The Crusaders: A Shadow Over Manehattan

by Starhunter

Rating: teen
Tags: Mare Do Well, Adventure, Babs Seed, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Original Character
Length: 71753

Cold Star, a Bat Pony sworn to the Lunar Crusade, came to Manehattan to fight for justice. She didn't expect to find herself teaching a new generation of Crusaders. Will Babs and her CMC companions earn Cutie Marks in crime-fighting?

Cold Star is a Crusader: a Bat Pony sworn to defend the Sacred Night. Adopting a disguise to hide her forbidden ancestry, she came to Manehattan with a single purpose - to bring justice to those who would do evil under the cover of darkness. The last thing she expected to discover was a group of cape-wearing young ponies also claiming to be Crusaders...

Babs Seed, Misty Morning and Summer Squall are the Cutie Mark Crusaders Manehattan Branch, and they are working hard to discover their hidden talents and earn their Cutie Marks. But when they meet a mysterious Bat-Mare, she offers them a chance to learn what being a Crusader really means. Will this be their chance to earn Cutie Marks in crime-fighting?

The story that began in Capes and Crusaders continues!

{Artists! This story needs cover art! If you are inspired to create a piece of Cold Star / CMC-Manehattan art, please link it to me so I can fan-boy about it, and it might get featured as a cover art for this story! }

Published 2013-12-16 02:30:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-03 07:40:24 UTC

Prelude: The Shadow of the Bat-Mare

Prelude: The Shadow of the Bat-Mare

It was nearly midnight, and rain was falling over the city of Manehattan.

The heavy patter of rainfall obscured the sound of Cold Star's hooves as she galloped across the city's rooftops, leaping from building to building with little concern that anyone would look up long enough to notice her. Her wide-brimmed hat and long cape did wonders for keeping off the rain, and the dark of a starless night was nothing to the cave-born eyes of a Bat-Pony. In truth, this was as close to home as she ever felt here in the lands of the Sun Tribes. Since she had arrived in Manehattan almost six months ago there had been only a few nights like this. To her, this was a perfect night to be out on patrol.

The weather was also helping her to easily identify those she may need to confront. Anypony standing around outside in this kind of rain was either up to no good or being paid handsomely to do so, and it wasn't difficult to tell the two groups apart. She spotted one such pony standing under the awning of a closed store several stories below. He was almost completely unremarkable - a drab, tan coloured unicorn wearing a long coat. Despite his plain appearance, Cold Star's instincts told her that he was worth stopping to investigate.

She found a convenient alley and dove into it, unfurling her leathery wings and gliding silently down the damp pavement below. She tucked her wing-tips back under her cape and pulled it around her, hiding her alien form from any Sun-Tribe ponies who might happen by. Pulling her hat a bit lower, she made her way to the mouth of the alley. The pony across the street hadn't moved, and he didn't appear to be paying much attention. He seemed to be watching the glow of the lights from the dance-hall near the end of the street with a predatory intent. It made Cold Star think of a spider sitting in the middle of his web, and left little doubt in Cold Star's mind that she had been right to stop.

Two school-aged colts came down the street towards the coat-wearing pony. They carried umbrellas, and over the din of the rain Cold Star's keen hearing could pick out snatches of a conversation they were having about how much trouble each of them was going to be in for missing their curfew.

Neither colt noticed the stallion until he called out to them and waved them over. One of the colts wanted to ignore him, but the other was interested enough to stop and chat. Cold Star could see the way the stallion's demeanour had become much more friendly when he'd seen the young ponies approaching, and when his horn glowed slightly and he brought a small plastic baggy out from under his jacket his game become much clearer. To their credit, both colts gave the pusher dirty looks before they hastily resumed their journey home.

A part of Cold Star wanted to cheer for the young colt's refusal to be taken in the by this despicable defiler. Another part wanted to leap out into the street, pummel the drug dealer soundly, and dump his filthy wares into the nearest sewer. She contained those emotions, pushing them down into the darkness inside herself and allowing them to disappear. She was a Crusader, sworn in to defend the Sacred Night. She could not allow herself to act on impulse, especially when facing a unicorn. Unicorn magic could be extremely dangerous, and facing one without proper preparation was foolish. While her Oaths demanded that she cast the Shadow of Justice upon this villain, tonight that would mean being patient.

If she was careful in laying her trap, she might even be able to get the names and locations of his suppliers. That would go a long way to getting this kind of contraband off the streets of Manehattan, at least for a time. The idea of such a success made it easier to endure the prospect of waiting. Cold Star retreated into the alley and stretched her wings, leaping upwards towards the rooftop. She settled herself into the relative shelter of a tall billboard and waited for the defiler to lead her back to his lair.

She didn't have to wait long. The dealer soon seemed to decide that there weren't any bits to be made standing out in the rain, and he made to leave. Cold Star followed him from the rooftops, keeping herself well out of sight. The going was slow - the stallion didn't seem to be all that fit, and he seemed poorly dressed for the weather. It didn't come as much of a surprise when he ducked into an all-night donut shop to catch a breather and get something warm to drink. Cold Star made her way carefully onto the diner's roof, so that no matter which exit he took she would be ready to follow. Unfortunately, the dealer didn't seem to be in any rush to leave.

The result was a long wait with very little to do. On any other night, Cold Star might have found the delay irritating - wasted time she could have spent doing a larger patrol. But tonight it had the benefit of allowing her the time to mull over another problem she had been trying to deal with: what she was going to do about her fellow Crusaders now that she had agreed to instruct them.

It had been two weeks since she first met Babs Seed, Misty Morning and Summer Squall - the three Cutie Mark Crusaders living here in Manehattan. Their surprise meeting, and her discovery that Princess Twilght Sparkle seemed to be fostering a new Crusade amongst the Sun Tribes had occupied much of her thoughts since then. They had parted company quite late that night, with the promise that they would meet again on the first night of autumn. That was only three nights from now, and that looming deadline weighed on Cold Star heavily. Her intentions had been good in offering to take them under her wing, but now that she'd had time to think about it, she felt less and less certain of what she could offer them.

It wasn't that she didn't think she could teach young ponies. She had been a senior student under her Master, and had aided him for many years in instructing the younger students on the basics of martial combat and being cave-wise. The problem was that all of the ponies she had ever taught were Bat Ponies like herself. Ponies that shared her enhanced senses and innate stone-carving magics. Ponies with hooked fangs and leathery wings, who had lived their entire lives underground, just as she had done in the days before she discovered the true glory of the Night Sky and pledged herself to it.

Most of what she knew about Earth Ponies, Unicorns and Pegasi were from anatomy textbooks and treatise on strategy that stretched back a thousand years to the War Against the Light, when the whole of her Tribe had been banished to Tartarus for their part in aiding Princess Luna in her attempt to seize the throne. They had remained there ever since by the decree of Celestia herself, and over the passage of a thousand years the Sun Tribes had all but forgotten them.

Now here she was, with three young ponies who were eager to learn about the meaning of being a Crusader, and who were looking to her for guidance. She didn't know what to teach those kinds of ponies, nor how to set standards that were reasonable for their training. It was a frustrating problem, and one which she didn't have any easy way of answering. It wasn't like she could get herself a library card, or pop into a public schoolhouse and question an instructor.

Even thinking of a schoolhouse brought up another pressing concern: the problem of a location in which to train. Instruction would require a classroom, in some form or other. In Tartarus, all students served three years in the military as a component of their schooling, so seeing children doing combat drills or sparring with one another in public was perfectly normal. But in the lands of the Sun Tribes martial practices were only taught to those interested enough to seek instruction, and their activities tended to draw a lot of public attention. Attention would result in a lot of difficult questions, very possibly from sheriffs interested to know where they came by their knowledge. She needed to find some place out of sight - a place she could take off her costume to work-out properly with them, without fear of being discovered by curious passers-by. She had spent several nights searching through abandoned warehouses and surveying the pastures near the edge of town, and while she had uncovered a few good spots that she could use to roost she hadn't found anything that was useful as a teaching space. She was almost thankful when the sound of the diner door broke her revery, and her hunt resumed.

The dealer led her on a lengthy pursuit, looking over his shoulder just often enough to make her vigilant in keeping herself out of sight. He led her to a sizable two-story house down by the East River. It was a well-to-do sort of neighbourhood, and Cold Star was forced to keep herself uncomfortably close to the street in order to avoid attracting the attention of security magics or guard animals. Luckily, in wealthy neighbourhoods like this there was always lots of spaces between the houses filled with shrubs and trees to keep the prying eyes of the neighbours from peeking in. It made it easy for Cold Star to keep herself hidden until her quarry had made his way inside and shut the door.

She slipped across the street and into the shadows of his hedgerow, using it to conceal her passage towards the house. This was riverfront property; the kind of real estate that didn't come cheap in a place like Manehattan. It was a testament to the staggering number of young ponies that this defiler must have peddled narcotics to that he could afford to live in such a place. Cold Star gritted her teeth in anger, and reminded herself to be patient. A house this nice was sure to have security. She would need to deal with that first.

It seemed unlikely that a narcotics dealer would have an alarm, since he wouldn't want sheriffs snooping around any time it went off. Pets were too likely to get into the dealer's 'supply', so they were equally unlikely. Instead, he would have some kind of booby traps on the doors and windows to deal with intruders. They would probably be magical, which meant triggering them could cause nearly anything to happen, from being frozen solid to being turned into a newt. Cold Star had no interest in finding out.

She decided that the front door was probably the safest way in, since it was the method he used himself. Now that he was inside, he had probably left the wards on the front door off, since he would be planning to leave that way again later and wouldn't want to risk setting off his own traps. Unfortunately, that meant spending several exposed moments on the front stoop while she picked the lock, but there was nothing to be done about that.

She made her way over to the front steps, wrapping her cape more closely around herself to hide her identity, just in case she was seen by a nosey neighbour. She snuck up onto the stoop, slipping one of her lock-picks out of her hat-band and into the lock. It only took a few moments to get the bolt to turn, but each one felt like an hour standing exposed to the street like she was. She stepped warily into the house, holding in a sigh of relief as she closed the door silently behind her.

None of the lights were on, but that didn't bother Cold Star - she could just as clearly without them. She listened intently to the sounds around her, doing her best to filter out the noise from the rain on the roof. She didn't hear anypony on the main floor, but from below the floorboards came the thump of a drum kit, followed closely by the wail of an electric guitar. Someone must have put a record on in the basement. That someone was most likely the defiler - a couple of wet hoof-prints led from the front door towards the kitchen, where the sound of the music seemed loudest. The staircase down to find him would be in there.

She picked up some discarded mail from the table by the door. They were addressed to a pony named "Snake Oil". Having put a name to his face, she began searching the house for any signs of other ponies. The whole building was bathed in the smell of chemicals and stale food, but her sensitive nose could only pick up the scent of one pony. That was good - catching Snake Oil alone was much better than having to take down a whole group. The fact that he was downstairs blasting music so loudly that the Canterlot Express could rumble through his kitchen and he wouldn't be able to hear it was helpful too. It indicated he expected to be down there a while, and that would allow Cold Star to search the rest of the house without having to worry about every little step of her hooves.

She began with the upstairs, which turned out to be little more than a posh bedroom, an overly spacious bathroom with some very suggestive magazines littering the floor, and a room containing a home gym that smelled strongly of dust and looked like it had never been used. She made her way back down to the main floor, surveying the ugly and overpriced decor in the living and dining rooms. They didn't look particularly lived in. Next was the kitchen, where she patiently hid all of the knives and other utensils in the refrigerator and then tied the fridge door firmly shut with some string from the kitchen drawer.

One could never be too careful when dealing with a unicorn.

Finally, she made her way over to the open doorway at the back of the kitchen that led downstairs into what had probably once been a root cellar. The music grew louder as she crept down the stairs, to the point than Cold Star was forced to fold her ears flat and press her hat down with one wing to keep the sound to a bearable level. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she found another open doorway. It was risky, but she had little choice but to step down into the light so she could see what lay beyond.

She was completely unprepared for the size of the room she found there. It was cavernous - easily half again the size of the foundation for the house above it. Great stone pillars were erected at even distances across the space, keeping the house above as stable as if it had been built on solid ground. It was lit from end to end with glass lanterns of arcane fire. The brightness was hard for her light-sensitive eyes to adjust to, and she found herself squinting slightly against the glare as she tried to make out what else was in the massive room. She could barely get over the scale of it. The training square back at the Academy where she grew up could have fit in here with room for ponies to run laps around the outside without interrupting the lesson.

Sadly, this space was not being put to so noble a purpose. It seemed that the answers to her questions about suppliers were moot - Snake Oil had turned his massive basement into a factory for the production of vice. In one corner was a hydroponic garden for growing cough-leaf, right next to a large rack where mature branches of it were drying under lamps. In another was a setup that was probably being used to grow crystals for making dream-dust. And in the nearest one there was a glass tank full of warty grey toads. They were all piled awkwardly on top of one another, leaving them almost no room to move. There was a wire-mesh lid tied down over the top of the tank to keep them from escaping. Beside the tank were several metal trays placed under another bank of smaller lampstones, where a few particularly unhappy toads were presently caged. Each tray was layered with towels to catch the fluids being sweated out of the poor, overheating amphibians.

Cold Star could only gape at the sheer absurdity of it. This cretin was trying to produce home-made Froglick. The venom from the skin of the grey toads was highly psychoactive; if portioned correctly onto thin, absorbent paper it could be placed under the tongue to produce intense hallucinations. But Froglick was an especially dangerous and difficult drug to manufacture - it was made from toad venom, after all. An overdose of Froglick could cause significant harm to a full-grown pony. For a young pony, like those Cold Star had seen Snake Oil trying to lure earlier, it could very well be fatal. Given the sloppy manner in which his product was being made, it seemed doubtful he was being careful about dosages.

The truth of the matter was clear: this lab needed to be shut down. Tonight.

She quickly discovered that Snake Oil's appalling lack of taste didn't extend to his home stereo. The amps and turntables were piled together near the door, with speakers spaced evenly around the room to help fill the massive space with sound. It was like standing inside a live concert. The pile of amps was also a good place to take cover while she considered her next move.

She made the dash from the doorway to the stereo and instantly regretted it. The volume directly behind the speakers was almost unbearable, and even just the vibrations from the bumping speakers were so strong that the hyper-sensitive Bat Pony felt her head aching with each beat of the music. She spent a moment seeking her inner darkness, just as her Master had taught her. The pain faded into the periphery of her attention, and the task at hoof came more clearly into focus - detaining and restraining a unicorn in his own home. That wouldn't be easy; Snake Oil could use any number of magics to attack or defend himself if given the chance. Even if she were able to avoid them he could still use them to escape capture. The element of surprise would be vital. She considered her options, and grinned wickedly.

She slipped over behind the record player and poked her nose over the top, making certain Snake Oil was still fussing with his distillery. Then, with slow and deliberate care, she reached the point of her hoof over the turn-table and ever so gently gouged a scratch right near the middle of the record. The music continued uninterrupted for several more moments before the needle reached the scratch, and the album began to skip violently. By then Cold Star was already half way across the room, secreted behind one of the defiler's massive speakers with her hooves over her ears.

Snake Oil's reaction to the skipping was everything she had hoped. He attempted to use his magic to reset the needle from where he was standing several times before trotting over to the stereo to try and determine the problem, his magic hoisting the needle and pulling the record off to be inspected. His string of curses at the ruination of what Cold Star gathered was a rare and expensive album was cut short by the impact of Cold Star's hoof squarely on the back of his neck. He pitched forward onto the turn-table, then sagged limply to the ground. He stirred slightly, and Cold Star hit him again for good measure.

Snake Oil awoke in his kitchen some time later. His eyes were blindfolded to keep him from aiming any spells, and he was tied to a chair to keep him from moving around. Cold Star stood behind him as an extra precaution, her hoof resting on the back of his skull where a nasty lump was already forming from her previous attacks. The splitting headache he would no doubt be sporting after tonight was certainly no less then he deserved.

She leaned forward to speak directly into the bound stallion's ear. "Snake Oil. Listen carefully. If your horn so much as flickers during the conversation we are about to have, things will go very badly for you. Do you understand?"

The stallion coughed. "Yes."

"Good. Now, I want the names of your associates. All of them."

"What associates?"

"Those who work with you to pedal your filth."

"I don't have any. I work alone."

Cold Star sneered. "Not good enough. This lab is more than you need to run a street level operation. Give me someone else to punish, unless you intend to take it all yourself."

Snake Oil attempted to turn his head towards her voice, but her hoof stopped him. Undeterred, he put on his most charming smile. "Listen, I sell to whoever is buying. I run a big operation so I can cater fancy parties. It's not like I'm the only dealer in town, though. If they want it they can get it anywhere. You can't blame me for supplying a demand."

Cold Star cuffed the bound dealer on the back of his head, eliciting a fresh groan of pain. "Do not test me, defiler. You sell to fillies and colts. I would be delighted to make you talk, if you will not do so willingly."

The unicorn paused. "What did you just call me? Did you.... wait a minute. You're that crazy dame in the mask, aren't you? The one that beat up Green Fields and his buddies. I heard all about you. Let me tell you, Stoneheart's going to smash you flat when he finds out you were here."

Stoneheart. Cold Star had not expected his name to come up here. But now that it had, her righteous indignation grew stronger still. "Oh? And why would he do that? What makes you so special?"

"He's getting a percentage off of me, just like he gets from most of the dealers around here. And I make good bread, if you know what I mean. Plus, I cater his parties. So if you rough me up, he's going to take the loss out of your hide. But I'll tell you what: if you leave now, maybe we can forget this whole thing. What do you say?"

Cold Star ground her teeth beneath her cowl. "Forget? I think not. You see, forgetting is the issue. Because I have already sent one warning to Stoneheart, telling him to keep his disciples off the street after dark. But it seems ponies have already forgotten. Forgotten that the Sacred Night is not a time for scum like you to push drugs on little ponies. But do not worry. I think they will remember my warning this time."

Snake Oil tensed, straining slightly against his bonds. "What do you mean? Wait... what are you going to do? Please, don't hurt me!"

She ignored his distress, picking up the tank full of toads she had freed from their basement captivity and tucking it under one wing. "Amongst my Tribe it is traditional for criminals like you to have one of their ears cut off. It serves as a warning to the other ponies you meet that you have been found guilty of crimes against pony-kind, and that you are not to be trusted. I have chosen not to take your ear this night, despite the fact that you richly deserve it. Know that if I ever see or hear of you dealing drugs again, I will find you, and I will cut off both of your ears as a matter of principle. For tonight though, my message is as much for your boss as it is for you. Make sure he gets it."

And with that, she kicked the lamp that was resting at the top of the stairs down into the darkness. She heard it smash, and the rush of arcane fire catching on all the flammable contraband she had piled at the bottom of the stairs.

Snake Oil started at the sound of the muffled smash. "What... what did you do? What are you doing?"

"Putting you out of business. I suggest you free yourself and escape, before you need 'putting out' as well."

Snake Oil's horn began to glow, as his magic fumbled with his bindings and blindfold. "But... but what if I don't get out in time?"

Cold Star did not reply. She simply walked down the front hall, kicked over another lamp in the living room, and left. She was out the front door and across the street before the carpets in the living room caught, and a few moments later her long ears carried the sounds of smashing glass and cursing as Snake Oil escaped into his back yard through the kitchen window. She was pleased that she would not have to ruin her dramatic exit by going back to extract the wretch herself. Besides, watching the fruits of his villainy burn down before his eyes was an aspect of his punishment Cold Star would not have wanted him to miss. She made her way off towards the public park a few blocks away, keeping to the shadows as best she could while lugging a tank full of toads. The rain had stopped and the clouds had drifted apart, allowing a few stars to peek through. She took that as a good omen for her night's work.

At the park she made her way over to the small fishing pier at the edge of the river. She found a couple of good sized lily pads amongst the reeds and placed the toads down on them, then cut them loose and allowed them to drift off down the river. The current here would carry them in the direction of their home in the forests far to the south. Or at least, she hoped, out of town and away from captivity. It was the best she could do for them, and as they floated away she lifted her head to the sky and prayed for the stars to watch over them, and to guide them on a safe journey home.

Speaking of home, a couple of hours spent dealing with Snake Oil had left her with precious little of this Sacred Night remaining, and seeing the dealer's massive basement had given her an idea about how to solve at least one of her problems with her new students. But that solution would depend on a visit to an ally who lived quite a ways away. She would have to fly to make it there before sunrise.

Trusting in the lateness of the hour to keep her hidden, she took to the air, her bat-like wings guiding her up into the night's sky. She did not look back to see Snake Oil's house collapsing into cinders far below, but the scent of embers on the breeze brought her a profound sense of satisfaction.

Author's Note

Next Chapter: The adventure begins as the Cutie Mark Crusaders each get a letter with some mysterious instructions!

{ At this point, I'm expecting to post new Chapters every couple of weeks. So stay tuned! }

{ As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to comment! }

{Author Edit: Thanks to Celelorien for catching several typos. Highly appreciated. }

{Author Edit: May 2014. After work-shoping this piece, I've decided to post an updated version. It maintains the continuity of the original, but (in my opinion) is a much more solid piece of writing overall. I've been hoping to attract more new readers, and I'm hoping this update will be a step in that direction. As always, feedback (especially about the changes) are most welcome.}

Chapter 1: The Three Letters

It was still dark outside when Babs made her way downstairs to her mother's bakery. It was already the first day of fall, so the sun probably wouldn't appear above the Manehattan skyline for a while yet. That was nothing new for Babs; her mother was always up before the sun to get her day's baking finished before the store opened. Back when Babs was a tiny foal her mother had carried her down to the bakery every morning during prep time, and now a morning just didn't feel complete without the smell of freshly baked bread and the warmth of the ovens. Most days Babs came down here just after sun-up to help out with whatever odd jobs needed doing, and in exchange she got to be the first pony to try out the "Special of the Day". Her daily breakfast was the envy of a great many local shop owners and commuters in the neighbourhood, who had to line up outside and shell out a goodly number of bits to enjoy the same privilege.

But today, Babs was coming down even earlier than usual. She'd been too anxious to get much sleep, and not long after she heard her mother heading downstairs to start baking she decided to give up on sleep entirely and head down to check for mail. Cold Star had promised that when fall came they'd begin their secret Crusader training. She seemed like a pony who took her word very seriously, so Babs was eager to find some kind of message from her new mentor.

She wasn't disappointed. Just inside the bakery door a single envelope was laying on the floor. She dashed over and pounced on it excitedly. Sure enough, it was addressed to her. The hoofwriting on the front was fancy and formal; the kind that you would expect to see on an invitation to a gala or a cute-ceanera. The letter was sealed with wax, and the imprint on the seal looked just like Cold Star's cutie mark - a star surrounded by a swirl. Not wanting to break the wax (it seemed like that would be bad luck, somehow) she brought the letter into the bakery kitchen, looking for a cake-lifter she could use to lever it open.

The lights were on when Babs came in, and soon she was surrounded by the familiar cacophony of a bakery in the morning. A half-dozen stand mixers were spinning along one wall, and the fans from the convection ovens nearby added their hum to create a wall of white noise that washed over you the moment you stepped inside. It was easy for Babs to tune it all out as she made her way over to stand by the huge, stainless-steel tables in the middle of the bakery kitchen.

The two ponies working at the tables paused only long enough to offer a little wave to the filly, both smiling at her warmly before returning their attentions to the doughs before them. Both were large Earth ponies, and both were shades of brown like herself. One was her cousin Rum Ball, a big stallion who had been working here since around the time that Babs was born. The other was her mother, and as usual Babs couldn't help but smile while watching her mother work.

Apple Seed had been born Apple Cinnamon, and you could see why. Her coat was exactly that shade between orange and brown that made you think of a cinnamon stick, and ever since she was very young she'd been one of the Apple family's best bakers. Being an Apple at heart, even falling in love with an ambitious trader and entrepreneur didn't keep her from wanting to make her own way in the world. So while her husband Hay Seed ran a profitable business importing and exporting spices from Saddle Arabia from his offices on the second floor, Apple Seed had opened the Seed Cakes bakery, using her husband's connections to furnish her business with the finest spices from throughout Equestria and beyond (and at cost, no less).

Those spices were arrayed in jars all around her big steel work-space, and Apple Seed opened them and closed them deftly while she seasoned cakes, pie fillings and bread doughs with unique flavours that no other bakery in Manehattan could compete with. While many of the bakeries in town could fairly debate who made the best loaf of rye bread or the most elegant wedding cake, not one of them would would put a spice cake or an apple pie up against a Seed Cakes original. Babs watched her mother season the dough she was hoof-kneading, her nose catching a whiff of pumpkin along with the scents of nutmeg, clove, ginger, and of course cinnamon. It already smelled delicious, and it wasn't even in the oven yet.

"I'm guessin' a Spiced Pumpkin Loaf," said Babs, grinning at her mother.

Her mother grinned back. "Close. Pumpkin Scones. Perfect for havin' with a hot drink on the first of autumn. Ya lookin' for somethin' to do, sugarcube? I got a carrot cake that's goin' to need icing in a couple minutes."

Babs shook her head, still grinning. While Babs had ended up with a Manehattan accent from growing up downtown, her mother had just added bits of the big city slang to her folksy Apple-family twang. It made their conversations sound kind of funny, even to her own ear. "Nah. Maybe in a bit. Can I use one of your lifters for a minute?"

"I guess so. What for, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

Babs held up her letter. "Got my first letter from our new Astronomy tutor. I don't wanna wreck the neat wax she put on it."

"Fair 'nuff. Grab one offa the wall by the cake station. And make sure ya..."

"...wash it before it goes back. I know, I know." Babs rolled her eyes at her mom and made her way around the cake station with all its fancy metal tools for molding and icing cakes. She took the thinnest lifter from the magnet on the wall and gently slipped it under the edge of the seal, lifting it away ever so slightly to keep it intact.

The Astronomy club idea had been Misty's. She was a master of thinking up excuses for things. The kind of excuses that you could deliver with a straight face, because they contained enough truth that you didn't feel like you were fibbing outright. Which was good, because for all Babs's personal faults being a good liar really wasn't one of them. Whenever the Crusaders were planning to do something they thought their parents might not like, it usually fell to Misty's cleverness to provide their parents with persuasive excuses.

Babs opened the letter and started to read. As she did, the smile on her face grew wider and wider until she could barely keep from giggling and prancing around the kitchen with excitement. The letter wasn't just an invitation. It was some kind of riddle, or perhaps a puzzle. Not even a minute in, and this was already an adventure! She gave the lifter a quick rinse in the sink before tossing it back onto the magnet and rushing out of the kitchen and back up the stairs. She needed a shower, and then it was into her cape and her saddle bags. She needed to get her letter over to Misty's right away.

* * * * *

Misty Morning was roused by a knock on her bedroom door not very long after dawn. She looked over at her clock and groaned. It was far too early for any reasonable pony to be awake. She rolled over as the door opened, squinting against the light from the hallway as her family's maid Broomhilda poked her head into the room. "I'm terribly sorry miss. But your friend Babs is here. She's looking for you, and she seems quite animated."

Misty sat up groggily, rubbing sleep from her eyes with one pale blue hoof. "Does she realize that today is a holiday, and that we don't have school?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, miss. In fact, she asked me quite specifically to remind you that today is the first day of autumn, for some reason. Should I ask her to come back later?"

Misty swung her legs over the edge of the bed, grudgingly tossing her covers off. "No, no. It's fine. Do you know if my father is in his study yet?"

"No, miss. I think he's still in bed."

That was good, at least. Misty's father didn't really approve of her participation in the Cutie-Mark Crusaders, and having Babs wake him up on his day off would have done little to improve his disposition on the matter. "Please invite Babs to wait in the study while I freshen up. Tell her I'll be with her shortly."

"Very good, miss. Also, you mentioned you have been expecting a message by mail. A letter arrived for you quite early this morning. Should I have it brought as well?"

Misty perked up. "A letter? Does it say who it's from?"

"I'm afraid there isn't a return address. In fact, it has no addresses at all. Only your name. I found it slipped under the front door this morning when I arrived for work."

Misty was wide awake now. "Very good. Please bring it to the study as well. And please ask Babs if she would like anything while she waits."

"Yes, miss. Though judging from the smell of the package she's carrying I would suggest that she may have brought breakfast with her."

Misty looked at the clock again and stifled a yawn. "I should certainly hope so."

* * * * *

The study wasn't as big as the one Misty's family had owned back in Canterlot. In fact, that was true of just about everything this house had to offer. In Canterlot they had owned an estate, and this was very much a house. A large house, to be sure, and a comfortable one. But still just a house. There were many bigger ones to be seen around, even just down the street.

Misty's mother liked that about it. It didn't stand out. In the event of a Changeling attack, they were more likely to seek out better spoils that this more modest home seemed able to offer. And so her father had bought the place and they had moved in. The house's former living room had instead become her father's study - a place to house the vast store of books that he hadn't been willing to part with when they moved away from the capitol. It was in that room that Misty found Babs pacing excitedly around the bookshelves.

Misty couldn't help but glower at Babs. She has taken a few moments to splash water on her face and run a brush through her mint-green mane, but she still felt barely presentable, even dressed in her nicest silk housecoat. "Babs, do you have any notion of how early it is? Not all of us keep a baker's hours, you know."

Babs grimaced. "Yeah, sorry about that. Did I wake your folks?"

"No. Fortunately, my mother is in Canterlot on business, and my father tends to sleep late when she's away. Much as I had intended to do myself."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, I brought scones. Still warm and everything."

As if on command, the scent of pumpkin and spices wafted towards Misty's nose from the parcel on the table. Within minutes the two were seated on her father's comfy reading couch, munching away on lightly buttered scones. Misty's objections at being awake were soon mostly forgotten in a haze of baked goodness.

Babs carefully brushed a couple of errant crumbs off the arm of the sofa before producing a small paper envelope from her saddlebag. "So, have you opened yours yet?"

Misty shook her head, gesturing to the small silver dome that rested on the table nearby. A flicker of magic and the dome was removed, the letter beneath it wafting over to its intended recipient. "So, she really did make contact? She's going to teach us about Crusading?"

"Sure looks like it. She's even starting us off with a challenge."

Misty frowned. "What kind of challenge?"

"You'll see..." Babs seemed quite unwilling to give up her cheeriness, so Misty sighed indulgently at her friend and broke open her letter. She read the text twice before she returned her gaze to Babs. "What is this? Some kind of scavenger hunt?"

Babs nodded, pulling out her own letter. "Sort of, I think. She doesn't want anyone else to find the place, right? So it would make sense she'd send the directions in code."

"What place? What are we trying to find?" Misty looked at Babs, confused.

Babs looked back, equally confused. "The place she wants us to meet her. My letter says that we're supposed to wait until sunset, and then follow the clues she gave us to a secret meeting place. Doesn't yours explain that?"

Misty held up her letter. "Mine starts with something about a red tower, and then fording a river. What kind of place is she trying to take us?"

Babs frowned, coming over to look. They quickly realized the issue - the letters were different. Misty's was clearly a second part, taking over where the first letter left off. Misty looked back and forth between them thoughtfully. "I don't mean to be some kind of a neigh-sayer, but doesn't all of this secrecy seem a bit... much?"

Babs shrugged, looking over the letters again. "I'd be worried too, if I thought the sheriffs were gonna arrest me just for bein' myself."

Misty sighed. "But that's just it. We only have her word that her reasons for being so paranoid are a matter of discrimination."

Babs looked over, her frown mirroring Misty's own. "You aren't scared of goin' to the meetin', are you?"

"I am not being scared." Misty stated each word as though it were its own little sentence, fixing Babs with a stern glare. "I am just being wary, something you and Squall might want to try. She may act like she's our friend, but we don't know her. She's... different. And she's violent. We saw that in the alley."

"She probably saved our beeswax in that alley, ya know. And she told us her secret identity. Why would she do that, if she was up to something weird?"

Misty shook her head. "I don't know. I just... I don't trust her. There's just something about her sets my teeth on edge."

"Could it be the fangs, maybe?" Babs grinned.

"Babs, I'm serious. I've got a bad feeling about this whole thing. Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Babs sighed, shaking her head. "I dunno, Misty. But we've been at this for almost a year, and not so much as a twitch on any of our flanks. I'm starting to think maybe we're goin' about this all wrong. Cold Star seems like a pony who could teach us some new stuff to try, and it all seems like stuff that it would be great to know how to do. I think that's got to be worth a shot, don't you?"

Misty looked down at her letter for a long moment, thinking. Finally, she nodded. "Alright. But I still kind of think that we should tell our parents about all this. Or at least let them know where we're going."

Babs shook her head. "Nah, better we don't. In the first place, we don't actually know where we're going. That's probably going to lead to a lot of questions. I think the less we say about her to our folks, the better."

* * * * *

"So, tell me about this new friend of yours."

Squall's mom was frowning. That was never a good sign. Frowning usually meant spending the day in his room rather than getting to hang out with the Crusaders, and today of all days Squall was bound and determined not to let that happen.

Unfortunately, he was off to a bad start. Yesterday had been Summer Wrap Up, and while there weren't a whole lot of fields to harvest around Manehattan, there sure were a lot of summer breezes that needed gathering. The local Pegasi had put in a full day's work, including Squall and his mother. After that, he'd stayed up a lot later than he should have re-reading the astronomy textbook he'd checked out of the school library in an effort to review some of the things Cold Star had taught them about constellations. He wanted to impress his new instructor with his diligence, given that his size and lack of flying skills weren't likely to do the job for him.

Unfortunately, his efforts at diligence had ended up with him asleep on his bed with his face in a book. He had intended to set his alarm early enough to check for Cold Star's message before his mom woke up, but instead his mom ended up waking him when she barged into his room to announce that breakfast was on the stove, and he'd better be showered and presentable before he arrived at the table or he would be doing the dishes all by his lonesome.

It was then that they both noticed the letter sitting on the floor by his bedroom window.

Squall had thought about making a dive for it, but abandoned it instantly. Unlike her son, Sunshower was neither clumsy nor awkward despite her larger-than-average frame for a mare. She had told Squall it came from playing on her school's Stormball team when she was younger, and Squall had never doubted it for a moment. Nowadays she was the kind of weather-pony who eagerly took the extra hazard pay that came from wrangling unruly thunderstorms. Squall knew better than to pit his agility against a mare capable of dodging lightning bolts at a professional level.

Besides, if he went for the note she'd know he wanted to keep it secret, and that would be the end of any secrecy in the matter. So instead, he just hopped out of bed and made his way towards the bathroom, doing his level best to act like his mother wasn't picking up the most important, most secret letter he'd ever received in his life. Once he had shut the bathroom door he set himself into a mad rush to get himself cleaned up. He didn't want to leave her alone with the letter any longer than strictly necessary. He loved his mother, but she was the nosiest pony he had even met in his entire life, especially when it came to her son. He didn't think she would go so far as to open his mail, but he wasn't entirely certain.

When he arrived at the table he found the note next to his breakfast plate, obviously put there by his mother. The hoofwriting didn't look familiar, but the seal did - it was obviously from Cold Star, just as she had promised. At least it was still intact. He did his best not to look at it as he ate, and once he'd finished and cleared his place he casually tried to tuck the note under his wing while his mother was busy with the dishes, but like usual she caught him in the act. Squall sometimes wondered if catching him with his hoof in the cookie jar was his mother's special talent. She'd asked politely who the note was from, and Squall had hesitated. He wasn't sure about using Cold Star's real name, but making up a fake one didn't seem right. So he'd said instead that there was a new filly in the neighbourhood who had just joined the Crusaders, and that the letter was from her. That hesitation had likely been another mistake, and had led to this new line of questioning.

He considered his response very carefully, trying to make the imposing Bat-mare sound a little less impressive than she was. "Well, she's got a grey coat and a black mane. She's kind of tallish, so her wings are really wide. And as you can see, she has really nice hoofwriting."

His mother seemed nonplussed. "I see. Well then, why don't you go ahead and open her letter? After all, she went to all the trouble to deliver it to your bedroom window while you were sleeping." She said it casually, but Squall could see a curious glint in her eye.

"Um, because... because it's top secret. I promised the Crusaders I wouldn't open our secret documents except in private." Squall's face burned under his fur, knowing that this was not one of his better excuses. He wished Misty was here. She was a lot better at talking her way out of things.

His mom was tapping her hoof, a sure sign that her frown was starting to spread into her extremities. "I'm sure they wouldn't mind me taking a look. After all, if you're going out adventuring I want to know where you plan to be going, and when you'll be home. I'm sure their mothers would want the same."

Squall took a slow breath. "Right. Of course. Well, this is probably just a formal invitation to attend the astronomy club meeting tonight. The one I told you about."

His mother nodded slowly. "Yes, I remember. You said you'd be going out tonight with the Crusaders to go star-gazing. Is this new friend of yours going with you?"

Squall nodded. "Yep. In fact, she's kind of in charge of it. She's giving us lessons."

"Lessons, huh. I see. And... is she asking you to pay for these lessons, by chance?"

Squall frowned. "No. Why would she?"

"Just making sure. You can't be too careful, with ponies you don't know. Sometimes they can try to take advantage of you."

"Mom, I'm not a little pony anymore. I can look out for myself."

"I know. I just... I worry. That's all."

Squall sighed. "Come on, Mom. I'm going with Babs and Misty. Besides, it's a holiday. You'll be working late anyways, right? So what's wrong with me going out with my friends? I'll still probably get home before you will."

It was a little bit of a cheap shot, and Squall knew it. Weather didn't take breaks for holidays, and the fall changeover meant a chance for some big holiday overtime bonuses for any weather-pony who was willing to work the day after wrap-up. Sunshower always worked an extra shift on holidays if she could, to put a few extra bits away for a rainy day. Squall's father had died in an accident before he was even born, so his mother was the only haywinner in the house. That meant holidays usually left Squall with a long, boring night alone while his mother worked a double. Neither of them were ever really happy about it, and Squall hoped that would work to his advantage for a change.

Unfortunately, she didn't look convinced. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on their apartment door. Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Squall dashed out of the kitchen in the direction of his bedroom, bearing his secreted letter away with him. From the front door he could hear the voices of Babs and Misty, and he thanked his lucky stars for their timely arrival.

When Squall came back out, he had his cape and his saddle bag on, and a determined look on his face. His mother had brought Babs and Misty into their tiny apartment's kitchen, and they were both sucking on juice boxes when he came in. For a change, his mother was not also putting them through an inquisition about school and their club activities. Instead she had gone back to doing the breakfast dishes, though she still looked over at them with obvious interest in what was being said.

"Hey, Squall," said Babs. "You get any mail today?"

Squall nodded, glancing at his mom to check that her back was turned before pointing at her with one hoof. "Yeah. I got the invitation from our new friend. But since it's top secret, I didn't want to open it until I was in private, and I was eating breakfast until just now."

Babs and Misty glanced at each other, and then Babs glanced over at Sunshower before nodding slowly. "Right. Good job, keepin' our top secret messages under wraps. But now that we're here, maybe we should all go and decode them together."

Squall's eyes lit up. "She wrote them in code! That's awesome!" He glanced at his mother. "Um... but, I guess that makes total sense for a top secret message. So what's the plan?"

Misty finished her juice and put the empty box on the table. "We thought that since it's a message about an astronomy club meeting, the message is probably about the meeting place she has picked out. We thought that we'd begin at the library, and spend a few hours looking up some star charts and decoding the directions. Then we'll head back over to Seed Cakes and stock up on provisions for our evening, and maybe play a couple of board games to pass the time. After all, there won't be much astronomy to do until it starts getting dark. After that, we head over to the meet-up, do some stargazing, and then head back home."

Squall grinned from ear to ear. Having Misty talk about things made him almost believe that an astronomy meet-up was their actual plan, instead of running off to meet Cold Star in secret. "Sounds like a good plan to me." He looked over to where his mother was standing by the sink, anxious for her approval.

In fact all three of them looked over at Squall's mother, who had always been the most vocal impediment to their excursions. She was the sort of mother who always checked that her son's homework was done before allowing him to go out and play, and she refused to let them go out if the weather was going to be bad. Not to mention single-hoofedly vetoing their plans to become "Cutie-Mark Crusader Gem Miners". (Admittedly, that had been an especially poor piece of planning on their part, but having her march them back to the store to return their pickaxes had been terribly embarrassing.)

Sunshower shook her head slightly, then sighed. "I hope you three aren't planning any mischief."

Misty smiled sweetly. "Why would we want to do that?"

Sunshower grunted. "Because that is the nature of fillies and colts. But as long as Squall is home before ten, I'm fine with it."

The crusaders shared a round of smiles and hoof-bumps while she towelled off the last of the dishes and put them away. Then they gathered up their stuff and started to head out of the kitchen, but stopped when Sunshower cleared her throat.

"Just be careful, my little ponies," she said, looking at each of them one at a time with her stern, searching gaze. "Ending up with a Cutie Mark in keeping secrets doesn't sound like much fun to me."

The three Crusaders looked at one another as they left, all three of them wondering what she had meant but none of them feeling quite secure enough in their narrow escape to ask for an explanation. They left Squall's appartment building at a walk, but all of them broke into a gallop as soon as they had cleared the front door.

"So what's the real plan?" asked Squall, flapping along next to Babs in an effort to keep up.

Babs looked up towards her flying friend. "Just what Misty said. We hit the library to start decoding the letters, then over to Seed Cakes for a late lunch, and as soon as the sun starts goin' down we head for the alley were we first met. And from there..."

Babs smiled wickedly. "... And from there, we're off to find ourselves a dragon!"

Author's Note

Next Chapter: With letters in hoof, the Crusaders set off in search of Cold Star's hidden destination. Where will these letters lead, and what kind of lessons does Cold Star have in store? Find out in our next exciting chapter!

{ As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to comment! }

{Author Edit: Thanks again to Celelorien for helping to fix typos!}

Chapter 2: Chasing Stars

Chapter 2: Chasing Stars

"Greetings, Twilight Crusaders,

Three weeks past, a pact was made between four ponies united in common spirit. As the days grow shorter, I now stand ready to make good on my promises. These letters shall serve as guideposts to a secret place I have discovered for our use. Know that the path is long, but that the distance is not without purpose. I look forward to seeing you all tonight, if you choose to make this journey with me. Now, to work.

In the moment before the daylight descends, gather you three at the site of our first encounter. The sunset in Equestria has always been mercifully swift, but that makes its twilight fleeting. Given the nature of your Crusade, it is vital to strike out on your journey just as the last rays of the sun fall behind the distant mountains. Once the Blessed Moon stands fully in the sky, your time will have passed, and the chance for an auspicious beginning will be lost. So tarry not, for time is of the essence."

Seek you first the mighty Dragon I spoke of in our last encounter. Chase the Dragon's tail unto the fifth crossroads, then seek its smaller cousin. Let her guide you to the Path of Golden Lights. The path is brief, but it will lead you towards deep reflections. From here, be guided by the bonds of friendship, old then new."

=== === === === ===

The alley certainly seemed less intimidating under the light of day, Babs though. The last time she'd stood where she was now, she had been just this side of terrified. But she'd stayed true to the lessons her friends in Ponyville had taught her about standing up for ponies, and she'd been rewarded with the chance to meet a real Crusader. Her parents didn't really go in for the whole destiny thing (which was understandable, coming from two successful self-made ponies) but tonight, standing here at the place where it all began... it felt special. Like she was supposed to be here.

She looked over at her fellow crusaders, and she could tell right away that the feeling wasn't universal. Misty was being suspicious of everything, as if she expected something (or somepony) to jump out from the shadows at any moment. Squall looked about as wound-up as Babs felt, but his energy seemed to be more a manifestation of his nerves than his excitement. They'd spent the afternoon together looking at maps and trying to get an idea of where the instructions Cold Star had left them were leading, but too many of the clues had seemed like they were based on visual cues rather than riddles. If they wanted to see where this path was going to take them, they would just have to walk it down.

Babs turned towards the mountains in the distance, watching through squinted eyes as the sun slowly began to fall, just as Misty had predicted. Misty, having attended school in Canterlot for years before moving here, knew all about the calculations the Princesses used to plan the time of sunset each day throughout the fall, allowing winter to arrive in due course. Babs wondered if Cold Star had guessed Misty would know, or if she'd simply expected them to be able to figure it out on their own. Maybe that sort of thing was common knowledge where she was from. It went on the list of things she was eager to ask Cold Star about.

Babs looked back and forth between her compatriots. "Aw'right everypony. The sun's movin'. If Misty's right, that gives us about two hours before the Moon rises all the way. Are we ready to do this?"

Misty still looked wary, and Squall still looked nervous, but they both stepped forward without a second thought. Babs remembered the last time they'd stood in this place, when they followed her in to face the gang of colts. That choice had put them all in danger. Seeing them willing to do it all again anyways warmed her heart in a way she couldn't describe. Moved by the moment, Babs grabbed both of her friends and dragged them into an impromptu group hug.

Misty giggled in spite of herself. "Crusaders stick together, right?"

Squall sighed. "Does that have to mean literally?"

Babs let them go, smiling at the blush that Squall's white fur did almost nothing to hide. "Aw, come off it, Squall. In a few years you'll be beggin' for hugs from cute fillies. Enjoy 'em while they last."

Squall grunted back. "Whatever. Girls are weird. And we're wasting time. The sun is already most of the way down. We have to be ready to move when the twilight starts. How does the first part go again?"

Babs reached into her saddlebag and pulled out her message.

"We have to 'seek the mighty Dragon'. That's probably the constellation of the Great Wyrm. Accordin' to the star charts we looked at, it's probably gonna be right over our heads, someplace. Everypony look for it."

All three of them looked up, watching as the darkness spread across the sky and the first stars flickered into view. The city lights made seeing all of the fainter stars difficult, but Cold Star had chosen one of the largest and clearest constellations to begin their journey.

Misty pointed up. "Look! There are the three stars that form the Dragon's head. Which means the tail is... there!"

Babs grinned. "Chase the tail. Those stars are to the north, down 18th street. Five intersections will put us about half way to midtown. Let's go!"

And with that, they were off.

* * * * *

From the rooftops far above, Cold Star watched her students reach their first destination at the corner of 18th and Pebblebrook. She was pleased to see that they spent little time deliberating over the second clue; they noticed the sign for the Rattlesnake Roadhouse three blocks down, and hurried off to seek the golden lights. She leapt from rooftop to rooftop, staying far enough behind them that she could watch them with only a minimal chance of being seen by the cape-wearing ponies below.

Observation, her Master has taught her, was one of the key elements to overcoming any challenge. One needed to understand a problem in great detail in order to find the best possible solution. She normally applied this kind of thinking to develop infiltration strategies or when facing dangerous opponents in combat, but it had occurred to her that it was equally valid as a teaching tool. Her Master had encouraged her to study the traditional ways set out by their ancestors, but his own lessons always began with him drawing attention to a strength or weakness she held within herself. Now, without many of those traditions to fall back on, all she could do was to try and emulate his wisdom.

After only a few blocks of watching them, Cold Star was already making useful observations. The first matter that would need addressing was the disparity in their levels of fitness. It didn't come as much surprise to find that Babs Seed was the most fit; being an Earth Pony the craving for physical activity would be naturally strong in her. She was also tall for her age, and the combination of those two factors meant she had to control her pace to keep from leaving her companions behind. Misty Morning, despite being only slightly shorter (and also somewhat leaner than the heavyset Babs, if Cold Star was being fair and honest), seemed to be having a terrible time keeping up. They had travelled barely twelve blocks in all so far but Misty was already gasping and asking Babs to slow down. Was this the standard level of an Equestrian student's physical education? Her Master would have wept for the students here.

Squall wasn't faring much better. It was obvious that being the shortest and smallest of build that he was likely to have a hard time keeping up with a runner like Babs, so he'd abandoned running not long after they'd departed, opting to fly just above the pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk instead. But even there he struggled a bit to keep pace with her, and he seemed to give an unnecessarily wide berth to any kind of obstacle nearby, from shop canopies to lamp posts. To Cold Star's eyes, he seemed tentative in his flying and skittish towards obstacles. He would need to work on that. He also needed to do something about the unruliness of his shaggy brown hair - his bangs were too long, and he kept having to shake them out of his face any time he looked down to check on the others. It cost him momentum every time he did it, and made his flying technique look even more awkward than it already did.

Cold Star was forced to briefly abandon her observations as her keen hearing picked up a nearby cry for help. She crossed the rooftops quickly, seeking out the origin of the distressed shouts. In a nearby side-street she saw a filly lying on the pavement with a bloodied nose and tears in her eyes, calling out after another mare fleeing on hoof with a wallet in her teeth. A purse-snatching, and with the defiler still in sight. The Sacred Night called out for justice, and Cold Star answered.

A few streets ahead, the cowardly thief ducked into an alley to examine her ill-gotten gains only to find Cold Star waiting. Moments later her distraught victim arrived on the scene with a Deputy in tow, only to find the stolen purse sitting neatly atop a nearby dumpster which had been latched closed, with the half-hearted echoes of a slightly worse-for-wear purse-snatcher echoing from inside. Cold Star noted with some amusement that the Deputy opted to read the thief her rights before letting her out of the smelly refuse container.

The Crusader returned to the rooftop where she had last seen the Twilight Crusaders, but the youngsters had already moved out of view. This wasn't too great a problem - she would be able catch up with them at the bridge, if she took a short-cut. That would prove easier than trying to get across all the crowded streets below without being seen, at any rate. Finding another abandoned alley, Cold Star glided down to the pavement. With a deft flick of her hooves she pried up the manhole cover there and a moment later she was gone, down into the welcoming darkness of the city's underground.

* * * * *

Finding the Path of Golden Lights had been much easier than Misty had expected. The Rattlesnake Roadhouse stood on the corner across from the Spotlight Theatre. Misty had been down here a bunch of times "taking in the culture" with her parents, so she quickly led her companions down the block towards the heart of entertainment in Manehattan. The Bridleway Theatre lit up after dark, and all the way down the street beyond it the smaller theatres and art houses did their best to imitate its grandeur with billboards glowing a brilliant golden yellow, each advertising a different play or musical act. Misty took a few moments as they passed to take note of what was playing where - her parents would inevitably drag her out here to hob-nob with the local artists again, so she took every chance to suggest shows that she might actually want to see. Anything to avoid having to sit through another three-hour performance of "the Barber of Ponyville".

Nearby, Babs and Squall were pouring over the first letter while looking for the next clue. Misty had already guessed that their path would take them towards the river; talking about 'deep reflections' was much too cheesy for a sensible pony like Cold Star to mean it anything but literally. But she didn't offer her solution to Babs or Squall. She still wasn't sure this was a good idea, and the delay gave her time to catch her breath and think about what to do next.

She had spent the past few weeks going through her father's magical texts looking for information about Bat Ponies. There wasn't much, since no one had really seen one for almost a millennium. So instead she had started learning spells that might be useful if Cold Star was up to something. She had learned a light-bringer spell since Cold Star probably preferred the dark, and a charm for retracing your path, in case they needed to find their way back from somewhere dangerous Cold Star had taken them. She had wanted to learn a freezing spell, or a force-field, but both of those had tired her out and left her sweating with the effort. It seemed her magic wasn't ready for that kind of difficult spell yet.

Babs called her over. "Hey, we think the next clue is about the river. What do you think?"

Misty nodded. "Deep reflections... makes sense to me. Let's go."

The River-walk was a popular place for couples to meet in the evening, and the Crusaders passed a number of young couples lounging on benches and staring out over the water. The warm light of the street-lamps made the place very inviting. Babs pulled out her letter again.

"It says 'from here, be guided by the bonds of friendship, old then new'. There seems to be a lot of friendly ponies around. Do you think she means that we should talk to somepony?"

Squall didn't look convinced. "If she wanted this to stay a secret, she wouldn't tell more ponies than she had to. It's probably a landmark. Maybe a place that ponies like to visit with friends or something?"

Misty sighed. This clue was a bit obscure, and both Babs and Squall seemed to be focused on finding a thing rather than reading carefully. If she kept quiet, maybe they might eventually give up when they didn't find the right thing. That might be best for everyone. For a moment she seriously considered it, but she felt guilty right away. She'd said it herself: being a Crusader meant sticking together. That meant helping them get to Cold Star, even if deep down she didn't really want to go herself. Misty pulled out her own letter.

"I don't think it's a place. I think she's telling us which letters to look at next. Mine, then Squall's."

Babs frowned. "How do you figure?"

"The bonds of friendship she's talking about is us. The phrase 'old then new' is talking about the order we met. You and I became friends first, and then we made friends with Squall later. She's telling us the order we're supposed to use the letters, so that if someone else read them they won't know whose to use next. Like Squall said, she's making it so only we can understand what to do."

Babs and Squall looked at each other, both grinning excitedly. Misty smiled back, wishing she could share their fun in all this. She held up her note so that they could all read it. It had much the same introduction as Babs', but the instructions were different.

===== ===== ===== =====

Stand before the red tower, then ford the river there. Beyond it, a royal welcome should await you. Cross six roads in this stately pace, and then take a moment's rest before you continue. This path we will travel together is long, and for the one who bears this letter it is sure to carry you farther and farther from your ancestral home. But we must keep true to the path, for only then will the sweetest delights appear before us. Do not succumb to its temptation, however. Steer your eyes away, and follow the path of rightness. It will carry you where you need to go. I hope to see you all soon.

===== ===== ===== =====

Misty pointed towards the bridge nearby. "The red tower is the lighthouse at the edge of the bridge. I guess she wants us to cross here, and then look for this 'royal welcome' on the other side."

"Then what're we waitin' for?" said Babs, smiling broadly. "We don't wanna miss our welcome, right?"

And just like that they were off again. Misty bit back a complaint about sweating not being lady-like, and gamely ran along after them.

* * * * *

The river that cut through the middle of Manehattan was wide and deep, so building the bridges necessary to connect the two shores of the metropolis had been no small undertaking. With each of them reflecting a massive investment of time, bits and effort, their engineers had made certain they were built to last. They boasted an extensive support structure made up of huge concrete pillars and iron beams crisscrossing beneath the roadways that saw ten of thousands of ponies cross by carriage, trolley, train and hoof at every hour of the day and night without any hint of difficulty.

Cold Star had always been partial to the Paddleton Bridge. Named for the small, one-pony operated ferry-boat that had crossed earth-bound ponies here every day for fifty years back in the city's infancy, Paddleton Bridge was the only bridge in Manehattan that was exclusively for hoof-traffic. Cold Star often used the steel undercarriage of the bridge to get from one side of the river to the other during the early hours of the night when most ponies were still awake. Unlike the other bridges the street noise from above was minimal, allowing her sharp hearing to pick up snatches of conversation going on above. When she'd first come to Manehattan, she had spent several evenings out near the middle of the bridge where the oppressive blare of city noises was distant and the ponies above seemed almost like they were just walking by, instead of passing ten paces above her head. It had been a very lonely time for her; so lonely that she could still recite the local tour guide's speech about the bridge's history and its view of the Statue of Harmony from memory. She'd followed that tour along under the bridge many more times than she would have cared to admit, pretending she was a part of the tour instead of lurking, hidden from sight in the bridge's metal underbelly.

Above, her long ears picked out several familiar hoof-beats as they hurried across the bridge. Cold Star kept pace; an amusing inversion of her first meeting with the Twilight Crusaders. She tugged her hat off with one wing to free up her ears, and paused long enough to pick up their voices above.

"So, what do you think Cold Star is going to teach us first?" Squall sounded excited, and she could hear his wings beating unevenly as he circled his friends from above.

"Dunno. I hope it's somethin' excitin' though. She seemed kinda surprised that we didn't know how to fight, so maybe she'll start with that." Babs sounded as eager as she had last time she'd suggested learning those particular skills.

Misty, on the other hoof, did not. "Oh, joy. Just what a Unicorn needs. Lessons on how to combat ruffians in the least efficient way possible."

"Hey, not all of us have a magic goon-stoppin' horn on our face. Some of us have to do it the old fashion way."

"Yeah. I mean, I'd be happy just learning that last trick, where she held that big colt up against the wall with one wing. I bet that guy is never going to mess with her again."

Misty groaned. "Oh, I'm sure we will. And we'll all get to practice with each other, no doubt. Just think what a delight it will be to have an expert like her clobbering us all the time. I, for one, can hardly wait."

"Better her than Prancewell or Skyler."

There was a long moment of tense silence up on the bridge before Babs spoke up again. "Hey, Squall. Those guys... they aren't still botherin' you, are they?"

"Don't worry about it, Babs."

"Aw, what in the hills, Squall? I told you if those colts hassled you again, you should come find me."

"Why? So you can get sent home from school again, because of me? No thanks. I'll handle it."

"Squall, darling. Babs is right. If they've started bullying you again, we want to help."

"Can we please drop it?" Squall gave an irritated sigh. "Listen, we all get picked on for being blank-flanks, right? It's not a big deal. Seriously. I'm fine. I just want to make sure if anypony tries to shove me in a locker again, I get the better end of the deal, that's all. Now let's worry less about me and more about not missing our meeting. What do you think she means by a royal welcome?"

There was another pause before Misty spoke. "I'm not sure. But I doubt she's sending us a welcoming committee, so I suspect it's probably another reference."

"Makes sense. So, maybe somethin' you'd expect to see at a royal reception. Misty, you ever been to one of those?"

"Of course. Living in Canterlot, not a month goes by that the Princess doesn't attend some big social event. It usually starts off with a bunch of guards showing up and getting into formation, and then the royal chariot arrives, and then everyone starts cheering. It's all a lot of fanfare."

"Wait, did you say fanfare?" Squall sounded interested. "Like, a bunch of horns, right?"

"Well, yes. There's usually an actual fanfare when a Princess arrives. It's traditional."

"And Cold Star would know that, since Princess Luna used to visit... her tribe... right?"

"Oh, I get it. Squall, that's great thinkin'! We get across the bridge, and head northwest six blocks."

"Could someone explain what I'm missing, please?"

"The Trumpet. It's one of the constellations Cold Star showed us last time. Weren't you payin' attention?"

Misty huffed. "Hey, I got the last three. It's only fair that it be someone else's turn. And can we please keep in mind she said to do this part at a stately pace." The only reply was firnedly laughter from her comrades.

Cold Star fell back a little as they reached the far side of the bridge, and the Crusaders quickly moved out of earshot. She took a few moments to reflect on what she had heard. It had been instructive, certainly, but also a bit troubling. Why had Babs been sent home from school? What would she do about Misty's preference for magical combat over hoof-to-hoof techniques? Who were Prancewell and Skyler, and why did Squall bristle so much when he spoke of them?

All these questions and more dogged Cold Star as she found her way to a familiar water runoff pipe. She ducked inside, hooking her wingtips into her cape to keep it from dragging in the muddy pipe-water. She would rinse her hooves at the spillway just ahead, and if all went well, she would be back up on the rooftops before the Crusaders reached the park.

* * * * *

Squall's legs were exhausted as Misty's letter guided them through the business district towards Thornhill Park. He'd been able to keep up by winging along so far, but was relieved when they paused near the public water fountain to re-hydrate and munch on some of the honey-and-nut loaf Babs had brought. Squall chewed on his thoughtfully, watching the moon rise slowly over the buildings nearby. It would be fully up within the hour, and he had no intention of arriving late. Misty steered them eastward and slightly north, putting her "ancestral home" in Canterlot at their backs as they made their way through the park's small forest. They worried about how far to follow the route until they arrived at the top of a hill where the treeline ended and Squall called a halt.

"Look, the Big Apple is right in front of us in the sky. That must be the sweetest delight she was talking about. What's next?"

Misty held up her note. "It says to follow the path of rightness. Shouldn't that be righteousness?

They gathered around the page Misty was holding, and after a few moments Babs groaned.

"Down there. Just outside the park. Bighorn's Saloon. Then back towards the river again."

Squall frowned. "How do you know?"

"It's a pun. 'Steer you eyes'. Steer. Bull. Bighorns. And 'path of rightness' just literally means to go right instead of left."

Misty looked thoughtful. "That's a lot less clever than I'd expected."

Babs shrugged. "It's probably pretty hard to come up with this many tricky hints. There's bound to be a couple of duds, here or there.

That kicked off Babs and Misty bickering about how difficult writing these clues must have been, but Squall ignored them. Instead, he focused on reviewing his own letter, since Misty's letter seemed to have exhausted it's clues. He didn't bother to take the letter out of his bag - he'd already committed all three letters to memory in case they got lost or damaged somehow. He wondered if Misty had done the same, since they both shared a bit of an egghead streak. But where Misty was good at solving puzzles, Squall was just good at memorizing things.

===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Stand before the red tower, then place the river at your back. Make your way forward undaunted, even as an obstacle rises up to stand in your way. Only one who walks the paths I favour can lead you forward now, and they will face a mighty foe. A wise pony would do well to keep his friends from harm's way.

Once you have your bearings, make your way ahead four blocks, where you shall be confronted once again. Face your foe, and press him from the flank. Seek the darkness that lies between the eye and the stars, and watch for a signal that will serve as proof the path you follow is true.

===== ===== ===== ===== =====

They'd come far enough north that Squall could see another bridge coming up ahead; the Dragon's Gate Bridge, the biggest in the city. He scanned the shore, and the nearest lighthouse was on the far bank. Squall couldn't help but smile to himself at Cold Star's cleverness. He'd wondered why both his letter and Misty's had started with the exact same instructions, but now it was clear. The red towers were one of the only obvious clues, and anypony reading the letters could figure out Cold Star was talking about the beacon towers, placed along the river to make sure ships coming down the river knew where the bridges were. The letter to Babs got them to the correct starting lighthouse, and then told them which letter to use to get to the next one. Without that information, anypony else would have to guess where to start, and then in what order to continue.

On the far side of the bridge they made their way up the hill, bringing them right to the front doors of the Minotaur's Arms Hotel. Squall watched the massive statue that served as the hotel's mascot drew closer, it's fearsome horns and looming, muscular frame lit by the streetlights below it. The long shadow it cast on the building beyond made a chill run up his spine, and he found himself on the ground next to Babs and Misty before he even realized he'd changed direction.

Babs asked for his letter, and they looked at it together. "Well, the hotel is a pretty big obstacle. It goes about a block each direction, so we obviously need to turn here somewhere. I guess the Minotaur is the mighty foe, but what does 'one who walks the paths I favour' mean?"

Misty shook her head. "I haven't a clue. Perhaps an alley nearby that you can see the minotaur from?"

Babs shrugged. "Could be. Or someplace dark, maybe?"

Squall looked back at the giant shadow on the hotel, and then up at the sky above. "Actually, I think you're half right, Babs. I've got a hunch. You two wait here a minute. I'll be right back."

Squall leapt back into the air, his tired wings straining as he forced them into a steep climb. But a few moments later he stood on the shadowy rooftop of the hotel. It was the tallest building this side of mid-town, and above him the starlit sky filled his vision. As he looked, he found exactly the constellation he had guessed he would in the sky to the east, which had been blocked from view by the hotel: the Rearing Archer, bow in hoof.

"He looks like a mighty foe, all right," muttered Squall to himself. To keep out of harm's way, they'd go the oppose way from where the arrow would fly - north again. Four blocks, then east again, to 'confront' the Archer. Their final destination would be somewhere on that street.

His mother being who she was, Squall had been forced to memorize a map of the city at a very early age, before he was allowed any kind of freedom to go out flying by himself. He matched his expected directions to the map in his head, and guessed that their final destination was somewhere on Vanner Street right near the edge of the Mosaic.

The Mosaic was one of the less well-to-do parts of Manehattan. It was as far from both Midtown and the river as you could be and still be considered 'downtown', so the property there was a lot cheaper. Because it was cheaper to live there a lot of folks who were just moving to the big city from other towns or countries often chose to live there, which was why is was called the Mosaic - ponies, griffins, bovines and minotaurs all living together within the same dozen square blocks. Of all the places in town one could walk around in a cape and not get a second look, the Mosaic was at the top of the list, so it made sense that Cold Star might have her secret hide-out there.

Mind you, it was still a poorer neighbourhood, with the slightly higher rate of crime that came with it. His mother would have a heart attack if she knew her son was heading there to meet with a Bat Pony well after dark. Squall swallowed heavily, and hoped fervently that she wouldn't ask for specifics later.

Having figured out their next direction, Squall took advantage of the view to look back over the path they'd already taken. He laid it out on the map in his head, and was puzzled. It was basically a giant crescent. They could have hopped on the trolly in front of Babs' place and been dropped off no more than a ten minute canter from wherever they were likely to end up on Vanner Street. Why then did Cold Star have them cross the bridge only to turn around and come back?

In the spy novels Squall sometimes read, special agents did that sort of thing to identify anypony who was following them. He mentally kicked himself for not having thought to check if they were being followed - if he led some Sherrif right to Cold Star, he'd never live it down. Fortunately, other than Babs and Misty, Squall didn't see anypony else hanging around in the street below.

He ran through the letters again in his head, wondering if there was anything else like that he had missed. He thought about her words to Babs, that the path would be long, but not without purpose. He looked at his mental map again, plotting the course step by step, and thinking about where they had stopped at each point. Looking down at his friends, he suddenly had that warm satisfied feeling one got when they figured out something clever.

Still grinning like a fool, he stepped off the rooftop and floated down into the courtyard below, ready to lead his friends to their final destination.

* * * * *

It would figure, Babs thought, that Cold Star's journey would both begin and end in an alley. This particular alley stood just as Squall's letter directed, between the eye and the stars. In this case, the stars referred to the sign for "All-Stars Wagon Repair and Sales" on one side, and "The All-Seeing Eye" on the other, an establishment whose front sign offered "readings for cards or hooves, and all manner of charms for good-fortune". All three of them agreed that it seemed like a good bet, but Misty had thought perhaps they should stay out on the street where the lamp light made it easier to see.

Squall made his way into the alley instead. "Come on. I'm one hundred percent sure this is the place, but we have to be standing here in the alley before we'll be able to see the signal."

Misty frowned slightly. "I don't see how you can be so thoroughly convinced."

Squall grinned. "Look up. This is going to be awesome."

Misty and Babs both looked up, and realized that the Moon was just now reaching it's full height, which made it shine directly down the mouth of the alley from just above the rooftop at the other end from where they had entered.

Babs glanced over at Squall. "You mean the moon?"

"Wait for it..."

Babs looked back up just in time to see a caped figure appear on the rooftop, standing silhouetted in the moonlight. It was a mare with fur the colour of storm clouds, wearing a hat and cowl that masked her every feature save the coppery hue of her eyes. It was unmistakably Cold Star. Without undue ceremony she stepped off of the roof, allowing her leathery wings to stretch out and glide her silently into the alley to stand beside her three fellow Crusaders.

"Told you," said Squall. "Totally awesome."

Babs nodded. Misty caught herself before she rolled her eyes, instead keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the Bat Pony before her.

Cold Star seemed amused as she bowed slightly. "Hail, Twilight Crusaders. I'm gratified that you would permit me such an overly dramatic entrance. It is good to see you all once more."

Babs saw Misty bowing slightly in return, and did her best to copy the movement. Squall just stood there grinning, obviously a bit oblivious to anything other than their teacher's arrival. Cold Star looked toward him. "Summer Squall, I notice you anticipated my arrival. Good work."

Squall's grin got even wider, but he just pawed at the ground, and blushed a bit in response. "I guessed when I was up on the hotel. We stopped in a lot of open spaces with tall buildings nearby. Were you following us the whole time?"

"Something like that. Your route tonight followed one of the patrol paths I normally use, so in a way you were being made to precede my arrival at places I was already going. As I said, the path was not without purpose. While I will honour my agreement with you, I still have my Oaths to uphold, and patrolling every night without fail is an important part of that, even on night we're training together."

Babs stepped forward. "So, did we do aw'right? And did we make it in time?"

She nodded approvingly. "Yes. Your diligence is a credit to your future duty, all of you. Be proud, for this first task was not an easy one." She paused for a moment to glance up at the moon. "Indeed, you have arrived with time to spare. Which is good, since that will allow us a bit more time together this evening. There is much to discuss, and a few formalities that must be observed before we can begin anything in earnest." She turned, leading the Crusaders further into the alley. "Please come with me. There is someone that I would like for you all to meet."

In various states of curiosity and excitement, the three Crusaders hurried to follow.

Author's Note

Author's Note:

Next time: Finally re-united with Cold Star, the Crusaders are introduced to a new ally and begin the first steps of their training. What challenges await our young heroes, and what will Cold Star choose to teach them first? Find out in our next exciting chapter!

{ As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! }

Chapter 3: Paying Respects

The alley between the wagon repair shop and the fortune telling studio was almost completely dark, save for the white light of the distant moon. The four Crusaders, with Cold Star in the lead, made their way over towards the silhouette of a doorway set into one of the nearby walls. The door itself was covered by a heavy iron gate - the kind that somepony might install to deter burglars and intimidate door-to-door salesponies.

Babs looked to Cold Star. "So... you're friends with a fortune teller?"

Cold Star nodded. "Indeed. After moving here, she was the very first person I met face to face... so to speak. In my third week here I assisted a local merchant during an armed robbery, but departed quickly once the defilers were defeated. Being local, he came here hoping to have the identity of his benefactor revealed to him. The merchant left quite confused when the fortunes revealed that a 'Warrior Sworn to Darkness' had rescued him, but the fortune-teller herself became quite curious. So she arranged to meet me, by repeatedly walking around at night carrying jewels enough to tempt a Palace Guard to mischief. Fortunately, the thugs who chose to accost her were much more poorly skilled than any guard would have been."

Squall grinned. "So you handled them like you handled the goons that attacked us?"

"Something like that, yes. But before I could make good my escape I found that the victim of the attack had not only failed to flee at my instruction, but had been watching the whole thing with a great big smile on her face. Then she invited me back to eat dinner at her home. I had been short of rations, and had not eaten a proper sit-down meal in well over a month. When she claimed to have minced-fruit pie, I was compelled to accompany her. It was the beginning of a most unusual friendship."

Misty frowned, her scepticism still in full effect. "My father says that most fortune tellers are charlatans. Are you sure this pony is quite trustworthy?"

Cold Star fixed her gaze on Misty, and she shrank slightly under its intensity. "I would, and indeed have, trusted my most precious possession to her safekeeping. I would just as confidently trust her with my life. But I understand that she is a stranger to you, and I have already said that I respect your stance on strangers, Misty Morning. But I hope you will give her the same benefit of the doubt that you have shown me, and give her a fair chance regardless of her profession."

Babs frowned slightly at Misty, then nodded gamely at Cold Star. "You bet we will. Besides, anypony willin' to go to those lengths just to meetin' you must be pretty interestin' herself."

"That would certainly be one way of describing her, yes."

Cold Star stood next to the door and rapped her hoof smartly three times against the steel frame of the gate. From within the fortune teller's shop came the sound of a chair scraping against the floor, followed by the stacatto sound of hoofsteps against hard wood.

"The sky is dark, and the hour late. Who comes to knock upon my gate?" The voice of the pony inside was firm, confident, and distinctly feminine. There were traces of an exotic accent lingering around the vowels as she spoke.

Cold Star cleared her throat and replied. "A Moon Tribe shadow with allies three, who would seek your hospitality."

From inside the building there was the sound of a large lock turning, and then the clatter of a few smaller locks. The heavy oak door swung open, and a hoof appeared to spring the catch that held the gate bolted shut. It swung out from the wall slowly, with only a well-oiled 'squeak' to mark it's passage. From within the shape of a pony appeared, bathed in warm lamplight. It wasn't much, but for the three young ponies who didn't have the benefit of Cold Star's ability to see in the dark, it was a marked improvement.

The shape in question turned out not to be a pony at all, but a Zebra. Her mane hung down from her head in a series of long, black-and-white braids, and her robe was made with fabric decorated in striped patterns and rich earthy colours. Her ears were studded with jewels and her hooves were ringed with silver bracelets that jingled slightly as she moved though the door to stand next to Cold Star. She was a head taller than the Bat-Pony, with the kind of sturdy frame that suggested she might have some Earth Pony somewhere in her ancestry.

She smiled widely at Cold Star and dropped into a deep bow, which Cold Star returned gracefully. Again, Misty followed suit right away, but the other two were so busy staring at the Zebra that they both missed the cue all together.

The Zebra, for her part, may well not have noticed. Her attention remained focused on Cold Star. "Welcome, honoured night-time guard. Have you come that I might read your cards?"

Cold Star swept her hat off of her head with one hoof, ducking her head slightly. "No, but I thank you most kindly for the offer. Rather, I have come that I might introduce the three I spoke to you about. These are the Crusader apprentices I have agreed to instruct. Twilight Crusaders, this is Madame Zelest. Please pay her your respects, for she is an ally to our cause."

Babs and Squall both looked surprised at suddenly being asked to introduce themselves to a stranger. Misty, who was much more used to dealing with unexpected formalities, stepped forward to buy them a moment. She lowered herself into a formal bow. "Greetings, Madame Zelest. Thank you so much for seeing us at this late hour. My name is Misty Morning, eldest daughter of Professor Golden Sunrise and Lady Dew Drop, formerly of Canterlot. I'm honoured to make your acquaintance."

The Zebra bowed in return, though much less deeply than she had to Cold Star. "I welcome you, young lady fair. I see you have a cultured air. But please do not bow low to me. I do not stand on formality."

Misty nodded slightly and stepped back, smiling happily at getting to make use of her fancy court manners. Babs and Squall exchanged a look, and then Babs stepped forward hesitantly. "Good evenin', Madame Zelest. My name is... er... Barbara-Anne Seed, daughter of Haymish Seed and Apple Cinnamon Seed. And... uh... younger sister of Poppitria Seed, I guess? Pleased to meet ya."

The Zebra looked Babs up and down, a glimmer of amusement flickering in her eyes. "Nice to meet you, child of Seeds. Please ask if you have any needs. I have offered to take you all in hand, and that includes you, Barbara-Anne."

Babs grinned. "Um... thanks a lot, ma'am. But I just usually go by Babs, if that's alright."

The Zebra grinned back. "Babs it is, if you prefer. A lucky mare, of that I'm sure, to win the favour of this Cold Star. One day I'd love to read your cards."

"Um... ok?" Babs stepped back, obviously not entirely sure what to make of the Zebra or her offer.

That made it Squall's turn. He stepped forward, took a deep breath, and then lowered himself into a formal bow very nearly as gracefully as Misty's, which seemed to surprised everyone but Zelest.

"Greetings on this, the first of fall. This one before you is Summer Squall. My mother Sunshower is strong and brave, and my fathers name... is on his grave. I have it not to offer you, so I guess this verse will have to do."

Zelest's face became more solemn. She bowed politely to Squall, and then (for some reason) bowed slightly again to the empty space to his right. "Your skilled delivery does you proud, young scion of sun and wind and cloud. You bring honour to my kin and herd with the cadence of your spoken word."

Squall smiled shyly. "I only hope to not offend... the ear of my teacher's kindly friend."

Zelest looked over at Cold Star, grinning again. "I like this little pegasi. There's more to him than meets the eye. I'm ever so pleased you came to me, having had the chance to meet these three."

Cold Star smiled beneath her cowl. "You could not be more pleased than I am at having been granted your leave to bring them here. But with our introductions concluded, might we come inside? The hour is yet early, and I'd rather not be seen by a passer-by."

"As if you would be caught outdoors, what with those canny ears of yours. But I'm sure these young ponies are eager to see what strange circumstances have led them to me." Zelest swept past the Crusaders to stand beside a large metal grate set into the stone boulevard next to her door. She produced a small gemstone from somewhere within her robes and pressed it against a round, flat plate at the edge of the metal, staring intently downward.

"As moonlight through a window's glass, I command you - let me pass."

The alley was silent for a moment, and then there was a quiet "pop-click", and the grate swung up to reveal a hidden stairway beneath. Beckoning for them all to follow, Zelest headed down the stairs.

The flight of stairs carried them down quite a ways, and it emptied the ponies out into a dark room at the bottom. With a light brush of her hoof against a gem on the wall, a few small sunstones flickered to life on the roof, illuminating the cellar in a gentle glow.

The room was only just slightly smaller than the building that stood above it, and it was not a small building. The floors, walls and ceiling were all well-constructed brickwork, with a high arched ceiling that allowed sounds to echo up and away from the ponies below.

Misty was the first to speak up. "Wow. This looks like the entry hallway at the Canterlot Academy. Why would someone build a room this large underground?"

Zelest smiled. "I'm told by those who lived here last, this building has a sordid past. Manehattan has not always been a place that opened its arms to every race. In days long past this building hid those settlers that the law forbid. Zebras, Minotaurs, and Griffins a-feather would find themselves down here, living together. They say the Mosiac's roots can be traced to the brave sons and daughters who stepped out from this place - who fought against judgement and prejudiced action to be part of this city that we all love with passion. Since those day - now long-gone history - this building passed from Zebra to Zebra to me. The last owners used this space to house a wine cellar, but I though Cold Star's idea was something more... stellar."

She grinned back at Cold Star, who was looking up at the roof, her eyes narrowed. Squall followed her gaze upwards, and flapped his wings a few times to bring him closer to the symbols painted up near the stone arches of the vaulted ceiling. The paint looked fresh, and the runes were angular and intricate.

"Hey Misty, have you ever seen runes like these?"

Misty squinted up at the ceiling, and then she closed her eye in concentration. Her horn began to glow softly, but after a moment she shook her head. "No. But they're definitely magical. I would strongly suggest you don't touch them."

Cold Star looked at Zelest. "Are those what I think they are?"

"Scrivening runes, as I'm sure you guessed. You asked me for safety, so I've done my best. Now anypony that tries to scry this room will see only cobwebs and dust-balls and gloom. It's all but immune from magic intrusion; all they'll see is a musty and dusty illusion. As you can see, cousin of my heart, my home security is state of the art."

Cold Star and Zelest watched each other for a moment before they were interrupted by Babs calling out to her friends. "Hey, check it out! There's a big chalk board, and a bunch of workout mats piled in the corner." Babs looked over at the two older ponies. "Does that mean... is this gonna be our meeting place?"

Cold Star nodded. "That is our intent. It's secluded enough that we can come and go unseen, and Zelest has given us her permission to make use of the space for as long as we need it."

Squall dived down from the roof. "Sweet! We finally have a real clubhouse!"

Babs coughed. " 'Scuse me, but we have a clubhouse."

Misty offered Babs a sympathetic look. "Babs, that old pigeon coop on your building's roof has never been a proper clubhouse. Even after we cleaned it out, there was just no escaping the smell. And it did nothing what-so-ever to keep off the rain."

Babs sighed. "I know. I mean, this is pretty great. I'm just sayin'... I mean, I tried. Right?"

Squall landed nearby. "Sorry Babs. I know you did your best."

Babs looked a little downcast. "No, you guys are right. As the leader, I should have found us a place like this right off the bat."

This time it was Misty who opted to grab them all in a big group hug. Squall sighed theatrically. "Do we have to do this every time?" That sent Babs and Misty into a fit of giggles, and a moment later they were rushing around the room together, poking their noses at anything that looked interesting.

"There sure are a lot of cloak-hooks." Squall pointed to the door, where eight metal posts jutted out from the brick.

Zelest came over to stand by him. "I thought that one day more students may come, and not having a hook might make them glum."

Cold Star made her way over to join them. "This is not a classroom in the traditional sense. More members will not be joining us, to my knowledge."

She looked to Babs, who shook her head. "I doubt it. I don't know many more blank-flanks our age, and none of them wanted to join up last time I asked 'em."

The Zebra just shrugged. "With great wisdom it can be said, it always pays to plan ahead. Better, I think, to be prepared than to force the new ones to have to share. Besides, it's a detail you should not miss - that the future is my business. So if I say eight is a solid choice, is it my word or the future's voice?"

Cold Star and the Crusaders all stared at the Zebra for a moment, but her calm smile was totally unreadable. She simply reached into her sleeve and pulled out a small bag, gesturing for the Crusader's to come closer. "With that all said it's time for me to pass around your new house key. Treat these kindly, if you please, for they cannot be replaced with ease. To make the grate above us raise, just press the key and speak the phrase."

She opened the bag, and offered it to the three young ponies. Within sat a half-dozen small gems, all near-exact copies of the one Zelest had used before to open the grate. They tentatively reached towards the bag and took one in turn, slipping them into their cloak pockets or their saddlebags, variously.

When the bag was presented to Cold Star, she just stared down into it, seeming confused.

"I... had thought you would be the one to be letting us in."

"Don't be silly. That's no fun - a clubhouse with keys for only one."

"That's not what I meant. Zelest, I was perfectly happy with the cellar the way it was. I just hoped to use the space, and thought perhaps you might know a smith of locks who could ward it against intrusion. But... a sound-printed crystal mage-lock, with a saddlebag of extra keys? Scrivening wards? And to have it ready in a span of days... this must have cost you a fortune. It is wrong for you to endure such an expense on our account."

"Nonsense, Cold Star of the Night. From what you told me, it seems just right. The lock and keys were given in trade and the wards are my hoof-work, freshly made."

Cold Star bowed her head, shamed by the Zebra's generosity. "But you must have bought the classroom materials. And the training mats. I have no way to repay you for this. It is too much."

"Eight metal nails entombed in rock, and a slab of slate with some bits of chalk. Not too much... no, just enough. A place, I hope, you can hang your stuff."

Zelest opened the small supply closet and produced a long cylindrical object with some kind of carrying strap attached to it. As she brought it into the light the Crusaders could see that it was a very old, very well-worn case used for carrying scrolls. This one was about at big around as a hoof, and was carved from some type of very dark-coloured wood. Zelest hefted the case as if it were fairly heavy, and then held it out to Cold Star.

Cold Star stared at her for a moment in dumbstruck silence, then slowly reached up and pulled her cowl off over her head. She stepped solemnly forward to hang it from a cloak-hook, and then hung her hat and cape as well. Then, with her Bat-Pony features fully revealed, she moved back to stand in front of Zelest and took the scroll case from her, cradling it with one of her front legs. With her other she slowly reached out to gather the Zebra into a gentle hug. The Crusaders could see tears pooling in the corners of Cold Star's eyes, despite her best efforts to blink them away.

"Thank you. Just... thank you."

Zelest, her smile never fading, reached out to hug the smaller Bat-Pony in return. "I did not overstate my part when I called you the cousin of my heart. Be it calm or stormy weather, we Moon Tribe folk must stick together." She pushed Cold Star out to leg's-length and grinned. "Besides, a part of me thinks that it's cool to live above a Crusader school. Just think of all the tales I'll hear as your students come throughout the year. So while you may see here a lack of thrift, it is equal parts a selfish gift. So indulge me, to your benefit... and hang your Oaths without regret."

Cold Star nodded, her mouth pressed firmly closed as she stepped past the Zebra towards the wall furthest from the stairs. As she walked, she unfurled her wings, and pumped them a couple of time to lift her gently from the floor to hover in front of the stone barrier. Still holding the scroll-case, she reached out with her free hoof, which began to glow slightly as she touched the wall. Using her innate Bat-Pony magic, she scraped away the stone in front of her, leaving a deep inverted "V" in the brick. She settled herself back down onto the ground and began unscrewing the top of the scroll case.

The young Crusaders had gathered around her by this point, all equally curious to discover what was inside the case. When it opened, they were surprised to see it was a roll of cloth. The cloth itself was silk, and appeared to be black until Cold Star had removed it from the case enough that it began to catch the light, revealing it to be the deepest shade of indigo. Cold Star held the cloth reverently as she began to unroll it, revealing an elaborately embroidered border stitched with a pearl-like thread that seemed almost to glow in the half-light of the cellar. Cold Star's wings took hold of the top corners, and (standing on her hind hooves) she used their greater reach to hook a single silvery strand over the makeshift stone hook above her. As the rest of the cloth unfurled, it revealed itself to be a long tapestry, decorated with hoof-stitched words in addition to its glistening border decorations.

Cold Star stepped back for a moment, looking back and forth to check that it was hanging level. Then, she bowed respectfully to the cloth as one might do to a Princess, holding herself on bended knees for several long moment. The ponies next to her could hear her reciting the words written before them in a whispered voice, though her head was bowed and her eyes were closed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Let this Work make known that these are the Oaths of Cold Star,
chosen of her own free will and spoken with a clear voice under the light of the Moon.

May they echo in the darkness for all time.

I promise for all the days of my life to uphold the Lunar Crusade. I swear my service to the Moon and the Starlit Sky, and to their rightful ruler Princess Luna.

I promise to cast the shadow of justice upon those who would defile the Sacred Night with wickedness, no matter the circumstance and no matter the cost.

I promise to defend those who revel under the stars, and keep safe those who rest beneath the moon.

I promise to devote my life to the pursuit of wisdom and strength, forsaking all lesser desires.

I promise to strive in my every thought and action to find a balance between the darkness and the light.

So it has been recorded, and so may it always be.
In Princess Luna's name, let this stand as my Oath.
I am Cold Star. This is my Crusade.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When Cold Star rose from her bow she found the three young Crusaders crowded around, all staring at her. Each of their faces held different powerful emotions, but they all seemed to share a united sense of respect for what they were seeing, and the importance these words had for her. If ever there was a time to begin, this was it.

"I am glad you were all here to share this moment with me. What you see before you is my Oath as a Crusader. All Crusaders of the Lunar tradition are required to complete a Work like this one as a public record of their duties, and as a symbol of their dedication to seeing that duty done to the best of their ability. The cloth and thread were gifts from my father, and my mother taught me how to sew and embroider. In many ways this banner is also a tribute to them, and the lessons they taught me. I did not exaggerate when I said I had given my most precious possession into Zelest's care, for it hangs before you now. This is what it means for me to be a Crusader, and it is the very essence of what I wish to pass on to each of you as you embark on your own Crusade."

"I have thought long and hard about how best to teach you what I know. The truth is, we are all four of us very different ponies. We all have very different strengths and weaknesses, and I'm not yet certain how I can help you make the most of your gifts. All I can do is begin with you as my Master once began with me: with working on the basics. I warn you that what lies ahead is not easy, nor is it for the faint of spirit. There will be times when what I ask of you will be extremely difficult. But I truly believe, from the very bottom of my heart, that all three of you are capable of greatness if you decide that is what you want. So the time has come to ask, one last time... do you want it?"

"Yeah. I want it." Babs' answer was spoken loudly, and without a hint of hesitation.

Squall nodded, his wingtips literally shaking with nerves. "I do."

Misty stared past Cold Star to the Oaths for a long moment. Then she too nodded. "Me too."

Cold Star bowed slightly. "Then your Crusades have already begun. Let us begin by talking about the importance of physical fitness for young ponies..."

* * * * *

The Old Rock Farm was not what anypony would call a respectable drinking establishment. It wasn't a place for ponies to get a little silly with fruit-laden filly drinks, nor did it have a dance floor for ponies to shake their flanks to the latest records. What it did have was a small stage where old ponies who had lived hard lives got up and sang the blues. It also had the kind of bartenders who kept a crowbar under the counter and always told the deputies they hadn't seen anything. It was usually pretty quiet, but it wasn't especially safe.

It was exactly the kind of place Stoneheart liked to sit and drink. Which was why it had been the very first building he'd bought out when his protection racket started paying dividends. Now it was where he held meetings with the ponies in town that answered to him. Tonight, that meant an audience with one of his dealers, and it was not starting off well.

"I'm telling you, it was her! She threatened to cut off my ear and everything, just like she did with Green Fields! Somepony needs to give her some payback!"

Stoneheart slipped the quarry hammer he carried on his flank out of its sling and dropped its iron head heavily onto the floor in front of him, resting his hooves comfortably on it's long handle like a Canterlot gentlecolt might lean on a fancy cane. The hammer in question had once been used by big Earth Ponies (not unlike Stoneheart himself) to split rocks in the granite quarries north of the city, so the 'thump' it made when it hit the floor was substantial. The room instantly fell silent, and a couple of his less courageous hangers-on decided this was the time to duck out of the room in case this was a sign of impending trouble. Stoneheart watched them go, remembering their names and faces. Those ponies weren't to be relied upon, any more than the one that stood quivering before him now with fear in his eyes. He would deal with them later.

"Snake Oil, old chum, I don't like it when people raise their voices. Especially not in my place of business. Let's try to keep things civilized, shall we?"

Snake Oil, to his credit, recovered quickly. He smiled politely before continuing. "Sorry about that. It's just... she burned my whole place down. I lost everything. And I spent three days in a sheriff's cell getting questioned on account of what the fire marshals found in the wreckage."

"You're lucky she was so thorough. If they'd had enough to press charges, you'd have wound up digging ditches along the highway to the Crystal Empire."

"They wouldn't have had me at all if it wasn't for her. She ambushed me right in my own home, Stoneheart. In my home. Can you imagine what that's like? I don't know how she got in, or how she got the drop on me. All that security... and it didn't help at all. It's like she's some kind of shadow."

Stoneheart tapped his hoof on the end of his hammer. "Did you reset the wards on your front door when you came inside?"

"What? No. I just locked it. I didn't want to set off the freeze gems if I -- "

"Well, there you have it." Stoneheart shrugged. "She came in the same way she left - through the door you left open for her. That's not exactly grand sorcery, if you ask me."

"How did she even know where to find me? And why pick on me? I'm just a dealer."

"She's a masked vigilante, old chum. Who can guess how or why such a pony would choose to do anything?"

"Well, then how are you going to make sure this doesn't happen again?"

Stoneheart's hoof paused half-way to his cider on the table nearby, and then resumed its place on the pommel of his hammer. "I'm sorry. Could you please repeat that? I think I misheard."

"I asked what you're going to do to keep this from happening again. I mean, I pay your fees to work in this neighborhood. I certainly hope you're not going to just let this caped weirdo beat up your people and do nothing about it, are you?"

Stoneheart stared at the unicorn across from him for a long moment before he smiled politely. "Speaking of fees, it's been a while since our last get-together. You're a few days overdue on your most recent payment. I understand that being locked in a cell at the sheriff's office would make dropping by a bit unreasonable, so I'm willing to make an allowance for you this time. But since you're here now, why don't we settle up?"

Snake Oil looked at the smiling pony in utter confusion. "You... what? I mean, I just said she burned my place down. I lost everything. All my equipment, all of my product, even my saddle bags. How am I supposed to pay you?"

"You're a clever pony, Snake Oil. Clever enough to have a bit tucked away for a rainy day."

"But.. I need those bits. Getting set up again is going to cost me a mint."

Stoneheart nodded sagely. "Ah. I suppose that's true. But, my good pony, I feel it only right to point out that you may be a bit confused about exactly what you've been paying me for. You see, I'm not in the business of selling insurance. Nor are positions in my organization for sale. You pay me for one thing, and one thing only - protection."

Snake Oil didn't have time to react before Stoneheart's hoof slammed into him. The force of the blow drove the air from his lungs and bowled him flank over fetlocks onto the floor. As he gasped for air, Snake Oil's horn flickered as he tried to use his magic to keep the great grey stallion at bey. Perhaps it was because he couldn't concentrate through the panic, but the energy shining off his horn seemed to slide away from Stoneheart as he stepped over his victim. Stoneheart kicked Snake Oil in the ribs, and the flickering was cut off abruptly with a whine of pain. He kicked him again, and the whine became a muffled cry.

When Stoneheart spoke, his voice remained perfectly level. Calm even. And true to his own words, he never raised his voice. "As I was saying. Protection. Not from crazy masked ponies. Not from the sheriffs, if they decide to bust your stupid flank for dealing second-rate junk on public street-corners. From me, Snake Oil. You're paying me not to beat you within an inch of your life for being stupid enough to come into my bar and try to tell me what to do. You're paying me to keep the colts who answer to me from stealing your saddlebag and tossing you in the river every time they happen to bump into you. You are paying to get the option of showing me respect instead of showing me fear. Am I making myself understood?"

The whimpering pony nodded, curling himself into a ball to protect his injured ribs.

"Good. Now, you owe me a payment. It will be double the usual, because I feel you've shown me a great deal of disrespect this evening. There are a few things I will endure for the sake of a professional relationship, Snake Oil, but disrespect is not one of them. The payment will be due by the end of next week, or I will be coming to look for it. And that would make me feel very, very disrespected. Is that also understood?"

The unicorn nodded again, and Stoneheart stepped off of him, slinging his hammer over his shoulder and picking up his cider. "Then I'll see you in a week. Good to see you again, old chum." He took a long pull on his cider.

Snake Oil pushed himself painfully to his hooves, keeping his head lowered subserviently. “Of course, Stoneheart. Anything you say. And... uh... thanks for not using the hammer.”

Stoneheart hefted the heavy instrument off of his shoulder, looking at it. “I wouldn't worry about that. The hammer is symbolic, so I only use it on special occasions. Perhaps if you win your way back into my good graces, I'll tell you about it some time. But for now, if you will please excuse me, I'd like to finish my cider.”

Snake Oil didn't need to be told twice. Stoneheart watched him go, and then looked to see how the others seated around the bar were reacting. Several had their noses buried in their cider, not making eye contact with anyone. A few more were paying their tabs and heading out, apparently satisfied that there would be no more excitement to be had here tonight.

Only a handful of ponies looked back at him, and all of them nodded politely as his gaze passed over them. Those who had grown up hard, as he had, and who understood the cheques and balances that came with this kind of business. These were the select few that Stoneheart counted as true members of his organization - those who understood respect.

And a part of respect was making sure your reputation wasn't questioned. Stoneheart bumped his hammer-head twice on the floor, and the room fell silent again. Those making their way out stopped, turning their attention once more to the pony in charge. He looked out over them, fixing his most genial smile on his face.

"Snake Oil was right about one thing. I will not put up with some idiot in a mask harassing and assaulting members of my crew. So put the word out: there is a big bag of money waiting for anyone who can bring me information about this crazy Mare-Do-Well. Good tips get good bits."

He didn't need to say what bad tips got. There was instantly a hum of whispered conversation throughout the room, and even those making their way out looked thoughtful. Stoneheart was sure that by tomorrow night every rogue and two-bit hood in town would be out looking for information to sell. It was just a matter of time before the masked mare was brought before him.

Sliding his trusty hammer back into its sling, he sat down at a nearby table and waved a waitress over. He ordered another cider, and as he drank it he began to plan exactly how he would teach this Mare-Do-Well some proper respect.

Author's Note

Next Time: After a magical night of adventure, the Manehattan Crusaders feel ready to take on the world. Unfortunately, the world seems ready to oppose them at every turn, and they will find that there are many opponents already lying in wait. Will their Crusades be over before they even begin? Find out in our next chapter!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thanks for reading Chapter 3!

As always, constructive criticism is welcome. I'm working on this project as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom.

I'm excited to hear that a few people are thinking about doing cover art for this story. If anyone has any questions about the details of a certain character's appearance, please let me know. I'll be happy to help in any way that I can.

Also, as of last weekend this story has passed 100 readers! That's an exciting milestone for a story that hasn't been featured anywhere yet. So thank you all for taking a chance on reading my work, and an extra-big thank you to anyone who has recommended this story to their friends. Your support is hugely appreciated.

Chapter 4: Just Another Day

Chapter 4: Just Another Day

Misty Morning pulled on her saddlebag and headed towards her Father's study, putting on her best smiling face as she went. She hadn't gotten near enough sleep, and she was going to be feeling it all morning. She had arrived home not long after ten last night but she'd lain in bed for hours afterwards, thinking. Thinking about all her new problems, and what to do about them. She'd decided she was going to just blame Babs for everything. It was the only way all the lying she was going to have to do would be the least bit believable.

Poking her head in the study door, she found her father sitting in one of his reading chairs, a mug of hot coffee in one hoof and a textbook in the other. Golden Sunrise was a pure-bred Unicorn who could trace his lineage back to the founding of Equestria, and it showed in his every feature. He was slim in build, with the warm golden colouring that he'd been named for. He wore thick glasses that would have looked silly on a young pony, but made him look scholarly and wise.

Seeing him helped make the smile on her face a little more genuine. "Father, I'm off to school. Have a nice day."

He looked up, smiling back. "Thank you, dear. You too. Your mother said she'd be home early this evening, so we should be able to have dinner together. Any requests?"

"Something filling, perhaps? I expect I shall have worked up quite an appetite."

Her father's brow knit in concern. "How so, might I ask?"

Misty rolled her eyes. "Babs is on a fitness kick. I think she's hoping to get into shape before the Running of the Leaves. I'm afraid I've gone and volunteered myself to be her workout partner for a while. We're getting together after class to go... jogging." It was impossible to miss the distaste in her voice at the prospect.

Her father watched her for a moment over his glasses. "I see. Another of your Crusader outings is it? Trying for Cutie marks in marathon running this time?"

He sounded about as sceptical as Misty felt, but she kept her smile on in spite of it. "Well, Squall will probably tag along. But this is less about cutie marks and more about our health and wellness. The Running is a much bigger event here that it is up in Canterlot, I guess. It seems to mean a lot to her so... well, you know."

Her father looked like he was going to raise an objection, but then seemed to change his mind. "If that's what you want. You'll still be home in plenty of time for dinner, yes?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't miss it for the world." That, at least, she didn't have to stretch the truth about.

"Good. Off you go then. You don't want to be late for class."

Misty ducked back out into the hall and headed for the front door. That was one problem off her plate. She'd spend part of dinner talking about how delighted she was about their new astronomy club, and how they were planning to meet once every weekend from now on. That would take care of her second problem.

A third, unfortunately, was waiting at the end of her front walk, and she was wearing her cape.

"Babs, you aren't going to wear that to school again, are you?"

Babs looked just as tired as Misty felt, but that didn't seem to be keeping her spirits down. Misty found that both irritating and enviable in equal measure.

Babs nodded. "Yeah. I think I am."

Misty fought down the urge to groan. "I don't think that's the best idea. I mean, every time you have, it's ended up with you getting picked on ferociously."

"I know. It's fine."

"It's what got you sent home from school last time, remember? The fight with Jet Stone?"

"I remember. And so does everypony else. It'll be fine."

"They're just going to make fun of you... of us... if they see you in it."

"Not hearin' anythin' I ain't already thought of here, Misty."

An irritated groan escaped Misty's throat. "Then why? Why not just leave it in your saddlebag until after school? That's what I'm doing. It doesn't make you any less of a Crusader."

Babs shot Misty a hard look. "Doesn't it? Doesn't that mean I'm ashamed to wear it out where ponies can see?"

Misty frowned back. "So, what? I'm being a traitor to your cause, am I?"

Babs stopped, shaking her head. "No... no, that's not what I meant. I'm not judgin' you."

"That's funny. Because you sound awfully judgy, to me. Especially considering I just lied to my father to cover up this little adventure of ours."

"I'm sorry, Misty. I didn't mean it like that." Babs looked chastised, which made Misty feel guilty. "I just... I'm tired of bein' ashamed of myself. That's all. I'm proud of bein' a Cutie-Mark Crusader. Now more than ever. I just... I wanna shout it out loud for a change, y'know?"

Misty had to take a moment to choose her words carefully. "I... understand where you're coming from, Babs. I do. But if you start wearing your cape every day on top of the workouts and the weird hours, people are going to notice something is up. Cold Star said we need to keep this a secret for now, and wearing the cape isn't exactly secretive."

Babs opened her mouth to argue, then shut it. With a growl of frustration, she took off the cape and tucked it into her saddlebag. "This bites."

Misty rested her hoof on her friend's shoulder, trying to be reassuring. "I know. I'm sorry. But I'm pretty sure it's for the best."

Babs didn't reply. She just scowled and kicked her hooves down the street towards the school. Misty felt conflicted about manipulating her friend like that, but she really did think it was for the best. Wearing the Cape would mean Squall would wear his to support Babs, and then she would have to as well. And then they'd all get it worse than usual. And Misty wanted to save her energy for after school. She thought about Cold Star's assignment, and found herself scowling as well.

* * * * *

Squall swooped in next to them just as they were arriving at the front gate to the school. He was wearing his cape, much to Misty's chagrin. He didn't miss the annoyed look she levelled at him, frowning in return.

"What's the matter? It seemed like a good day for capes. I thought you guys would be wearing them."

Babs gave Misty a cool look. "Yeah, well. Misty thinks that what with the whole secrecy thing, we should hold off on the capes until after school."

Squall thought about that for a moment, then nodded, unclasping his cape and tucking it away in his saddlebag. "Good point. We don't want to draw attention to ourselves. We're not exactly looking for more members right now, so no sense in showing off." His reasoning seemed to please his two companions (though for somewhat differing reasons) and the three of them passed through the gate and into the front courtyard of the school, ready to face another day.

Hightower Junior Academy was the oldest private school in Manehattan. It was a school renowned for the quality of its academic programs and respected for its history of producing graduates that were eagerly accepted into Senior Schools across Equestria. Despite its pedigree, it wasn't a school restricted to social elites; Babs and Squall were both proof positive that if your parents could get enough bits together, you were welcome at Hightower. But that didn't keep a lot of the students here who came from old money from looking down their noses at the ponies from working-class families.

This was especially true of the small group of ponies who were were lounging around the steps as the Crusaders made their way towards the school. According to the school administration, they were known as the "Ponies Association for Cultural Knowledge", a student group celebrating traditional cultural values of the three races. Being in change of most of the school's party-planning made them popular, and their well-to-do families made sure they always looked like a million bits. But to the less privileged ponies at school they were simply known as 'the Pack', and they were a menace.

Their leader was a tall, slender Unicorn named Prancewell. He was at the top of the school academically, and his family were some of the school's most generous donors. Prancewell, like Misty, had originally come from Canterlot. But unlike her, his family had moved here when he was just a foal. He'd grown up around the wealthiest of Manehattan's socialites, making friends with their various children and uniting them in the common cause of reminding everypony that they were the heirs-apparent to the future of Equestria. Together with his friends Emerald, Jet, Skyler and Glimmery, they patrolled the school yard like a pack of hungry Timber Wolves, looking for weak or fearful ponies to pick on and lord over.

The Crusaders had yet to find any effective way of dealing with the Pack. Babs had tried her best to do right by her cousin's advice to tell the grown-ups about their antics, but despite having made several attempts to bring their lousy attitudes to the attentions of the teachers, the Pack had yet to be punished. The truth was that Prancewell's group was much too savvy to get caught out with their bullying. After all, they were high-society ponies - they were all about hurting ponies with veiled insults and cutting remarks, which only left bruises on the inside. And when they did choose to get physical they did it carefully, and never within sight of a teacher.

Babs had gone so far as to try to bring the matter to Prancewell's parents, only to discover that they weren't interested in hearing it... or anything else that amounted to "shameful bits of hatred hurled by a low-born pony against her betters". After that, Babs had declared them a sworn enemy of the Cutie-Mark Crusaders Manehattan branch, and they'd done their best to keep away from the Pack as much as possible.

Unfortunately, today the Pack seemed to be hungry for mischief. Seeing Squall remove his cape was all the invitation they needed to uncoil themselves from the school's front steps and make their way over. As usual, Prancewell and Emerald were in the lead. Emerald Stone was a pretty green pegasus whose larger brother Jet was the muscle of the group. This made her the boldest when it came to picking on people, secure that her big brother would back her up if things got nasty.

She leered at Squall, her eyes dancing with amusement. "Heya, Squalor. Saw you rockin' the cape to school again. Good look. Nothing says 'my mommy makes my clothes' like hoof-stitched cut-outs."

Squall's ears lay flat, but he didn't look towards the Pack. They didn't try to block the Crusaders path, instead opting to let them pass so they could follow them, talking loudly enough than nopony could possibly avoid overhearing. Prancewell nudged Emerald with a wink.

"Emmy, that's not fair. After all, how else can he cover up that pathetic blank-flank? I mean, look at him. It's like he's got a whiteboard strapped to his behind."

Glimmery giggled. "At least he doesn't sit at the front of the class anymore. I thought I was going to go blind from the glare."

Jet sighed. "Could be worse. I've got a big brown lump blocking out half of the chalkboard."

All of them chuckled loudly at that. Babs gritted her teeth. "Which half is that, Jet? The half you can't read, or the half you can't understand?"

The Pack drew closer, their taunting made more bold by Babs's irritation. Squall continued to keep his head down, and Misty simply stuck her nose in the air, but Babs made the mistake of looking back and scowling.

She found Emerald smiling back. "Aw, I think someone is a little sensitive about her weight. I guess in a bakery, it isn't just the dough that balloons up over time."

Babs forced a grin of her own onto her face. Two could play this game. "No big thing for me, Emmy. I just have to walk around with it. But you might want to think about layin' off the milkshakes. You're gonna need the wings of a Wonderbolt if your flanks gets any thicker." Babs grin grew wider at the flash of anger that passed across Emerald's face.

Jet stepped forward menacingly. He was bigger than most junior students, so he was a head taller than Babs. "You should watch what you say to my sister, farmhoof."

"Oh. I'm so scared." Babs stopped and turned, meeting Jet's glare evenly. "Scared I'm going to end up with a picture of your ugly mug on my flank. 'Cause the last time we scrapped, I thought I might have found a special talent for kickin' your tail." The other two Crusaders stopped, looking back at Babs with concern in their eyes.

Behind Jet, Prancewell actually snickered, but Jet's mouth curled into a sneer. He flapped his wings, and puffed his chest out as if he were trying to appear bigger. "Please. I was shocked you didn't get a pair of horseshoes on your rump for all those lucky shots you landed. You want to try your luck again today, Bad Seed?"

Babs eyes narrowed, and her grin vanished. "Do you wanna see how bad I can be, Jet Stone? Do you?"

From behind Jet's outstretched wings, Emerald's voice piped up in a playful voice. "Sheesh. Settle down, Babs the Barbarian. We're just playing around."

Babs steely-eyed glare didn't waver. "Ain't funny. Tell your brother to kick rocks, before I kick his rocks back out the front gate."

Their stare-down didn't end until Prancewell stepped in between the two of them, smiling in the way he always did when the teachers were watching. "Come now, everypony. Lets not start off our fall season with ponies getting sent to the office, shall we?"

Babs blew her hair out of her eye and turned away. "Then keep your goon in line, Prancewell."

Prancewell didn't reply, but Babs could feel his cool, calculating glare on the back of her head as she walked back to rejoin the Crusaders. Misty was there to meet her, frowning. "Well, that escalated quickly."

Babs shrugged. "I'm not in the mood to put up with them, today."

Squall sighed. "So much for not drawing attention. Sorry, girls."

Babs shrugged. "Fuhget about it. C'mon. We don't want to be late for class."

Misty moved to keep up, but Squall glanced backwards, noticing that the Pack were still watching them, whispering to each other with cruel smiles on their faces.

* * * * *

There were about three hundred students attending Hightower Academy, so there was a dozen homerooms. Babs and Misty had been lucky enough to share one, while Squall's was in the last class at the end of the same hallway. They parted company most morning at the door to the filly's homeroom, and then Squall made the trek alone to his class. No sooner had the girls headed in to find their seats then Squall heard someone rustling their feathers behind him. He did his best to brace himself for what he knew was coming, but given his scrawny size it didn't help much.

Squall hit the lockers a lot harder than usual. The impact of his weight against the unforgiving metal made his shoulder ache, and he felt a couple of wing-feathers being pulled loose as he regained his balance, remaining pressed against the lockers to defend himself as best he could against a second attack.

But Skylar was already moving down the hallway, his hobby of body-checking Squall the first time they passed in the hallway already having become such a routine to him that he barely seemed interested in the results anymore. He hadn't even stopped talking to Prancewell and Glimmery, though both of them glanced back to grin at Squall's discomfort before heading into class. Squall didn't usually bother trying to avoid them these days - it was easier to just get it over with as early as possible and get on with his day.

Squall steadied himself, smoothed his ruffled feathers, and made his way down the hallway to the colt's washroom, ducking inside. He shut himself into one of the stalls and took several deep breaths. He tried desperately to fight down the tears that were forming in his eyes, but as he rubbed his hoof against his face he could tell that it was yet another fight he was too weak to win today. He grabbed a bunch of toilet paper and pressed it to his face, trying at least to keep his breathing steady enough to fool any other ponies who happened to walk in. Getting caught crying in the bathroom would just make everything worse.

Eight months. Eight months he'd been living in Manehattan. Eight months of getting picked on and bullied by Prancewell and his cronies at every turn. It made coming to school in the morning exhausting, even without being tired from staying up late. He'd thought about arriving later and ducking in just after the bell rang, but then he would miss seeing his friends in the morning, and that wasn't a trade he was willing to make.

He thought back to Babs's offer to help him out the night before, and blew his nose angrily. There was no sense in telling the others about the roughhousing. The Crusaders being there wouldn't be able to stop Prancewell's barbs or Skylar's body-checks. That would just spread the targeting around, and that wouldn't help anypony. The last time Squall had gotten his friends involved, Babs had ended up in a really mean hoof-fight with Jet Stone that had ended up with both of their parents getting called in and Babs having to miss a day of school for her suspension. She'd gotten grounded, too, on top of the black eye and the split lip she'd gotten in the fight. All of that was squarely his fault for getting her involved in the first place. He'd promised himself he wouldn't let that happen again.

Squall took another deep breath. He was a colt, wasn't he? Colts were supposed to take their own lumps. That's how it was supposed to work. You took your lumps, and you got tougher, and then one day you got tough enough to beat the bad guys. But after so many months Squall didn't feel any tougher. He felt sad and ashamed. Especially about the fact that he ended up in here at least once a week, crying like a little foal instead of being stallion enough to do something about it. He'd thought maybe today would be different - that being Cold Star's student would somehow give him the gumption to face them down. It had worked for Babs - she'd been ready to get back in the ring with Jet from the get-go, today. Why couldn't he be that kind of pony, instead of a big wimp.

He was really glad that Cold Star couldn't see him right now. A strong pony like her would never agree to teach a cry-baby to be a Crusader. A fresh wave of shame washed over him, but he gritted his teeth against it.

After school, they were staring their training. He'd learn to get tougher that way. He'd learn how to be strong, and to brush off a body-check like it was nothing. He'd be someone who could stand up for his friends... or at least stand up for himself. He just had to make it to the end of the day.

He heard the sound of the morning bell ringing through the building, and took one last deep breath before flushing all the evidence of his emotional episode down the drain. He popped the stall door open and made his way over to the sink, looking at himself int the mirror. He threw a bunch of water at his face, and hoped that he could manage to pass his state off as just being overtired before ducking out of the washroom and heading for class. The afternoon couldn't come fast enough.

* * * * *

The three Crusaders met after school by the front gates, and walked together over to Seed Cakes where they left their saddlebags for safekeeping. After putting on their capes they made their way down the block to Birch Ridge Park. The park lived up to its name pretty accurately: a couple of tall hills, covered in white birches and aspens than rustled loudly whenever a breeze blew by. It didn't have a playground, so not many young ponies spent time here. Cold Star had chosen it as their weekday training grounds.

Cold Star had given them two assignment to complete before their next meeting. One was to be done individually, and the other was their group workout. They were expected to do the workout five days a week - two days, rest a day, then three more days before a second rest day. Misty had been the only voice of decent, saying that was too much for ponies their age. Then Clod Star had explained that when she was in school, she had been required to do two workouts a day, every day, plus martial combat classes. Misty had decided to be quiet after that.

The workout itself was pretty simple: all three of them had to canter two laps all the way around the park. It wasn't a very big park but it was mostly hills, so it wasn't easy going either. They struck out on the first lap and very soon Babs found herself pulling into the lead again. As Cold Star had instructed her she stopped every time she got to the top or the bottom of a hill and waited for her friends, doing front-leg push-ups while she waited. Babs came from good farm stock, so her first few stops were no big deal. But by the time she had made it all the way around for their first lap, she was really stating to feel it in her shoulders and withers. Misty and Squall were looking tired as well, and they all slowed to a walk for a couple of minutes to catch their breaths.

Misty was the most out of breath, but that didn't stop her complaining. "How does she expect us to do a second lap? My legs are already shaking, they're so tired. This is torture."

Babs smile showed no sympathy at all. "I guess that's what you get for bein' a Unicorn, and gettin' to take spellcastin' instead of takin' phys-ed like an Earth Pony."

Squall smiled too, despite his own exhaustion. "Yeah. I don't think flight class is a good substitute either. That's got to be the farthest I've ever run on hoof."

Babs chuckled. "See? We're settin' records already. You guys ready to go again?"

Misty didn't feel ready, so she tried to think of a conversation topic to keep them walking for a few minutes. "So... have either of you written anything for your Pledge yet?"

The Pledge was the second half of their homework from Cold Star. She wanted them to think of at least one thing about themselves that they wanted to improve, and put it up on the wall of the Clubhouse. A reminder, she had said, that they were all working towards their goals together.

Babs shook her head. "Nothin' yet, and I've been thinkin' about it all day. It seems like it's really important, so I kind of want to impress her, y'know? But I can't think of anythin' that stands out, other than wantin' to get my cutie mark. That seems like kind of a cop-out, though."

"That was the only thing I'd come up with either. It would be kind of a let-down if all we wrote about was wanting cutie-marks."

Squall looked back and forth between them in surprise. "Really? I've already got a bunch of things written down for mine. But I guess that makes sense, considering I'm the smallest and the weakest." Misty and Babs both gave Squall worried looks, and he responded with a shrug. "What? Don't act like it isn't true. I'm the smallest colt in our grade."

Babs frowned. "I don't like to hear you getting down on yourself like that, Squall."

"Sometimes the truth hurts, Babs. Besides, it could be worse." He trotted a few paces ahead, looking back over his shoulder with a grin. "I could have the biggest muffin-rump, or be the biggest whiner." And then he stuck his tongue out at them.

Babs and Misty responded as one might expect, and just like that they were off for their second lap with Squall giggling madly in the lead.

* * * * *

Misty arrived home a sweaty, exhausted mess. She left her saddlebags by the door, and made her way down the hall towards the stairs leading up to her bedroom. It was slow going. And the stairs... oh sweet merciful Celestia the stairs! How was she going to climb them, in her state? Her legs ached in a way she had never experienced in her life, and it was agony just putting one hoof in front of the other. Was it going to be like this every day?

She sat down in the middle of the hallway, trying to decide which was worse - having ponies see her in such a sweaty, bedraggled state, or having to call for help to get herself up a flight of stairs. She had never been so jealous of her father's ability to levitate.

Two voices drifted out of her father's study, and Misty forced herself to her feet and made her way over to hear who it was. It sounded like her mother was home from her trip, but it also sounded like she was arguing with someone. That someone turned out to be her father.

"... I spoke to her magic instructor today. She got seventy-five percent on her last kinetic dexterity test. Seventy-five percent, Dew. How can you tell me she isn't underachieving?"

"So she isn't a prodigy at magi-kinetics. That's not the end of Equestria. I expect that's still well above average."

"Not at a school like Hightower it isn't. And at Canterlot Academy, that's barely even a passing grade. Her other marks are no better: Eighty-two percent in luminous displays, and seventy-nine in conjuring. She was getting much better marks in her classes at the Academy, and I have trouble thinking the exams here are more difficult."

Her mother sighed. "I don't know what to say, Gold. Do you think this is my fault, then?"

"What? No! No, Dew, it's not your fault. This move was important for us..."

Dew Drop cut him off. "It was important for me. But all it did was uproot the two of you. You were both happy there. You had a job you loved doing, and Misty was going to the best school for Unicorns in Equestria. We all had friends and family there. I'm the one who dragged you both away from that."

"Nonsense. How could either of us be happy while you were so unhappy?"

"But are you happy being here? Is Misty? I don't know."

Misty heard someone get up - probably her father, going over to comfort her mother. "Dew, this isn't your fault. If anything, it's my fault. I'm the one who agreed to let her join those silly Crusaders."

Misty stiffened.

"Oh, Gold. Don't be like that. They're her friends."

"Listen, I think Barbara and Squall are both nice ponies. But... they aren't exactly the cream of the proverbial crop."

"What difference does that make?"

"I'm just saying that she achieved her potential better when she was spending more time around other Unicorns. She used to study more, and talk with her friends about magic. But now she goes out most afternoons in that ridiculous cape to do Celestia knows what. And then she wonders why her cutie mark hasn't appeared yet."

There was a long pause. "Golden... have you ever considered that maybe her special talent might not be magical?"

She could here her father's startled cough. "Don't be silly. Of course it is."

"I know your family has a proud lineage. But magical prodigies usually show up from a very young age. And besides, look at her. She obviously takes more after my family. Maybe... she's not gifted in the same ways you are."

"She may have your fur, but she has my eyes. And she shares a great grandfather with Sunset Shimmer, heavens rest her soul, who was a personal student to Princess Celestia herself before her untimely loss. I refuse to believe that when Misty's talent finally emerges, it won't preserve that legacy." Misty could here her father pacing. "But she's not going to find her talent by going out gallivanting around. Do you know what she's doing today? Jogging. Apparently Babs wants to go out for the Running of the Leaves. Can you imagine a less useful way for her to be spending her time?"

"She's helping a friend. I'm pretty sure that Princess Celestia's most recent student would approve. And frankly, so do I. You know that getting her cutie-mark means the world to her right now. Can you imagine being as old as she is and not knowing what your talent is? It has to be so hard for her. Having friends who are going through the same thing may be helping her to cope."

There was another long pause, then her father piped up again. "Maybe it's the school curriculum. Perhaps her gift is for higher level magics. Maybe I should be tutoring her myself, to help unlock her potential."

"Oh, Gold... I love you, but sometimes you're just ridiculous."

Misty couldn't help but agree. She walked softly back over to the front door and called out loudly, opened it, and shut it loudly, shouting "I'm home." Her parents came out of the study as she trotted past towards the stairs. "Hello Father. Welcome home, mother. I'd gladly stop for hugs, but I'm confident that you would rather I bathe first. Could one of you send Broomhilda up to help with my mane?"

She climbed she stairs with less difficulty than expected; her irritation at being talked about behind her back fuelled her need to make something approximating a graceful exit. She ducked into the bathroom, hurled her cape into the laundry basket, and began running the tub. She sat there on the edge as the tub slowly filled, watching the reflection of her sweaty mane drooping around her ears and scowling.

Was she really that much of a disappointment? She'd done all right at Canterlot Academy, but she'd never been anywhere near the top of the class. There had always been ponies to whom magic came naturally, and she had given up thinking she was one of them. But to hear her father sound so unhappy, so unwilling to accept that she might never be the kind of pony he wanted her to be - it hurt.

At the same time, it hurt just as much knowing how he really felt about her being a Crusader. It was like he blamed them for making her who she was. It made her furious to think that he found her friends to be a waste of time.

She knew Crusading wasn't a waste of time. Even if she still wasn't sure that they should be taking lessons from Cold Star, she knew that Babs and Squall were the best friends she'd ever had. She looked over at the cape she had hurled into the laundry, and felt a rush of guilt. She was standing over the laundry holding it when Broomhilda knocked and came in.

"Miss, your parents sent me up. They said you wanted help washing your mane."

Misty nodded. "Yes, please. And... could you please have this cleaned as soon as possible?"

The maid nodded. "Of course, miss. When do you need it by?"

"Tomorrow morning, if possible. Before I leave for school."

* * * * *

Squall shut the front door, latched the lock and dropped his saddlebag, doing his best not to collapse next to it. That final sprint with Babs had been a terrible mistake. His legs had felt like jelly ever since. He passed through the kitchen and found a note stuck to to fridge.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Doppler is sick, and they needed someone to cover the overnight shift at the weather station. I made soup - it's on the stove. You'll want to drink a lot of water, and don't forget to stretch. A hot bath before bed will do you some good as well. I'll be home in time to make you breakfast."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Squall put the soup on a low heat, and set a timer, and headed back into the living room. It wasn't much - a sofa, a small table, and a couple of mostly-empty book-cases. Once those shelves had been full, but that was before they'd had to move here from Apple-Loosa. The move had been expensive, and they'd done it on really short notice, so they'd had to sell off a lot of the books they'd owned. That helped cover the cost and kept the freight charges down. But they were slowly starting to fill up again. His mother liked to encourage his reading, so she made an effort to keep fresh reading material around for him to snack on when she was working late. Better than going out and getting into trouble, she said. He expected to curl up with a book for a while after dinner.

But first, stretching.

Squall had watched his mother stretch hundreds of times over the years, usually after wrangling big storms where the banking was hard and the wind could shift unexpectedly. She always said that when you did hard work, you only had two choices: you stretch, or you suffer. Given the discomfort her stretching always seemed to cause her, he'd never really been tempted to try it out himself until now.

It turned out to be a workout unto itself, and Squall found himself sweating a bit as he worked through the routine. By the time he went through all the stretches he'd seen his mother do the soup was ready. He turned out to be more flexible than he had expected to be, but maybe that was because all four of his legs felt like overcooked noodles.

He ate a bit of soup and some bread, and settled down in the living room with his list of Pledge ideas spread out in front of him. He read them over again, trying to find better wordings. Cold Star's oaths were so formal and clear. He wanted to emulate them as best he could. He also didn't want anything in there that would reveal how weak he felt. He didn't want to be reminded of his weakness while he was in the Clubhouse. He wanted to think about his ideal self, not the lame pony he was normally.

After a while spent making changes and adding ideas to his list, he went over to the bookshelf to find something to read. It wasn't yet evening, so he curled up by the window with a book of classical Breezy-tales and started reading. He tried to get into the first story, but found he was just re-reading the first page over and over. He put the book aside, and stared out the window at the city. The living room window faced towards the river, and he could see dozens of ponies flying back and forth in the distance. Couriers, weather ponies, and normal pegasi who were coming or going from their homes in the suburbs dotted the skyscape from there to downtown.

Squall put the book back in its place on the shelf. He had spent most of his life with his nose buried in books. But now, he had met a real hero - the kind of pony they told stories about. One whose life sounded like something from a Daring Do novel, and who even now was resting somewhere in the city, waiting for night to fall so she could take up her Crusade against evil. All his life, he'd dreamed about ponies like that, but it had never occurred to him that even though most of these stories were old, a lot of them were about real, actual ponies. Ponies who faced dangers and overcame them with courage and determination. Ponies like Cold Star.

He made his way over to the living room window, unlocked it, and pushed it open. His mother insisted on leaving the windows locked to deter burglars, but most pegasi families Squall knew used the large bay windows by their fire escape to come and go from the upper floors. It was typical of his mother's paranoia that she would be worried about burglars when their apartment held nothing worth stealing.

Squall stepped out onto the fire escape, looking into the distance where the Paddleton Lighthouse flickered gently. Last night he'd run past that lighthouse on a real adventure. He'd watched Cold Star moved almost to tears by how much her Oaths meant to her. He glanced back at his own scribbled ideas on the table, and he felt hollow. Writing words didn't amount to much. He always talked about how he wished he was stronger. And tougher. But what was he actually doing about it?

Cold Star had said she worked out twice a day when she was a filly. Now, she spent every night running laps around the city stopping only when she found ponies who needed saving or criminals who needed to be taught a lesson. She spent most of her day, every day, in action. And here he was, exhausted after two laps around a park.

Squall pushed the window shut behind him and jumped off the fire escape, pumping his wings to push himself skyward. Cold Star had said their path last night was one of her patrol routes - one lap, Cold Star sized. She was a bat pony, and that meant she probably did at least part of it by flight.

Squall aimed his muzzle for the lighthouse in the distance, and set out to find his second workout.

* * * * *

Babs had arrived home tired and sweaty, but in high spirits. She felt alive and energized, and could almost ignore the soreness setting into her shoulders as she mounted the stairs to the third floor where her family lived. When she got there, she noticed the front door was hanging open. She poked the door open to find a tall mare standing in the entry hall. She had brown fur, but bright, fire-engine red hair which was shaved into a single row and then styled straight up in a Zebra tribal crest. Between her ears and nose she sported easily a dozen piercings connected by hoops and chains, and she was pulling on a black hoodie with patches all over it celebrating bands with names like "Canterlot Graveyard" and "Hail King Discord".

"Heya Poppy." Babs managed a grin at her older sister despite her exhaustion.

The tall pony turned and grinned back. "Heya, runt. You look like you got chased home by a dragon. What gives?"

"Tryin' to get in shape. Thinkin' I might try out the Runnin' of the Leaves this year. Maybe try and win somethin' to go with all Mom's bakery and rodeo medals." Misty had told Babs about her cover story on the way to school, and this seemed like a good time to try it out. She'd rehearsed it enough she was actually starting to consider it for real.

Poppy rolled her eyes. "Great. My little sis' is goin' out for sports. Please tell me you're not gonna start wearin' one of those goofy letter sweaters. Because I swear to Celestia I'll tell everypony I don't know you."

Babs tried to blow her hair out of her face, but it was plastered to her head with sweat. "Yeah, that's not gonna be a problem. You gonna come cheer for me on race day?"

Poppy offered her a lopsided grin. "No promises. You seen Mom or Dad around?"

Babs gave her a deadpan. "Do you not see me walkin' in the door right now, this second?"

"Yeah, thanks clever-plot. I meant downstairs."

"Nope. Dad's office door was shut and the bakery's still full of the five o'clock rush. Why?"

Poppy slipped past Babs and out the door. "Good. Maybe I can be gone before they notice I'm here."

Babs groaned. "You gonna miss dinner again?"

"Prob'ly, since it ain't served and I'm goin' out."

"Mom's gonna be mad. You skipped last night too."

"Sorry, sis. But you're only young once. Gotta make the most of it."

"At least tell me where you're goin'. Mom's gonna ask, and she hates not knowin'."

Poppy sighed. "The Skinny Donkeys are doin' a gig at the Romper Room. I'll probably be home around midnight. Now, if you'll excuse me, there's gonna be a lineup and my pals are already waitin'. Catch ya later, runt."

"Yeah, whatever metal-head. Have fun. Watch out for magnets."

"Bite me." Came the jovial reply as Poppy disappeared down the stairs.

Babs went in a shut the door, torn between being annoyed that her sister was taking off again and being happy to see her for a change. Poppy didn't get along very well with their parents, and every time they all sat down lately it had ended in some kind of argument. She'd been leaving early and coming home late a lot as a result. Babs missed hanging out with Poppy; giving each other a hard time was a time-honoured Seed family tradition, but it was less fun when it was all they did with each other.

The Seeds usually ate a bit later than most families Babs knew, since her parents both worked long hours when business was good. That gave her time to have a good long shower and have most of her homework done before she heard anyone else come in. When the door opened, she turned to see her father. Hay Seed was a tall stallion, with a tan coat and pale green eyes that made you feel relaxed just looking at them. Her mother said that was part of his charm.

He looked over to the table where Babs was finishing up her science report. "Hey Babs. Your Mom home yet?"

Babs smiled back. "Nope. You win tonight."

He headed into the bedroom to get rid of his tie and jacket, a triumphant smile on his face. "Ha-ha! Victory is mine. Any objection to rice-wraps for dinner?"

"Nope. The sooner the better. This whole workout thing left me pretty hungry." Her stomach growled loudly, as if to concur.

Her father reappeared and headed for the kitchen, tossing on an apron as he went. "Well, then I guess it's good that I'm here, then. Dinner in thirty, I reckon."

That standing arrangement between the Seed parents was that whichever parent got home first got to cook dinner. In some households, that might have been seen as a way of ducking the job, but not in the Seed house. On one hoof was her mother, the award-winning pastry chef with a cutie mark in spicing food. On the other was her father, an international spice broker with a deep and abiding love for rich foreign cuisine. To them, cooking dinner wasn't a chore so much as it was a chance to one-up each other with new recipes or to perfect their own signature family favourites.

Babs never ate out if she didn't have to. Eating dinner at home was way better, and cheaper.

It wasn't long before the scent of hot sunflower oil and spices wafted out of the kitchen, completely destroying her ability to concentrate on homework. She shut her note book and packed up her pencils.

"Anythin' I can do to help?"

There was a pause as her father thought about it. "Fancy choppin' some greens?"

"Can do. Be right there." Babs swept her books into her saddlebag and headed for the kitchen. She bantered with her father for a couple of minutes about school and running, and her father promised that if she went out for the Running, he'd be cheering for her at the finish line. Babs turned away from the cutting board she was working at to smell the delicious rice her father was cooking as filling for the wraps.

Her father glanced over. "So... is your sister gonna to be joinin' us, do you think?"

Babs shook her head. "Nope. She headed out just after I got home. Some concert. She said she'd be home midnight-ish."

Her father sighed, then shrugged casually. "All well. More for us."

Babs smiled at the prospect of getting to snag one of her sister's wraps, but then felt a blush of shame rise in her cheeks. Her father didn't miss it. "Everything all right, sweetie?"

Babs hung her head, the blush growing. "Hey, Dad. Can I ask you somethin'?"

He stopped stirring, taking the wide pan he was working with off of the heat and looking down at Babs. "That sounds like you're about to get real serious on me. This isn't about boys, is it? Should I be sittin' down?"

Babs managed a smirk. "No, seriously. I'm just lookin' for a straight answer."

He nodded. "Ok. Shoot."

Babs took a deep breath. "Dad... am I... y'know... fat?"

Her dad sat down to match her eye level as best he could. "Why would you ask that? Did someone at school say somethin' mean to you?"

Babs scuffed her hoof against the floor. "Yeah. Once or twice. But they're jerks, so I mostly ignored 'em. But today Squall made a crack about it. I know it was a joke, and he didn't mean nothin', but... it just got me thinkin', that's all."

Her Dad put his hoof on her shoulder. "Babs... I don't know what to tell you about this. Me? I don't think so at all. But the way you see yourself is real tied up in how you think you look. So I can tell you I think you're a perfectly healthy young filly until I'm blue in the face, but that ain't gonna do a lick of good if you don't agree. So what do you think?"

Babs stared at the floor. "I dunno. Mom ain't exactly a runway model, and I take after her a lot."

Hay Seed let out a snort of laughter. "Your mother is proud Apple Family stock, kiddo. She can haul a hay-ride like it's a little red waggon, and she'd been buckin' trees since she was knee-high. There ain't no way she was gonna turn out lookin' like some under-fed filly in a froofy outfit."

"Yeah, but... I just get so mad when ponies get in my face about it."

"Why? Because you think they're right?"

Babs downcast look became a frown. "No, because I think they're wrong, but they'll never admit it. They'll just keep standing there lyin' and being stupid until someone shuts their stupid mouths."

Her Dad frowned too. "Babs, is this about Jet Stone? Have you two been fightin' again?"

She offered a non-committal shrug. "No."

"Why is it that you say 'no' and it sounds kind of like a 'yeah' to me?"

"More like a 'not yet', maybe?"

Her father frowned. "Babs, bullyin' a bully just makes you another bully."

She looked up, torn between being sad and angry. "I know, I know. It's just... he picks on me. And I'm pretty sure his pals are pickin' on Squall too. And it really singes my tail."

"There's nothin' for it but to grin and bear it. It's a right of passage, Babs - some ponies are just plain mean. But they fall by the roadside as you get older, mostly. Before you know it you won't even remember their names."

"I'm tryin'. But lately I just wanna kick Jet Stone and his buddies so hard they forgets their names."

"And you probably could." Her father met her frustrated gaze evenly. "He's a pegasus, after all. You get your hoofs on him, and you can probably pummel him six ways while the sun shines. But that don't make you the bigger pony, and you know it."

Those calm green eyes worked their magic, and Babs found the anger she felt fading away, for the moment. She gave a dejected sigh, and her father pulled her in for a sturdy hug. "Just remember Babs, you can always be stronger than your bullies, and that's got nothin' to do with muscles. So you just need to make sure you don't give that up to play on their level. The last thing you want is to start actin' like them, and end up with a cutie mark in bein' mean." He gave her one last squeeze, and then stood back up in front of the stove with a grin. "Now, if we're done havin' a tender moment, this dinner ain't gonna cook itself."

She only managed a smirk in return. "Yeah. What happened to feeding your hungry daughter? Sheesh. Get back to work, lazy-bones."

"As m'lady wishes. Would m'lady be so kind as to set the table while I am busy slaving over this hot stove?"

"I suppose. Anything to get this food on the table a little faster."

She went back out into the dining room with plates and utensils in hoof. On one hoof, she felt a lot better about things, but on the other hoof she hadn't meant to bring up the almost-a-fight with Jet. It was easy to forget that underneath all her father's folksy charm was a pony who ran one of the biggest import businesses in Manehattan. You didn't do that kind of business without being gifted at reading ponies faces. She would have to tread a lot more carefully to make sure she didn't let anything slip about her classes with Cold Star or her secret Crusader training.

She was still brooding about how exactly to accomplish that when her mother walked in, and she lost track of those worries in a flurry of welcome-home hugs and dinner being served. It wasn't until much later, once she had tucked herself into bed, that she realized she'd found a good idea for her Pledge. She hoped out of bed, and jotted it down, hoping that in the morning it still seemed as good an idea as it did right then.

* * * * *

In the morning, Babs arrived at Misty's house to find her waiting outside wearing her cape.

"What happened to keeping a low profile?" Babs asked, confused.

Misty just fell into step with her, wincing slightly at the aches in her legs. "I had a change of heart."

Babs didn't say anything. She just pulled out her own cape and put it on. A few minutes later, Squall flew down from above, also wearing his cape. He seemed a little out of breath, but he was smiling. "So, you guys make any headway on your Pledges?"

Babs and Misty both nodded, and for a few minutes they chatted about ideas while the walked the final half-block to school. When they reached the school gate, all three of them paused. They could see the Pack pointing an laughing already, and each of them knew, deep down, that this was a bad idea. They were going to get teased, and their feelings were probably going to get hurt. They would be told that he capes were nothing more than a way to cover up their blank-flanks.

Babs put one hoof on the clasp of her cape, and it reminded her to be the stronger pony.

Misty held the hem of her cape in her hoof, and it reminded her of her pride as a Crusader.

Squall felt the weight of his cape resting against his sore shoulders, and it reminded him that getting stronger wasn't going to be easy.

Capes flying in the breeze, the three Crusaders stepped through the gate to face another day.

Author's Note

Next time: Cold Star's patrol is interrupted by the flash of a camera, and suddenly things start heating up for the Crusaders. Will the hunter become the hunted? Find out in our next exciting chapter!

{ As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! }

{Also, I'm sorry this update is so late! It ended up being a very different chapter than I had expected, so I spent a couple of extra days on it. I think I'm going to have to add the 'Slice of Life' tag to this story. I hope people enjoy it anyway. Thanks again for reading!}

Chapter 5: The Scoop

Cold Star leapt between the rooftops and threw herself into a roll, coming to a stop under the cover of a nearby piece of duct-work. She held herself as still as she could, willing her heavy breathing back down into a regular rhythm as she closed her eyes to listen for pursuit.

The ambush had come out of nowhere. It had all began as a routine altercation - she'd overheard a stallion accosting a young mare on her way home from work. The stallion appeared to be drunk, and his advances became more and more persistent, until finally he shoved the mare into an alley and demanded a kiss. Cold Star had thought that his sleeping off the rest of the night in a dumpster might be the best thing for everypony involved, and was just about to dive in and see to the matter when she had noticed two other ponies lurking on the rooftop nearby. They were looking around, obviously waiting for something. It had given Cold Star a moment's pause, which was long enough to hear the couple down in the alley whispering.

"I don't think it heard us. Do you think I should scream for help?"

"No, that will just bring the deputies. Let's just re-set and start again. If this doesn't work after a couple more goes, we can try some kind of mugging next."

The mare no longer sounded frightened, and the stallion no longer sounded drunk. Cold Star had been confused, and she had allowed herself to be distracted by it. That was when somepony had pointed a flashlight at her, and she'd bolted. The cry had gone up, and the hunt was on. Four pegasi sprang into the air from the nearby rooftops, and unicorn light-making spells lit the nearby darkness. It had been some kind of a sting, and she had come very close to walking right into it. If she had dropped into the alley, she would have been surrounded.

She'd managed to shake off any immediate pursuit, but now they were combing all of the nearby rooftops. It didn't take long for her to pick out four sets of wing-beats, and a moment later the circular beams of flashlights appeared, flickering down from above. They scanned back and forth for several moments before somepony called out from a roof further away, diverting their attention. The flashlights moved on, the wing-beats heading in the direction of the voice. Cold Star allowed herself a sigh of relief, just in time for the heating unit attached to the duct-work she was hiding under to suddenly rumble to life.

To a normal pony, standing next to a rooftop heater when it turned on would be uncomfortably loud. To a Bat Pony with her hearing focused all the way up, it was like having a piano dropped on the inside of her head. She staggered out onto the open rooftop, the thunderous hum leaving her deafened and dizzy. She had almost gotten the ringing in her ears to stop when somepony apperated onto the rooftop right in front of her. The pop of sound and force made her wince, and when she looked up she found herself face to face with a roan unicorn stallion who looked just as surprised as she was.

Instinct took over. Before either of them had really had time to take stock of what was going on, Cold Star had lowered her head and dived forward, wrapping her front legs around the young stallion and using a flick of her wings to build enough momentum to drive him backwards up onto his hind legs. She twisted hard as she felt his balance shift and he was suddenly airborne, trapped in Cold Star's grasp as she dragged him to the ground. It was a clumsy throw, but her opponent was too unprepared to do anything about it, and that was all it took for her to bring him down.

She adjusted position quickly, feeling rather than seeing their bodies moving. His natural reaction was to roll back to his hooves, so she used the chance to slip in behind him, wrapping one leg around his neck and securing her grip with the other, keeping herself behind him. It was little more than a school-yard choke-hold, but it would be effective in keeping the unicorn's horn faced away form her, making it hard for him to target her with any spells. If needed she could always just choke him unconscious. Her back legs hooked around his flank, keeping his body tight to hers and not allowing him any leverage to get up.

She felt him try to tuck his chin down to block the choke-hold, but it was too late. He knew it too - as soon as she put a little pressure on the hold he instantly relaxed, holding his hooves out next to him in submission. He tapped the ground three times, the universal sign for "I give up" amongst Equestrian martial ponies. She eased her grip slightly, but kept the hold firmly locked in place, ready to resume squeezing instantly if necessary.

She took a moment to size him up as best she could. He was lean and long, and with her nose buried in his mane she noticed a hint of coconut shampoo mixed in with his sweat. He was wearing a denim jacket that had been worn soft by age and repeated cleaning, and she could feel the narrow bulk of something she guessed was a wallet in the coat's pocket. He wasn't breathing all that heavily despite his predicament, which implied he was good under pressure. She decided to snug up the hold a little, just to be on the safe side. She moved her muzzle to just behind his ear.

"I'm watching your horn. If it so much as flickers, I put you to sleep. Understood?"

The stallion's reply was calm and quiet. "Understood."

"Good. I have questions. You will answer them. Understood?"

"Happy to. I'll trade you one for one. Deal?"

Cold Star squeezed the hold just for a moment. "You are not in a position to negotiate."

A shallow rumble rippled through him, and she realized he was laughing. "Fair point. Ask away."

She kept her voice cool and quiet. "I do not find this situation funny. Who do you work for?"

He shook his head casually. "No one."

"Unemployed ponies do not set ambushes. Who do you work for?"

"They do if there is a reward for the target."

Cold Star squeezed a bit more. "Then you were working on credit. For who?"

The stallion's breath was coming much harder now. "Who ever would pay the most."

"Name names, defiler, or I will end this conversation."

The choking pony started tapping his hoof again, and she released him long enough for him to gasp "The Tribune. Or the Bulletin. Probably the Bulletin, since the Tribune doesn't like us odd-jobbers, even if they do pay better."

Cold Star allowed him to breathe, trying to make sense of his answer. "But... those are newspapers."

The stallion turned his head slightly, as if trying to look over his shoulder. Her grip on his neck kept her out of sight, and he quickly gave up. "Yeah. My name is Daily Times. I'm a freelance reporter. What's a 'defiler'?"

Cold Star ignored the question. "I was unaware that newspapers used their staff to set traps for ponies."

"Respectable ones don't. But tabloids are a whole other story. They don't mind manufacturing some news if it doesn't seem like it's going to happen by itself. You're lucky they don't know where you live."

She frowned. "What do they want with me?"

"Word has been going around about somepony busting up street thugs around town. Nobody thought much of it until a couple of weeks ago, when one of the local bosses put a hit out on a masked pony. He's offering big bags of bits to anyone with info, but so far nobody has been able to collect."

Cold Star sneered. "You speak of Stoneheart."

"So you knew?"

"It stands to reason. You and your companions are seeking this bounty, then?"

Daily made a derisive noise. "Hardly. At least, I sure as sunshine wasn't. I don't know about those other vultures."

"Then why were you aiding them?"

"Because a turf war between a local gang and a masked vigilante is front page material, if it turns out to be the real deal. I could eat for a month on that kind of story. But so far, all I've turned up is a couple of so-called eye witnesses scared out of their minds talking about a monster made of shadows."

"Maybe that's what I am."

"I doubt it. Shadows don't use military hoof-to-hoof take-downs. And monsters don't return hoofbags to ponies who got jumped by hoods on the south side. Besides, I can feel you pressed up against me. I'd guess you're a pegasus by your build, and a mare by how much I'm enjoying it."

Cold Star was glad for the mask that hid her features, because she couldn't fight off a rush of heat to her face. How could a pony be so forward with someone trying to choke him? "Are you some manner of deviant?"

"With respect, ma'am, I'm not the one running around in a mask tackling ponies for fun."

"I am not doing this for fun. I am doing it because you were following me," she bristled.

"I'm not following you now. Does that mean you can let me up?"

"Not yet. I have more questions."

"Good. Me too. What's a 'defiler'?"

Cold Star ignored the question again. "How did you find me?"

"I'm smarter than average."

Cold Star leaned on the choke. "Prove it."

The stallion managed a chuckle despite the pressure. "I figured if you were as good at appearing and disappearing as everypony I talked to said you were, you'd probably opt to hide rather than trying to outrun a bunch of pegasi. So I was teleporting between roofs a ways after those numbskulls had already swept them. Thought I might catch you doubling back. Guess I was right."

Cold Star eased her lower legs away from his and used her wings to balance herself as she got to her rear hooves back under herself. She was going to have to make a quick get-away once she released her grip, to prevent him from seeing any more than he had. He was sharp, and that made him dangerous. But he wasn't a defiler, and unless he meant her some kind of harm choking him any further went against the spirit of her Oaths. This was becoming a very tricky situation.

Though in truth, he seemed perfectly contain to lay there with her limbs tight around his neck. "So, I noticed you wear a mask and cape. You wouldn't happen to be from Ponyville, would you?"

Cold Star considered not responding, but the words of disapproval Babs had voiced at the use of her cousin's identity lingered. "No. I am not. This costume was just inspired by a pony there."

"Interesting. Do you also share a name?"

"No."

"What should I call you then?"

"Nothing."

"That's a terrible name to go by. The copy editor won't like it. No one wants to read a story about a pony called 'Nothing'."

Cold Star stiffened. "I would rather not be written about."

"Not really an option. Words are my business, and a stallion needs to eat. But why not? What don't you want ponies to know?"

This was going on too long, and his questions were becoming increasingly clever. She needed to get out of there. She used her back legs to drag them both around until her back was facing the edge of the roof. That would allow her to make a break for it before he had a chance to roll over and get a look at her. For the moment, she just focused on keeping him busy. "Who will believe you, if you write such a tale? When I am done with you I will be gone, and no one else saw us. Ponies will think you are either mad or lying."

The stallion didn't resist. "True. Though if that's the case, it would be nice if you could at least tell me your name."

Cold Star thought about it. "I am a Crusader. That is all you need to know."

The stallion sighed. "Right. I guess that's about it then. Time to say please."

Cold Star grunted. "You need not beg. If you do not resist, I will not harm you."

"Glad to hear it. But actually I meant that you should say please."

"Why?"

"Rhymes with cheese."

Cold Star hadn't felt the stallion's leg duck into his pocket when she dragged them around, so she was completely surprised when he held a little metal box up over his shoulder. She had just enough time to wonder what it was when the flashbulb went off, and her world went white.

She thrust herself off of the stallion, her foreleg moving to shield her eyes. But the damage was already done - with her night-vision active, the attack had rendered her completely blind for at least the next few moments. She whirled around once, kicking out in the direction of the stallion in case he intended to take advantage of her blinded state, but the kick caught nothing but air.

There was a ka-click, like a trap mechanism being sprung, or a crossbow being armed. Not knowing what else to do, Cold Star threw herself backwards out of the line of fire. She heard rather than saw the emptiness of the street beyond the edge of the roof, and she barely had time to arch her back before she found herself falling into the darkness below.

* * * * *

Daily Times ran to the edge of the roof, summoning up the best light spell he could muster, looking down to the street and cursing under his breath. Below, the street was completely deserted, with no sign that the mysterious mare had ever been there. Still cursing, he gathered up his concentration and apperated down to the street below. He galloped up and down the block, only slowing to a trot when he was certain his little gambit hadn't resulted in the poor mare crash-landing off of the roof four stories above.

It was only then that he dug around in his pocket, pulling out the small camera he'd been carrying. He'd only gotten two shots, and the close up of her face probably wouldn't turn out. But the second one might have been a keeper. He had to get home and get them developed. The masked pony had been right - his word alone wouldn't sell any papers. But if he had gotten a decent shot, then boy did he have a story to go with it. Grinning, he checked the position of the moon. It wasn't quite midnight yet. Still time to make the early morning edition, if he hurried.

He dashed off in the direction of home, his typewriter, and hopefully a photo worthy of a front page scoop.

* * * * *

Babs arrived at Misty's place the same time she did most mornings to discover Squall was already standing outside. Since he usually met them closer to the school, she was surprised to see him. He was a bit out of breath, and by way of greeting he reached into his saddlebag and pulled out a newspaper, holding it up for Babs to read. The headline was printed in bold letters.

"Mysterious Masked Crusader Terrorizes Manehattan Street Crime."

The picture below it was unmistakably Cold Star. It wasn't a good picture by any means - little more than a silhouette of her leaping off a roof, taken from a funny angle. But her cape and hat were clearly visible, and her body shape was right despite her wings being hidden by her cape.

Squall passed the paper to Babs, and started pacing. "So what do we do? I mean, she was so worried about getting caught, and now she's on the front page of a newspaper. Ponies are going to know about her." He was being careful not to say Cold Star's name out loud. They had agreed it was a good habit to get into to avoid having it slip out by accident where somepony could hear.

Babs started reading through the article. "It says she talked to the reporter for a couple of minutes before she took off on patrol. And it says that Stoneheart has a bounty out on her. Did you know about that?"

Squall shook his head. "She never mentioned it. But those ponies she fought the first time we met her worked for him, so that would make some sense, I guess."

The truth was that Cold Star spoke about her work very little while they were training. After three weekend lessons, they didn't know much more about her than they did when she started teaching them. She kept each class tightly on-track, never speaking about anything that wasn't relevant to the lesson at hoof. To this point, those lessons had mostly been about exercises, stretching, and learning how to roll a bunch of different ways. Babs kept reading. "It even says she's a Crusader. But it never says anywhere that she's... y'know. Different. How could he miss that if he was talkin' to her?"

"I don't know. But I was thinking maybe we ought to stop by Madam Zelest's place and see if she's OK. This says the picture was taken last night, so if she was in trouble she might have gone there."

Babs looked at him, dubious. "But we have class."

Squall scratched the ground , like he always did when he was nervous. "Well, yeah. But we'd only miss first period if we took the trolley."

Babs shook her head. "Teachers would notice. If they sent a note home, I'm pretty sure our folks would wanna know where we were. How am I gonna explain that? More importantly, how are you?"

Squall looked downcast. "I'm still worried."

Babs didn't know what to say - she was too. Misty appeared at her door, waving back into the house to her family before meeting her friends down at the end of her front walk. Babs passed her the newspaper much as Squall had done, and she read it silently before passing it back. "What a terrible photo. Only the Bulletin would put such a lousy shot on the front cover and dare to call it news."

Babs was confused. "This doesn't worry you?"

Misty tossed her head dismissively. "Why would it? It's the Bulletin. Six months ago they published a story claiming that Princess Celestia was in a romantic relationship with the Crown Prince of Saddle Arabia. Last month they started up rumours about a Changeling infestation in Apple-Loosa. No one takes any of it seriously."

Squall scowled, taking the paper back. "But this is true."

Misty rolled her eyes. "You're only saying that because you know better. Most ponies are going to see this for what it is - a scam to sell papers to ponies who love gossip. Where did you even get this, anyways?"

Squall shrugged. "My Mom gets all of the local papers. I usually fly down to bring them inside in the morning before I leave. I saw this one, so I snagged it."

Misty arched an eyebrow. "Isn't that a lot of papers to read?"

"About six a day, I think. But newspapers don't take long to read, really."

"Still. Six papers, every day? What does she do with them all?"

"She likes to read them during break times at work. She usually does the crosswords, too."

Babs made a confused sound. "Isn't that expensive, though? I thought your Mom was pretty thrifty about stuff."

Squall nodded. "She is, so it can't be that much of an investment. Besides, it's not like she ever buys herself anything. I figure the crosswords are her little indulgence." Squall looked off to the north, towards the Mosaic. "I still think we should drop by and check in with Madam Zelest."

Misty looked over, frowning. "She's been here for months already, and this is the first actual report we've seen that anypony has printed about her. That, and it's in a rag like the Bulletin. Trust me, she's in no more danger right now than she was on any other day since we've met her."

Squall looked sceptical. "You don't think this will get the sheriff's office looking for her?"

"I doubt they'll bother. Manehattan is a big city, and they don't have enough officers to spend on chasing rumours instead of criminals. I mean, her doing what she does every night is proof enough of that, right?"

Squalls shoulders sagged, and it made him look especially scrawny. "I guess."

Babs poked Squall in the ribs. "Yeah, Misty's right. Besides, we'll see her tomorrow night anyways. We'll show her then. Maybe we can even hang a copy up in the clubhouse. She deserves some kind of recognition for what she does. Even if the picture ain't too good."

Squall nodded, tucking the newspaper back into his saddlebag, feeling thoroughly unconvinced.

* * * * *

It was just after sunset when Squall arrived at the House of the All-Seeing Eye. He'd gone home to shower after the Crusaders' daily workout, and then headed straight over. His mother was working night shifts this week, so she wouldn't know the difference if he ran a little errand before dinner, just for his own peace of mind. The sign in the window still read "open", so he went in. A tiny wind-chime jingled above the door as he stepped inside. He started composing a greeting for Zelest in his head as he looked around for her, trying to be quiet in case she had clients.

The reception room was a comfortable size, and looked good for it's age. If Zelest's story about the history of this place was true, then the building was probably at least a hundred years old, probably older. Everything was antique hardwood, most of it faded by years of sunlight and regular use. There were a couple of couches and chairs for ponies to sit in while they waited, and despite matching the decor they sported upholstery that was probably no more than a few years old. They looked comfortable, regardless.

There were only two doors in or out of the room. He'd come in through one of them, and the other was hung with a heavy velvet curtain. It was exactly the sort of thing one would expect to see in the parlour of a fortune teller. A small table sat in the middle of the room with a note placed there facing the outside door, written in beautiful cursive script.

Greetings to all from I, Zelest.
For readings I'm the very best.
But many ponies ask my time
for fortunes read in verse and rhyme.
If I don't come to greet you here
then other clients have my ear.
Please seat yourself and wait for a span,
and I will be with you as soon as I can.

Squall picked one of the comfy arm chairs and sat himself down, kicking his lets idly. As a mental exercise, he began running through pairs of rhyming words in his head to pass the time.

A few minutes later, a pair of mares made their way out of the back, giggling to each other. They went right out the front door, and Squall quickly lost sight of them out the front windows. A moment later Zelest poked her head out through the curtain, glancing around as if to check that her customers were indeed gone before venturing into the room. She noticed the young pegasus, and smiled.

"I thought I'd heard my front door call.
It's good to see you, Summer Squall.
Thank you for waiting patiently.
What council might I offer thee?"

Squall stood up and bowed politely, though not as deeply as he had at their first meeting.

"Greetings, Madame of Hoof and Cards.
I hope you'll accept my warm regards.
I came with some news that you should know,
concerning your tenants down below."

Zelest nodded thoughtfully. She latched the front door, and turned the sign in her window to "closed". She beckoned for Squall to come with her into the back, and Squall followed her into the large, rectangular room behind the curtain. Unlike the reception room, this chamber was extremely sparse: a round table, a half-dozen mismatched chairs lined up against the wall, and a tall chest of drawers over in one corner. There was nothing hanging on any of the walls, which gave the room a sort of austere focus centred around the table.

Zelest selected one of the chairs, pulling it over to the table for herself, and she gestured for Squall to do the same. He brought over one that was slightly taller than the others, put his saddlebag down next to it, and pulled out the newspaper before sitting down. He laid it on the table for Zelest to see, and she picked it up and read it over. When she put it down she was smiling.

"Quite a risk this pony took
to catch himself a fleeting look.
I wonder then, could it be true?
Would Cold Star give an interview?"

Zelest seemed to find the concept fairly entertaining, but Squall still didn't find any humour in it.

"Cold Star is not seeking fame,
so it's weird she'd play this pony's game.
To stop a patrol to chat with him
doesn't seem like something...."

Squall trailed off, and then frowned and bowed his head.

"...rats. Sorry Zelest. I'm trying my best. But rhyming is a trick and I'm a bit thick."

The Zebra chuckled, shaking her head.

"Please don't fret, young Summer Squall.
You should not feel ashamed at all.
I appreciate your work to rhyme,
but you need not do it all the time."

Squall sighed. "Thanks. Sorry."

Zelest reached over to rest her hoof on his.

"Do not feel bad, my young feathered friend.
This rhyming is simply a means to an end.
Speaking plain is quite alright,
without any risk of not being polite.
In truth, it is only a small precious few
who have even tried speaking the way that we do."

Squall brightened up a little. "My Mom is kind of a stickler for manners. She'd have been disappointed in me if I didn't at least try to be respectful to your traditions."

Zelest smiled warmly.

"Your respect for tradition is likewise returned,
so let me explain this tradition you've learned.
We Zebras don't focus on clever word-play,
though that's sometimes a factor in things that we say.
Since the words we speak have a great deal of clout,
what's important is thinking before we speak out."

Squall thought about that for a moment. "So... basically it's a way of making sure you always think before you speak?"

Zelest nodded.

"Simply that and not much more.
So worry not about keeping score.
Don't be rude, speak honestly,
and your words will find no fault with me.
So fret no more on verses please,
and let your thoughts be shared with ease."

Squall looked at the newspaper laying on the table between them.

"I was worried about this article. I thought something bad might have happened. I figured if anything was wrong, she'd probably come here first. So I thought I'd pop by, just in case."

Zelest shook her head sadly.

"I have not seen her for several days.
She rarely visits, and never stays."

"So do you think that means she's alright?"

"Cold Star isn't the type to ask
for any help in her oath-bound task.
So we can't be sure, but I rather doubt
that a reporter is enough to take her out."

Squall smirked, but stayed silently for a long moment. He knew, in his head, that what Zelest was saying made perfect sense. Cold Star wouldn't have any problem dealing with a reporter, or even several reporters. She was used to dealing with the kinds of thugs who favoured violent crimes, so photo-hounds probably wouldn't be much of a challenge.

It took him a moment to realize what was actually bothering him, and when he looked across the table her found Zelest with her head resting on one hoof, watching him. He had the distinct impression that she knew what he was about to say, but he said it anyway.

"It's not about the reporter. It's about the fact that she wouldn't have been willing to have her picture taken like this. It's... rude. And invasive. She was tricked into it. And if a reporter can trick her, then someone more devious might try to trap her. The article says that a crime boss named Stoneheart has a bounty out for her. What's keeping him, or some clever sheriff, from setting up some kind of trap?"

It was Zelest's turn to look thoughtful.

"I can't deny this could be true.
So what, then, would you have her do?"

Squall shrugged.

"I'm not sure. Babs and Misty think that no one will take it seriously. But if I didn't know what I do... I'd be curious. I'd want to know it it was true. I mean... I do know her, and I'm still all kinds of curious about her. If I didn't already meet her every week, I'd probably be hanging out on the roof of my apartment with a camera hoping to catch a glimpse myself. I can't possibly be the only pony who thinks that way."

"So you fear that this paper will result
in the formation of a celebrity cult?"

"I think that might be a bit much. But the more ponies who see her, the more other ponies are going to want to see her. And some of those ponies aren't going to be nice ones. It's going to be hard to do her job if dozens of ponies are out every night trying to snap photos... or worse."

"Then I ask again: what would you suggest?
What course do you think would serve her best?"

"I don't know. Maybe she should just take a couple of nights off, or do smaller patrols. Try to let this all blow over before she does anything else that will land her in the paper."

Zelest laughed. It was a belly laugh, loud and proud. Squall could feel his cheeks going red but Zelest pressed her hoof over his again, keeping him from pulling away.

"I'm sorry Squall, for laughing so.
But think of how that's bound to go.
You know that she won't think the same.
Her refusal is written in her name."

Squall frowned. "I'm sorry. I don't think I understand what you mean by that."

Zelest frowned back, equally confused.

"Then, your group has not been shown
the namesake that she's made her own?"

Squall shook his head, still looking puzzled. Zelest let out an irritated huff.

"I think perhaps it should be my mission
to correct this uninformed position.
If you don't mind, please come with me.
Let me teach you some astronomy."

Zelest rose and went over to the chest of drawers. She fiddled with it for a moment, and Squall heard a loud 'click'. The chest slid sideways revealing a doorway. Squall followed her through the door into what appeared to be Zelest's kitchen. Squall looked to the Zebra. "Not exactly where I had expected a secret door to lead."

"You heard of this building's early days.
Back then there was need for secret ways."

"But there's no need now. Why not just put in a regular door?"

"What a silly thing to suggest I do.
If you can have secret doors, why wouldn't you?"

Squall thought about that for a moment. "Yeah, never mind. I don't know what I was thinking."

Zelest grinned at him and led him up a small flight of stairs to a short hallway. She opened a door and gestured for Squall to go in. He did, and stopped cold. The room was a just a bit bigger than his living room but about half again as tall, and it was piled from floor to ceiling with book-laden shelves. Most of the books looked old, and many of them had velvet covers so faded with age he had to put his face right next to them to read them. Even then, some turned out to be in languages he couldn't read. They had overflowed onto the floor and there was a large, slightly slanted table in the middle of the room that supported several more volumes, most of them bookmarked and obviously ready for somepony to use.

Zelest went over to one corner of the room, and selected a book, carrying it over to the table.

"Tell me, has Cold Star taught you three
about the Night Tribes and our history?"

Squall shook his head. Zelest sighed.

"Too much fighting, not enough book.
It's a legacy she should not overlook.
I hope that you might think to confer
that stern sentiment from me to her."

Squall gulped. Offering Cold Star criticism seemed like more of a Babs or Misty thing, but he nodded his head anyway. Maybe he would ask one of them to do it.

"Then back to the point I intend to supply -
that our Tribes take an interest in the sky.
We have studied the sky since the world was new,
using it's secrets as a lens to see through.
To hers it is a source of divine inspiration.
To mine, it is a keeper of information.
So it is that I have upon my shelf
a book that speaks to Cold Star's self."

The book she placed upon the table was an old tome, written in careful, elegant calligraphy. It was obviously old, and the way Zelest handled it gave Squall a sense of reverence - this was an important book. She flipped it open to a certain page, and stepped back, allowing Squall to read.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Cold Stars
Of all the bodies in the night sky, cold stars are by far the least understood. No such star has ever been seen, despite our many magical and technological advances in the field of astronomy. This leads many to believe that their existence is a myth. But I have known several scholars in my life whose special talent lay in the study of the night's sky, and each one of them I have spoken to on the subject has confirmed their belief in the existence of cold stars. They tell me it is a cosmic necessity - that the motions of the universe cannot be reasonably explained in any other manner. I am unqualified to argue in the face of such conviction from greater minds than my own, and so I have diligently transcribed all that they could tell me on the subject here. I admit, it is very little information indeed. It is my hope that one day, an astronomer schooled by this text may be able to put the matter finally to rest, one way or the other.

According to my sources, the reason cold stars have not yet been observed is that they cannot be - that unlike normal stars, which give off light and heat, these stars do exactly the opposite - they take in all manner of matter and energy into themselves. They reflect no light, and so they exist in perfect darkness. Thus they offer nothing for a telescope to observe. A scholar knowledgeable in telescope engineering suggested that until we are able to construct a device for measuring heat or sound in the universe, finding cold stars will not be possible. Sadly, I cannot imagine many uses for such a technology, so I worry that our answers may be a long time in coming.

It is not clear exactly how it is possible for a star to absorb that which they would normally produce. One scholar suggested to me that cold stars are not in fact stars at all, but rather holes in the universe, dragging in anything that comes within their orbit much as a drain does in the bottom of the bathtub. This scholar eschewed the term cold star in favour of another moniker - he called them 'Black Holes'. He believed they were formed by the sudden collapse of a star under it's own mass, or other such extreme forces. He had no notion of where the resulting heat or light eventually went, which I considered to be a matter of concern for the theory at large.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Squall looked up from the book to see Zelest watching him. "A star surrounded by darkness. So... this is her cutie mark, isn't it? One of these 'black holes'? But... what kind of special talent is that? I guessed it was something to do with being hidden, or being a light in the darkness or something. But that doesn't seem to match this at all."

Zelest thought for a moment.

"This I would say is my best guess:
her special talent is relentlessness.
Be it blood or fear or broken wing,
she will not stop for anything.
No villain can hide or escape pursuit,
for the Cold Star's hold is absolute.
So I hope that you can understand
why she won't accept your hiding plan."

Squall scraped his hoof lightly against the floor, looking down. "I knew that from the beginning, honestly. Even before you showed me this, I knew she'd never agree to it. She takes those oaths seriously, and 'no matter the circumstances and no matter the cost' is pretty clear where she stands on this. I just wanted to know what a cold star was, and you said you wanted to tell me, so I went along with it."

Zelest arched one eyebrow.

"Help me then to please digest it -
if you knew all this then why suggest it?"

Squall didn't look up. "Just because I knew she wouldn't do it doesn't mean it's a bad plan."

Zelest stared at him for a moment, and then grinned fiercely.

"If your plan cannot work for you as it is now,
perhaps you can change it around somehow.
You cannot change Cold Star, she's set in her way,
so your change must be something where you have a say."

Squall sighed. "But I don't have a say in much of anything. Especially not when it comes to Cold Star."

"Perhaps, but that's not what I would stress.
Consider the goal you've considered success.
Ask not what she can be asked to do,
but rather, what might make it true."

"That's a little too cryptic for me."

Zelest grinned.
"I am but a zebra, a reader of hooves,
and occasional teller of uncomfortable truths.
I learned long ago to say just enough;
it's important for ponies to reflect on stuff.
Regardless of what I do or say,
It rests on you to choose your own way.
It's true for you, and true for me,
and equally so for anypony."

As Squall flew home, it was this last verse in the library that stuck in his mind.

* * * * *

It was the busiest night of the week at the Old Rock Farm, which wasn't saying much. The place still looked empty. Fewer than thirty ponies could be found scattered around the whole of the bar, most of them sitting in small groups at various tables, watching the performance on stage. A blues guitar kept time with an old stallion's weathered voice, singing songs about pain, loss, and the heartaches that came with a long life.

Two ponies were seated in a booth near the front, both listening intently and drinking cold cider. As the set wrapped up, both ponies applauded politely as the old pony got up, bowed awkwardly to the audience, and stepped off the stage to rest before his next set.

Stoneheart was in high spirits. He turned to the mare across the table, gesturing broadly to the stage. "You see, Elsie? Best darned blues pony I've ever seen. He should be playing Canterlot. It's criminal."

Elsie nodded, but said nothing. Stoneheart took no offence. Elsie was one of his most trusted lieutenants, and that was in part because she respected the value of words. She spoke only when something needed saying, and otherwise kept her muzzle shut. It was a valuable trait for a subordinate in their line of work.

Her fur and feathers were lemon yellow and her hair was two-toned blue, which could have been a really cute combination on a different pony. But the all-business cut of her black flight suit and the scars that peeked out from under it around her hooves and neck spoke of a pony who had lived hard, and been hardened by it. Stoneheart had never seen her cutie mark in the three years she'd worked for him, and he'd never seen her carry any kind of ID. He didn't even know if Elsie was her real name. But he didn't care about that. All he cared about was the fact that she was solid. That when he told Elsie something needed to be handled, it got handled. Professionally and without a lot of questions.

Stoneheart picked up a newspaper from the seat next to him and tossed it on the table. Elsie picked it up, read the headline, and put it back down. Stoneheart gestured to the blurred image under the headline.

"Green Fields says this is her. Our so-called Mare-Do-Well."

Elsie nodded again. When she spoke her voice was quiet - little more than a whisper. "You want to talk to the reporter." It wasn't a question.

Stoneheart grinned. "Yes. I suspect that there's probably more to this story than what was printed. This shot wasn't exactly posed for, after all. He might know something useful."

"You payin'?" Elsie asked, casually looking around the bar to make sure no one was eavesdropping.

"The bounty stands, if he's willing to take it. If not... well, I'll still want to speak with him."

Elsie nodded. "When?"

"As soon as possible. While it's still fresh in his head."

Elsie nodded again and stood up, tossing a couple of coins on the table to cover her drink. Despite the fact she worked for Stoneheart, she didn't ever take charity. Not even cider from his bar. It was another good reason she was his lieutenant. She stopped by the stage on the way out to drop a dozen bits into the performer's hat before heading for the door. She didn't look back or say goodbye before she walked out into the autumn night. Stoneheart watched her leave, not a single doubt in his mind that the reporter - Daily Times, according to the byline - would be sitting across from him at some point within the next couple of days. He allowed himself a rare moment of respite, sitting back to relax and enjoy his cider until the old blues pony returned to the stage.

Author's Note

Next time: As night falls over the Manehattan, there is violence in the air. Bodies and egos come under attack, and no-pony is making it home unscathed. It will be a tough night to be a good pony. Find out why in our next exciting chapter!

{ As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! }

{Another milestone - 150 readers! I'm happy to see more and more people dropping by to read this! I'm still hoping that one of you fine folks will put together some art for the story cover. You can expect the next update in two weeks time. Thanks for reading!}

Chapter 6A: Seven Nights - The Incident

Chapter 6A: Seven Nights - The Incident

~ The First Night ~

Babs stifled a groaned as Cold Star began their meeting by asking them to do rolling drills. She had been hoping that tonight would be the night they finally got past all the boring fitness stuff and got on with something more practical. Like, say, kicking ponies in the head. Next to her, she saw Misty's eyes roll as they lined up and began somersaulting and cartwheeling across the mats laid out on the cellar floor. A month of doing this stuff every weekend was starting to wear a little thin.

The only pony who seemed not to mind was Squall. Squall had been the worst roller at first, but at this point he was by far the best. He ran at the mat, leaped forward and tucked himself into a ball, his wings making a careful arc to absorb his momentum. He tumbled end over end all the way across the room, and at the last moment flicked his wings and twisted hard, coming out of the roll just as he was about to crashing into the wall. He used what was left of his momentum to jump up and kick off against the wall, gliding back to the starting point on outstretched wings. He made it look easy. Babs was still doing one roll at a time, and Misty ended up on her back more often then she ended up back on her hooves, the way they were supposed to do.

If someone had told Babs two months ago she'd be seeing Squall turn into some kind of gymnastics buff she'd have laughed in their face, but now she almost expected to see a gymnastics cutie mark showing up on his flank. She hadn't felt anything so much as a twitch on hers, so running and gymnastics were already being crossed off the list. Babs sighed and did another shoulder-roll. It was pretty good, and next to her Misty managed one that was almost equally good. They grinned at each other, then glanced over to see if Cold Star was watching.

Indeed she was. With her face set and here eyes searching intently for places to offer advice, Cold Star seemed to see everything that went on while they were training. So far tonight she hadn't offered any pointers, which was a bit unusual. Squall landed at the starting mark and she nodded to him, then stamped her hoof twice to signal that the drill was over. Babs and Misty both breathed a sigh of relief as they came back to their hooves, already sweating a bit just from being in almost-constant motion.

Cold Star continued to watch as they gathered around her. "Very good. I think we're finally ready to begin."

Babs perked up. "To begin what?"

"These past few weeks were necessary to get your bodies ready to do the work of real training. Your running is much better, your fitness has improved and you can all roll very well. So it's time to start learning about how to defend yourself from other ponies."

Babs was all but trotting in place with excitement. "So what're we gonna learn first?"

Cold Star's lip pulled back in a slight smile, revealing the points of her fangs. "In a way, you have already learned the first lesson - how to fall correctly when someone attacks you, and how to get up quickly. You didn't think I was making you do all this rolling just for fun, did you?"

"I never thought that even for a moment," Misty muttered. Babs gave her a light poke in the side, not wanting her to interrupt whatever was coming next.

Cold Star probably heard the sarcasm, but she ignored it if she did. "Rolling is one half of a very important equation. I wish to teach you self defence, but that means we must also practice other skills. In order to learn to defend against being hit, somepony must hit you. In order to learn how to fall safely, somepony must throw you. In order to defend ourselves, we must also learn to attack effectively. Tonight, that is what we are going to start learning to do. Babs, come here."

Babs hurried to the indicated position, and Cold Star moved to stand behind her, talking all the while. "What we are going to do is not a game. Please pay careful attention. Now, it is common for an attacker to approach their intended victim from behind. This gives them the element of surprise, and the ability to attack without resistance. Many such attackers will seek to control your movement. What is the best way to do that, do you think?"

"Magic," Misty piped up, a hint of sarcasm still present in her voice.

Cold Star nodded in Misty's direction. "Actually, that is true. But let us assume that our attacker is not a unicorn. What will they do to control us?"

Misty's nose wrinkled in irritation, and Squall put up a hoof instead. "Grab a hold of us?"

"Yes. How?"

Babs thought about it. "Around the neck?"

"Exactly right. Control the head, and the body moves with it. Control their breath, and they are at your mercy."

As if to illustrate the point, Babs suddenly felt a leg close around her neck, gripping gently but firmly. Babs could feel wiry muscle tense under her chin, and she instinctively reached one leg to pull down on the offending choke-hold.

"Excellent. Those are good instincts, Babs. Try to keep control of your airway. Tuck your chin towards my knee as much as you can. Now, what can you do to get me off of you?"

Babs shimmied back and forth a bit, trying to shake Cold Star loose. It didn't do much good, and she felt Cold Star move to straddle her back, making it even harder for her to manoeuvre. Both of Cold Star's front legs were resting their weight on her - one around her throat and the other bracing the choke - so her own legs were heavy from carrying part of the bigger pony's weight.

That gave her an idea. She crouched down, and Cold Star's weight slid slightly forward.

"Good. But that won't be enough. I can just rest on you, and if this was a real choke you'd already be fighting for breath. Instead, think about my balance. To keep this hold, I have two legs off the ground. That means I can't keep from falling forward without letting go. Use that."

Squall's eyes went wide. "Oh, I get it. Babs, put your front-right leg around her front-right leg." Babs did so. "Good. Now, do the first half of a shoulder roll over that shoulder."

Babs got it. She held on to the offending leg and dropped her weight as if she were about to roll, and suddenly Cold Star was flying over her. She landed on the mats with a tremendous "slap", and for a moment Babs was worried she might have hurt something, but the Bat-Pony was back on her hooves in an instant wearing the widest smile any of them had ever seen on her face.

"Excellent, both of you. That is what we call a 'shoulder throw'. It can be set up a number of ways, but this is a good basic self-defense technique. Squall, your turn. This time, watch what I do when he throws me. I'm going to roll in the direction I'm falling, so that I can land safely."

Squall accepted the choke, and then struggled to duplicate Babs' technique. Being an Earth-Pony had some perks when it came to this kind of thing, but Squall still managed to get the throw done. Cold Star kept her wings tightly tucked in and allowed the throw to happen, and gracefully rolled back to her feet as Squall levered her over his shoulder. Babs could see now why all the rolling practice had been so important.

Cold Star smiled as if reading her thoughts. "Imagine how much this could hurt a pony who doesn't know how to roll. Somepony who just lands on their flank is going to have a very sore back for a couple of days. To say nothing of their tail-bone or their wings, if they don't think to tuck them properly before they land. Attackers are often strong, but they are not often skilled. Use this to your advantage. Misty, your turn."

Having seen it twice, Misty was able to complete the throw without much difficulty. In fact, she seemed to take no small amount of satisfaction in attempting to dump Cold Star flat on her plot. They each threw Cold Star twice before they broke into teams - Misty and Squall on one set of mats, Cold Star and Babs on the other.

Babs had to fight to keep a giddy smile off of her face while Cold Star crouched down and let her apply the choke, feeling an incredible rush of excitement as she slowly slid down over her shoulder to land on the mat. Cold Star's next throw was much quicker; one moment she was holding on to the Bat-Mare's neck, and then she was suddenly sailing over Cold Star's shoulder, rolling, and coming back to her hooves. It felt dangerous and exhilarating. It was everything Babs had been waiting for.

After they had thrown each other a couple of times, Cold Star started explaining the finer points of the choke itself, teaching Babs how to apply it right under the chin, and to press her own head against the other pony's mane to avoid being struck in the face by a desperate hoof or wing. Babs soaked it up like a sponge, and soon Cold Star's breath came out in a wheeze the moment Babs snugged up on her choke.

While they practised, Cold Star kept them faced towards the other two, watching their progress. Squall seemed to do alright. He was obviously listening to Cold Star's instructions to Babs, because each time he applied his choke to Misty's neck she had a harder and harder time throwing him off. Babs could see she was getting frustrated, especially since Squall was able to throw her off each time seemingly without effort.

It was right about then that the accident happened.

Babs didn't see what went on. She was on Cold Star's back with her head strategically buried in Cold Star's mane when she heard someone hit the ground hard. Somewhere in front of them Squall let out muffled cry.

Cold Star tapped her legs. "Babs, let go."

Babs didn't have to be told twice. She dropped back to the floor and looked for Squall. He was lying on the mat in front of them, with one of his wings clutched to his chest. There were tears welling up in his eyes, and his teeth were clenched, his breath coming in heavy sobs.

Misty was standing over him, her mouth open and her face pale. "I... I didn't mean to...."

Cold Star was already crouching next to Squall, her steady hooves holding him still. "Squall, are you alright?"

Squall's eyes went wide. He scooted himself back and scrambled to his hooves. "It... it's fine. I just... I landed wrong. Bent my wing funny." He took another couple of deep breaths, and a tear fell down his cheek. "I'll... I'll just go flap it off. It's fine."

With that, he turned and ran for the stairs. Cold Star moved to catch him, but then seemed to think better of it, allowing Squall to make good his exit. The grate at the top of the cellar stairs rattled open and closed, then the clubhouse was silent for a long moment.

Cold Star looked at Misty, who still looked stunned. "Would you care to explain what happened?"

Misty seemed to come back to herself, and stared down at the floor. "Like he said. He landed wrong. Or maybe I threw him wrong. I don't know. I'm sorry."

For some reason, Cold Star didn't seem satisfied with that answer. She stepped forward and loomed over Misty, glaring down at her. "I doubt there is any maybe about it. You hurt him on purpose."

Misty looked up in shock. "No! It was an accident. He said he fell wrong..."

"He fell wrong because you cheated on the drill. I saw your horn flicker. You used a spell to compensate for your lack of technique. And now you have hurt Squall. Worse, you tried to blame him for it. Do you not feel ashamed?"

Tears began to pool in Misty's eyes. "It was an accident, I swear!"

Cold Star's reply was icy, and quiet. "Lies in the training hall are a crime against your master and your classmates, Misty Morning. And you have seen what I do to criminals. Is that what I must do, to have an honest answer from you?"

Misty's face went pale, and with good reason. Cold Star's wings were spreading, casting a black shadow across the little blue unicorn. Babs could see her fangs were bared, and she could see the terror in Misty's eyes as the Bat pony took a menacing step forward. Misty began backing away, but quickly found herself pressed up against the wall.

Cold Star showed no mercy. "Well? Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

But Misty seemed to have lost the ability to answer. She cowered by the wall, terrified beyond words, still staring up at Cold Star's fangs. Not knowing what else to do, Babs galloped over to place herself between them.

"Hey, what gives? She said she was sorry." Babs met Cold Star's chilling gaze with as much indignation as she could muster, and managed not to back down. "What's gotten into you?"

Cold Star scowled at her. "Misty has hurt Squall deliberately, and then compounded that mistake by lying about it. I will not tolerate such behaviour."

Babs looked down at Misty, who was shaking with fright, and then back up at Cold Star. "Don't you think you're bein' a little extreme?"

"She should be ashamed to cower so, in the face of a just accusation."

"She ain't afraid of justice. She's afraid of you."

Cold Star stopped her advance, looking down at Babs in confusion.

Babs held her ground, Cold Star's pause giving her a bit of courage. "Remember? Canterlot? Ease up with the fangs, will you?"

It took a moment for a look of realization to come over Cold Star's face. When it did, she abruptly turned away, heading towards the stairs herself. When she reached them, she looked over her shoulder. "It seems we have all done enough for one night. I need to go patrol. I will see you both next week."

She pulled her disguise from its peg as she passed, not pausing long enough for Babs to formulate a response. Cold Star was up the stairs and gone before Babs could call after her, and the words died in her throat as she heard the grate rattle closed behind the departing Crusader.

She heard Misty getting up, and she looked over her shoulder to find Misty wiping at her face and sniffling. Babs couldn't tell if she was more scared or more angry.

"You okay?"

Misty just glared at her for a moment, and then headed towards the door. "I don't want to talk about it. I'll see you at school."

And a moment later, Babs was standing alone in their cellar clubhouse. Not knowing what else to do, she stacked up the mats and went home, worrying all the while what this would mean for their meeting next week. It was a long walk, and she must have landed wrong because her flank was sore for most of the trip. Fortunately, by the time she got home she'd managed to walk it off. She hoped that whatever had happened to Squall, he'd been able to do the same.

Author's Note

Next time: The Old Rock Farm plays host to a meeting between two ponies with an intense interest in the Crusaders. Who will come away with the upper hand, when the media meets the mob? Find out in our next exciting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hello again everyone! It has been a while since I was able to sit down and work on fanfiction, but I'm back on track now. To celebrate my return to this story, I have been working on a slightly bigger-than-average chapter. And since it's called "Seven Nights", I've decided to break it up into seven smaller parts, and post them every couple of days over the next two weeks.

As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! I'm also still holding out hope for some awesome cover art I can use for this story. If you think you would be interested, please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

Chapter 6B: Seven Nights - Cider & Civility

~ The Second Night ~

The yellow pegasus led Daily Times into the Old Rock Farm, and directed him towards the door to the back room. Daily ignored her directions and headed over to the bar. Then, with a freshly poured cider in hoof, he seated himself at an empty booth and sipped at the cold beverage. He wasn't alone for long.

Daily hadn't ever met Stoneheart, but when the big grey stallion seated himself across the table Daily had no doubt in his mind who he was. The yellow pegasus didn't join them, seating herself with a cider at a table nearby instead, popping open the top button of her flight suit and leaning back in a pose that explained clearly enough that she was no longer on duty. She sat close enough to watch, Daily thought, but probably not close enough to listen if they spoke quietly.

Stoneheart was much as Daily had pictured him from the descriptions he'd heard: tall and built like a farm-horse, with the kind of rugged jaw and easy grin that a lot of fillies liked. What the descriptions had failed to make clear was the intensity of the stallions presence. Daily had seated himself first to make Stoneheart come to him, but as soon as the gang boss sat down across from him Daily realized that he hadn't done himself any favours. Stoneheart hadn't brought himself a drink, but before he even acknowledged Daily he looked over at the bar and made a small waving motion with his hoof. A cider arrived a moment later. He drank a long pull from it before levelling an even gaze at the reporter across from him. It took everything he had for Daily to keep himself in his seat and not bolt for the door. All of his instincts told him that accepting this invitation had been a very bad idea.

"So, I take it that a private meeting in the back was not to your liking, Mister Times?"

Daily shrugged, doing his best to appear nonchalant. "I like a more casual atmosphere."

Stoneheart smiled. "So do I. How do you like the cider?"

"Better than I expected, honestly. It is local?"

"Of course. A respectable businessman should always support the local economy. That said, I have some Sweet Apple Acres Special Reserve in the cellar, if you're interested."

"I'll pass. Cider that good should be savoured, and I don't expect to be here long."

"That's a shame. I was hoping we could take our time and get to know each other."

Daily smirked. "Your associates didn't mention that you swung that way, Stoneheart. I'm flattered, really. Even if the feeling isn't mutual."

Stoneheart didn't even bat an eye. "I like to get to know all of my business associates. Does that seem old-fashioned to a big city pony like yourself?"

"It seems a bit disingenuous, considering you're a gang boss with considerable turf in one of the biggest cities in Equestria."

"That doesn't make me a city pony at heart. I'm just a county colt who made good in the big city, that's all."

"You have a funny definition of 'made good'. The Quarry Hounds don't exactly have the reputation of a neighbourhood watch society."

"A fair point. And my own reputation for ruthlessness usually precedes me. Its refreshing to speak with someone who isn't intimidated by it." This time when Stoneheart smiled it showed no amusement, only teeth.

Daily swallowed hard. "I've always thought that the way a stallion deals with a little needling speaks volumes about his character."

"I absolutely agree. So tell me, what have you learned about mine so far?"

That you have the soul of a timber-wolf, Daily thought. He took a long drink of cider, buying time to consider his response. Showing fear to a pony like Stoneheart wasn't an option if he wanted to get out of here in one piece. So he leaned forward and put on the most confident grin he could muster. "That despite what your lackeys may think of you, the editor at the Tribune is still the biggest hard-case I've ever met. So do you want to tell me why you sent your goon to pick me up, or should I finish my cider and get out of here?"

Stoneheart put his own elbow on the table and leaned in. "Don't be thick, Mister Times. You know perfectly well why you're here."

"You want me to sell out to the mob."

"I want you to do what all freelancers do - tell a story for money. Simple as that."

"You know the story as well as I do. There's a vigilante roaming the streets at night, and she's busting up your membership left, right, and centre. So far, you haven't been able to do lickety-split about it. What does that have to do with me?"

Stoneheart offered a throaty chuckle. "Anyone with a bit of news savvy knows that no interview, no matter how sensational, gets published word for word. There are always editorial choices made. I just want the uncut version. I want you to run through the whole night, step by step. Where you were, how you found her, and everything she said to you while you two were speaking. In exchange, I'll pay you whatever the Bulletin did. Maybe more, if you can give me something useful."

"Useful for what?"

"Arranging my own meeting."

Daily considered his options. Stoneheart was right about the article, of course. He'd left a few things out, mostly to do with his lack of grappling acumen. Another was her admission that she didn't intend to hurt him, and the rather clumsy ambush attempt that had started the whole thing off. Most importantly, he'd left out the way her wings had looked under her cape, where she'd tried to keep them hidden. That had been too wild to print without a better picture to back it up. That was the kind of thing that Stoneheart wanted.

But giving it to him would bring him one step closer to the Crusader, whoever (or whatever) she was. Maybe that wasn't his business, but he didn't feel right doing it. And unfortunately, Daily had never been very smart when it came to making choices between what was lucrative and what he felt was right. So he just offered Stoneheart another shrug, keeping his confident smile firmly in place. "The truth is, it was dumb luck. I've been staking out rooftops for weeks, and one night we practically ran right into each other. It was a total fluke. She got the drop on me right away, and since she was in total control of the situation, she didn't seem to see the harm in answering a couple of questions."

Stoneheart snorted in derision. "So, what? She just decided to offer you an interview out of the goodness of her heart?"

"What can I say, Stoneheart? Deep down, I guess everypony wants to be famous. I published pretty much the whole thing... or at least everything I could remember. I left out the part where she tossed me on my plot, mind you. Even a reporter has his pride. But it all happened pretty fast. My editors have been chasing me for a followup ever since, but I haven't seen hide nor hair of her. Frankly, I'm in the same boat you are."

Stoneheart glared at him for a moment, and then drained the rest of his cider, placing the mug gently down on the table. "Well, if that's all you have to say on the matter, I guess I shouldn't keep you. This is the time of night you should be staking out rooftops if you want to land another story. After all, news that doesn't stay current stops being interesting, and it would be a shame if someone got to her before you did. I suppose I'll just have to look forward to your next piece. Hopefully I'll see it within the next week."

Daily couldn't help but be curious. "Why? What happens after that?"

Stoneheart rose, stepping around the table and lowering his face to within inches of Daily's. "After that I get bored with waiting, and I have you dragged into my back room so I can beat whatever you aren't telling me out of you. Let me be very clear: I don't care if you want to publish whatever secrets you're trying to uncover on the front page, Mister Times. That's just as useful to me as you telling me personally. But I need that information, and I'm going to get it one way or another. So you go ahead and keep digging. Because I'm going to find this Crusader, and when I do she's going to be made to pay for all the inconvenience she's causing me. You should consider very carefully which side of that conflict you end up coming down on, or you might end up joining her."

The big stallion's genial smile returned to his face, as if it had never left. "Don't worry about your bill. I'll have it taken care of. I look forward to seeing you again, Mister Times. Enjoy your cider."

With that, the great granite-coloured stallion walked off towards another table, greeting the customers and glad-hoofing like any other bar owner in town would be doing at this time of night. No one else in the room acted like they'd seen anything out of the ordinary, though Daily caught a couple of ponies who looked like regulars grinning at him before returning their attention to their own cider and companions.

Not seeing any compelling reason to stay Daily stood up and made for the door, eager to put as much distance between himself and Stoneheart's back room as possible. He stepped out the door and found the yellow pegasus in the black flight suit standing on the sidewalk watching him. He was a bit surprised when she stepped forward to block his departure. He was a little taller than she was, but she had the bearing of a pony twice her size. She'd barely spoken a half-dozen words to him when she'd come by his office to 'invite' him to meet with Stoneheart, and none of it had included introductions.

She locked eyes with him. Her eyes were the same colour as the lighter tone in her blue hair, and they lacked the sort of subtle menace that Stoneheart's held. But they were no less firm and cool, and no less intense. When she spoke, her voice was calm and quiet.

"I don't like being called a goon."

Daily couldn't quite manage the casual smile he would normally have used in this sort of situation. "I see. I... didn't think you could hear me from where you were sitting."

"It's called professional courtesy. You should try it."

"Clearly. I apologize if I offended you. Perhaps we should start over. My name is Daily Times. And you are...?"

She stared at him for another long moment, then jostled past him as she made her way back into the bar. Slowly, a grin found its way back onto Daily's face. He wondered if the yellow pegasus would get along with the Crusader, if they happened to meet under different circumstances than her boss had in mind. They certainly had the same taste in conversation.

He flagged down a passing taxi carriage and hopped in, directing the driver towards his apartment. Now he had twice as many good reasons to find the Crusader, and some serious thinking to do about what he would do when he did.

Author's Note

Next time: Squall's sore wing is getting better but his mother's nosey questions are getting worse, especially in regards to his mysterious new friend. How will Squall keep Cold Star's secrets when Sunshower sits down with him for a heart to heart? Find out in the next exciting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Well, here is part 2 of my 7-part update. The next bit should be up this Tuesday.

This last update brought in a lot of new traffic, so hello to all the new readers! As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments!

I'm also still holding out hope for some awesome cover art I can use for this story. If you're interested, please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

Chapter 6C: Seven Nights - Keeping Secrets

~ The Third Night ~

Squall had never been up on the roof of his apartment building before. But with his wing in a sling, his options of places to go to try and clear his head had been pretty limited. He needed to get out of the apartment for a while. Or, more specifically, away from his mother who had been alternating between coddling him outrageously and giving him searching looks for two days now. This had seemed like as good a place as any.

He'd come up here just before sundown, hoping that the quiet and the cool breeze on his feathers would help him relax. It was fully dark now and he was still just as anxious as he had been for days, so it obviously wasn't working. He wasn't sure what would at this point. He kept replaying his last few minutes in the clubhouse in his mind - putting the hold on Misty, the suddenness of his fall, and then Cold Star standing over him while he teared up like a wimp. Every time, he felt his chest tighten up a little more. What would Cold Star think of him, now? Would she ever let him do throwing drills again?

He rolled his shoulder, and winced. It was a smaller wince than it had been that afternoon though, so that was progress. He probably didn't need the sling any more, but wearing it was easier than arguing with his mother about whether or not he needed to go to the doctor. Just like using it as an excuse to miss school for a couple of days "to rest up" was easier than facing Babs or Misty right now, so he hadn't put up any fight when his mother had suggested he do so.

He looked down towards the street. Far below, the lights on the carriages moving past made him think of Apple-Loosa. He used to love going down to the town's huge apple orchard to watch the fireflies there. Back then, being a blank-flank had been normal for colts his age, and his mother was friends with almost everyone in town. It had been a pretty good life. Now, life was complicated and confusing. A part of him wished they had never come here.

But then he wouldn't have met Babs or Misty. He would never have become a Crusader, and never met Cold Star. Thinking of Cold Star made Squall's chest tighten even more. Something about the image of her standing over him after he fell continued to bother him. Maybe it was the way her eyes, which were so often stern and serious, had looked so surprisingly soft and concerned. Maybe it was the way her hooves had felt, sliding over his wing. It was exactly the same kind of thing his mother would have done when he'd taken a tumble back when he started learning to fly, so why did it seem so much different when she did it? Why, days later, did it make him all the angrier that he'd run out instead of toughing it out, or at least thanking her properly?

It was infuriating.

He heard the big metal access door behind him open, and he looked over his shoulder to find his mother coming out onto the roof. She had a blanket draped over her back.

"Summer? Are you still up here?"

Squall considered not answering. He mostly wanted to be left alone. But if she didn't find him she'd just end up getting worried, and the next thing he knew his apartment would probably be full of deputies helping her fill out a missing pony report. So he waved one hoof at her. "Yeah. I'm over here."

She made her way over, pulling the blanket off of her back as she went.

"You've been up here for quite a while, so I thought I'd see if you needed a blanket. It's getting cold at night, these days."

Squall shook his head, holding up one edge of his Crusader cape. "No thanks. I'm good."

Sunshower nodded and sat down next to him at the edge of the roof, wrapping the blanket around herself instead. "Okay. Then would you like to talk about what's bothering you?"

"Not really."

"It might make you feel better."

"I doubt it."

"Did you have a fight with the Crusaders?"

"No."

"Oh. Alright then. Because you came home early from your astronomy club meeting with a sore wing and locked yourself in your room all night. All you told me about your wing is that 'you fell'. So I thought maybe something had happened."

Squall looked away. His mother's nosiness was about as subtle as his last landing at 'astronomy club'. But she wasn't going to stop asking until she had some kind of answer, so he was going to have to give her something.

He sighed. "When I fell, I fell right in front of everyone. I was so ashamed that I left early."

Sunshower frowned, confused. "How did you fall on your wing during astronomy club?"

"By mistake. I was... kind of showing off."

"That sort of thing does have a tendency to backfire. But I'm sure Babs and Misty have done the same sort of thing before. They'll probably rib you about it, but it's all in good fun."

"I guess."

Sunshower watched Squall for a long moment. "This isn't about them, is it? It's about your other friend. The secret one."

Squall froze.

That was all the cues his mother needed. "Summer, is this new pony picking on you? Because if she is..."

"She would never do that!"

Squall found himself staring into his mother's surprised face. Squall didn't usually interrupt her, especially not so emphatically. He was just at surprised he'd done it as she was.

His mother shifted the blanket she was wearing, pulling it tighter around herself. "Oh, okay. I'm sorry if I said something unfair. But it's hard to judge when you haven't even told me her name."

The silence hung around them for a moment, and Squall felt a cool breeze ruffle his cape. It gave him an idea. It was not a good idea by any means, but half truths usually worked well enough for Misty. Maybe they would do the job here too.

He took a deep breath, and let it out, trying to sound calm. "Chilly. Her name is Chilly."

"Chilly? That's an unusual name."

"It's a nickname. Like how Babs is short for Barbara-Anne." Squall looked away, hoping to hide the tell-tale blush that usually gave it away when he was lying. Sunshower didn't say anything for a long moment.

"And is she a classmate of yours?"

"No. She doesn't go to our school. We just kind of ran into her one night while we were out Crusading. She moved here not that long ago, and we're some of the first friends she's made."

"And you let her join the Crusaders? Just like that?"

"She's pretty awesome." Squall smiled slightly. At least that wasn't an exaggeration.

His mother got the strangest look on her face. "So you fell in front of this new filly and... what? She laughed at you?"

"No. She came right over to make sure I was okay. She's like that. Even though she seems kind of cool and aloof, once you get to know her she's really the nicest pony."

"So you say. And was she the one you were trying to impress with your showing off?"

That wasn't a question Squall had expected, and he found his own answer equally surprising when it bubbled to the surface. "Um... well... actually, yeah. I guess so."

"Ah. I see."

Squall sat there for a long moment, waiting for more questions. He'd expected a full barrage at this point, but instead he looked over and found his mother huddled in her blanket looking down into the darkness of the street below.

"Mom, are you all right?"

Sunshower nodded slowly. "Yeah. I'm fine. It's just... you know, sometimes being a parent is funny. You forget that your little pony is going to grow up, one day."

Squall frowned in confusion. "Where did that come from?"

She smiled wistfully. "I was just thinking. You're going to get your cutie mark one of these days. Another couple of years and you'll be done with junior school. Pretty soon, you're going to start asking me a lot of tough questions. I guess I'm going to have to start thinking about how I'm going to answer them."

She seemed so sad. Squall scooted himself over to sit next to her, throwing the blanket over his back and leaning in against her. She leaned back, wrapping one wing around him. They huddled there together, and Squall could feel the melancholy spreading through her as though it were a physical sensation, like a splash of cold water thrown over his heart.

He never knew what to do when she got this way. Usually his mother was as steady as a mountain stone. But every once in a while something would happen to her, and she would suddenly deflate. Squall usually tried to do something to cheer her up, but the older he got the more he wondered about the cause of it rather than focusing on patchwork solutions. He had a hunch, though. And since they were already on the topic of difficult conversations...

"Hey, Mom? Do you think I could ask one of those hard questions?"

Sunshower sighed. "I had to open my big mouth, huh?"

"You don't have to answer, if you don't want to."

"No, go ahead. Get it out of your system."

"...Were you thinking about Dad, just now?"

He could feel her shoulders stiffen against his back, as if she were about to stand up. Then she relaxed again, and Squall felt himself relax in turn. When she spoke again her face was set, and hard to read. "Yes, I was. About him, and you, and me. About how things have worked out."

"Is that what was making you feel sad?"

She shrugged. "Maybe a little."

"Do you miss him?"

She looked away, back down into the streets. "Sometimes I do."

"So... sometimes you don't?"

Sunshower pulled her wing back from around him. He suddenly felt a lot colder, and it was more than just the night air. "He's been gone for a long time, Summer. Leaving him behind was one of the hardest things that I've ever done. But I had to do it, or I never would have been able to be a good mother to you. So I do my best to put him out of my mind, because remembering him is still hard on me. I hope that you don't have to understand what that's like until you're a lot older."

"Is that why we don't have any pictures of him? Because it makes you sad to think about him?"

Sunshower stood up. "Yes. And it's why I don't really like talking about him either. Come on, it's late. I'll warm us up some soup, and then we should both hit the hay. I'm working the early shift tomorrow, and your wing won't heal without rest." She made her way towards the door, making it clear she felt this conversation was over.

Squall sighed. "I just wish I knew more about him. That's all. I'm sorry if I'm being a pest."

She paused for a moment, and when she looked back some of the hardness had left her face. "It's not your fault. It's like I said - I'm going to have to figure out how to answer some of these questions. Your father was a complicated stallion. And our relationship was complicated, too. One day, I promise, I'll tell you all about him. But not tonight."

Squall got up and moved back from the edge of the roof. "When do you think that will be?"

"I don't know. When I think you're ready. Or when I think I am. Whichever comes first."

Squall was tempted to argue or plead, but his better sense prevailed. His mother was like cast iron in the face of that kind of trickery, and trying it would just irritate her. Besides, it was obviously bothering her. It was probably best to just change the subject.

His mother beat him to it. "So. What were you doing to show off for your new friend? Nothing too dangerous I hope."

Squall could think of only one convenient deflection. He rolled his wing out of the sling and pulled that and his cape off from around his neck, handing them to his confused mother.

"Here, I'll show you."

He walked over to the edge of the roof, then turned and sized up the space in front of him. Without mats and with a sore wing, this was probably going to be a little uncomfortable, but it would be worth it to see the look on her face if he managed to do it right.

He cantered a couple of steps and then threw himself into a headlong roll. The first roll became a second, and then a cartwheel, and then a wing-over into a back-flip. He finished with another back-flip, using his wings to corkscrew him around in mid air, landing him facing his mother on all fours, grinning broadly.

His mother stood there in stunned silence. He'd expected surprise, or maybe for her to be impressed. But right now she looked more like she'd seen a ghost. The dumbstruck look on her face took a bit of the wind out of Squall's sails. He pawed at the rooftop gently. "Well, something like that. The landing was a lot better this time."

His mother seemed to realize she was just standing there, and her face got stern again. "Summer, where did you learn how to do that?"

Squall shrugged. "Chilly is kind of into gymnastics. She showed me some stuff. I've been practising it as a part of my workouts every day."

She shook her head slowly. "I... well. That was really something."

"Um... thanks?"

"So I guess that means you wing is well enough for you to go without a sling, then?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Then I guess you're going to school in the morning. All the more reason to get to bed early. Come on, let's go have some dinner."

Squall had little choice but to follow her, feeling more confused than he had when he'd come up here, hoping to clear his head.

Author's Note

Next time: An unexpected chat between two Crusaders leads to a startling revelation. Will the weight of many small deceits finally cause one of them to snap? Find out in the next exiting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part 3 of my 7-part update. The next update should be this Friday.

And an exciting milestone! 200 readers! I hope everyone who is new to the story is enjoying it. Thanks, for reading, everybody!

As always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! I'm also still holding out hope for some awesome cover art I can use for this story. If you're interested, please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

Chapter 6D: Seven Nights - An Honest Talk

~ The Fourth Night ~

The view from the roof of the Seed Industries building wasn't much to write home about. Three floors wasn't quite enough to get a good view of the uptown skyline, nor was it high enough to escape the sounds of traffic and street vendors on the busy avenue below. It smelled like a combination of old roof tar and stale rainwater, so the only time any of the Seed family came up here was to clean out the gutters or put the storm doors on the skylights. It was dark, but the stars were out and the moon was nearly full, painting the rooftop in pale light and long shadows.

Babs stood at one corner of the roof, leaning on the stone railing and watching pedestrians passing on the street below. Dinner had been another round of her parents and Poppy going at it, and Poppy had stormed out before Babs had a chance to talk to her. Again. So Babs had come up to the roof to wait for her to come home, and to think.

Applejack had told her that when she had a problem, she should tell her big sister. Tonight she really felt like she needed some advice, and Poppy was the right pony to ask. She was smart, streetwise, and content not to ask a lot of questions about why and who - questions Babs would have to dance around answering.

Not seeing any sign of Poppy, Babs abandoned her lookout for the moment and began pacing around the roof. Her muscles were sore from her day's workout, so she spent a couple of minutes trying to stretch some of the soreness out of them. There was lots of room, so she even found herself doing a couple of lazy cartwheels just because she could. She even worked herself up to trying one of those backflips, like the ones Squall had been doing. She knew as soon as she did it that she wasn't quite going to land it, and ended up landing off-balance. Her rump hit the roof with a 'thud', and she winced at the bruise she would probably have there tomorrow.

"A valiant attempt. A few more tries, and you will have mastered it."

Babs wheeled around to find the source of the voice - a caped pony standing near the edge of the roof. "Cold Star! You scared me!"

The Bat Pony wilted slightly. "An unfortunate habit. I apologize."

Babs blew her hair out of her eyes. "Not scared-scared. Just... I didn't hear you. Don't worry 'bout it."

"I see. Well, I will try not to step so softly next time."

"That'd prob'ly be good. I mean, if we're gonna focus on what to do with ponies that sneak up on us, seems like a safer plan, right?" Babs grinned. "So, what brings you by? Everythin' okay?"

"I was about to ask the same. I have not seen you up here before."

Babs looked lost. "Um... I don't usually come up here except to watch parades. Do you?"

Cold Star nodded. "Yes. I pass by here at least once every night. I also pass by Squall's apartment, and then make sure Misty's gates are all still latched. I usually come by here quite a bit later, but my patrol tonight has been quiet so I was taking a bit of a detour."

She looked down the street towards a nearby alley. "There is a mare in the alley two blocks down. She is intoxicated, and I am worried she will invite trouble if left to her own devices. I am following her home, for safety's sake."

"Is that somethin' you usually do? Walkin' drunks home?"

"My oath is to protect those who revel beneath the moon. I cannot help if some ponies choose to revel too much for my tastes. So long as no other defilers demand my attention, this too is a part of my Crusade."

"Wow. Sounds... kinda dull."

Cold Star chuckled. It was the first time Babs had ever heard her laugh. "Dull is my preference. For me, excitement usually means somepony is hurting somepony else. I would be perfectly happy if all my nights were this sedate."

Babs nodded thoughtfully. "So, did you say you come by here every night?"

"Yes. Does that surprise you?"

"I guess it shouldn't." Babs grinned sheepishly. "Thanks for looking out for us."

"It is the least I can do. Perhaps not even enough, in truth." Cold Star looked pensive, then moved over to stand next to Babs. "Do you have a few moments you could spare? My drunken charge probably won't be going anywhere for a couple of minutes, and I have something I would like to speak to you about."

Babs looked down the street to the alley Cold Star had pointed to. "How do you know what she's doin', all the way over there?"

Cold Star heaved a great sigh. "Suffice it to say that having enhanced senses is sometimes not entirely a blessing. Presently she is... quite ill. Any closer and the smell..."

"Eew. Fuhget I asked." Babs looked over the side of the roof and down into the street. Seeing no sign of her intended target, she nodded. "Actually, I've been kinda wantin' to talk to you as well. I was hopin' to talk to my older sister about it first, but I guess she ain't comin' home before the clubs all close down. Guess now is as good a time as any."

"I see. What do you wish to talk about?"

Babs shook her head. "Nah, you go first. Mine's probably less important. Might even be nothin'."

Cold Star frowned a little, but nodded. "As you wish. I wanted to ask you about Misty, and what happened to her in Canterlot. I only know what was written in the newspaper about the attack. It happened before my time on the surface, and few ponies speak of it. Before I can make an appropriate apology, I feel I need to understand the depth of my transgression."

Babs' eyes went wide. "Whoa. I mean, I wish I could help ya, but Misty doesn't talk about it much. I just know that she was there when it happened. Not just in Canterlot, I mean - she was right near the palace. Her mother was workin' there, and she was helpin' her. Dew Drop is a sort of party planner or somethin', doin' landscape designs for big garden parties. She was supposed to be supervisin' the royal weddin' reception. So she was right in the thick of it when the attack went down. Apparently they moved here because her Mom had some kind of a breakdown, and she couldn't go near the palace. That's pretty much all I know."

Cold Star hung her head. "I have encountered Changelings before. If she has seen them feed, or been fed on herself... well, I can see why she might have reacted to me as she did. I feel terrible."

Babs shrugged. "Yeah, well. Maybe don't feel too terrible. She kinda deserved it."

Cold Star shook her head. "I over-reacted. It was careless on her part, but I am also to blame. I failed to realize what a temptation her magic would be for her."

Babs sighed. "Yeah. About that."

Cold Star looked up, and found Babs scuffing one hoof nervously. "About what?"

Babs took a deep breath. "Listen, I don't like bein' a snitch, but I think you oughta know. I don't think the other night was the first time Misty was tempted to use magic while she was trainin'."

Cold Star drew herself up straight. "Please explain."

Babs ducked her head, shamefaced. "I'm not sure how. I mean, I'm not a unicorn or nothin'. But this week I noticed somethin'. Remember what you said about her horn flickerin' when she used that trick on Squall? I guess I was kinda lookin' out for it, after that. And I've seen it a couple of more times."

"When?"

"Sometimes Misty falls behind while we're out runnin'. When she does, her horn flickers, and then she catches up again. I think she's usin' magic to make her run easier. I thought about it, and I think she's been doin' it for a while now."

Cold Star's wings stretched out under her cape, and she flapped them a couple of times before resettling them. It was the same kind of thing she'd seen Squall's mother do when she was very cross. "Why would she do this? Have I not made clear how important running is to her training?"

Cold Star began pacing back and forth across the roof. Babs joined her - she usually thought better when she was walking. "I dunno. Maybe it's the same thing as what happened the other night. She gets frustrated because she can't do it and then the magic just... happens."

"I cannot accept that this is an accident. Once or twice could be a mistake. Several times is a trend. A very discouraging trend." Cold Star stopped suddenly. "Perhaps Misty's training should not continue."

Babs stared at the bat-pony, aghast. "What are you sayin'? Misty's a Crusader. She's just... she doesn't like all the physical stuff. She doesn't see the point."

"Being a Crusader is not the right path for everypony, Babs. Honestly, Misty has shown reservations right from the very start. Perhaps we have misjudged her. It is becoming clear that she is not willing to do the work."

"She is working. She doesn't want to run, but she still does it. Every day we do, just like you asked."

"Not like I asked. She uses magic to cheat."

"Can you blame her? She's a unicorn. They aren't built for physical workouts, like me and Squall are. If she's got a way to make things easier, I can totally see why she'd wanna use it. I prob'ly would, in her place."

"Too much reliance on magic is a weakness."

Babs huffed. "I don't see how bein' able to do almost anythin' with a wave of your horn is a weakness."

Cold Star turned to face Babs. "Because magic is a crutch, especially if it is the only way one has to solve a problem. Ask any of the dozen unicorns I've cast the Shadow upon. All of them used spell-casting as their only line of defence, and as soon as I got my hooves on them they were helpless. I'm trying to save Misty from that kind of weak-mindedness. If she's going to pursue a Crusade, she needs more than cheap tricks and hocus-pocus."

Babs stewed on that thought for a moment, before shaking her head. "I don't think that's fair. I mean, I think it's really important for her to learn to do other stuff. But she's got magic, and that's a huge advantage. You call it cheatin', but I don't think she sees it that way. I don't know if I do either."

"She uses her magic to make her task easier, while you and Squall train honestly through hard work. I fail to see how that is anything but cheating."

"You want us to train hard, right? To really put our all into it?"

"Of course."

"Well, isn't magic a part of her 'all'?"

Babs could tell that the idea caught Cold Star by surprise. The Bat-Pony frowned in concentration, then shook her head. "It is not the same."

Babs held up one hoof in a shrug. "We don't know that. This is all just us guessin' about what's goin' on with her. We aren't gonna know the truth unless we ask her."

Cold Star scowled. "And what good would that do? She is also a liar, Babs. And that is worse, in a way, than cheating on her training. It make her untrustworthy. Do we really want to trust our secrets to someone who lies to our faces?"

It was Babs' turn to frown. "I trust Misty. Absolutely."

"So did Squall. From what I've seen passing by his apartment, his wing is in a sling for it. And I would wager he's still feeling guilty about it, even though it's squarely her fault. Because she lacks integrity."

Babs stamped her hoof stubbornly. "Misty is a Crusader. I'd stake my life on it."

Cold Star stared at her levelly. "That is not a sentiment to take lightly, Babs."

Babs met here eyes with all the steel she could muster. "I'm not. I'd bet my life on any of you. Includin' Misty. Land sakes, ain't I already done that, what with all the sneakin' around we're doin'? If any of us were to blab, it's all over for the lot of us." Babs felt her own pulse race at the very notion, but didn't allow the worry to take root. "We need to talk to Misty, and understand why she's doin' what she's doin'. If that means she needs to train less, or train differently, that's fine. We'll make it work. But I think you two are prob'ly gonna have to patch things up before any of that is gonna happen."

Cold Star gazed at the young filly for several long moments, before bowing slightly. "Babs Seed, your words do great credit to you, and to the Crusade you lead. But I cannot quite be as quick to excuse her. Crusader training involves many dangerous elements and allowing an irresponsible filly to learn those sorts of skills is a sure path to disaster, both for herself and probably those who train along-side her. Such lessons could be turned to wicked ends. So while I will give your belief in her the weight it deserves, I must remain sceptical, for now."

Babs nodded. "That's fair. So what are we gonna do about it?"

"I'm not certain. I don't know anything about magic, other than how to defeat ponies who have it. I'm poorly qualified to instruct her on the matter."

"Do you have anyone you could ask? Like Zelest, maybe? She seems to know a lot about magic."

Cod Star shook her head, slowly. "I do not think Zelest's magic and Misty's are related to each other. Though come to think of it, I suppose I do know a unicorn of some talent that I might be able to ask."

Babs' eyes lit up. "Do you think they'd be willin' to help?"

"I expect so. He will simply require a proper incentive. Fortunately, I think I can provide one." Cold Star's head perked up, and she looked down into the street nearby. "Unfortunately, that will have to wait. My intoxicated companion seems to have regained her hooves. I may have to depart again presently."

Cold Star made her way over to the edge of the roof, looking towards a nearby alley where a young mare was using the wall to hold herself up. When Babs saw who it was, her jaw dropped.

"Oh, Land sakes. That's Poppy!"

"You know this pony?"

"Yeah. She's my stupid older sister. Heavens to biscuits, she looks terrible. Mom and Dad are going to lose it if they see her like this. I think I better go down and help her get inside."

Cold Star tucked her wings back into her cape. "I would offer to help, but..."

Babs shook her head. "Nah, fuhget about it. I'd leave her to walk if off, but we live on the third floor. I don't think it'd be smart to trust her on a bunch of stairs by herself, lookin' like that."

Cold Star smiled slightly. "Perhaps not. Then I will keep watch nearby until you both get inside before I resume my patrol."

"Thanks. Maybe after that, you can go and look up your unicorn friend."

"I would not call him a friend. But I may still be able to get a few answers, none the less."

"Oh. Well, good luck, then."

"Thanks. And you might want to suggest to your sister that if she is going to drink this much, she might want to consider carrying cab fare."

Babs sighed, heading towards the fire escape. "Will do. And I'll have that backflip nailed down by the weekend, you just wait and see."

"I look forward to it. You are going to be a fine Crusader, Babs."

Babs heart swelled up with pride, but before she could think of anything to say Cold Star was leaping off towards another nearby roof, closing in on where Poppy was still staggering along. Still smiling, Babs climbed onto the fire escape and headed down to meet her sister.

Author's Note

Next time: Desperate to understand Misty's actions, Cold Star makes a risky deal with the only other unicorn she knows. Will her gamble pay off? Or will she end up being forced to lay all her cards on the table? Find out in the new exciting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part 4 of my 7-part update. The next update should be this Sunday.

Welcome again to all the new readers! Please "like" the story if you are enjoying it so far - a little encouragement is always appreciated!

And, as always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! I'm also still holding out hope for some awesome cover art I can use for this story. If you're interested, please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

Chapter 6E: Seven Nights - Question and Answer

~ The Fifth Night ~

Daily Times stood on the roof of the Minotaur's Arms Hotel, fighting off a shiver. The autumn breeze was getting colder as winter got closer, and being up here without a stitch of clothing was uncomfortable to say the least. But that was the price one had to pay for doing business, sometimes.

The letter he'd received had been very specific. No clothes, no camera, and no magic while he was up on the roof, or the meeting was off. He felt... well, naked. But that was probably the point.

From the darkness at the edge of the roof, he heard gentle hoofsteps. Daily looked towards them, and saw the silhouette of the Crusader appear in the shadows of the rooftop. She moved towards him with a predatory grace, stopping behind one of the building's signboards just shy of stepping into the moonlight. She was so poised that Daily couldn't help but feel a small bow was appropriate. He offered one, and she surprised him by offering an equal bow in return, though he was pretty sure her eyes never left him as she did.

Daily smiled his most charming smile. "Hello again, Miss Crusader. It's nice to see you again."

The mare in the cape didn't offer a greeting. She just stared at Daily from the shadows long enough to make Daily take a slow step backwards, worried that coming up here had been another serious mistake. When she finally spoke, her voice was little more than a whisper, just as it has been when she had been inches away from his ear. "When last we met, you offered me a bargain. An exchange, question for question. Does that offer still stand?"

So much for pleasantries, Daily thought. "Sure. But only if I get the first question. Seems only fair, after our previous chat."

The Crusader nodded. "Acceptable. In turn, will you swear to answer truthfully, to the best of your ability?"

"I never had any intention otherwise. Will you agree to do the same?"

"I do. We have an accord. Ask your first question."

The stallion grinned. "What's a defiler?"

The Crusader didn't seem to share his amusement, but she answered all the same. "The term 'defiler' is a shorthoof amongst those in my profession for ponies who seek to victimize others, or to bring harm to those who have done none themselves. It describes criminals of all types, but there are others to whom it sometimes applies as well. Now, my first question: what can you tell me about Stoneheart's gang?"

"Not very much you don't already know, I'd expect. Is there something specific you want to know about?"

"I would like to compare our notes. Anything you could add would be helpful."

Daily had been hoping to lure out a more specific question, but got a sense the the Crusader was wise to that. His grin faded a bit. "Stoneheart's gang is called the Quarry Hounds. From what my research turned up, that's a reference to a prison detail out of Manehattan City Penitentiary that used to work the granite quarries north of Manehattan. I'm pretty sure it has some personal significance to Stoneheart, given he's known to carry a quarry hammer around with him as a sort of weird fashion accessory. I have been trying to get my hooves on the prison's files, but it's not easy as a freelancer.

"The gang is mostly made up of young earth-pony stallions, thought there are a few notable exceptions. Most of them wear grey bandanas tied somewhere on their body to show allegiance to the gang. They serve as street enforcement for Stoneheart's criminal activities, and they get into a fair amount of mischief on their own steam. Given what I've been able to put together, he keeps his businesses very compartmentalized, so I don't think that most of the colts in the gang realize they're part of a much bigger syndicate. According to the Manehattan Sheriff's department, they estimate the number of members to be at least a hundred, and growing weekly as Stoneheart takes over and forces out the other small-time bosses. That's about it. Is that enough?"

"Is that all you know?"

"Yes."

"Then it is enough. Ask your next question."

"Who are you really?"

"I am a Crusader. Next question: what can you tell me about Stoneheart' himself?"

Daily frowned. "I thought we agreed to answer truthfully."

The Crusader levelled a cool stare at him. "I did. To the best of my ability, as stipulated. I have secrets to protect, Daily Times. You knew that full well when you asked the question. Do not patronize me, and your future questions will be more productive. Now, please answer my question."

Daily grimaced. "Fine. Stoneheart is a tough egg to crack, though. My contacts in the Sheriff's office haven't been able to tell me much, other than the fact that he's 'somepony they're keeping an eye on'. That gives me the feeling he might have a couple of deputies on the payroll already. My own impression was that his name is a good fit. He seems like the type to be equally content with shaking your hoof as he would be bucking you in the jaw. He's strong, and in more than just muscle. He has that kind of confidence you can only get by surviving hard times. He seems to like employing people of that same stripe, too. He sent a yellow pegasus around to collect me who seems like she could stare down a hydra. Truthfully, from what little I know of the both of you, I think one of the first things Stoneheart is going to do if he meets you is offer you a job. Probably followed by trying to knock your block off when you refuse, which I expect you will."

"You have met him personally, then?"

"We had a little chat a couple of nights ago. He wanted to offer me a lot of money to explain how I'd arranged my first meeting with you. I decided I wasn't interested."

The Crusader bowed her head. "I doubt that pleased him. Thank you for your discretion."

"Don't thank me yet. He gave me a week to come up with another article for him to scan for information, and that's part of the reason I'm here. I only care about reporting the truth, not in taking sides in your little turf war. My turn: why did you become a costumed vigilante?"

"It is my calling. I believe strongly in the need to uphold justice and oppose wickedness. Unfortunately, the Equestrian system of law allows many ponies to escape justice. There are not enough sheriffs and deputies to police such a large population, and their hooves are tied with the red ribbons of procedure and politics. Worse, as you have just pointed out there are those in positions of authority who stray from justice and become defilers themselves. More must be done. If that means it must be done by ponies like myself, then I accept the burden gladly. As to the costume, its only function is to protect my identity. In truth, I would rather not wear it. But as I said, I have secrets that need keeping, and my identity is one of them. Next question: where would I be most likely to find Stoneheart?"

That was too easy a question, and Daily knew it. Anyone could find a pony like that just by asking around the neighbourhoods she'd been sighted in for weeks now. Why would she waste a question on something like that? Was this some kind of trick, or was there something else at play here? Daily rolled the matter around in his head while he answered the question. "He owns a bar on the far side of midtown. It's called the Old Rock Farm. He holds court there a couple of nights a week. That's where we met. I don't know where he lives, or anywhere else he usually hangs out. Anyone I've asked has directed me there. Now, let me ask a related question: is there a reason you are picking on Stoneheart's gang in particular?"

She shook her head. "I would not say that I was. There is no... 'turf war', as you put it. The shadow of justice must fall upon the wicked, regardless of their allegiance. That I must cast that shadow on so many of Stoneheart's thugs speaks only to kind of ponies he gathers under his banner, not to any particular motivation on my part."

"I find that difficult to believe, considering all the questions you've just asked about him."

"It was you who told me of the bounty he had placed on my head. And, given your professional interest in this conflict, I expected your research on him would be no less exhaustive than your research on me. It makes sense that I would ask you what you know."

"But why ask at all, if you don't intend to go after him?"

"I would be very foolish not to prepare myself for our inevitable conflict."

"Inevitable is a strong word."

"Stoneheart is a defiler. I am a Crusader. There can be no other outcome."

Daily stared in consternation at the pony before him, and she gazed back with the same implacable certainty that Stoneheart had shown. Inevitable indeed. And bound to end badly for somepony. Maybe several someponies. Daily sighed, and shook his head. "Your turn."

She nodded. "How did you learn to use magic?"

Daily smirked. "I'm a unicorn. You're born with it. It comes from this horn on my head."

Again, the Crusader didn't seem amused. "That was not a rhetorical question. I know that some ponies can perform minor acts of magic naturally, but most require extensive training to bring out their full potential. You are capable of trans-location, which I understand is an extremely rare and difficult magical spell. I wish to know how you, an unemployed news reporter, came to command such a powerful ability."

Daily's smirk faded a little. "I prefer 'freelance', thank you very much. And that's an awfully big question. Answering it could take a while."

"I would appreciate it if you could summarize."

Daily sighed. "Whatever you say. Well, I started in magic kindergarten back when I was a foal..."

The Crusader hold up a hoof to stop him. He examined it - slightly pointed, no shoes, and rough underneath. Interesting. His eyes snapped back to her face when she began speaking. "Perhaps I am not being clear. I do not wish to hear about your schooling. I wish to hear about your training."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

"Schooling gives one a list of goals they are expected to achieve - a standard to strive for. Training is the means by which you achieve those goals. The blood-sweat-and-tears part of learning to do something difficult. That is where my interest lies."

"You want to know how I learned to apperate?"

"With due respect, Daily Times, you do not strike me as the prodigal type, so I doubt you came by it naturally. I'm guessing it wasn't quick or easy, either."

Daily found himself chuckling. "Too true. Once I got my hooves on the spell I needed, which was an adventure unto itself I might add, it took me a long time to learn how to use it right."

"You were not instructed on how to use it?"

"I... didn't exactly come by it honestly. I snuck into the Canterlot Library's magical research section while my journalism class was on a tour there, and copied it out of a textbook."

"Would they not have given it to you, if you had asked?"

"I doubt it. I wasn't supposed to be in that part of the library and I don't have the accreditation, magically speaking. I've never been more than average at any area of magic. Apperation is pretty advanced. Besides, Canterlot scholars are kind of hesitant to give ponies spells they know perfectly well are going to be used for nefarious purposes."

"I can imagine. Then there are limitations to what unicorns are allowed to learn, magically speaking?"

"Well, more like guidelines. Nopony wants to see somepony hurt themselves because they tried to use a spell that was too advanced. In my case, apperating was way out of my league when I first got hold of the technique. It takes a lot of magical power, and you have to direct it all in a very controlled way in order to get the result you want. I'm not naturally gifted with a lot of power or control, but I do have the advantage of being incredibly stubborn. So I just worked it until I could do it."

"What do you mean you 'worked it'? Do you mean re-working the spell?"

"No, nothing like that. I'm not a magic theorist, and I don't want to end up with a spell that turns me inside out instead of moving me from place to place. I meant that I worked on each individual part of the spell over and over again until I could do it all, and then taught myself to do it all at once. It's... well, apperating is like holding your body-weight on your back while you're threading a needle with your teeth. To do the first part, you just have to build up the muscles in your legs until carrying that much weight isn't a big deal. You also have to spend some spare time threading needles, until you get good enough at it that doing it isn't a challenge anymore, and you can do it quickly. Once you can do both things, doing both at the same time is just a matter of practice."

"You make it sound like some kind of exercise program."

"There are similarities. A unicorn's magic is just like anything else in our body. If you use it for something all the time, that thing gets easier. I know a guy in the typesetting office at the Bulletin who can use his horn to grab thirty or forty letters at a time and place them all into the printing press at once, in order. I have a hard time moving more than three things at once, even if they're that small. But ask him to lift anything much bigger than his dictionary, and he'll break into a sweat. It's all relative."

"So you made yourself stronger and more nimble by virtue of constant practice?"

"Pretty much."

"Does that mean you can also use if reflexively?"

"I don't understand what you mean."

"Some things, with adequate practice, become a reflex rather than a conscious choice. I tend to walk very quietly, for example, whether I intend to or not. Does magic also work this way?"

Daily scratched his chin. "I don't know. I naturally tend to grab things with my magic rather then my hoof, and I don't really think about it. Does that count?"

The Crusader nodded thoughtfully. "Possibly. Given what you have told me, the development of magical talent seems to be as much about repetition and refinement as arcane study. I had thought there would be more to it than that."

Daily arched an eyebrow, curious. "You seem pleased to hear it."

"I suppose I am. This information will be very useful in solving a problem I've been having."

"How would any of this be useful to a pegasus? Are you trying to make yourself into an Alicorn or something?"

The Crusader frowned. "Do not blaspheme, Daily Times. It is uncouth, even in jest."

There it was - he'd finally provoked an unguarded comment, and it was a doozy. Worth spending a question on, even. Daily smiled. "Next question: why would you, a masked vigilante who operates outside the Laws of Equestria, be concerned about blasphemy against the Alicorns?"

He saw her grimace, and he felt the satisfaction of a bullseye. He could feel his cutie mark warm against his flank, telling him that there was a secret here - a truth that was being hidden. This was the first thing he'd asked tonight that had really touched a nerve. The only question was, would she answer it, or would she bolt?

Surprisingly, she raised her head proudly and answered. "Do not mistake my actions for a lack of respect. I hold the Princesses in higher regard than you will ever know."

"I respect the Princesses, too. But they are just ponies. I'm sure they can take a joke."

The Crusader shook her head sternly. "No. You are wrong. They are more than we are. They are paragons of noble ideals. They are a beacon of light, guiding us all in the darkness. And they deserve our respect."

"You sound more reverent than respectful. Like you worship them or something."

She glanced away. "Not worship. But reverence would be a fair description."

"Do you think Princess Celestia would be happy, knowing what you're doing?"

She stiffened. "Likely not. But I content myself with the knowing that others would be."

Daily's smile grew much wider. "I knew it! You're one of the Lunar Guard, aren't you? You work for Princess Luna!"

The Crusader, much to Daily's surprise, took a step back as if he'd physically pushed her. "It's not your turn to ask a question. It is mine. Question: what do you know about this Lunar Guard?"

Daily moved forward, eyes searching. If only he could get a look under the cape... "Almost nothing. No one does. But there are reports of sightings. Rumours that pegasi who have bat-wings instead of bird wings were seen pulling Princess Luna's sky-chariot in Ponyville. No one knows anything about them. But you're one of them, aren't you? I'm not crazy - your wings aren't normal wings. I saw them under your cape when you fell off that roof. You don't have any feathers."

She recovered herself, and stepped back towards him again. "What else do have you heard?"

Daily realized how close she was, and how intently she was staring at him, and decided backing away might be the better choice. "Why? What are you going to do, if you find out I know too much? Why are you keeping your actions a secret? What are the Luna Guards hiding from the rest of Equestria?"

She stepped forward as he retreated, closing the distance between them and bringing herself partly into the moonlight. "Answer the question! Who are they? Where did they come from? You must have heard something!"

Daily could see the colour of her eyes now - rich, shimmering copper. And full of a feeling he had not expected to see there - pain. She didn't look angry or vengeful, nor even guarded. She looked hurt - like someone who had found out they weren't invited to a party that all their friends were attending. (Daily knew that look all too well - being a gossip hound hadn't done wonders for his own social life.)

Being able to see her clearly for the first time forced Daily to re-evaluate his mental image of the Crusader. She was a little shorter than she had seemed while lurking in the shadows, and when she wasn't whispering her voice sounded much younger than he'd expected. He'd thought she was close to his age, but seeing her more clearly she looked young enough to still be in high school. And she obviously wasn't as invincible as everyone seemed to think she was. The look in her eyes was proof enough of that.

The effect was dumbfounding. He just stood there, and he heard himself say: "I'm sorry. That's all I know."

She stared at him for a moment longer, and then began to slowly retreat into the shadow.

Daily moved to follow, but stopped himself. He didn't want to risk chasing her off, just when things were really getting interesting. "Wait. Please, there's no point in hiding again. I just... I'm trying to understand what's going on."

Her reply was cold and stiff - the measured tone of someone keeping their emotions in check. "It is complicated, and I have no interest in explaining it. But let me make this clear: I am not a member of this Lunar Guard. What I am doing should not reflect badly Princess Luna or her fellow Princesses in any way. My Crusade was undertaken of my own free choice, and by my will alone. If you must print any part of this conversation, I demand that you include at least that."

Daily tried to process everything he was thinking, but in the end all he could do was sigh in irritation and shake his head. "I can't promise anything if I don't understand what's going on. None of what you're telling me makes any sense. It's not a story, it's just a bunch of strange ramblings."

The Crusader shrugged half-heartedly. "I would be lying if I said I was sorry to hear that. Perhaps now you will abandon this 'story' in favour of greener pastures. I think, being as we are even on questions, this may be the best time to conclude this meeting. Good night."

"Please. Just one more thing?"

"What?"

"Would you please show me your wings?"

The Crusader turned to go. "I think not. Turn your attention elsewhere, Daily Times. Forget this interest you have in my Crusade."

"Sorry, but I can't. And I won't."

She stopped at the edge of the roof and looked back. "Why not?"

Daily met her gaze evenly, secure in the rightness of his position. "Because you have too many secrets, and you operate outside of the law. Ponies have a right to know when someone is doing violence in their city, justified or not. And ponies have the right to know that you exist... whatever you are."

"And in so doing, turn yourself a profit at my expense?"

"If I wanted money, I could have sold you out to Stoneheart. What I want is the truth. I believe that ponies have the right to an informed opinion. As a reporter, it's my job to make sure they have the information they need to form one. Even if I can't print anything we've spoken of tonight, that doesn't mean I won't use what we talked about to continue my investigation. And I intend to do just that, until I can understand who you are and why you're doing what you do. So you may as well just show me now, because sooner or later I'm going to find out anyways."

The Crusader turned, moving back towards Daily and into the moonlight again. She stopped in front of him, staring up into his face. He stared back, not allowing himself to be intimidated by her intensity. In the end, she looked away first. Then, to his surprise, she rolled her shoulders and shrugged aside her cape. From beneath it she unfurled two great leathery bat-wings. They were wider than he had expected, for her size. She held them there for only a handful of seconds, fully out-stretched in the moonlight, before folding them along her flank, much as a pegasus would.

A dozen questions came to mind, but he decided the most obvious was the most important. Besides, it was the only one she was likely to answer. "What made you change your mind?"

Her eyes shifted slightly, and Daily guessed she was smirking under her cowl. "I believe you when you say that you are stubborn. I am prone to a similar way of thinking, so if you will not abandon your inquiry I must accept that sooner or later you will confirm your suspicions. Seen in that light, I decided that denying you seemed petty."

"That's surprisingly magnanimous of you."

"While your intentions will make you an enemy to my Crusade in the future, you are not a defiler. I would like to think that despite our differences we might be able to maintain a level of respect in our discourse. Consider this a gesture of goodwill, in hopes that if we cannot be allies, we can at least be civil."

Daily's grin returned. "I can live with that. Anything to keep you from putting me in any more choke holds."

A hint of amusement found its way into her voice. "I make no promises in that regard. There is such a thing as civilized combat."

"So where does that leave us, then?"

The Crusader considered that for a moment. "I suppose that it leaves you owing me one final question. So here it is: do you ever stare up at the night's sky when you are walking around the city?"

Daily thought about it for a moment. "Not in the city. I used to stargaze sometimes, back when I was in Colt Scouts. We'd go camping near the pine forests to the south, and out there the stars seem to go on forever. But here in the city... no. Not really."

The Crusader nodded. "Nor does anypony else. They are so busy worrying about what could be lurking in the shadows nearby that they spend all of their time looking to the cobblestones and the alley ways, and never think to look up. Every night the sky lights up with majestic wonders and sublime beauty, and almost nopony notices. But I notice. And I want to live in a world where everypony else notices too. A world where good ponies don't have to worry about the shadows, and are free to revel beneath the stars. Free to look up."

She looked up herself, pointing above their heads. "This hotel has one of the nicest views of the Rearing Archer in the whole city. It's one of the reasons I chose for us to meet here. Do you see it, just there?"

Daily looked towards where she was pointing, and found the constellation immediately. It was nostalgic, and after a moment he looked up to where the Great Wyrm stretched across the sky above them, remembering the night his scout leader had taught him how to find north and south by finding the head and the tail. He looked back towards where the Crusader was standing, intending to share the story.

But she was gone.

Author's Note

Next time: While out on patrol, Cold Star finds herself caught in a clever ambush, that ends with... dinner? Where will this strange twist of fate leave our heroes? Find out in our next exciting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part 5 of my 7-part update. The next update should be this Tuesday.

Welcome again to all the new readers! Please "like" the story if you are enjoying it so far - a little encouragement is always appreciated!

And, as always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! I'm also still holding out hope for some awesome cover art I can use for this story. If you're interested, please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

Chapter 6F: Seven Nights - A Most Courteous Ambush

~ The Sixth Night ~

Cold Star made it to the Paddleton Bridge just after midnight. She carried a small paper sack full of freshly fried zucchini sticks from an all-night diner a few blocks from the bridge. She had rescued the owners from a holdup one night, and they had made a great fuss about repaying her somehow. She was uncomfortable accepting any kind of payment for doing her duty, but that didn't keep her from arranging to collect an order of fried zucchini once a week from a drop-box in the alley behind the diner. Even a Crusader needed to eat, after all.

She usually ate under the bridge, since it was a well hidden place where she could actually rest for a few minutes between patrols. It was dark and damp, and it gently echoed the waves below and the hoofsteps passing overhead. In short, it reminded her of home. It was also nicely secluded; other than the rare drunken pegasus who wound up there by accident and lingered for only a few moments before proceeding on their way, she had never encountered anyone down there. So it came as quite a shock when a burst of light suddenly lit up the darkness and a loud snap echoed through the bridge's undercarriage.

Instinct took over - Cold Star dropped the bag of food and dived behind concrete support, trying to blink away the blind spot the flash of light had seared in her vision. She focused on her hearing, picking up the scrape of bone against steel, and then the sound of somepony stepping into free-fall. She heard the snap of pinfeathers - a pegasus, or a small griffin. Were they getting away, or circling around for an attack while she was blinded?

Not willing to risk the latter, Cold Star circled around the pillar herself and then leapt up into the rafters above. She hooked her hooves around one of the girders, hanging down from the overhead beam. She tensed her every muscle, ready to launch herself from the deepest shadows at her would-be predator as soon as they came into view. The vibrations of the metal around her announced the return of her ambusher, but the sound that accompanied their arrival gave her pause: the crinkle of a paper take-away bag, and a familiar voice.

"Um... hello? Are there any other Crusaders under this bridge?"

Cold Star scowled. "Only one, young colt. And she is quite displeased with you."

"I kind of figured you might be, yeah. Could you please come out where I can see you?"

Cold Star let go of her roost and dropped back down to the supports below. Summer Squall stood nearby, a paper bag held in one hoof and a small camera hanging around his neck.

He held out the bag, head bowed in remorse. "I caught it before it hit the water. I'm sorry I made you drop it."

Cold Star snatched the bag from him, the adrenalin and a wild mix of emotions all rushing up and threatening to burst out in a flurry of anger and betrayal. She focused on the darkness in herself, and let the feelings fall away into it before she allowed herself to speak. "Explain yourself."

Squall frowned, reaching back into his saddlebag and producing a newspaper. He thrust it out in front of himself with the front page facing her. It was the Bulletin. In the dim moonlight she could make out the headline: "A Shadow Over Manehattan - An Exclusive Interview with the Mysterious Masked Crusader." There was a small byline photo of Daily Times underneath it.

"You did another interview."

Cold Star picked up the paper and glanced through the article. It was surprisingly thin. No mention of her questions about magic, and no mention of having seen her wings. She suspected that to be a calculated gambit - he was saving that revelation for when he could back it up with a photo. Cold Star looked back at Squall. "This is not an explanation."

Squall looked away. "When I saw the first article they printed, I got worried. I couldn't help thinking that if somepony like him could catch you unaware, then other ponies could too. So I went and asked Zelest about it. She told me a bunch of weird, confusing things, but the one that stuck with me was that I needed a plan where I could be the one to take action. And then this got published, and I started worrying all over again. This was the only plan I could come up with to do anything about it."

Cold Star put the food down next to her and stared at Squall. He looked utterly crestfallen. The anger in her chest was still throbbing, but there were hints of sympathy flickering at the edges now. "And what was this action intended to accomplish?"

"I... guess I just wanted to know if I was worrying for nothing. So I thought, why not go ahead and do it. Set a trap. See if you fell into it. If you didn't, I'd know I was getting all worked up for nothing. And if you did... well, at least it was me, not somepony who wanted to hurt you. Or sell you up the river, like this Daily Times jerk."

Cold Star sighed, the anger seeping out of her and being replaced with a cool numbness. "And now that your fears have been confirmed?"

Squall sat back himself, pulling his wings around himself. "I don't know. I honestly thought you were going to catch me in the act. That's all I've been thinking about for the last couple of hours while I was sitting out here. I kept expecting you to sneak up behind me and tap me on the shoulder or something. Or maybe just knock me on my plot. Not like I don't deserve it."

Cold Star shook her head sadly. "I am glad that I did not. You are right - I let my guard down. This place is one of the few comfortable places I have known here in Manehattan. It was becoming a sort of sanctuary for me, away from the bustle of the streets. Clearly, thinking of it that way has made me complacent. I should have recognized that public places, no matter how infrequently travelled, are not safe. I should be more vigilant, and more wary of my surroundings."

Squall's ears drooped even more. "I'm sorry. You like it under here, and I'm ruining it."

That was true, Cold Star supposed. She would never again be able to think of this as her cozy resting place. But telling him that would have been unkind, so instead she forced a smile onto her face. "Do not be sorry. You have done an admirable job of displaying a weakness I have allowed myself to develop. Rather, I should thank you, one Crusader to another, for helping me to become stronger."

She bowed her head respectfully, and Squall bowed formally in return. It was not the first bow she'd seen him display and she couldn't help but notice how graceful and practised he seemed. She was constantly surprised by Squall's hidden depths.

Squall managed to offer a thin smile in return as he seated himself across from her. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I have a bottle of hot soup. My mother's corn and potato chowder. Guaranteed to warm you up on a cool autumn night. I thought you might like a warm meal, if I did happen to run into you." He glanced at the paper bag. "That is, unless you would rather eat whatever you've got there in the bag."

Cold Star glanced at the large, insulated bottle. "As gracious as that offer is, I think you ought to be getting home. I cannot imagine your mother would be comfortable with you being out this late. She must be worried."

Squall shrugged. "Nah. Someone called in sick at the weather station, so she's doing an overnight double. Overtime gets paid a big bonus, so she won't come home until they kick her out in the morning. I figured I'd wait here until just before three, and head back then if I hadn't seen you. Even then, I'll get home way before she will. She'll never know I was out here."

"That does little to make me think she would approve of you being out so late."

Squall shifted a little, his jaw set stubbornly. "She gets scheduled to work all night at least once every other week. Usually more, since she's first in line to cover for anypony who calls in sick. So I get stuck at home alone. I don't see why I can't go out too, once in a while. Especially when someone else I know is going to be up all night anyway."

"Do you not have school in the morning?"

"I caught a nap between seven and ten, and I'll catch another one when I get home. I'll be fine."

It was the same unassailable logic she had employed when she was younger to justify various foolishness, and she recognized that argument would be futile. She could demand he leave, but that would only hurt his feelings further. So instead she took the insulated bottle and placed her bag of fried food down on the beam between them. "Then I thank you for the soup. In return, I offer zucchini sticks. I am told they are the best in town, but since they are the only ones I have ever eaten that may be an exaggeration."

Squall snuffled at the bag, his eyes going wide. "They smell delicious. Where did you get them?"

"From an acquaintance. We have a standing arrangement."

"That sounds like an interesting story. I'd love to hear about it."

Cold Star pulled off her hat and cowl and opened the lid of the soup bottle, which turned out to be useful as a makeshift bowl. She poured some out, and as they ate she told him the story of her encounter at the diner, and her subsequent arrangement with the owners. Squall listened with rapt attention, and as the story progressed he seemed to shrug off some of his melancholy. He even started grazing on a few of the zucchini sticks in between excited questions. Cold Star indulged him until they were done eating, but as soon as they finished she fixed him with another hard look.

"Now, I think you should probably be getting home."

Squall's sullen look returned instantly. "Aw. But... I mean, it's not like it's a rush. Why don't I tag along for a while? I can watch your back."

Cold Star shook her head. "I don't think that is a good idea, just yet. There is still quite a bit more to learn before I can bring any of you out patrolling. Besides, you have school in the morning."

Squall frowned and scratched his hoof against the metal beam he sat on. "C'mon. Just as far as the Dragon's Gate Bridge, then I'll head home. I promise I'll keep up."

"Squall, this is not a negotiation."

He sighed, obviously frustrated. "I know. It's just..." He looked down at the newspaper sitting on the girder between them. "Every time you run into that stupid reporter, you end up having this big talk. He gets to ask you all kinds of personal questions, and get to know you better. How come we can't ever do that? I'm starting to feel like he knows you better than we do."

There was some truth to that, and it stung Cold Star in a way she realized Squall must also be feeling. "I am sorry if it seems that way."

"I'm not trying to make you feel sorry. Honest, I'm not. I just don't understand why you keep talking to that creep, when every time you do he ends up printing it on the front page. Why not just dump him in a trash bin and leave him there?"

Cold Star smirked slightly. "He does not deserve it, much as he can be vexing at times. And to be fair, this time I invited him to talk. He had information I needed, and direct conversation was the only sure way to get it."

"About what? This thing with Stoneheart he keeps writing about?"

"For one. Also, I required to ask a unicorn some questions. He was quite useful, in that regard."

"Why not just ask Misty?"

"Because my questions were about Misty. About understanding the problem she is having with her training, and understanding how I can be a better teacher for her."

"You still could have asked her."

"Like you asked me about my patrolling, when you were worried?"

Squall winced, and lowered his head. "Yeah, well. Two wrongs don't make it right."

That won a slight smile from Cold Star. "True. Then let us make the most of our mistakes. Tell me, how did you manage to catch me tonight?"

Squall tapped the support next to him. "You told us that our scavenger hunt followed one of your patrol routes, so I guessed you crossed the river around here. I thought that you flying all the way across the river would be pretty risky, since your wings would be exposed the whole time, so I figured you must be using the bridge. Walking over the top of the bridge would be pretty risky too, so I checked to see if there was a way to walk under it. Once I found out there was, I just had to find a place I could hide with my camera where you couldn't see me before I could see you, and be as quiet as I could. I hid up there, behind that pillar."

Cold Star nodded as he spoke her eyes following his hoof as he pointed. "This was a sound ambush. If you were a unicorn with a net, I would have been in a dire situation. I can already see a solution though - you situated yourself based on the direction you expected I would be travelling. If I had come from the other direction you would have been spotted easily if I were paying attention, even at a distance."

Squall nodded. "Yeah. I'd have been a sitting duck. And really, this is probably the only place on your route that I could guarantee you would come past. The rest of the route is mostly wide-open rooftops, where there are dozens of ways to get from place to place. There is only one easy path under here. That's why I chose this place to set my trap."

"So if I were to cross only at larger bridges, where the supports are more spread out, that would also reduce my risk of ambush. I think perhaps I will avoid using this bridge in he future, and I will also make a point of running my routes in reverse on a regular basis. That will also make certain I am patrolling different neighbourhoods at different hours. That will keep patterns from forming in my being certain places at certain times." She looked at Squall. "Again, I must thank you. This will make my patrols much safer."

Squall smiled. "I hope so. And, maybe instead of using this bridge for patrolling, you can just come here for fun, instead. That way you can still enjoy it."

Cold Star chuckled. "I'm afraid I don't have much time for sitting under bridges these days."

"Well, maybe you could make time. I mean, like I said, my mom works over-nights every week or so. Maybe we could meet up sometimes. Eat dinner together, like we did tonight."

Cold Star's first instinct was to refuse, but looking at her student's hopeful face made her reconsider. Maybe he was right about her being too distant. She thought back to her own time as a fledgling Crusader, when she had spent most of her waking hours with her Master. She had craved his guidance and his approval constantly. Would Squall be any different? Would any of the Crusaders?

Perhaps that was the reason Misty was still so distant, and why Babs was so impatient. One night a week was a tiny fraction of the guidance she had needed, when she was starting out. Squall's plan was not perfect, but it could be made to work. Didn't she have a duty to meet him half-way?

She smiled uncertainly. "Well, I suppose that might be possible."

Hearing that made Squall the most happy she had ever seen him. To his credit, he seemed to be holding in the desire to jump around or raise his voice in celebration. Again, she marvelled at his wherewithal - it would have been easy to forget they were hiding down here to avoid drawing attention, and Squall's quiet joy did nothing to give them away. "That's awesome. She's scheduled overnight again in four days. What time should we meet?"

"I would say midnight was fine. As long as it doesn't ruin you for school tomorrow, that is."

Squall flapped his wings excitedly. "Don't worry. I stay up too late reading all the time. I'll be totally fine."

Cold Star could only shake her head in amusement. She felt a bit bad for Squall's mother, knowing that she was leading her son into disobedience, but she could not help but be reminded of herself at his age. She checked the position of the moon in the sky, and told Squall that she needed to get back to her patrol.

Squall nodded sheepishly. "Oh, yeah. Of course. I guess I'll see you on the weekend?"

"Of course." She paused for a moment, reminded that in two nights, the four of them were set to meet again. She needed to speak to Misty before then. "Squall. Do you think you could do me a favour?"

Squall smiled eagerly, just as she would have if her Master had asked the same. "Absolutely."

"I would like you to deliver a message to Misty for me. I want her to meet me at the park where you run your laps tomorrow night at sunset. There is a stand of trees in the hollow by the south gate where she and I can talk without being seen."

Squall's face fell. "Um... yeah. I can try. But she still seems kind of mad at you."

"I understand. That is why we absolutely must speak tomorrow. Do you think you can convince her to meet with me?"

Squall's face scrunched up, but he nodded. "Yeah. I'll make it happen. I promise."

"Thank you. Now, we should head out. I need to finish my patrol, and you need to get home to bed."

Squall grinned. "You go ahead. I'll make sure no one else sees you."

Cold Star nodded, and left without saying anything more.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The waves smashing against the bridges supports far below drowned out the sound of a 'click' as Squall turned off his flash and leapt off the bridge, swinging around at a wide, low angle. Still grinning, he snapped a couple of more shots of Cold Star, silhouetted against the moon as she made her way to the end of the bridge. If she noticed him, she gave no indication.

Then, true to his word, he did another pass over the bridge before banking towards home, his heart racing. He'd made a promise with Cold Star, and after tonight making sure he kept that promise was the most important thing in the world to him.

A plan began to form in his mind. He smiled, and hurried for home. He had a letter to write.

Author's Note

Next time: Cold Star and Misty Morning finally meet to air their grievances, and their bitter conflict will put one pony's life on the line. It's a high-stakes finale in our next exciting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Part 6 of my 7-part update. The final part of this chapter should go up Friday!

I would love to hear how people are liking this chapter. Please feel free to leave a comment if you are enjoying it!

And, as always, constructive criticism and helpful feedback are welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave comments! I'm also still holding out hope for some awesome cover art I can use for this story. If you're interested, please feel free to contact me with any questions you may have.

Chapter 6G: Seven Nights - The Hollow

Chapter 6G: Seven Nights - The Hollow

~ The Seventh Night ~

Misty shut her front door, dropped her saddlebags next to it, and slumped towards the staircase. Upstairs, a tepid bath was waiting for her. She sank into it, allowing her hair to pool around her head. Only one more week until the running of the leaves, and Babs was starting to push the pace. It was exhausting, even with the trick she had looked up in her father's library to make herself lighter.

And then there was the way Babs kept encouraging them all to sign up for the race. Misty didn't want whole crowds of people seeing her a sweaty mess at the finish line. She had already decided that if Babs pushed the issue, she would feign a knee injury the day before the race. That way on race day she would be sipping iced tea at the finish line, pretty as you please, and no one would say two words about it. Babs and Squall could run themselves ragged, and finish proudly. Everyone would feel like a winner.

After her bath, she brushed out her mane and tail, and headed down for dinner. It turned out to be another plate of seasoned vegetables and a lentil soup. Her parents had embraced her health kick cover story just a little too much - these days, every meal they ate was about replacing electrolytes and helping build lean muscle instead of significantly more important factors like flavour. If Misty heard the words 'portion control' one more time, she was certain she would go mad.

The worst part was having to smile and act pleased that her parents were taking an interest. She knew full well her father thought it was a waste of time, and she suspected that deep down her mother agreed. Heavens, she was starting to agree herself. But the truth was much too complicated to risk exposing now, and her parents had gone to such lengths to participate in the deception that now everyone was stuck with it. Misty just hoped that once winter set in the whole running thing would be buried along with the sidewalks under a good old Manehattan snowbank. She had never been so eager for the first snow of the year.

As she was finishing dinner, Broomhilda came in with a silver tray, and delivered a letter that had just arrived for Misty. She said that Squall had just dropped it off, and seemed like he was in a bit of a rush.

Misty looked at the envelope, and noticed that "CMC" had been written over the flap. Misty had suggested to the group that any time they had to talk about their secret training in a message, they use that to remind people to open it in private. Misty calmly finished her dinner, excused herself, and then hurried upstairs to read the message. She lit a small fire in the fireplace in her room, and sat down next to it to read.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Misty.

Emergency Crusader meeting. Birch Ridge Park, south gate. Go to the stand of trees in the hollow at sunset.

Tell no one. Super secret.

Squall.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Squall was up to something.

It was the use of the word 'emergency' that gave it away. Misty had seen Squall leave notes for his mother when they were in a hurry. The hoofwriting in his message had been much too neat for this letter to have been written by Squall when he was in a rush. This was a polished letter, probably not even a first draft.

So this clearly wasn't an emergency. Squall was fibbing. Also, he'd used a letter instead of just asking her to come to the door to tell her the news. Squall wasn't the world's most convincing liar, and he knew it. Using a letter meant he could fib a bit without being questioned. Obviously, he was worried she would ask him about the real reason for the meeting.

The 'tell no one' part probably meant he didn't want Babs to find out what he was up to, which meant she probably wasn't involved. But if Squall wanted to meet her privately, all he would have to do was ask. Unless, of course, he wasn't the Crusader she was meeting.

Cold Star. This had to be about her. She was trying to get Misty alone.

But why? To talk? To try and scare her again? Or... perhaps something worse? She had seemed so angry about what happened in the clubhouse. Misty found herself shivering, and pushed the mounting sense of terror away. She considered not showing up to the meeting, but that was simply out of the question. For all she was a small filly, she was still of a noble house of Canterlot. She had her pride.

Stupid, stupid Canterlot pride.

She gritted her teeth as she wrote down the directions on a separate piece of paper, then placed the original note and the envelope into the fire. She watched it disappear in the flames, and then made her way downstairs. She tucked the directions into her bag, and after a long moment of deliberation her Crusader Cape joined it. She poked her head into the dining room and told her parents she was going for a walk, smiling at her fathers concerned objection about the lateness of the hour and confidently explaining that she would back before it got too dark. It felt like an obvious lie, but her parents didn't seem to think so.

Then, with no small amount of trepidation, she headed out towards the park to face Cold Star.

* * * * *

Birch Ridge Park was in its full autumn splendour. The breeze was gentle and cool, rustling the rusty leaves as the sunset played over them. It was the kind of scene that painters laboured to immortalize. To any other pony, it would have been the perfect place to take a nice evening walk.

Misty barely noticed as she trotted along the sidewalk towards the park's south gate, completely focused on the stand of trees she had been directed to. She had hoped to get here a bit before sunset, but her legs were just too tired to run any more today. Fortunately, there was still enough light streaming through the trees that Misty had no trouble seeing. The shadows on the ground were long, but not long enough to hide a whole pony. Not even Cold Star.

Misty glanced around, and when she found nopony nearby she stepped off of the sidewalk and slipped through a break in the underbrush, making her way down into the hollow. The hollow was much like she'd expected - icky, musty, and full of more moss and mud than actual ground. She had to hop from stone to stone as she made her way towards the hollow's lowest point, where a stream had carved out a little ravine.

The leafy trees at the edge of the hollow had given way to a stand of tall confers as she made her way down. They had wide branches that formed into skirts around their base, easily large enough to hide a couple of ponies. Misty slowed, nervously searching the area for which tree Cold Star was hiding herself under. She didn't fancy being surprised, so she gave all of the trees a wide berth.

She had been walking around for several minutes when a noise caught her attention - a metallic clink. She froze, looking back and forth for the origin of the sound. It appeared to be coming from beneath the branches of an old pine tree whose bottoms branches were a bit withered from lack of sun.

Misty stood up straight, forcing her posture into something that radiated a confidence she didn't feel. "There's no use hiding. I heard you moving."

A quiet voice returned, and Misty was not surprised to hear it was Cold Star's. "I am not hiding. Please, come and join me under this tree."

Misty sniffed. "I think not. After last time, I would rather stay out in the open, thank you very much."

Cold Star did not reply. Instead, a small brass-coloured key flew out from the base of the old pine. It bounced across the ground and came to rest near Misty's hoof.

Misty picked it up. "What's this?"

"A promise of safety. We need to talk. This will guarantee we can do that."

"And how is an old key going to help us to do that, exactly?"

"Come under here and see for yourself. You have my solemn oath that I will not come near you without your permission."

Misty scowled, but she was determined not to let Cold Star intimidate her again. She pushed the long boughs of the pine aside, and peered into the shadows underneath it.

Cold Star sat with her back pressed against the trunk of the tree. Her costume was folded neatly and placed on the ground just outside of her reach, leaving her fangs and ears exposed. Her wings were spread, and pulled back at what looked like an uncomfortable angle against the tree trunk. When Misty looked to see why, she was startled to find a steel manacle wrapped around the base of Cold Star's wing. Cold Star flexed her wings, and Misty heard the clinking noise again. There was a matching manacle on the other wing.

Cold Star had chained herself to the tree. And as near as she could figure, Misty was now holding the key.

Misty could only stare at her in dumbfounded confusion. "Cold Star, what in Equestria is going on here?"

Cold Star took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "The last time we met, we both violated each others trust. Truthfully, I do not know that you have ever trusted me, and I will admit that I am not a pony to whom trust comes very easily. But regardless, I treated you badly - hurtfully. I was wrong to do so, especially in anger."

"That doesn't explain why you're chained to a tree."

Cold star shrugged. "Because it is the best way I could think of for us to speak as equals. This way, I cannot menace you. Nor can leave this tree until you allow me to do so. If you were to decide that I am a threat to you or your friends, it would be a simple matter for you to run and find a sheriff. I would be powerless to stop you, and it is unlikely I could escape before you returned with the law."

Misty scowled, looking the manacles over. "I'm sure you've thought up some means of escape you could use."

Cold Star nodded. "True. My only chance would be to dislocate one of my wings, and then use a sharp branch to cut apart the skin between my wing-bones. Then I could probably force the joints in my wing straight enough to slip out of the manacle. But in doing so, I would have damaged my wing beyond repair. I would almost certainly never fly again, and the sheriff's dogs would have an easy time following the trail of blood I would be leaving from my injuries. Quite honestly, I would probably be lucky if they found me at that point, since I would be at risk of bleeding to death without medical attention."

Misty cringed. "That's a bit morbid, don't you think?"

Cold Star smiled weakly. "It is one of the most awful things I can imagine experiencing. I've always been terrified of losing my wings. Which is why I felt this was fair."

"Fair? How?"

"I made you face one of your greatest fears thoughtlessly. I put you through something horrible. Now, I am placing you in a position to do the same to me. If you decide to run, then I will face my two greatest fears - failure as a Crusader, or the destruction of my wing and the loss to my ability to fly. The only thing that is keeping me from trembling before those fears is hope. Hope that you are the kind of pony that Babs believes you are. That you are the kind of pony I want to believe that you are."

"And what kind of pony is that?"

"The kind I can trust. The kind who will not betray me."

Misty looked at the key in her hoof. Then she sat down, placing the key next to her and well out of Cold Star's reach. Cold Star just nodded, and they stared at each other for several moments, as if considering where to start.

Ultimately, Misty spoke up first. "Alright. Shall we begin with you telling me why you had Squall lie to me about an emergency meeting to get me here?"

Cold Star frowned. "I didn't ask him to do that. I ask him to convince you to meet me. I didn't know he would attempt to use a ruse to do it. I apologize."

Misty sighed. "I thought it might be his idea of a prank. Something to pay me back for last weekend."

"Is that an admission of guilt?"

"It's an admission that maybe I have some payback coming for doing what I did. That's not the same as feeling guilty."

"That is a very semantic difference."

"I am from Canterlot. We thrive on semantics."

"But we are in Manehattan. Why not try the local candor instead?"

"You want candor? How's this: I'm tired of you treating my magic like it doesn't exist, or is off limits. I'm not sorry I tried to use it to do the drill better."

"You should be. You hurt Squall."

"Yes. Which was an accident, and for which I have repeatedly apologized."

"You think that makes it alright?"

"Yes. Between Squall and I, at least. You seem to have held much more of a grudge."

Cold Star looked at her severely. "You lied."

Misty casually plucked a couple of pine needles from her mane, refusing to return Cold Star's gaze. "I omitted part of the truth, because I was afraid you would be angry. And I was right. Don't act like you don't do the same, when it suits you. I read that new interview you did with Daily Times. You have all kinds of secrets you don't like sharing."

Cold Star glowered at her. "I met with Daily Times because I needed to talk to a unicorn, and I wasn't sure I could get honest answers from you. I suppose he didn't think that those questions were news-worthy."

"Answers about what?"

"About whether or not what happened with Squall could be an accident. I wanted desperately to give you the benefit of the doubt. It turns out that I need not have bothered, since you have so proudly admitted to cheating on the drill."

"I am not cheating. I am just doing it differently. Doing it my own way."

"Your way is not the right way."

"How do you know? Maybe it's right for me. Maybe I should be more worried about my magic, and less worried about how to keep imaginary ponies from putting me in choke-holds."

"Or maybe you are realizing the truth - that you are half the pony Babs or Squall are when you don't have your magic to lean on."

Misty stood up, indignant. "That is not fair. I am working just as hard as either of them. Harder, probably, since I'm a unicorn."

"You being a unicorn has nothing to do with it. It is about work ethic. Yours is sadly lacking."

Misty was back on her hooves instantly. "How dare you? You, who are a specialist in taking the easy way out!"

Cold Star scowled. "In what way?"

Misty stamped her hoof indignantly. "I've seen how you operate. You strike from the shadows! You dive in on ponies all unawares and beat them up before they even have a chance to defend themselves! You act all brave, but really you are just a coward and a cheap-shot artist!"

"I employ the strategy I need to in order to fight bigger ponies and superior numbers. They call that tactics."

Misty smiled smugly. "Now who's being semantic?"

Cold Star shrugged it off. "You're just trying to change the subject. You don't like hearing the truth."

"And what truth is that?"

"That you are lazy."

"Lazy? Hardly! Do you think it's lazy for me to run all those horrible laps around this park? Do you think its lazy for me to come out and do your silly rolling drills night after night, just so we can start learning to choke each other? Your definition of lazy is absurd."

"No. I call it lazy because you do not excel at any of it. You should already have mastered those things. Instead, you are merely adequate."

Misty's face darkened. "You sound just like my father. Blaming me just because I'm not as good as you want me to be. Well excuse me if I'm not perfect, alright?"

"No. I will not excuse you. Because you already excuse yourself, and someone has to be willing to hold you to a higher standard."

Misty stomped her hoof again. "I have standards! I am not lazy!"

Cold Star's manacles rattled as she strained against them, pointing a hoof at Misty's chest. "Yes you are! Because you have no willpower, and no sense of self-motivation. That is the only reason you are struggling. When the task gets difficult, instead of putting your head down and fighting through it, you take a short cut. You have no concept of what it means to really give your all. And that is the only reason you are not excellent."

Misty sat back down, her eyes stinging with barely-contained tears. "I'm not excellent because I can't do it. I'm not strong, and I'm not talented. All I am is clever, and that doesn't do me any good when I'm trying to run or roll or do a cartwheel. So I try to use my cleverness to help me keep up with Babs and Squall, who are strong and talented. And that means using magic, because I don't have anything else I can use."

"Babs and Squall have nothing you don't have."

Misty pointed back at Cold Star, accusation in her eyes. "Hogwash! Babs was stronger than any of us before we even started training, because she's a born farm-horse. And now she's becoming an athlete on top of it. All the running and push-ups aren't even a challenge for her any more. She barely breaks a sweat. And you've seen how fast Squall learned to roll. He's a natural. All you ever give us to do are physical things, and I'm awful at all of them just like most other unicorns. Don't tell me they don't have an advantage."

"Babs is naturally athletic, yes. Enough to run ahead and earn herself a lot of push-ups in the process. Now, let me ask you this - how often have you ever seen Babs dawdle on her run, or rest instead of doing her push-ups?"

Misty scowled. "She likes the workouts. It's not the same."

Cold Star rolled her eyes, in exactly the way Misty did when she thought Cold Star was being ridiculous. Misty found it inexplicably annoying. "Nopony likes push-ups, Misty. They are difficult, and incredibly tedious once you get up past about five. It is not the push-ups she likes. It is the challenge. She likes knowing that she is pushing her limits. If not, she could just slow down to match you and Squall."

"You mean match me. Squall's running is getting to be almost as good as his rolling. He's almost keeping pace with Babs, now. He's started doing pushups with her while they wait for me. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that is?"

"Then you should train harder, and force them to keep up with you."

Misty waved her hooves in exasperation. "How am I supposed to get better than them when they are already so much better than I am? We're doing the same stupid workouts!"

"Yes. But did you know that Squall is doing another full workout every morning before he comes to school?"

Misty could only gape. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. He gets up early and flies a lap around the city. He stops whenever his wings need a rest to do rolls and cartwheels. That explains why he is getting better so much faster - because results are a product of time invested. It is as simple as that."

"So, what? Should I be doing three workouts a day? When? Or better yet, why? Why bother?"

"You are the one complaining that you cannot keep up. If you want to keep up, that would be the best way to do so."

Misty stood up, pacing around the hollow beneath the tree. "No, I mean what's the point of it all? Babs is always going to be stronger, and Squall is a colt. Have you even seen his mother? She's a giant. Another year or two and I bet he'll be twice my size. What's the point of trying to keep up with them?"

Cold Star shrugged. "Because the alternative is falling farther and farther behind. Which is just going to make you more frustrated. Which is just going to lead to you trying to use magic more and more to make up the difference."

"So what if I do?"

"Then you will come to rely on it too much. And then one day when your magic fails you at a critical moment, you will be defeated and very possibly hurt. And I would know - it has happen to every unicorn that I have come into conflict with. As your teacher... and as your friend, Misty, I don't want to see that happen to you."

Misty stamped her way over to Cold Star, glaring at her. "Some friend you are. You insult me, and accuse me of things, and you think I'm a failure. That's not friendship. That's judgement. And I get enough of that from my father, thank you very much."

For the first time since she'd met her, she saw Cold Star look genuinely contrite. "I... do not think you are a failure. And I did not know your relationship with your father was so strained. I am sorry to hear that. I know what it is like to be unable to meet your parents expectations."

Misty rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure. I bet you're a real under-achiever. So were you the last in your class to get a cutie mark?"

"No. I was amongst the first. I learned very young that I had a talent for martial combat and tactics, and that I had a strong sense of justice."

"That figures. I bet you were at the top of your classes in school, too."

"There were better students. I was only rarely in the top five of my class on any examination we wrote."

"How tragic. I'm sure your family was very worried how your grades would affect your future as an awesome-warrior-champion-of-justice."

"Actually, my father is a historian. My mother weaves tapestries. And they are both devout pacifists. So although they are both proud of me in their ways, I will always be something of a disappointment to them."

Misty was dumbstruck. "That... is not at all what I expected. I had just assumed that your family were like you. Crusaders."

"Not at all. Though all citizens of Tartarus serve in the military as a part of their schooling, both of my parents went through the program as objectors, assigned only to administrative duties and refusing to participate in combat training. That is how they met, in fact. They were one of only a handful of ponies at their school who shared their beliefs. It is one of the foundations of their relationship."

Misty frowned slightly, playing through the implications in her head. "So I guess they didn't really appreciate your choice of careers."

"No. Though to their credit, they never tried to stop me from becoming the kind of pony I dreamed of being, despite their strong reservations. But I think they both would have been a lot happier if I had stuck with my first childhood interest."

"What was that?"

"When I was little, I wanted to be a dancer."

Misty could only stare at Cold Star for a long moment, and then a most undignified giggle escaped her throat. "You? Prancing around in tights? I can't even picture it."

Cold Star grinned sheepishly. "I took lessons all the way up until senior school. I still do my recital pieces sometimes as a light workout, when nopony else is around."

"I had no idea."

"You never asked."

"I would never have though to. I can't imagine you doing anything so... girly."

"There are a lot of things that you do not know about me. Just as there are many things I do not know about you. Maybe that is why we have trouble trusting each other. I have offered you a piece of my history. May I ask for one in return?"

Misty shrugged. "I suppose."

"Would you tell me what happened in Canterlot?"

Misty's face slowly lost all expression. "I don't like to talk about it."

"I understand that. But I would like to know, all the same."

"Why? What business is it of yours?"

"I wish to help you get over your fear. Of the Changelings, and of me."

Misty smiled slightly, but it wasn't an honest smile. "Thank you for the thought. But I think you have already solved that particular problem. The next time you act scary, I'm going to picture you in a pink tutu. That should keep me from taking you too seriously."

Cold Star shook her head sadly. "You still do not trust me."

"Not with everything, no. But we have to start somewhere." Misty picked up the brass key. "So, maybe this is good enough to begin with."

She made her way over to Cold Star, and then pointedly used her magic to take hold of the key, bringing it up and around to fit with the lock on Cold Star's wing. With a firm flick of her horn, she popped the lock open. She repeated it on the other side. Cold Star sat forward slowly, stretching her wings. The bat pony nodded. "Yes. I suppose this is a good place to start. Thank you for letting me out."

Misty nodded. "It was the least I could do. Where did you get these manacles, anyways?"

"I asked Zelest if she knew of somewhere I could get some sturdy rope to bind myself with, and it turned out she had these in one of her upstairs closets. It was quite a lucky coincidence."

"Why would Zelest need manacles?"

Cold Star looked down at the steel chains, which appeared to be in reasonably good repair. "You know, I did not think to ask. Perhaps they are left over from the house's more infamous period?"

Misty looked at the manacles, and then at Cold Star, and then back to the manacles. "Sure. Let's go with that." This seemed like a very good place to change the topic. "So, what else did you chat with Daily Times about?"

Cold Star stood up and did a couple of slow stretches. "I talked to him about magic. He is surprisingly capable, for a reporter. I though he might have some ideas that would help your training."

Misty rolled her eyes. "He's a reporter. I rather doubt he knows anything that my father doesn't about magical education."

"He can apperate. I thought that might be useful."

Misty frowned. "Are you serious? There are no more than a half-dozen ponies I know of who are powerful or skilled enough to perform that spell, my father included."

"That is what I thought. He shared the secret with me."

"And what was that?"

Cold Star pulled back her lip in what could only be described as a smug smirk. "Hard work. Lots of blood, sweat and tears. He was up front in saying he was nothing special as far as magic was concerned, much as you seem to think you are. That makes me think that you could become quite powerful, if you wanted to. But it's going to require a lot of training."

Misty grimaced. "Is it going to involve running more laps?"

"No. Well, not laps anyway. We are done with those for now. Tomorrow, everyone is getting new workouts. They will focus on more practical tasks, and emphasize each of your specific needs. Some of which, I hope, will also help you exercise your magic."

Misty perked up a little. "Seriously?"

"Yes. And in exchange, I want your promise that you will not use magic any more to try and 'help' your physical training. Especially not when you're working with the others. That is a recipe for accidents, and I don't want anypony else getting hurt. I'm sure you don't either."

Misty's head sagged a little. "Fair enough. I think I've learned my lesson."

Cold Star sat down next to her. "Why so glum about it, then?"

Misty didn't look up. "Tell me the truth. Do you think I'm ever going to be able to keep up with them?"

Cold Star shook her head. "In terms of physical strength, probably not. Sooner or later, their blood will tell, and they are working extremely hard on top of that. The truth is that some ponies are bigger, some are stronger, and some just have to make do."

Misty sighed. "I was afraid you would say that."

Cold Star shrugged. "So what? It's not like you need to be stronger than they are. Or faster. All a Crusader needs to worry about is technique."

Misty looked over at the bat-mare. "What does that even mean?"

Cold Star smiled. "Let me tell you a story. When I first started learning martial combat, my Master brought me to another teacher, who he said would instruct me in grappling. Her name was Master Stillwater, and she was one of the oldest ponies I had ever seen. She walked very slowly, and had a limp in one of her back legs from an old injury. She had been a Crusader for nearly a hundred years, when we met.

"Now, being young and foolish, I thought I would rather learn my skills from my Master, since he was a much bigger, stronger stallion. He laughed, and said that Master Stillwater had taught him the martial way when he was a young colt. He said that even though she was too old to do much kicking now, she would be more than a match for me in a grapple.

"Naturally, I felt terribly insulted that he thought this crippled old nag was a fair match for me. I didn't say so, but I think Master Stillwater could read my face. She told me that humbleness was the most important step on the martial path. For martial ponies, humbleness is showed by bowing your head to the floor. So, that being the case, the first time I could force her to touch her head to the floor of the training hall, she would admit I was the finer pony, and graduate me."

Misty was listening intently. "So what did you do?"

"About what you'd expect. I accepted, and immediately asked permission to have a match with her. Thus began a very, very frustrating afternoon trying to knock the old bat off of her hooves. I did not succeed. About an hour into the class, she started pointing to certain spots on the floor of the training hall, saying 'this is where you will land next'. And the worst part was, I did. Every single time. She would catch me by a hoof or a wing, and before I knew what was happening I was flank over fetlocks, landing flat on my back.

"Finally, after a couple of hours, I was completely exhausted. She hadn't even broken a sweat. And why would she? She had barely moved in all that time, but to make the small adjustments she needed to throw me around like a rag doll. I have never felt so helpless in all my life as I did after our last exchange. Instead of just throwing me around, she deftly pinned my leg behind me, stepped around my wing to pin it against my body, and stuck a leg around my neck. She was old, less than half my size, and in that moment she could have choked me to death and there would not have been a single thing in all the world I could have done about it.

"She held the choke too, to see if I would fight for my life. I struggled valiantly, which was probably the only thing I did right all day. My vision was going blurry when she finally let go of my neck, grabbed a hold of my mane, and pressed my head to the floor, just to make it clear how easy it was for her to do it. Then she leaned over and whispered her lesson for the day. 'Remember, child', she said. 'Strength and size don't mean anything if I am this much better than you are. Better always wins.' "

Misty was wide-eyed. "So, did you ever beat her?"

"A couple of times I managed to complete a leg-lock or a choke correctly, and she was forced to tap her hoof. The first was after we had been training together every day for almost three years. I won a couple of more matches over the next two years, which were my last as her student. But in all that time, I never once touched her head to the floor."

Misty grimaced in sympathy. "That must have been frustrating."

"Not at all. Well, it was for about the first week. But after that she taught me another lesson - that a journey across Equestria can only be achieved by taking one step after another. Becoming skilled doesn't happen in a few days, or even a few months. It can take years of training to become truly proficient at something. That means it also takes dedication. You have to train when you are tired, and sick, or disenchanted with the idea of ever achieving your goals. I have learned that dedication is an important part of what separates Crusaders from other ponies."

Misty looked at Cold Star, worry in her eyes. "I don't know if I have that in me."

Cold Star put a hoof on Misty's shoulder "Some days, I do not know if I do either."

Misty arched an eyebrow. "Come on. Seriously?"

Cold Star nodded. "Yes. Seriously. But I get up and put on my cape anyways, and I do my best to prove that doubting part of me wrong. So far, I have done so. I hope that you will, too."

Misty reached slowly into her saddlebag and pulled out her Crusader cape. "You know, I almost didn't bring this with me because... because I thought maybe you were going to take it away. I was so scared you were going to say I wasn't allowed to train with Babs and Squall any more, because of what I'd done." She sniffled, and tears began to pool at the side of her eyes.

Cold Star moved to sit in front of her, resting a hoof on her shoulder. "And I was afraid that you hated me, and that as soon as you had the key in your hoof you would zap me with a spell and run off to find a sheriff. I am glad we were both wrong."

Misty sniffled one more, and wiped at her face. Then she wrapped her cape over her shoulders and pinned it in place. She looked up at Cold Star and smiled. "So, same time tomorrow night?"

Cold Star nodded. "Yes. If you get there before I do, work on your backwards rolls. I expect you will need them when we start learning how to kick."

Misty groaned, but then she looked back at Cold Star and nodded in resigned acceptance.

When they stepped out of the hollow, Cold Star was back in her disguise. The sun had set, and Misty was sure she would get a talking to if she didn't hurry home. She said goodnight and cantered off, not bothering to look back, knowing full well Cold Star would already have disappeared from view.

When she heard the clock tower ringing, she moved up from a canter to a trot. Then a full gallop, when she realized what hour had just chimed. She was out of breath by the time she left the park, but decided that without any traffic on the streets, she might as well see how much time she could cut off the trip. All that running had to have been good for something.

She arrived home before the clock struck quarter past. She was sweating, and her legs were even more sore then they were before. But when she reached the gate and discovered she had to use her magic to push it open because her legs couldn't manage it, she felt somehow satisfied. It was a stupid satisfaction - the same kind she felt every time she did something that her pride had demanded. But as she headed inside to make her excuses to her parents, she felt better about herself than she had in a long time.

Maybe the running wasn't so bad after all.

Author's Note

Next time: A run-in with Stoneheart's gang leaves Cold Star wounded, and Squall learns the hard truth about the price of Cold Star's heroism. Meanwhile, Babs and Misty are facing some hard truths of their own on the family front. It's the beginning of desperate times in our next exciting update!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And with that, the Seven Nights are complete!

I'm pretty proud of this chapter as a whole. It got a lot more editing than most of my other chapters, and I think it shows in the product. It also lays a lot of ground-work for things to come. All the players are in place now, so I can start cranking up the action again.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave me some feedback in the comments section. Likes and Faves are also hugely appreciated, and very motivating!

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you all next update!

Chapter 7: Desperate Times

Chapter 7: Desperate Times

Chapter 7 - Desperate Times

The thug's hoof hit Cold Star right in the face. Her training saved her from a broken nose, but even as her own hoof came up under the thugs jaw and knocked him for a loop, she could feel the swelling beginning around her eye.

She didn't have much time to worry about it - the thug's companions were getting back to their hooves. The two heavyset Earth Ponies circled her, trying to put her in between them. It was a simple but effective tactic, especially with one of her eyes threatening to swell shut.

She didn't give them a chance to take the initiative. Launching herself at the pony to her left, she accepted a painful knee to her chest in exchange for taking hold of his other front leg. Her wing darted out and swept his back legs, throwing the larger pony onto his back. Not willing to risk him getting up a second time, Cold Star made an unpleasant choice: with a deft twist of the leg she was holding, she broke his knee.

The Earth pony on the ground howled in pain, and his companion chose that as his signal to charge, putting his head down and aiming right at Cold Star's exposed back. Cold Star could feel the heavy pounding of his hooves on the pavement behind her, and she used it to time her jump perfectly - a high back-flip that landed her squarely on her opponent's back. It took him a moment to realize what had happened, and by then Cold Star's legs were already firmly around his neck. The fact that it was the same choke she was teaching her students was not lost on her - sometimes the simple tricks were the best.

The stallion was a fighter though. He threw himself against the brick wall of the nearby building, trying to crush the Crusader between himself and the unforgiving masonry. Cold Star's wings reached out to cushion the blow, and the stallion began to wheeze and stagger before he mustered up the strength to try it again. The loss of blood to his head left him dizzy, and the big pony stumbled. By the time he had righted himself, Cold Star had already released the choke. Her hoof came down on the back of his head like a hammer and the stallion pitched forward, his body already limp before it hit the pavement.

The thug she had kicked in the face was trying to get to his hooves. Another good kick bowled him over, leaving him staring up at her with a spilt lip. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched Cold Star's grim advance.

"You! You're the Crusader! The one from the paper!"

Cold Star continued to stalk towards him, feeling a measure of satisfaction as the fallen pony did his best to crawl away from her, the terrified pounding of his heart crystal clear in her ears. "Of course I am. Have you not heard? Your boss Stoneheart has chosen to make himself my enemy. Now you and all your comrades must pay the price for his wickedness. And your own."

She continued to advance, and the thug found himself pressed against the wall with nowhere left to go. "How did you know we work for Stoneheart? We didn't wear our colours, just like he told us..."

Cold Star lunged forward, slapping a hoof against the thug's chest hard enough to bounce his head painfully off the wall behind it, then using it to hold him in place. With her other leg, she pointed to the small storefront across the street, where a pair of young ponies were watching in terror through their front window as the fight unfolded. "Because when you came here last night, you threatened the couple that works here using his name. You demanded a payment for protection. I decided that when you returned tonight to collect on that promise, I would be waiting."

"But... but how could you know? There was just the five of us in the store."

Cold Star leaned her face in close to his. "Remember this. Anywhere you go, I might be following. Any time you talk, I might be listening. I am the shadow of justice, defiler. I am everywhere."

He tried feebly to push her off. "So... so do you want me to deliver a message to Stoneheart for you? Because I will, if you want."

Cold Star shook her head. "No. I think Stoneheart knows where I stand. This message is for ponies like you, who work for him. Who hurt other ponies at his say-so."

The thug nodded. "Okay. Okay, what's the message?"

Cold Star kicked him in the side of the head. He collapsed to the sidewalk, concussed and unconscious.

She turned away from the fallen thug, and saw that the stallion whose leg she had broken had managed to sit himself upright. She looked at him dead in the eyes as she walked past him.

"You three are the message. And you are only the beginning."

She slipped into the darkened alley across the street and paused. There was something wrong, and it wasn't just the painful swelling around her eye. There was an out-of-place noise coming from up near the roof. She leapt up to the fire escape above her and then leapt up again, pumping her wings and sending herself towards the rooftop. She pulled her wings back under her cape just as she came over the edge of the rooftop, and a flashbulb burst in front of her.

As she blinked away the sunspots, she had just enough time to make out Daily Times grinning like a fox in the hen-house before he disappeared with a resounding "ther-clap". The echo of the sound rang in her ears as she staggered over to where he had been standing. She looked down and saw the three ponies she'd been fighting with arrayed below her. It was the perfect place to watch from. He'd probably gotten the whole fight on film, and in the commotion she hadn't noticed.

As the ringing in her ears faded, she heard two more sounds. One was police whistles, but they weren't the sound that sent her running. That was the sound of the clock-tower striking midnight.

She was late for dinner.

* * * * *

Squall was getting worried. He tried to tell himself that she was on patrol, and that that sort of thing didn't always run on a schedule. But try as he might, he couldn't keep his mind from running down a list of the very worst things that could be delaying her.

To keep his mind off it, he busied himself setting out the food he'd brought. His mother had left him a pot of soup in the fridge, but he'd wanted to make something fresh. After all, when they had first met Squall had suggested that they help Cold Star buy groceries, and now he could make good on that offer. His mother had a recipe for spinach casserole that was one of Squall's favourite meals. It stood to reason that if he really liked it, Cold Star might also. He'd ducked out of the apartment shortly after his mother left for work to buy the groceries he'd need to make it.

It had been eye-opening. Just the things he needed to make a single small casserole had come out to almost twenty bits. That was a month of his allowance, gone in a flash. He'd never realized how expensive food was. No wonder his mother worked so much - she fed them both three meals a day on just her salary.

The casserole had come out alright (he hoped) and he'd put it in a picnic basket with two juice boxes, two plates, forks, a couple of cloth napkins and a small bakery box with a pair of cupcakes that he hadn't been able to resist at the grocery store. It was better then lukewarm soup and cold zucchini sticks, at least.

Or it would be, if Cold Star showed up to have some.

It was nearly one in the morning when Squall heard the sound of heavy wingbeats. He hid himself by one of the pillars, and was surprised to see Cold Star swooping up from down near the waterline to land on the underbelly of the bridge nearby. She let out a grunt as she landed, and her first few steps were tentative. Squall moved away from the pillar and waved.

"Hey. Over here. You okay?"

Cold Star nodded, peeling off her hat and mask. "I am all right. Nothing a few minutes rest will not help to remedy."

A she stepped a little closer, he could see that one of her eyes was badly swollen. Squall frowned. "You don't look all right. Did you get hit?"

Cold Star chuckled. It wasn't a happy sound. "In the words of my master, any fight where you walk away is a good fight. This is not the worst black eye I have had, I assure you. Though if you have anything cold I can put on it, I would be grateful."

Squall thought quickly. "I don't, but I will. Wait here."

Before she could tell him otherwise, he dropped off the bridge and wheeled towards the nearer shore, his wings pushing hard to drive him faster. It didn't take long to find what he was looking for; all-night convenience stores were everywhere in Manehattan. Two minutes and a couple of bits later, he was on his way back to the bridge.

When he arrived, he landed at the end of the bridge and walked out, looking for signs that anypony might be around to see him before hopping over the railing and swooping down to where he'd left Cold Star. She was stretching, obviously in some discomfort.

"As requested." He snagged one of the cloth napkins out of the picnic basket and handed it to her, along with the mega-sized drink cup full of just ice he'd bought at the store.

She looked at the cup and sighed. "That was not necessary."

Squall offered her a wry smile. "You obviously haven't seen a mirror yet, or you wouldn't be saying that."

"I just mean that I... I do not like it when people spend money on things when I cannot repay them."

Squall looked away, busying himself with the picnic basket again and hoping she wouldn't ask where he'd gotten the food. "Please, don't worry about it. You would do the same, if you were me."

Cold Star offered a small smile. "Then thank you. And thank you for whatever is in that basket. It smells nice."

Squall realized his first mis-step right away - he hadn't brought a knife to portion the casserole. Cold Star's solution was elegantly simple: they placed it in between them, and each started eating from opposite corners. His second mis-step was discovered shortly after they started eating, which was that he didn't know how to season food very well. The casserole, which was normally rich and tasty when his mother made it, had come out completely bland and just a little bit mushy.

After fewer than a dozen bites, Squall but down his fork, his face burning. "I'm sorry. I... I guess I missed something in the recipe. It's much better when my mother makes it."

Cold Star shook her head. "You need not apologize. I am enjoying it."

"That's nice of you, but you don't have to eat it."

Cold Star gave him the strangest look. "Nonsense. Why would anypony turn down a fresh, healthy meal like this?"

"Because it's not very good?"

Cold Star shook her head, taking another forkful. "It is good enough for me."

Squall took another bite. It was the same as the last. He put his fork back down. "I should have tasted it before I brought it out here."

Cold Star fixed Squall with a stern look, her napkin full of ice still pressed to her head. "Squall, please. Do not apologize for the food. I am not exaggerating when I say this is one of the best meals I've eaten in weeks. I would like to enjoy it in your company, even if you decide you don't want to eat it yourself."

Squall hung his head. "Sorry. I'm not helping you be restful, am I?"

"I will be fine. Like I said, this is not bad as injuries go."

"Do you mind if I ask what happened?"

She grunted. "Stoneheart's gang has been active in a neighborhood near here, looking for new businesses to extort money from. He has been sending around small groups of ponies to make demands - one to talk, and two for muscle. I decided that I needed to start making an example of some of these ponies if I want to discourage such behaviour.

"Unfortunately, I made an error in my angle of attack when I chose a dive from the rooftop as my opening gambit. My plan was to knock all of them prone, and then strike selectively from there. They turned out to be more canny than expected. One of the three jumped out of line before I landed on the other two. He caught me with a kick. I made short work of them after that, but the damage was already done."

She sighed in irritation and leaned back against a pillar. "That was the least of my mistakes, truthfully. It turns out that Daily Times somehow managed to figure out where I was going to be, and may have taken some more pictures. I expect tomorrow's Bulletin will be showcasing me again."

She ate some more casserole while Squall stood up and paced back and forth. "Did he get anything... y'know... secret?"

Cold Star shook her head. "I don't think so. At most, he has a record of the fight. That is a bit embarrassing, considering the mistakes I made, but hardly the end of Equestria. He might have been after pictures of my wings, but I kept them mostly out of sight. I doubt he got anything useful there."

"Why would he be after wing pictures? Does he..." Squall trailed off as Cold Star nodded.

"He saw them. But without evidence, he won't risk printing it."

"How did he seem them? You're usually so careful."

"It is... complicated."

Squall scowled. "That's the same excuse my mother gives when she doesn't want to talk about something."

Cold Star dropped some fresh ice in her napkin. "Some things are complicated, Squall."

Squall looked away. "Yeah. My father was complicated, so she won't talk about him. She won't even tell me his name. She's complicated, so she doesn't like to talk about herself either. You're complicated, so you won't tell me why you keep making excuses for that stupid reporter. Jeepers, maybe I should be more complicated too. It seems like asking simple questions is just the worst way to get a straight answer from anypony these days."

Cold Star took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Misty gave me a hard time about this as well. I am sorry, Squall. Sometimes I try to hide the truth from other ponies, because I worry that sharing it will not improve matters. But that is a slippery slope. I should know better."

She sat up straighter, putting her ice down for a moment. "I showed him my wings. It was a sort of gesture of good faith. I was hoping he would choose to side with us against Stoneheart. That by showing him a part of my secret, he wouldn't feel the need to expose what he knows to everypony else in the process. But I have no idea what effect it had on him. Perhaps none. Perhaps I handed him what he needs to expose me. It seemed like a good chance to take at the time, but after tonight I'm less certain than ever."

Squall sat down again, stunned into a long silence. When he sorted himself out, he smiled sadly. "You're right. I'm not sure the truth feels better. But I would have been just as worried not knowing. Thank you for telling me."

"I should not have been evasive. You are a Crusaders, and I should treat you as such."

Squall nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Well, it's not like I haven't said avoided talking to you about my worries before. So we're even. Now, do you want to give up on this mess and move on to desert?"

Cold Star smirked at him and shrugged. "I ate my half. I do not wish to be greedy."

It was true. Her half of the casserole was gone. Squall put the lid back on it and tucked it away to avoid having to eat any more himself. Instead he pulled out the box with the cupcakes, and as soon as the box cleared the basket Cold Star's long ears perked up. She stared at the box with rapt attention as he popped it open and held it out.

Cold Star stared at the pastries within, her eyes shining with delight. "In the glorious name of Princess Luna, are those what I think they are?"

Squall blinked. "Um... do you think they're cupcakes? Because... they're cupcakes."

She leaned over towards the box, her eyes closed and her nose gently twitching. She had a look on her face like she was already eating them; blissfully happy.

Squall felt a rush of heat to his face. For some reason, seeing Cold Star so excited made him feel strangely giddy himself. "So... which one do you want? I got chocolate and vanilla, just to cover both bases."

Cold Star's eye snapped open, and she looked at Squall with an utterly baffled look. "I... have no idea. I have never eaten one before."

Squall returned her baffled look with one of his own. "You've never eaten a cupcake?"

Cold Star nodded. "Sugar must be refined, so it is extremely rare in Tartarus. As are things like milk and eggs, so we Bat Ponies do very little baking. Ever since I came to the surface I have smelled things like this in passing, but I have never had the chance to eat any. I never thought I would get the chance, in truth."

Squall remained puzzled. "But, you've been on the surface for months now. They sell cupcakes all over the place."

Cold Star smirked. "I seem to recall you pointing out previously that shopping is not something I could easily do."

"Yeah, but... I mean, you must have someone helping you with it. Don't you?"

"No. I do not have any money, so there is no need to shop."

Squall blinked. "I don't understand."

Cold Star looked away awkwardly, as if speaking about it made her uncomfortable. "It is quite simple. In Tartarus, a Crusader is granted a small stipend in honour of her service. Up here... less so. What little of value I had when I left home was bartered to a band of Zebras for the things I needed to make my costume."

"Then... but..." Squall's brain was running through dozens of urgent and confusing question, but the one that kept coming back to him was one of necessity: "How do you buy food for yourself?"

Cold Star shook her head. "I cannot."

"Then how do you eat?"

"I forage."

"Forage? Like, in the woods?"

"Yes. There are forests to the south and to the west where some foods grow wild. And there are one or two places around town that I accept charity from now and again, like the diner where I got the zucchini sticks. Other nights, I have to take what I can get. Fortunately there are a great many food stores and restaurants around the city. It is shocking to me how much perfectly good produce they discard on a daily..."

"You eat out of the garbage?"

Cold Star looked away again, but then she shrugged as if that were no big deal. "I knew life would be difficult when I chose to come here. It is not my preference, but there are times when my other options are limited. Being hungry is not a safe way for a pony to be, when they are as physically active as I am. So I do what I must, when the opportunity presents itself to do so safely."

She looked away from Squall's dumbstruck look and returned her attention to the cupcakes. "But if it is all the same to you, I would rather not think about that right now. I am about to eat a cupcake for the first time, and I would rather focus on enjoying that."

She turned the box around slowly, studying the two pastries, before finally shaking her head. "I have no idea how to choose. I should let you decide. I will be perfectly content with..."

"Eat them both."

Squall didn't make a habit of interrupting people, but lately it seemed to be happening more and more.

Cold Star gave him a funny look. "That would not be fair."

Squall shook his head. "Just since I've known Babs, I've eaten more different cupcakes than I can even name. That you haven't eaten any... that's what's not fair. You run around every night saving the ponies of this city and you're... you don't even get proper food. And you get black eyes, and you're probably sore all the time, considering how much running around you do. That deserves at least two cupcakes. Honestly, I think it deserves a lot more, but this is what I've got."

"Squall, I think you are being a bit dramatic."

"I guess. But I have never wanted a cupcake less than I want either of those. I wouldn't be able to enjoy it anyways, and they won't keep. So you'd better eat 'em."

Cold Star stared at him for a long moment, and he stared back. Finally, she rolled her eyes. "Alright. Suit yourself. But I plan to savour this, so if you change your mind half-way through I will not blame you."

Her hoof hovered over the box for a moment, and then she pulled out the vanilla cupcake - white cake with rich butter-cream icing. Squall sat there watching her eating it - listening to her excited exclamations of how tasty it was and how even the smell was nothing compared to the taste - and he kept a small smile plastered on his face.

This was a special moment for her, and by Celestia... by Luna, even, he wasn't going to ruin it by getting upset. No matter how upset he was.

He managed to keep the smile on his face until she had eaten both cakes and they had said their farewells, watching as Cold Star disappeared into the night to resume her patrol. He even managed to keep it in place while he packed up the basket and got ready to leave.

It lasted right up until he was ready to take off for home, when he looked out over the water and found his view had gotten all blurry. He pulled out the clean napkin and pressed it over his face, taking a few deep breaths. When the first sob broke through, he dropped off the bridge and landed down near the water where the sound of the evening tide would drown it out.

He had never been so ashamed of himself. The bullying and the blank-flank were nothing compared to realizing that this situation was all his fault. He had been the one to suggest the Crusaders could shop for Cold Star, but he had never followed it up. He had just assumed she would ask, if she needed their help.

How could he have been so stupid? Hadn't his talk with Zelest made it clear enough that Cold Star didn't ask for help, even when she needed it? That she would fight on through injury or danger or eating out of the garbage just to do what she thought was right?

It occurred to him then that he didn't know anything about her day to day life. Where did she sleep? Where did she shower in the morning, or wash her uniform? She obviously had allies here and there, but did she ever spend time with any of them? Did she have a roof over her head, or did she forage for shelter just as often as she foraged for food? He found himself imagining Cold Star during the daytime, shivering in a drainage pipe in the chill of autumn while she waited for night to fall. It was heartbreaking, and it was wrong.

Squall wiped his face and flew back up to the bridge to collect his basket and head home. As he winged his way through the darkness his brain was a jumble of unanswerable questions and sickening worries. But one thought had fixed itself firmly amongst them - that somehow, some way, he was going to find a way to make this right. If he didn't, he didn't deserve to be called a Crusader.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Their afternoon workout could not arrive fast enough for Squall, since it was the first chance he'd had to talk to the Crusaders in private.

The new workouts were great. Sure, they still had to run, but now they ran with a purpose. They started out at Seed Cakes so that they could stash their saddlebags, and Babs could put on her weighted ones - a set of Poppy's old school-bags with a heavy bundle of sand in each pouch. The extra weight had slowed Babs down considerably, especially near the end of the run, so Misty no longer had a hard time keeping pace with her and Squall, despite the slightly longer distances.

Their new route had left the park completely. Now they ran on the roads and backstreets that connected their homes to one another. They alternated from day to day which houses they ran between, and they always did their best to take different routes to see which were easier or faster. Cold Star's logic in explaining their new assignment had been simple, but powerful.

Running is not only a matter of fitness. If there is ever an emergency, being ready to run is essential. And where are you more likely to run then to your family's aid, or the aid of your fellow Crusaders? Think of that, when you grow tired - that one day, the safety of those you care for may rest on how fast you can get to them. Let that determination drive your hooves, and help make you ready to answer that call.

After that, Misty's running had improved by leaps and bounds. Part of it may have been her history with emergencies in Canterlot, but Squall suspected it was also the fact that the new routine helped distract her from being tired. While they ran, Misty was supposed to pick up as much of the litter she passed as she could using her magic, and drop it into waste bins as they went. She'd made a lot of disgusted sounds at first, but throughout the week they'd gotten fewer and farther between and the rate of litter clean-up had risen sharply.

As for himself, he got the best job of all - he was the scout. As they ran, he had to periodically zip up above the skyline to help the group navigate. It was his job to steer them away from fences, gates, road construction and suspicious ponies. His mental map had never felt more useful, and he found he was always updating it with new information - shortcuts and alleys that hadn't appeared on his original map now criss-crossed his mental one. He also felt like he was contributing to the team in his own unique way. While Babs was the brawn and Misty was the brains, he was becoming the eyes.

At least, that's how it usually went. Today he was running on a lot less sleep than usual and he was distracted by his worries. He'd signalled a bad turn that had brought them to a dead-end, which had led to a chorus of ribbing from Babs and Misty. He'd had to call for a couple of minutes rest while he flew up and figured out how to get them back on course. By the time he came back down he'd also had enough time to muster up the courage to ask his friends for a favour.

He landed on the pavement with a little hop, and walked over to where they were stretching.

"Hey, Babs. Can I ask you something?"

Babs gave him an inquisitive look. "Sure, I guess. What's up?"

"I was just kind of wondering... you get an allowance, right?"

She grinned. "Well, kind of. Mom says money for nothin' is a bad way to teach ponies how to respect the value of a bit. There's a big list of chores down in the bakery every day. If I want some pocket money, all I gotta do is go do somethin' on the list. Once the work is done they pay me out. Kind of like a freelance bakery assistant."

Squall looked over at Misty. "What about you?"

Misty frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm kinda trying to put something together for... our other friend. I was hoping maybe you two could chip in on it."

Misty pursed her lips. "Well... the truth is I don't really get an allowance."

Squall blinked. "Really? I thought your family was pretty well off."

"We are. It's just that my parents don't really see the need. When I want something, they'll usually just take me shopping for it, if they think it's within reason. I could probably come up with a few bits for a good cause, though. What were you thinking of putting together, exactly?"

Squall opened his mouth to explain, and he stopped. Explaining would mean telling them about his dinners with Cold Star, and that felt like it was supposed to be private. He would also have to admit that she was living in what amounted to poverty. He didn't want to make them feel as bad as he did about it, and more importantly he didn't want to overstep the boundary between his idea of propriety and Cold Star's. She was a very proud pony, and having everypony know she needed a helping hoof would be awfully embarrassing for her.

So instead he shrugged like it was no big deal, just the way Cold Star had done. "Well, y'know... I remembered last night while I was eating that we agreed to pick up some groceries for her. We still haven't made good on that. Figured I'd bring it up before I forgot about it again. That's all."

Babs and Misty looked at each other, and then Babs slowly nodded.

"Yeah, we totally fuhgot about that. It's a good thing you remembered."

Misty's face was a bit more thoughtful. "Yes. There is nothing more unseemly than being a debtor. Perhaps we could buy her a whole meal, to make up for the delay." She smiled. "In fact, why not make an event of things? We could invite Zelest down, and have a proper sit-down meal together."

Squall held up his hoof to speak, but Babs had already dived in. "Yeah! Misty can get some stuff from her mom to decorate, I can get some stuff from the bakery to cater with. Why don't we do it this weekend? The Runnin' of the Leaves is on Sunday, so she said we'd be takin' it easy this week anyways. It's the perfect time. We can eat a little good food, and run it all off the next mornin', yeah?"

Misty stamped her hooves excitedly. "Oh, this is great. It's just like we used to do. Cutie Mark Crusaders: Party Planners! Woo!"

Babs and Misty both cheered, bumping hooves excitedly and looking at Squall. He wanted to interject that they were missing the point, and that one meal wasn't really what he'd had in mind, but the conversation had already run away from him so much that getting it back now would have meant explaining the problem. So he just sighed an bumped hooves with them, putting his best face on it.

Obviously, this was a problem he was going to have to deal with himself.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babs walked Misty home after their workout was over, and they chatted the whole way about the prospect of a party on the weekend. Squall had taken off right at the end of the workout, which was a little weird - he'd flown back to pick up his bag and headed for home long before Misty and Babs had even made it back to Seed Cakes. Still, the party had mostly been his idea, so she felt like he was there in spirit.

Babs's walk back to the Seed Industries building was a lot more sombre. The workout and the talk about the party had done wonders for taking her mind off of her own problems, but now that she was alone she could feel them creeping up on her again. She decided to take a longer route home, down some narrow backstreets that Squall had scouted for them a couple of days earlier. She wanted some time to think.

Squall had looked really beat today, but he wasn't the only one running on lousy sleep; her whole family was in the same boat. Her parents had waited up for Poppy the night before. She'd come home really late, and - from what her parents had said - smelling like a moonshine still. The ensuing argument had been plenty loud enough to keep Babs awake. Poppy had accused her parents of being 'sellouts' and 'money-grubbers', while her parents had called Poppy a 'layabout' and 'a selfish little so-and-so'. Then Poppy had used some words that would have gotten her mouth washed out with soap when she was a little filly, and things had really started to fly off the handle. Babs had stuffed her head under her pillow, because hearing her family argue like that was hard.

So, it turned out, was jogging home while replaying bad memories in one's head. Babs glanced around and realized she had no idea where she was. She was very glad Squall wasn't there, after the needling she'd given him about getting them lost earlier. There wasn't much to do but figure out where the sun was, and navigate from there.

She took a right, which she assumed would take her back to a larger street. She was half-right; the street she wanted was a couple of blocks farther. Instead she ended up at an intersection between two alleys, and found herself walking towards a group of a half-dozen angry-looking young ponies with wild hair and black clothes who were sniffing something out of a baggie they were passing between them.

It took a few moments for Babs to register that one of them was Poppy.

Poppy was sitting on a closed dumpster with her hood up, her head tipped back and her eyes closed. It almost looked like she was sleeping, until her eyes suddenly opened and she started giggling. The giggling got another filly next to her giggling too, and a moment later the alley was full of a bunch of mad laughter from the strung-out ponies.

Babs didn't know what to do so she just stood there, staring at her sister in awestruck horror. As if she could feel herself being watched, Poppy suddenly looked right at her. Babs stepped back, startled by the strangeness she saw there, almost like there was someone different behind Poppy's eyes.

Poppy's giggling died, and she squinted at her sister. "Babs? What in Sunbutt's name are you doin' here?"

Babs gaped at her. "Poppy, what're you doin' here? Are you outta your mind?"

Poppy made a raspberry with her lips. "I was a second ago. Maybe you should check if you just got your Cutie Mark in being a buzzkill, runt. Shouldn't you be at home?" Another mare next to poppy started giggling, and passed the bag to another colt next to them.

Babs stalked over to the dumpster where they were lounging. "Yeah, and so should you. It's almost dinner time. Let's go."

Poppy clicked her tongue. "Who died and made you a Princess?"

"Nobody. But... I don't like how this looks. We should go."

Poppy leaned over. "Why? These are my friends. And y'know, they look like me. You sayin' you don't like how I look?"

The group of ponies passing the bag had started watching their exchange, but Babs ignored them and frowned back at Poppy. "Not right now, I don't. You're all messed up. Mom and Dad are gonna..."

Poppy's hoof flashed out with startling speed, grabbing Babs by the back of her neck. "Mom and Dad ain't gonna do nothin', because they ain't gonna know."

Babs batted Poppy's leg away. "Fuhget about it. You think I'd hush this up? Poppy, these ponies are doin' drugs. This ain't funny."

Poppy slid bonelessly down off of the dumpster. "No. What ain't funny is that you're bein' a big, fat hypocrite."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Astronomy club my plot. You've been sneaking off to the Mosiac every weekend. Hanging out around some Zebra's place. Learnin' witchcraft and all, just like Bloom is doing in ponyville, I reckon."

Babs opened her mouth to try to deny it, but Poppy clapped a hoof over her mouth. "Nuh-uh. Save it, runt. I got curious, so I tailed you one night. Easy as pie, all three of you headin' down to Vanner Street. So you tell me, Babs. You mind that your cousin is the Element of Honesty, and you tell me you ain't been sneakin' and lyin', worse than me."

Babs gritted her teeth. "Ain't nothin' I done that's worse than this."

"Maybe. But I guess we'll find out. 'Cuz if you rat, I rat. Let's just see who ends up gettin' the shorter end of the stick."

Babs stared at Poppy for a long moment, but her sister didn't budge. Finally, she bowed her head.

"Poppy... please come home with me. Please. We can fix this."

Poppy spat on the pavement. "Nothin' here what needs fixin', except the fact that you're still here. So scram, Babs. Go home."

No knowing what else to do, she did.

When she got there she could hear her mother making dinner, and could see her father reading the newspaper at the dining room table. She stood for a long moment in their front hall, trying to think of what to say that would get Poppy out of trouble without getting herself and her friends into it.

She couldn't think of anything. And worse, she realized that if her parents got the sheriffs involved, Poppy and Cold Star could both end up arrested. Maybe even the Crusaders too. There had to be another way of dealing with this, and it was up to her to figure out what it was.

But that didn't keep her from ducking past her parents and into the shower, so she could have a good cry without anyone the wiser.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Misty came down from her bath to some unexpected news - her father has run into one of his old friends from Canterlot that afternoon, who had invited him out for supper. He'd graciously accepted, so it would be just Misty and her mother at dinner tonight.

Dew Drop was a Canterlot Pony through and through: poised, impeccably fashionable, and extremely reserved in expressing herself. She wore very smart clothing, even at dinner time and around the house, just in case important ponies happened to stop in. Misty used to find it a bit pretentious but she had come to accept that it made her mother comfortable, in the same way her father preferred a house-coat and slippers. Misty also looked very much like her, which led a lot of their family's acquaintances to assume that they were close.

They had been, once. Before the attack. Now, Misty didn't know what they were. But for tonight, she hoped, they could simply be a mother and daughter sharing a meal.

Dinner turned out to be a hearty dish of tomatoes and pasta in a rose sause, and Misty was eager to dig into it. It had been a long while since she'd had a meal that included cheese, and she treated herself by adding a pinch more salt then was strictly healthy to the plate. It was heavenly.

Her mother ate with equal gusto, and between them they made short work of their plates. As the maid was clearing the dishes she offered her daughter a small smile. "You know, I've dropped a whole dress size since you started your healthy diet. But I thought tonight we might bend the rules a little. I'm glad to see you didn't mind."

Misty waved one hoof daintily. "Well, the diet books I've read all talk about accepting that cheat-days are going to happen, now and again. What is important is sticking to the program afterwards, and get back on track."

"So, are you on track, then?"

"How do you mean?"

"Well, you've been running for over a month now. The Running of the Leaves is in a couple of days, and that was Babs's big goal, when you started out. Are you planning to keep up with it afterwards, or will you be going on to a new goal?"

Misty shifted slightly in her chair. "I think we'll probably keep up with it through the winter. Now that she's starting to thin out a bit, I think Babs might be worried she'll pack it all back on if she doesn't run over Heaths-warming."

It sounded like a good explanation, and he mother nodded gamely. "Oh, I completely understand. Holiday snacks are the very worst for that, and the poor dear lives at a bakery. It's wonderful to see somepony with a goal like that, isn't it? It makes you feel like you could do anything you put your mind to."

Misty continued to smile, but she got the uncomfortable feeling this was going somewhere. It seemed like a good time to change subjects. "Honestly, I've been totally won over. I didn't enjoy all the sweating and being out of breath at fist, but now I think I might miss it if I stopped. I will probably need a track-suit if I'm going to run during the winter though. Perhaps we should find some time to go shopping, so we can pick something out together."

"Perhaps we could. I was thinking we could get you measured again, too. You're a growing filly, and I'm betting you'll need some new outfits for spring. With all the working out, I bet all the numbers have changed."

Misty's brain sounded more alarm bells. "Measurements? I suppose we could, but why not wait until spring? If I'm running all winter, they're just going to change again."

Her mother smiled. It was the same smile she gave to clients when she was about to tell them something they weren't going to like. Misty braced herself. "Well, you see, you father and I were having a bit of a chat, and I was thinking perhaps you might like to spend part of the winter break working with me. You'd need a smart suit, if you're going to be my assistant."

Misty found her shoulders relaxing a little, but remained wary. "Oh, goodness. I haven't come to work with you in a very long time. Are you sure it would be alright?"

Dew Drop continued to wear her professional smile. "Well, actually I could really use your help. You see, I landed the contract to design for Blueblood Preparatory Academy's New Year's party, and I don't usually do school parties for ponies your age. I could really use your perspective on this one."

The alarm bells moved up to air-raid sirens. Her mother never booked school parties. They pay was lousy, and it meant working with volunteers instead of having a proper work crew. Why would she do that? Especially for Blueblood Prep? It wasn't a big enough school to merit a really big party, because they only took...

Oh, for the love of Celestia. Please, let me be wrong about this...

She smiled back at her mother. It was a very similar sort of smile - all lips and teeth, no feeling. "I'd love to help, but I really don't know if I can. I mean, they're an all-unicorn school. And an old-fashioned one at that. They still wear uniforms and everything. My school is so much different, I wouldn't know where to begin. But I'm sure they have a planning committee for that kind of feedback. I know our school does." Misty found herself gritting her teeth at the mere mention of the Pack, but kept her smile fixed in place.

Her mother nodded. "They do indeed. In fact, I had hoped to use you as a sort of go-between. You would have a much easier time chatting with them than I would. They're all unicorns your age."

Misty continued to force her smile. "That's nice of you to say, but I think we both know how much a group of popular girls enjoys talking with a blank-flank. If I may be blunt, I'm looking forward to my winter break as a reprieve from teasing. I'd much rather work behind the scenes with you, it it's all the same."

Her mother looked genuinely scandalized. "Don't you think you're being a bit quick to judge?"

"I think I'm being practical. Do you deny it?"

"I think you should keep an open mind, and see what they're like."

"You seem awfully willing to defend a group of ponies you don't know."

Her mother scowled. "And you seem awfully willing to condemn them sight unseen. What's gotten into you?"

"I think this is a very blatant deception, and I'm angry that you think I'd fall for it."

"I am trying to help you make some new friends. How is that deceptive?"

"Mother, please don't treat me like I'm stupid. I know what father thinks about Hightower. And about the Crusaders. You're going to try to turn this party into some kind of a debut for me at the school you want to move me to. But I have no interest in changing school, thank you very much."

There was a pregnant pause, and Misty could practically hear her mother's gears turning. When she spoke she no longer sounded upset. "Okay. Cards on the table, then. Your father thinks your grades are slipping. Are they?"

Misty shrugged. "I'm never going to do as well as he wants me to."

"That's not an answer."

Misty gritted her teeth. "I don't know. I haven't been keeping track."

"You used to keep track. You used to bring tests home and put them on the fridge."

"I used to be a little filly. I outgrew it, so I stopped."

"You stopped when we moved to Manehattan. When your scores stopped being ninety percents, and started being eighties and seventies."

"And also when I stopped getting smelly stickers that said 'good job'. Perhaps that's the correlation you're looking for - my teachers are not giving me enough stickers."

"Misty, I'm trying to be serious."

"You're trying to move me to another school. And I'm not interested."

"Young filly, you are not the one paying your tuition. You don't make the choice. We do."

Misty could only stare at her, her mouth hanging open in shock.

Her mother's face softened. "Misty, I'm sorry. That came out wrong..."

"So, what? That's it? I'm to be fitted for a skirt and leggings, and being sent off to Blueblood? To rid me of my loser friends? Is that it?" She felt tears pooling in the corners of her eyes.

Dew Drop shook her head. "It's not like that..."

"Yes it is! That's exactly what father said. They may not be the cream of the crop, but I don't care!"

Dew Drop's face fell. "Ah. So you heard all that."

Misty sniffled, wishing she were just faking. "Yeah. I heard. He thinks they're holding me back."

"This isn't about them."

"So it's just about me? What happened, mother? I thought you were standing up for me."

"Misty, this isn't just about you, either."

"No, it isn't. It's about you and father expecting me to be somepony I don't know how to be. He thinks I'm a failure. But I thought you cared!"

That was the lowest of blows. It was manipulative, it was utterly uncalled for, and Misty regretted it the moment it came out of her mouth. She tried to think of an apology, but the damage was already done. She watched the emotion slowly fade out of her mother's face. Dew Drop became still, and unreadable. When she spoke, her voice was a cool monotone, completely detached from any emotion.

"Misty. I'm sorry you feel that way. The truth is, your tuition is very expensive. Your father still hasn't found a job, I don't have steady work, and we don't have unlimited funds. Blueblood is a good school, and the tuition is less than half of what we're currently paying. If you're not making the most of your time at Hightower, we can't afford to keep sending you there. That's the plain truth of the matter."

She stood up.

"Now, please excuse me. I'm probably going to have an episode, and I would like to be up in my room before it starts."

Misty slid out of her chair.

"Mother... I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it."

"I know. Being hurt makes us lash out. I forgive you. Now, it's a nice night. You should go for a walk."

Misty sniffled. She wanted to go to her mother and hug her tightly, but she knew better than to try that right now. Dew Drop had her Canterlot pride, and Misty respected that. But she do too, so instead of going out she went to the front hallway and opened, then closed the door. Upstairs, she heard her mother star to weep. Loud, wracking sobs carried through her heavy doors and down to the landing where Misty stood. Upstairs, Misty knew that her mother would be buried under a pile of pillow, fighting against a yawning emptiness that still threatened to consume her all these months later.

At least she cried now. It was better than the screaming. But it didn't hurt any less to listen to.

Misty stayed there listening for a few minutes, until she couldn't stand it any more. Then she went into the library to curl up on her father's chair and have a good cry of her own.

Author's Note

Next time: There can only be one solution to desperate times.

Desperate Measures.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wow, that was another very long chapter! I thought about posting it in two parts, but I decided I liked it as a single unit, so I hope the length doesn't put off too many people.

As always, constructive criticism is welcome. This is a project I'm working on as much to improve my writing as to celebrate my fandom, so please feel free to leave me some feedback in the comments section. Likes and Faves are also hugely appreciated, and very motivating!

Thanks for reading, and I'll see you all next update!