But I will kill you if you give me the slightest reason. He touched down and looked about. Here, the Forest seemed strangely soft and kind. Green water lapped nearby. Fish splashed. Great trumpets of blue flowers bloomed. The trees swayed with woven vines. Birds sang and frogs croaked accompaniment. Pathfinder smiled. He heard a sharp buzz of wings nearby and glanced up hopefully. But it was only a dragonfly, gunmetal blue, hovering over him before darting away. If there are Breezies in this Equestria, he thought, they would enjoy it here, fluttering and laughing. For a moment, Pathfinder felt himself relax. Little Wings! Oh, my dear little sisters, after all that I have seen and done, I still remember you. He listened carefully, but did not hear their sweet voices. Ah, well. I’d give the rest of my life to spend just another day with the Little Wings, he thought. The dearest friends of my childhood. But that was years ago, in another world. And he was here, now, with business to do. Perhaps that’s what Steve meant: I must forget my family and friends and move on. Ah, well. Pathfinder examined Zecora’s hut. Her home is like Twilight Sparkle’s library, he thought. A Great Tree. Living, growing, adapting, roots sunk deep into the dark earth. She must be clever, like Twilight Sparkle, he told himself. Best be on my guard. He checked his weapons again, then knocked on her door. “Wimoweh?” came a deep voice from within. A clump of hooves. “A visitor, I hear. Someone new! What is it I can do for you?” asked Zecora, as she opened the door. A zebra face emerged from the inner darkness. Pathfinder’s heart thundered in his chest and against his will he shrank away. No! he told himself, gritting his teeth. This is Derpy’s friend. Derpy says she is good. So I will be good to Derpy’s friend. Pathfinder stood stiffly in the doorway. “L- letters,” he stuttered. “There are letters for you, ma’am.” He fumbled the mail out of his bag, dropped it, picked it up. Held it out. The zebra collected the letters. Pathfinder tried to avoid her touch. “Twilight Sparkle, I recognize. Rainbow Dash, a surprise! Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy and Spike! Oh, here is everything I like!” The zebra smiled at him, piercing blue eyes and sharp white teeth bright and fierce. I remember this face! he thought, rearing. “Ha ha! Oh, but see,” the zebra said. “I forget common courtesy. Come, my newest friend, please let me invite you in.” The zebra stepped forward and Pathfinder fell back. There was a scent on her. Familiar. Then he recognized it: tea. A specific fragrant tea, the one the zebras would enjoy while they watched what was done to him. She’s the same! he thought, panicked. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Out! Must get out of here! Now! Pathfinder kicked her. The zebra was fast, but she was caught by surprise and fell and then he was on top of her, raging, terrified. There! Her throat! No time for blades! Kill her! Crush her throat! Stamp her to death! WHO AM I TODAY? Her blue eyes. Her brilliant blue eyes. Afraid. Like that moment when little Blue Belle had held up her poorly-wrapped gift for Honey Dew and begged him, “Help me, please, Big Brother.” Then Pathfinder fell back from the zebra’s terrible blue eyes and the truth that shone within them, at last, clear and undeniable. TODAY I AM A MONSTER. Reason came back to him and shame followed. He fell back, stumbling at the doorway, ducking his head. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. You are Derpy’s friend and I’ve just, I’m just… sorry. Sorry.” Pathfinder fled. And he knew the unblinking, brilliant blue eyes of truth were upon him. And, as fast as he could fly, he could not escape their judgement. Monster. Kimono's Last LessonDERPY Derpy was managing the Pony Express office when Mister Pathfinder returned. She realized at once that he was in a terrible mood. He stormed past her without a word, into the back area of the courier stalls. She followed him, worried that he was so upset. What had happened? “Mister Pathfinder?” she asked. “Sir…?” “Go away, Derpy,” Mister Pathfinder said. He had pulled out his big bags and his strongbox. He threw his few belongings into a heap. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m leaving Ponyville. Going away for good,” he replied angrily. “But where? Why? What happened?” she pleaded. “I’m going to the Badlands,” he said roughly. “I need to go away. To be alone. Where I can’t hurt anypony again.” “But, Mister Pathfinder,” implored Derpy, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, why? What happened?” Mister Pathfinder paused. His wings fell, scraping the floor. “I attacked Zecora. Kicked her,” Mister Pathfinder said, not looking back. “I’m sorry. But that’s what I did. If you see her, tell her I apologize.” “Did you hurt her?” asked Derpy, shocked. “She fell. She’s probably bruised. But she’s fine I think. Still, you should visit her, to be sure.” “I know!” insisted Derpy. “Let’s both go visit her! I’ll see that she’s okay and you can say you’re sorry.” Mister Pathfinder sagged. “What I did was unforgivable. She is your friend and I knew that. But I hurt her anyway. I can’t control myself. All I do is hurt other ponies. That’s all I’ve done, all my life. So it’s time I go away, before I hurt anypony else.” “But, Mister Pathfinder, why? Why?” begged Derpy. For a moment, Mister Pathfinder didn’t answer. Then he drew himself up, shaking with rage. Or terror. “Because this is what I am!” Mister Pathfinder shouted. He threw the mattress off his bunk. Metal objects fell to the floor. He stamped on them. His fore hooves suddenly bore claws like a griffon. He tore open his strongbox, threw out other objects and stamped them with his rear hooves. Wicked sharp spurs clicked against the floor. “THIS IS ME! I’M WORSE THAN ANY MANTICORE! ANY DRAGON! ANY COCKATRICE!” he cried, standing before her. “I AM A MONSTER! I COVER MYSELF WITH METAL AND POISON AND I THINK ABOUT KILLING ALL THE TIME! “Monster. A monster.” Mister Pathfinder sagged against the floor. “Murderer,” he hissed softly. “I am a murderer. And I have no place among decent ponies.” He slumped and fell silent. *** “Tell me,” said Derpy. “No,” he said. “I don’t like to think about it.” “Tell me,” insisted Derpy. “Tell me anyway.” She sat before him, expectantly. Encouraging. “Tell me. You know I’ll wait until you do. Tell me.” Mister Pathfinder bowed his head. “I won’t swear you to secrecy,” he began, “because if you tell anypony this, they’ll think you mad. “Understand this first: there is more than one Equestria.” Surprisingly, Derpy nodded, as if this was something she already knew. “I abandoned my Pa and Ma,” said Pathfinder. “I just flew away one day and never saw them again. I just flew away and found this… gateway to another world. A better world. A place where I thought I belonged.” His voice hitched. “I found friends there.” Pathfinder smiled his strange, sad smile. “I know this will sound ridiculous, but three of the little Breezies, these tiny flying ponies, Blue Belle, Honey Dew and Whoopsie Daisy, were the best friends I ever had. They liked me because I could fly like them. They called me ‘Big Brother’ and came to me with their problems. They invited me on their ‘adventures,’ which mainly involved collecting flowers or berries and leaving unexpected gifts for the Ponyville folk. “But eventually I became restless. I guess I outgrew them. I began to explore the lands around that Ponyville. Discovered their Unicornia and the Rainbow Princess, more or less by accident. I was looking for something, I don’t know what, maybe just other featherbacks like myself. “I wasn’t looking for what I found. The second gateway. I dove into it, confident, thinking I would find another wondrous world. But now I wish I had died before I discovered it.” “Never wish for death, Pathfinder,” said Derpy. “Oh, you don’t know. Praise Celestia, you will never know,” said Pathfinder. Pathfinder then spoke of things Derpy could not understand. Cages. Whips. Scalpels. Injections. Chains. Slavery. The helpless violation of one’s body. Learning to fight. Learning to murder. Blades and poisons and every awful thing. Despair and hopelessness that drove Pathfinder to do terrible things to other ponies. “I escaped from the zebras, at last, thanks to a general uprising, sparked by this one little pony that was strong enough to fight her way to freedom. I never learned her name. I’m sorry for that, for I honor her. “I fled into the badlands. And there I met Ditz— my good friend, D. Her skywagon had broken down in the badlands and she was surrounded by raiders. I still had my blades and my poisons from the zebras’ combat arena, so it was easy for me to kill them all. “I was proud of my ability to murder, then. In that Equestria, murder was a useful talent. “D. was very grateful for her rescue. She offered me a job, as her guard. I had no skills, other than direction and murder, so I was thankful to her. She paid me in food and shelter. D., herself, didn’t require food, you see, because she was, I’m sorry, not quite alive.” “I don’t understand,” said Derpy, enthralled. “Neither do I, really,” said Pathfinder. “Something awful had happened to her, long ago. Almost a thousand years, she once told me. Well, 'told.' She couldn't actually speak. She usually wrote on a slate. Her letters, though, were erudite and thoughtful. Her experience had left her… I'm sorry, broken and twisted. But her heart was so strong! She was kind to me! Kind! In that terrible world!” Pathfinder looked down. “She was kind to me, so I was proud to kill to protect her.” He cradled a packet of letters between his hooves. “This is all I have left of her. My one good friend in that terrible place. Perhaps I should go back. Maybe that’s where I belong now.” “No,” said Derpy. “I hardly sleep anymore,” continued Pathfinder. “I am so tired. I keep waking up and reaching for my blades.” “No!” declared Derpy Hooves. “Just be quiet! Be still! It's approaching dark now. Sleep. I will stand over you and protect you.” “But—!” Pathfinder said. “Shut up!” said Derpy. “Oh, you are so difficult sometimes. Just lie down now, there’s a good boy.” And, for the first time in years, Pathfinder slept, while his faithful guardian stood over him. *** Mister, no, her friend Pathfinder had finally fallen asleep. Hours until daylight. She sat beside him, listening to him breathing. My family knows where I am, she thought. I left a message for Ditzy, so everypony knows I’m okay. She sat in the dark, looking out the tiny window. So many stars, she marveled. I never feel afraid at night. How can I be afraid or lost? I look up and the stars tell me where I am. They point me to home and family. Even in the darkest night, when the land is black or the Sky disturbed, I can fly, up, up, up to the clear air and be embraced by the Night. And the Night will always guide me home. Princess Luna is best pony, she smiled to herself. I guess she knows that everypony loves her. After awhile, she heard the faint noise of another courier in the Pony Express station. She listened and heard the familiar stamp of Mister Packet’s hooves, the jingle of his many keys, his tired sigh of responsibility. Mister Packet managed the Pony Express station; in her opinion, he worked too long and worried too much. He’s a good pony. She heard him clumping around the station. Inevitably, he checked the courier stalls. She didn’t think he’d come in; Mister Packet respected his messengers. At the sound, Pathfinder stirred uneasily in his sleep. She touched his back gently. It’s okay, she thought. It’s only friends. Pathfinder stilled. Mister Packet left, perhaps a little more quietly, in consideration. She heard the jingling of his keys again, fading. And again, the night was still. I will stay awake and alert all night, to guard my friend, she thought. To prove my faith. To give him faith. She touched Pathfinder’s back. She felt his strong heart beating, the slow expansion and contraction of his chest. She smiled. And, perhaps, after awhile, despite her intentions, she nodded. Shadows gathered at the foot of Pathfinder’s bunk. The shadows slowly gained shape and presence, into a dark cloaked figure. Derpy started. The dark figure held up a square black slate. On it, glowing in the moonlight, were the words: DO NOT BE AFRAID Derpy stood, spreading her wings to cover Pathfinder. “I am Derpy Hooves. I am strong and I am not afraid.” The stranger in shadow struggled forward, hesitantly. Golden eyes glowed in the cloaked and cowled face of the awkward, humped shape. It carefully scratched a note onto its black slate. Now the words read: I REMEMBER YOU FROM WHEN I WAS ALIVE Derpy felt a chill. That’s like what Pathfinder said! “What do you mean? When you were alive? You are alive now!” The stranger’s cowl drooped. It slowly wrote on its slate: NOT ALIVE WHAT WAS LEFT WHEN SOUL MOVED ON A FADING MEMORY “I know! You were his friend!” Derpy cried. “His friend when he had no friends! The quiet one! Oh, he loved you, even when he hated himself! Sister!” The shadow retreated, as if from a blow. It lifted the slate and wrote: KINDNESS GENEROSITY LAUGHTER HONESTY LOYALTY MAGIC The shadow held out the slate, gesturing at Pathfinder. “Was that what you gave him, sister?” asked Derpy. The shadow shook, gesturing from Pathfinder to itself. Finally, it wrote: HE GAVE ME WHAT HE DENIED HIMSELF The shadow fell back further into the darkness, one golden eye glowing, fading to brown. It wrote: JUST WANT TO KNOW HE IS OK I AM FAILING AT LAST WANT TO LET GO LET HIM FORGET ME LET HIM REMEMBER HIMSELF SO DARK HERE LOVE HIM LOVE YOU SISTER The shadow folded upon itself and sank into dream. Derpy started. She looked about. The sad shadow was gone, if it had ever been there. But Pathfinder was there, sleeping at her side. She swept her wings over him and held him close until the morning light. *** KIMONO’S LAST LESSON Pathfinder was determined to go away forever. Derpy was determined to stop him. They sat together quietly on a slab of rock, as Celestia’s light faded from Ghastly Gorge. “You know,” said Derpy, “the quarray eels are actually very shy. If you fly near their tunnels, they’ll snap at you, but let you go. In spring, they come out of their tunnels and dance in the moonlight: it’s a wonderful thing to see, I think.” “Hmmf,” replied Pathfinder. In his last world, the bats had killed and eaten the rock eels. To see one alive would be a treat. But as the light faded, Pathfinder looked not at the gorge, but into the sky. In the moment when Celestia’s Sun set and the moment before Luna’s Moon rose, he stood and pointed. “There!” Derpy squinted. Above the gorge, there was this tiny space where the light was wrong. It was… greasy. A green-and-yellow smear that spread like a stain. The gateway. “Pathfinder,” Derpy said. “I don’t like it. Please, don’t go. Stay. Please.” “I’ll only hurt you, if I stay,” he said. “You’ll only hurt me if you leave,” she replied. “I can’t control myself,” said Pathfinder. “I’m a danger to you and everypony. It’s best that I go.” “You are not a zombie pony!” shouted Derpy. “Oh, you make me so mad, sometimes! Stop giving in to hopelessness! In your world, my sister loved you, even though she had been dead for a thousand years! Imagine that! Are you going to betray her now? Betray her memory?” “I have betrayed everypony,” said Pathfinder miserably. “My folks, who depended on me. The Breezies, who were always so kind. Your sister, who I left behind. Princess Celestia, to whom I owe my soul. Ponyville. Your friend, Zecora. You.” “Then stop! Just stop!” sobbed Derpy. “I like you so much, Pathfinder. Please, I beg you, just stop!” “Just stop, my Pathfinder,” Kimono had said. “My Lady?” he had asked, as he sat before her in her teahouse for the last time. “This is my last lesson to you, my Pathfinder,” Kimono had said. “I know you are anxious to go, to find distant fields beyond my reckoning. You have traveled your entire life, finding your path, looking for your proper place. It is not here. And it is not in… the next land you will encounter. “Have hope in a land beyond that, my Pathfinder,” Kimono had said. She had smiled at him then. “You have brought joy to my little ponies and this is no small gift. The little Breezies adore you. “Have faith in their love, despite the hard trail you follow. Release your self-judgement. Have faith in your friends and in their perception of you. You will come at last to the end of your journey. And then, I beg you, have the wisdom to stop.” All right, then, Pathfinder thought. For Kimono. For the Breezies. For D. and Derpy. I will try one last time to be good. The gateway twisted and shut. Purple twilight came to the gorge. The quarray eels nosed out of their tunnels and sang their strange songs to the fall of the Sun and welcomed the rise of the Moon. “Yay!” whispered Derpy, leaning against him. “There is always tomorrow. And the next day,” Pathfinder cautioned. “And you will be here tomorrow. And the next day,” Derpy promised. “For today, come home and have dinner with my family, Pathfinder.” They could have flown. But they chose to walk, side by side, until the warm lights of Ponyville rose before them. *** RAINBOW DASH A few months earlier: “All right! Let’s do this!” Rainbow Dash revved her wings. She stood over Ghastly Gorge and looked south. Clear, dry air. Air that, in her opinion, needed a little excitement. She licked her lips. Oh, yeah. Right then. Twilight was there with her ridiculous anemomertebabble, whatever that was. Applejack held the start flag. Off in the distance, Fluttershy held the finish flag. Rarity was modeling the team jacket while Pinkie mixed the victory punch. AJ dropped the flag and Rainbow was off. Up, up, up, into the brilliant blue arch of the sky. As Rainbow soared, the sky purpled. The boldest stars, at this altitude visible even during the day, appeared. One day, she vowed, I won’t stop. I’ll just fly up and up until I touch the stars. But not today, she grinned. Not when Pinkie is making her famous Pinkie Punch. Rainbow at last surrendered to gravity. She fell, accelerating, a bullet-shape that whispered through the atmosphere. Hurtling back to the green Earth, there was a tiny moment of doubt. The world is so big and I am so small! What if I auger in? But Rainbow grinned and threw her doubt aside. Okay, here it comes! Let’s do this! Push, girl! Hit the edge of the envelope and punch through! The sky exploded. Sonic Rainboom! There was this moment of serenity when she broke the “boom barrier.” Rainbow looked down and saw her friends dancing and clapping at her success. But for Rainbow, this moment wasn’t about them. It was about herself and her sense that, in this instant, she had reached up and touched another world. Then Rainbow Dash soared down, slapped hooves with Fluttershy and settled in for a round of congratulations and Pinkie Punch. And, in the air above her, Rainbow Dash left a small, thin place, where her Sonic Rainboom had strained the fabric of the world. Rainbow, of course, was unaware of it. But in another world, there was a pegasus that suddenly looked up, took flight, and scrambled desperately towards salvation.
Pathfinder 1PATHFINDER This way! This way! This way! Now now now! shouted the incessant nudges in his head as he flew across the badlands. He followed their direction fearfully, hugging the nap of the earth, trying not to fly too high, which would attract attention, or too low, which would invite attacks from the ground. Please don’t be a lie, he thought, desperately. Tears blurred his vision, but he flew on, heart and lungs and wings aching, just for the chance of escape. I know I’m a bad pony. I know I don’t deserve this chance. I’ll be good, I promise, I swear, if only I can go back, even for a day. I will give my life for one good day among friends. Celestia! Good goddess! Please! I am yours forever, for this one boon! He saw where he was headed. Ghastly Gorge. Of course. He hoofed tears and sweat from his eyes and plunged on. This way! This way! Now! And then he saw it. Despite his fatigue, despite his fear and longing and shame, he looked down and saw the gateway, a glowing form, a smear of light in the fierce shadow of the Gorge. He felt awe. Another world! There, right there! If only I can get there before it disappears! And before the bats kill me. Once upon a time, he had heard, there were giants that occupied Ghastly Gorge, mighty worms of the earth that had carved their burrows out of the living rock and lived their strange lives in vast caverns and halls under the skin of the land. Surely, they had lived, loved and cared for their young, in their fashion. The bats had devoured them all. The bats were mad things, driven not by hunger or rage or any comprehensible instinct. They flew in great clouds, driven by an insane need to rend and tear and kill. And the deep caverns of Ghastly Gorge were now their homeland. So it was not surprising, as he bulleted heedlessly towards the glimmering light, that the caves exploded in darkness. If I don’t make it, he thought, let them take me. I won’t live one minute longer in this sad world. He couldn’t see any more. His eyes were clouded with tears. The light was so far. The swarm of bats hurtled towards him, swelling the darkness as they came. He dove and reached out. Let me just touch it. Just touch a better world, for an instant. So near. And then the bats were upon him, on his legs, his back, leather wings gripping, smothering…. *** He awoke with a start, terrified. “Get off me!” he shouted, throwing the suffocating blanket to the floor. He stamped on his blades and spun about, searching the shadows for threats, panting with fear, heart racing. Okay. I’m okay. I can handle this. I can take them. Calm down. Focus. There was a knock. His head came up. He tensed to flee. Or fight. “Mister Pathfinder?” asked Derpy Hooves, quietly. “Are you okay?” Derpy. It’s Derpy. Don’t hurt her. Calm down. “Yes. I’m okay, thank you, Derpy,” he said with deliberate calm, slowly stepping out of his blades. “There’s oatmeal, if you want some,” she said. She tapped lightly against his door. Ponyville. I’m in Ponyville. I’m okay. His heart finally began to slow. “Thank you, Derpy,” he said. “That sounds very nice. I’m sorry if I upset you. You are a good pony.” “Okay. Hurry now! Don’t let it get cold!” Derpy’s hooves retreated. Pathfinder inhaled and let it out, shuddering. I stink, of dung and sweat and fear. A shower then. Come on, get up, you worthless clot. The Pony Express station had two tiny stalls for couriers. Each consisted of a floor, a ceiling, four walls and a bunk. One wall was striped with a rainbow. The opposite wall displayed a tiny window and a small notice: “Please leave this room as clean as you found it. Thanks!” Smiley face. Pathfinder thought it was nicest place he’d slept in years. The shower was cold. There was a hot water tap, but he ignored it. Don’t get comfortable, idiot. That’s how they’ll trap you. He shook himself dry. He walked back to the courier stall, braced the door shut with the bunk’s frame, lifted the mattress and took out his blades. He cleaned and oiled them, tested them to verify that they would lock tightly into the slots in his fore shoes. He rotated them with the other blades he concealed in his courier jacket, and stowed the second pair under the mattress. Then he pulled on his jacket, checking the inner pockets for his other hidden weapons and devices. He looked around nervously and drew out his strongbox. The outer and inner telltales were still in place. Inside were weapons, ammo, medpaks, stimpaks, maps, other gear. The little packet of D’s letters. Everything seemed to be where he had left it. He locked his strongbox, reset the telltales and slid it all back under his bunk. Into the dark. Got to do something about that, he thought, looking, in his mind, at the strongbox. Hiding something under the bed. A child’s trick. Stupid. I’ve been in Equestria, this Equestria for five months. I’ve settled in Ponyville for three. I live out of this stall, but it’s not mine. Sooner or later, Mr. Packet or Derpy will start to ask questions, or just get curious. And they might find my stuff. Then they’d know me for what I am. And then I might have to hurt them. I’ve got to get a place of my own. Some place where I can hide my stuff. Where I can sleep in safety. Near my blades. He took a deep breath. For a little while, pretend you aren’t a monster, he thought. He shook himself and forced a smile. Oatmeal sounds good. *** DERPY She loved the early morning hours in the Pony Express office because she was in charge! Important! Not much mail came in, so early in the day, but there was always last night’s mail to sort and think about. Town Hall had its own bag. Red-banded letters (most important!) came through every other day. She was extra careful with them. The Apple Family mailbag had its own place. So many letters and postcards! Worse, so many packages that smelled of apples and cloves and cinnamon and exotic spices! She felt a little guilty, sniffing at the packages, but they all smelled so good! Oh my! The Carousel Boutique must be having a sale or something! Look at all the letters to Miss Rarity! Wow! She is something special! I like her. I wish she would talk to me, sometime, she thought wistfully. Ugh! Big boxes of books. For the Library, of course. That Miss Sparkle, Derpy thought. So smart! She made a note to schedule a delivery by the big teamster ponies. There! Done! All the mail sorted and ready to go! She smiled. Then Mister Pathfinder stalked into the Pony Express ready room. The big blue roan pegasus glanced around, nodding to her. He smiled his strange, sad smile. Mister Pathfinder looked into the pot of oatmeal, drew a bowl out of the overhead cupboard, then scooped out a glop. He sat at the ready room counter, eating slowly, ignoring the sugar and syrup bottles in front of him. “Good morning, Mister Pathfinder,” Derpy said cheerily. “Good morning, Derpy,” Mister Pathfinder said gravely. “And, again, it’s just ‘Pathfinder.’” “Okay, Mister Pathfinder,” she said, giggling. She liked Mister Pathfinder. He was big and a little scary, but he was always polite and kind to her. Once, after a long day when she and Mister Pathfinder had been working to clean and inventory the storerooms, they had sat together, dusty, sweaty, tired and laughing. He had looked at her, smiling wearily, and said, “You are so much like what I imagine your sister was, when she was alive.” And then he had startled, ducked his head as if ashamed and rushed away, and never explained what he meant. (She had talked to Ditzy after that. Ditzy said she didn’t know Mister Pathfinder at all. Strange.) Still, Mister Pathfinder was a good courier. When he was in station, he collected all of the letters to Canterlot and was faster than that old train. (Okay, Derpy liked the train. Wow! Just going along, clickety-clack, clickety-clack! Wasn’t that great? She loved to stick her head out the window and shout, woo-woo! She would ride the train all the way to Cloudsdale if she could!) Mister Pathfinder carried the mail from Las Pegasus to Baltimare without complaint. He had even carried packets as far as the Shetland Islands and the Griffon Lands. And to the Tartarus Gate, which Derpy thought was a super-scary place and was glad to not have to go there. He is brave and strong, she thought. I wonder if he likes honey and butter? She nudged the plate of honeycomb and the plate of butter towards Mister Pathfinder. He shrank away. She nudged a bit more. He withdrew some more. She nudged a bit more. “I’m going to make you enjoy breakfast,” she declared impishly. “Like it or not.” Mister Pathfinder finally ducked his head and grinned. “All right, all right,” he said amiably. He added a pat of butter and a small dollop of honey to his oatmeal. He tasted the result. “S’good,” he admitted. “Yay!” she beamed. Derpy helped herself to a big bowl of oatmeal, raisins, pine nuts and maple syrup. Mister Pathfinder finished his bowl, licking it clean. He stood, walked over to the little basin, washed the bowl and put in back in the cupboard. “There’s more,” Derpy said. “Best leave it. Perhaps some other pony will want some,” said Mister Pathfinder. “Then we can make more,” she said reasonably. “There’s always more.” Mister Pathfinder stood silently, his tail to her. “Not always. Not for everypony,” he said, at last. “If I get hungry, I’ll crop the grass. I’ll go get my bag. Thank you for breakfast, Derpy. You are a good pony.” As she munched her breakfast, she watched Mister Pathfinder examining the sorted mail. He collected the Canterlot post, of course; he knew Canterlot was important. He looked over the rest, then stopped. “The Everfree?” he asked, looking up, displaying a small bag. “The Wild Lands?” She nodded. “We have friends in the Everfree Forest. Miss Zecora lives there. Oh, she is so nice. And that funny Mister Magnet lives there, too. He and Rarity are pen pals. “But, Mister Pathfinder, it’s a long way from Canterlot to the Forest. Don’t worry about it; I’ll take it.” “NO!” The big blue roan stormed at her, angrily. “No! You are not to enter the Wild Lands! Ever! Do you hear me? I will take this!” She shrank down as Mister Pathfinder stood over her. Eeep! she thought. Then his gaze softened. “Derpy… I’m sorry but, please, never place yourself in danger. You are a good pony. And there are things I can do that a good pony can’t.” Mister Pathfinder collected his bags and left without a further word or backward glance. But, Mister Pathfinder, she insisted silently, you are a good pony. *** NAMELESS The first time he had crossed over had been a miracle. He was originally from Hailcrest, this little village up north, near the waste of the old Crystal Empire before its return. He and his Pa and Ma had worked collecting rain seeds and snow crystals for Cloudsdale. It was hard work, but they got by okay. Both his Pa and Ma were Earth Ponies. He was a pegasus. As a colt, he couldn’t understand why Pa was so cold to him or why Ma looked at him with shame. I’ll do better, you’ll see! he promised them. You’ll be proud of me. Maybe, you’ll like me. But nothing he did was ever enough. He had always had this knack for direction. He never got lost and, better, if he thought for awhile, he’d get these nudges that said, Go there, that way!, even when he didn’t know where he was going or why. He asked Pa about it once, but Pa had smacked him hard for it. “Don’t get above yourself, boy!” So he didn’t ask again. Ma, she had told him not to make Pa angry, so he had done his best to be a good colt, work hard and be quiet. One day, in summer, he wished to go some place fun. He knew it was wrong of him to wish that; Ma and Pa relied on him so much, particularly after Pa’s back started to pain him. But still, he had thought, it would be nice to find some place beyond work, someplace fun, just for a day. Hey, this way! This way! his nudges called, irresistibly. And that summer morning he abandoned the fields of cloud and mountain fog to follow something he didn’t understand. He flew south, south, south, further from home than he had imagined he could go. He knew that Pa would beat him when he got home and that Ma would be disappointed in him again, but he still felt that there was something important, something urgent, right there beyond the horizon, if he could only reach it in time. Then, there, on the far horizon: Canterlot. The castle pennants flowed in the breeze. The walls glowed in the light of late afternoon. His heart soared. But Canterlot was not his destiny. In the dusk, between the moment that Celestia’s Sun fell and Her Moon arose, the first gateway opened for him. Here! Here! Now now now! exclaimed his nudges. A pane of light, pink, purple and white, appeared in the gathering dark. He flew towards its warm light. Here! Now! He put his head down and, trusting, flew into the gateway and was lost to the world for many years. *** He sat quietly, terrified of her judgement. Kimono’s teahouse was in a tiny glade near a small pond. Frogs beeped, dragonflies buzzed. The afternoon Sun glanced down at them. An ancient plum tree shaded them. The teahouse was immaculate, as if prepared just for him. Kimono entered, smiled and bowed. Kimono moved through the tea ceremony like a dancer, grace in every motion. The ladle is here, then here. The water, the fire, the pot, the tea, the whisk, the cup, just so. She scarcely seemed to touch them, but they all obeyed her will. The two of them sat, enclosed, in the tiny teahouse, where he could not retreat from her gaze. When she had, at last, offered him a small, clay cup of green liquid, he had accepted it gently, as if it cradled his soul. He sipped his tea. As did she. Then, she spoke. “Little Pathfinder, welcome,” she said, smiling. “‘Pathfinder’ I name you, for you have found your way to my house. “I see that you are unlike my sisters and brothers, for you have wings. Astonishing! Not the wings of our dear cousins, the Breezies, but the wings of the mighty eagles, falcons and griffons that adorn our mountains.” Kimono regarded him carefully. “You are not of this world,” she said, at last. He hung his head. “No. No, I’m not. It was not my intention upset anypony….” Kimono laughed heartily. “But, of course, you have upset everypony! Even as we sit here, Pinkie Pie and Minty scheme to lure you into their contest of Pink and Green! Razzaroo and Sparkleworks are in deep discussion about how best to welcome you! Why, even level-headed Wysteria and Rainbow Dash are excited by your appearance and the implications for Equestria.” Kimono smiled. “Do not be embarrassed. You bring challenge and joy to Ponyville, and for that, we are all grateful.” Pathfinder (I am Pathfinder! he thought eagerly) blushed. “If I can help anypony….” Kimono set aside her cup and looked into his eyes. Her gaze was fierce. Looking into her eyes was like facing a terrible headwind and he could only cower before it. “The book of the world is large,” Kimono said. “This world, this Equestria, is but one leaf of the Great Book of Harmony. I have thought on this. It humbles me, but it provides me with strength and wisdom. “Know this, my Pathfinder: the pages of the Great Book are broad, but they are thin. Some few ponies have the knack of finding the thin places and can travel from world to world. You could not imagine their adventures or the joy they have brought here! Oh, if only you could meet Wind Whistler! She could guide you better than I! “I have the gift and curse of foresight. I can see a little ways down the trail you must trod. Steel yourself: your road is hard beyond my understanding. But, also, have faith: I think you will also know joy and peace, if only you can persevere.” Kimono was then interrupted. Three tiny ponies, each no larger than Pathfinder’s hoof, suddenly burst into Kimono’s teahouse and danced around Pathfinder's head. “See! Here he is!” exclaimed Honey Dew. “Told you! Isn’t he handsome?” “Wings! Big Wings! Ha ha ha! Can you fly?” asked Blue Belle excitedly, flipping upside-down. “Of course he can!” declared Whoopsie Daisy, brushing up against Pathfinder’s cheek. “Brother! Big Brother! Hay! Do you want to go on an adventure with us? Honey Dew thinks she can find the best strawberries in the land! Do you want to come with us and see? Please?” Pathfinder gathered the three tiny ponies out of the air, entranced by the Breezies’ eager friendship. Kimono chuckled. “Perhaps this is best. Go with them, my Pathfinder, then return to me with your story. “Know this: you will have a place here, until you desire to depart. And before you go, I will have one last lesson to give you. In the meantime: learn about life!”
Pathfinder 2PATHFINDER The Canterlot leg was easy. He had flown north-east across Saddle Lake to the thermals that roiled the Cloudy Peaks. Up, up, up and then down towards the city. On approach, he saluted the guards that hovered about Canterlot. They nodded back. By now, they knew him. Or thought they did. The Canterlot Pony Express office offered a broad landing area. He touched down and almost at once a messenger appeared to collect the red-banded letters and carry them on. He had no reason to remain in Canterlot, but he lingered. He stamped the solid stone floor and walked a little way into the city, looking around. It’s here. Alive. It’s real. She’s real, he told himself. He had only seen Princess Celestia once, from a distance. He had been standing in the Pony Express service area, looking down. She had been deep in conversation with her ministers, trotting to her next appointment. And there had been this one instant when she seemed to glance up, looking directly into his eyes and soul, had smiled at him encouragingly, and moved on. I am yours forever, he had thought then, watching her recede. Perhaps this moment was all in his mind. Who am I, that you are mindful of me? Still, he hugged that one instant to him, as a miser hoards the tiniest coin. Having delivered the Canterlot pouch, he checked himself. The blades and poisons in which he clothed himself were intact. He withdrew from the city. I have no place here. Pathfinder beat his wings. His hooves departed Canterlot and he turned himself towards the Wild Lands. *** “Steven Magnet” was a small name for someone so vast. And yet the enormous serpent seemed to relish it. “Call me Steve,” he assured everypony that talked to him. Pathfinder stood to one side while “Steve” settled a dispute between a manticore and a turtle. “It is entirely understandable that you, Mrs. Poison Tail, would want to devour Mrs. Mudwallow. She is, I’m sure, quite delicious and delectable,” said Steve. Mrs. Mudwallow blushed. “Still,” continued Steve, reasonably, “there is her clutch to consider. One hundred fourteen eggs! Most commendable!” Mrs. Mudwallow nodded. “Aye, t’was a lot of work. Faith! Ye canna know! But t’was worth it, every one.” “I acknowledge your effort, Madam,” said Mrs. Poison Tail gravely. “I bow before your fecundity. And yet, now that your effort is complete, I desire your flesh. For myself and for my young.” Mrs. Mudwallow cried. “Can I not see my wee bairns before I go? My last clutch! Please, good mother!” “But it will be weeks before your children hatch!” exclaimed Mrs. Poison Tail. “And my children are hungry now!” Pathfinder circled quietly around to the manticore’s rear. He set down his messenger bags, reached into his coat and drew out his blades, silently stamping them onto his fore hooves. He knew manticores. He knew their rages, their hungers. He knew the soft places above the shoulder, under the mane. In the belly, below the ribs. This is it, then, he thought sadly, after I do this, after I kill her, my life here is over. But I can’t stop myself. Then the river dragon rose up. “Allow me to suggest this: Mrs. Mudwallow’s clutch, firmly implanted on my shore, shall be allowed to hatch and walk to the water. I think we can all agree that the preservation of life is our greatest concern.” The dragon glanced briefly in Pathfinder’s direction. “And after that blessed day,” Steve continued, “Mrs. Mudwallow will give herself, freely, to the manticores or other predators, without appeal to me. If, of course, they can catch her.” “And in the meantime? Now?” growled Mrs. Poison Tail. “What of my hungry young?” The river dragon pondered. “Have you ever considered a vegan diet? You know, lentils and beans? Not forever, but just until Mrs. Mudwallow is ready? A variety of wholesome foods would benefit you and your offspring, I think.” “BEANS? YOU OFFER ME BEANS?” shouted the manticore. “Beans give me gas. Have you ever been in a lair fed with beans? Ah, the stench! Celestia, preserve me!” Mrs. Poison Tail hunched and raked her claws across the turf. “Still,” she admitted reluctantly, “I can understand her point.” Steve raised an eyebrow, hopefully. Pathfinder backed off. “All right then,” sighed Mrs. Poison Tail. “In consideration for the future, we will avoid Mrs. Mudwallow and her brood. I would not deprive her of the sight of her last clutch achieving the water. I am a manticore, but I am not deliberately cruel. “And there will be more of them to eat later, in any case. “In the meantime, ‘lentils and beans’? Any help you could offer in this area would be appreciated.” Steve and Mrs. Poison Tail huddled together, exchanging recipes. Mrs. Mudwallow waddled away, happy, with the assurance that her children would be safe for at least a little while. Pathfinder silently put his blades away, his face burning with relief and shame. At last, the disgruntled manticore departed, muttering about “wind.” Steve noticed Pathfinder and waved him forward. “What now, my little pony?” Steve asked, reclining against the river shore. “Letters, sir,” said Pathfinder. He drew the packet from his messenger bags and offered them to the great serpent. “Ooooh! Winter fashions!” exclaimed the river dragon. “Ah! Miss Rarity! You are the best ever! Look at the colors! So-oo fabulous!” Steve eagerly accepted his parcels, cooing over their contents. After a moment, the river dragon looked up at Pathfinder. The serpent’s gaze narrowed and something ancient and terrible burned there. I have eaten your kind, the dragon’s eyes said. I know the taste of you. I know what is inside you, for I have relished it. A spike of fear struck Pathfinder: he knows me for what I am! “Thank you for sympathizing with Mrs. Mudwallow’s situation,” the serpent said quietly, at last. “And for your restraint with Mrs. Poison Tail. “Life in the Everfree is painful, sometimes. At times, one’s life is only purchased through another’s loss. We all have our hostages to fortune. Even the apple trees must sigh when their fruit is harvested. None of us escape survivor’s guilt. “At the end of our lives, sometimes the best we can say is that we hurt no one more than was necessary. C’est la vie. “So, whatever you may think, you are not a bad pony, Mister…?” “Pathfinder, sir.” “Mister Pathfinder,” said Steve. “I am the River. And, as they say, you can never step into the same river twice. Perhaps you should consider this: you will never be the pony today that you were yesterday. Always ask yourself: who am I today?” Steve returned to his catalogs, excited. Pathfinder nodded and flew on, to the zebra. *** Pathfinder fought to choke down his hatred of zebras. Before, in the last Equestria he had found, the zebras had poisoned the world. They had poisoned him, to the point where he knew he was beyond redemption. If you all had but one throat, I’d hack it through, he thought miserably. I know, in my head, that you are different. Derpy says you are wise and kind and I believe her. But my heart remembers the cages your folk stood over. The whips. The ropes. The surgical instruments. The calculated degradation. The combat arena. The terrible things you made me do to others, just to exist another day. He checked his hidden weapons and felt ashamed. You are Derpy’s friend and I value her judgement. But I will kill you if you give me the slightest reason. He touched down and looked about. Here, the Forest seemed strangely soft and kind. Green water lapped nearby. Fish splashed. Great trumpets of blue flowers bloomed. The trees swayed with woven vines. Birds sang and frogs croaked accompaniment. Pathfinder smiled. He heard a sharp buzz of wings nearby and glanced up hopefully. But it was only a dragonfly, gunmetal blue, hovering over him before darting away. If there are Breezies in this Equestria, he thought, they would enjoy it here, fluttering and laughing. For a moment, Pathfinder felt himself relax. Little Wings! Oh, my dear little sisters, after all that I have seen and done, I still remember you. He listened carefully, but did not hear their sweet voices. Ah, well. I’d give the rest of my life to spend just another day with the Little Wings, he thought. The dearest friends of my childhood. But that was years ago, in another world. And he was here, now, with business to do. Perhaps that’s what Steve meant: I must forget my family and friends and move on. Ah, well. Pathfinder examined Zecora’s hut. Her home is like Twilight Sparkle’s library, he thought. A Great Tree. Living, growing, adapting, roots sunk deep into the dark earth. She must be clever, like Twilight Sparkle, he told himself. Best be on my guard. He checked his weapons again, then knocked on her door. “Wimoweh?” came a deep voice from within. A clump of hooves. “A visitor, I hear. Someone new! What is it I can do for you?” asked Zecora, as she opened the door. A zebra face emerged from the inner darkness. Pathfinder’s heart thundered in his chest and against his will he shrank away. No! he told himself, gritting his teeth. This is Derpy’s friend. Derpy says she is good. So I will be good to Derpy’s friend. Pathfinder stood stiffly in the doorway. “L- letters,” he stuttered. “There are letters for you, ma’am.” He fumbled the mail out of his bag, dropped it, picked it up. Held it out. The zebra collected the letters. Pathfinder tried to avoid her touch. “Twilight Sparkle, I recognize. Rainbow Dash, a surprise! Pinkie Pie, Fluttershy and Spike! Oh, here is everything I like!” The zebra smiled at him, piercing blue eyes and sharp white teeth bright and fierce. I remember this face! he thought, rearing. “Ha ha! Oh, but see,” the zebra said. “I forget common courtesy. Come, my newest friend, please let me invite you in.” The zebra stepped forward and Pathfinder fell back. There was a scent on her. Familiar. Then he recognized it: tea. A specific fragrant tea, the one the zebras would enjoy while they watched what was done to him. She’s the same! he thought, panicked. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Out! Must get out of here! Now! Pathfinder kicked her. The zebra was fast, but she was caught by surprise and fell and then he was on top of her, raging, terrified. There! Her throat! No time for blades! Kill her! Crush her throat! Stamp her to death! WHO AM I TODAY? Her blue eyes. Her brilliant blue eyes. Afraid. Like that moment when little Blue Belle had held up her poorly-wrapped gift for Honey Dew and begged him, “Help me, please, Big Brother.” Then Pathfinder fell back from the zebra’s terrible blue eyes and the truth that shone within them, at last, clear and undeniable. TODAY I AM A MONSTER. Reason came back to him and shame followed. He fell back, stumbling at the doorway, ducking his head. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. You are Derpy’s friend and I’ve just, I’m just… sorry. Sorry.” Pathfinder fled. And he knew the unblinking, brilliant blue eyes of truth were upon him. And, as fast as he could fly, he could not escape their judgement. Monster.
Kimono's Last LessonDERPY Derpy was managing the Pony Express office when Mister Pathfinder returned. She realized at once that he was in a terrible mood. He stormed past her without a word, into the back area of the courier stalls. She followed him, worried that he was so upset. What had happened? “Mister Pathfinder?” she asked. “Sir…?” “Go away, Derpy,” Mister Pathfinder said. He had pulled out his big bags and his strongbox. He threw his few belongings into a heap. “What are you doing?” she asked. “I’m leaving Ponyville. Going away for good,” he replied angrily. “But where? Why? What happened?” she pleaded. “I’m going to the Badlands,” he said roughly. “I need to go away. To be alone. Where I can’t hurt anypony again.” “But, Mister Pathfinder,” implored Derpy, tears welling in her eyes. “Please, why? What happened?” Mister Pathfinder paused. His wings fell, scraping the floor. “I attacked Zecora. Kicked her,” Mister Pathfinder said, not looking back. “I’m sorry. But that’s what I did. If you see her, tell her I apologize.” “Did you hurt her?” asked Derpy, shocked. “She fell. She’s probably bruised. But she’s fine I think. Still, you should visit her, to be sure.” “I know!” insisted Derpy. “Let’s both go visit her! I’ll see that she’s okay and you can say you’re sorry.” Mister Pathfinder sagged. “What I did was unforgivable. She is your friend and I knew that. But I hurt her anyway. I can’t control myself. All I do is hurt other ponies. That’s all I’ve done, all my life. So it’s time I go away, before I hurt anypony else.” “But, Mister Pathfinder, why? Why?” begged Derpy. For a moment, Mister Pathfinder didn’t answer. Then he drew himself up, shaking with rage. Or terror. “Because this is what I am!” Mister Pathfinder shouted. He threw the mattress off his bunk. Metal objects fell to the floor. He stamped on them. His fore hooves suddenly bore claws like a griffon. He tore open his strongbox, threw out other objects and stamped them with his rear hooves. Wicked sharp spurs clicked against the floor. “THIS IS ME! I’M WORSE THAN ANY MANTICORE! ANY DRAGON! ANY COCKATRICE!” he cried, standing before her. “I AM A MONSTER! I COVER MYSELF WITH METAL AND POISON AND I THINK ABOUT KILLING ALL THE TIME! “Monster. A monster.” Mister Pathfinder sagged against the floor. “Murderer,” he hissed softly. “I am a murderer. And I have no place among decent ponies.” He slumped and fell silent. *** “Tell me,” said Derpy. “No,” he said. “I don’t like to think about it.” “Tell me,” insisted Derpy. “Tell me anyway.” She sat before him, expectantly. Encouraging. “Tell me. You know I’ll wait until you do. Tell me.” Mister Pathfinder bowed his head. “I won’t swear you to secrecy,” he began, “because if you tell anypony this, they’ll think you mad. “Understand this first: there is more than one Equestria.” Surprisingly, Derpy nodded, as if this was something she already knew. “I abandoned my Pa and Ma,” said Pathfinder. “I just flew away one day and never saw them again. I just flew away and found this… gateway to another world. A better world. A place where I thought I belonged.” His voice hitched. “I found friends there.” Pathfinder smiled his strange, sad smile. “I know this will sound ridiculous, but three of the little Breezies, these tiny flying ponies, Blue Belle, Honey Dew and Whoopsie Daisy, were the best friends I ever had. They liked me because I could fly like them. They called me ‘Big Brother’ and came to me with their problems. They invited me on their ‘adventures,’ which mainly involved collecting flowers or berries and leaving unexpected gifts for the Ponyville folk. “But eventually I became restless. I guess I outgrew them. I began to explore the lands around that Ponyville. Discovered their Unicornia and the Rainbow Princess, more or less by accident. I was looking for something, I don’t know what, maybe just other featherbacks like myself. “I wasn’t looking for what I found. The second gateway. I dove into it, confident, thinking I would find another wondrous world. But now I wish I had died before I discovered it.” “Never wish for death, Pathfinder,” said Derpy. “Oh, you don’t know. Praise Celestia, you will never know,” said Pathfinder. Pathfinder then spoke of things Derpy could not understand. Cages. Whips. Scalpels. Injections. Chains. Slavery. The helpless violation of one’s body. Learning to fight. Learning to murder. Blades and poisons and every awful thing. Despair and hopelessness that drove Pathfinder to do terrible things to other ponies. “I escaped from the zebras, at last, thanks to a general uprising, sparked by this one little pony that was strong enough to fight her way to freedom. I never learned her name. I’m sorry for that, for I honor her. “I fled into the badlands. And there I met Ditz— my good friend, D. Her skywagon had broken down in the badlands and she was surrounded by raiders. I still had my blades and my poisons from the zebras’ combat arena, so it was easy for me to kill them all. “I was proud of my ability to murder, then. In that Equestria, murder was a useful talent. “D. was very grateful for her rescue. She offered me a job, as her guard. I had no skills, other than direction and murder, so I was thankful to her. She paid me in food and shelter. D., herself, didn’t require food, you see, because she was, I’m sorry, not quite alive.” “I don’t understand,” said Derpy, enthralled. “Neither do I, really,” said Pathfinder. “Something awful had happened to her, long ago. Almost a thousand years, she once told me. Well, 'told.' She couldn't actually speak. She usually wrote on a slate. Her letters, though, were erudite and thoughtful. Her experience had left her… I'm sorry, broken and twisted. But her heart was so strong! She was kind to me! Kind! In that terrible world!” Pathfinder looked down. “She was kind to me, so I was proud to kill to protect her.” He cradled a packet of letters between his hooves. “This is all I have left of her. My one good friend in that terrible place. Perhaps I should go back. Maybe that’s where I belong now.” “No,” said Derpy. “I hardly sleep anymore,” continued Pathfinder. “I am so tired. I keep waking up and reaching for my blades.” “No!” declared Derpy Hooves. “Just be quiet! Be still! It's approaching dark now. Sleep. I will stand over you and protect you.” “But—!” Pathfinder said. “Shut up!” said Derpy. “Oh, you are so difficult sometimes. Just lie down now, there’s a good boy.” And, for the first time in years, Pathfinder slept, while his faithful guardian stood over him. *** Mister, no, her friend Pathfinder had finally fallen asleep. Hours until daylight. She sat beside him, listening to him breathing. My family knows where I am, she thought. I left a message for Ditzy, so everypony knows I’m okay. She sat in the dark, looking out the tiny window. So many stars, she marveled. I never feel afraid at night. How can I be afraid or lost? I look up and the stars tell me where I am. They point me to home and family. Even in the darkest night, when the land is black or the Sky disturbed, I can fly, up, up, up to the clear air and be embraced by the Night. And the Night will always guide me home. Princess Luna is best pony, she smiled to herself. I guess she knows that everypony loves her. After awhile, she heard the faint noise of another courier in the Pony Express station. She listened and heard the familiar stamp of Mister Packet’s hooves, the jingle of his many keys, his tired sigh of responsibility. Mister Packet managed the Pony Express station; in her opinion, he worked too long and worried too much. He’s a good pony. She heard him clumping around the station. Inevitably, he checked the courier stalls. She didn’t think he’d come in; Mister Packet respected his messengers. At the sound, Pathfinder stirred uneasily in his sleep. She touched his back gently. It’s okay, she thought. It’s only friends. Pathfinder stilled. Mister Packet left, perhaps a little more quietly, in consideration. She heard the jingling of his keys again, fading. And again, the night was still. I will stay awake and alert all night, to guard my friend, she thought. To prove my faith. To give him faith. She touched Pathfinder’s back. She felt his strong heart beating, the slow expansion and contraction of his chest. She smiled. And, perhaps, after awhile, despite her intentions, she nodded. Shadows gathered at the foot of Pathfinder’s bunk. The shadows slowly gained shape and presence, into a dark cloaked figure. Derpy started. The dark figure held up a square black slate. On it, glowing in the moonlight, were the words: DO NOT BE AFRAID Derpy stood, spreading her wings to cover Pathfinder. “I am Derpy Hooves. I am strong and I am not afraid.” The stranger in shadow struggled forward, hesitantly. Golden eyes glowed in the cloaked and cowled face of the awkward, humped shape. It carefully scratched a note onto its black slate. Now the words read: I REMEMBER YOU FROM WHEN I WAS ALIVE Derpy felt a chill. That’s like what Pathfinder said! “What do you mean? When you were alive? You are alive now!” The stranger’s cowl drooped. It slowly wrote on its slate: NOT ALIVE WHAT WAS LEFT WHEN SOUL MOVED ON A FADING MEMORY “I know! You were his friend!” Derpy cried. “His friend when he had no friends! The quiet one! Oh, he loved you, even when he hated himself! Sister!” The shadow retreated, as if from a blow. It lifted the slate and wrote: KINDNESS GENEROSITY LAUGHTER HONESTY LOYALTY MAGIC The shadow held out the slate, gesturing at Pathfinder. “Was that what you gave him, sister?” asked Derpy. The shadow shook, gesturing from Pathfinder to itself. Finally, it wrote: HE GAVE ME WHAT HE DENIED HIMSELF The shadow fell back further into the darkness, one golden eye glowing, fading to brown. It wrote: JUST WANT TO KNOW HE IS OK I AM FAILING AT LAST WANT TO LET GO LET HIM FORGET ME LET HIM REMEMBER HIMSELF SO DARK HERE LOVE HIM LOVE YOU SISTER The shadow folded upon itself and sank into dream. Derpy started. She looked about. The sad shadow was gone, if it had ever been there. But Pathfinder was there, sleeping at her side. She swept her wings over him and held him close until the morning light. *** KIMONO’S LAST LESSON Pathfinder was determined to go away forever. Derpy was determined to stop him. They sat together quietly on a slab of rock, as Celestia’s light faded from Ghastly Gorge. “You know,” said Derpy, “the quarray eels are actually very shy. If you fly near their tunnels, they’ll snap at you, but let you go. In spring, they come out of their tunnels and dance in the moonlight: it’s a wonderful thing to see, I think.” “Hmmf,” replied Pathfinder. In his last world, the bats had killed and eaten the rock eels. To see one alive would be a treat. But as the light faded, Pathfinder looked not at the gorge, but into the sky. In the moment when Celestia’s Sun set and the moment before Luna’s Moon rose, he stood and pointed. “There!” Derpy squinted. Above the gorge, there was this tiny space where the light was wrong. It was… greasy. A green-and-yellow smear that spread like a stain. The gateway. “Pathfinder,” Derpy said. “I don’t like it. Please, don’t go. Stay. Please.” “I’ll only hurt you, if I stay,” he said. “You’ll only hurt me if you leave,” she replied. “I can’t control myself,” said Pathfinder. “I’m a danger to you and everypony. It’s best that I go.” “You are not a zombie pony!” shouted Derpy. “Oh, you make me so mad, sometimes! Stop giving in to hopelessness! In your world, my sister loved you, even though she had been dead for a thousand years! Imagine that! Are you going to betray her now? Betray her memory?” “I have betrayed everypony,” said Pathfinder miserably. “My folks, who depended on me. The Breezies, who were always so kind. Your sister, who I left behind. Princess Celestia, to whom I owe my soul. Ponyville. Your friend, Zecora. You.” “Then stop! Just stop!” sobbed Derpy. “I like you so much, Pathfinder. Please, I beg you, just stop!” “Just stop, my Pathfinder,” Kimono had said. “My Lady?” he had asked, as he sat before her in her teahouse for the last time. “This is my last lesson to you, my Pathfinder,” Kimono had said. “I know you are anxious to go, to find distant fields beyond my reckoning. You have traveled your entire life, finding your path, looking for your proper place. It is not here. And it is not in… the next land you will encounter. “Have hope in a land beyond that, my Pathfinder,” Kimono had said. She had smiled at him then. “You have brought joy to my little ponies and this is no small gift. The little Breezies adore you. “Have faith in their love, despite the hard trail you follow. Release your self-judgement. Have faith in your friends and in their perception of you. You will come at last to the end of your journey. And then, I beg you, have the wisdom to stop.” All right, then, Pathfinder thought. For Kimono. For the Breezies. For D. and Derpy. I will try one last time to be good. The gateway twisted and shut. Purple twilight came to the gorge. The quarray eels nosed out of their tunnels and sang their strange songs to the fall of the Sun and welcomed the rise of the Moon. “Yay!” whispered Derpy, leaning against him. “There is always tomorrow. And the next day,” Pathfinder cautioned. “And you will be here tomorrow. And the next day,” Derpy promised. “For today, come home and have dinner with my family, Pathfinder.” They could have flown. But they chose to walk, side by side, until the warm lights of Ponyville rose before them. *** RAINBOW DASH A few months earlier: “All right! Let’s do this!” Rainbow Dash revved her wings. She stood over Ghastly Gorge and looked south. Clear, dry air. Air that, in her opinion, needed a little excitement. She licked her lips. Oh, yeah. Right then. Twilight was there with her ridiculous anemomertebabble, whatever that was. Applejack held the start flag. Off in the distance, Fluttershy held the finish flag. Rarity was modeling the team jacket while Pinkie mixed the victory punch. AJ dropped the flag and Rainbow was off. Up, up, up, into the brilliant blue arch of the sky. As Rainbow soared, the sky purpled. The boldest stars, at this altitude visible even during the day, appeared. One day, she vowed, I won’t stop. I’ll just fly up and up until I touch the stars. But not today, she grinned. Not when Pinkie is making her famous Pinkie Punch. Rainbow at last surrendered to gravity. She fell, accelerating, a bullet-shape that whispered through the atmosphere. Hurtling back to the green Earth, there was a tiny moment of doubt. The world is so big and I am so small! What if I auger in? But Rainbow grinned and threw her doubt aside. Okay, here it comes! Let’s do this! Push, girl! Hit the edge of the envelope and punch through! The sky exploded. Sonic Rainboom! There was this moment of serenity when she broke the “boom barrier.” Rainbow looked down and saw her friends dancing and clapping at her success. But for Rainbow, this moment wasn’t about them. It was about herself and her sense that, in this instant, she had reached up and touched another world. Then Rainbow Dash soared down, slapped hooves with Fluttershy and settled in for a round of congratulations and Pinkie Punch. And, in the air above her, Rainbow Dash left a small, thin place, where her Sonic Rainboom had strained the fabric of the world. Rainbow, of course, was unaware of it. But in another world, there was a pegasus that suddenly looked up, took flight, and scrambled desperately towards salvation.
