North by Northwest

by Scootareader

Rating: teen
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Adventure
Length: 17758

Twenty years after the bearers of the Elements of Harmony are defeated, six ponies trying to survive in Equestria find friendship in one another.

After the retiring of the Elements of Harmony to the Tree of Harmony, Equestria was faced by a new danger. Their loyalty to their fellow pony knowing no bounds, the original bearers of the Elements confronted this new danger to defeat him.

They failed.

Now, twenty years later, the citizens of Equestria are broken. The land has succumbed to the darkness of oppressive rule, and it seems all hope is lost. It is a time for adventures, discoveries, heroes… and friends.

This is heavily influenced by SoGreatandPowerful's music. All of the six friends are based off his stuff in some way.

This is also not influenced at all by the movie of the same name. I've never seen it. The only similarity between the two is the name.

Gore tag is for some more graphic scenes, but I really don't like going into any more detail on that kind of stuff than is necessary.

The cover picture was drawn by the wonderfully talented FlamingPizza. May her journey carry her to faraway places where friends may still be found.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-08-15 15:14:22 UTC

Prologue - Black Cat Returns

Twilight Sparkle sat upon her bed in her relatively new room in Canterlot Castle, reading a book concerning royalty both past and present of other nations and considering her earlier interactions that day. Royal duties were harrowing.

Spike was fast asleep behind her, having spent nearly an hour sending letters that she’d personally written for various subjects awaiting a reply from Princess Celestia or Luna. Everything from farmers concerned about weather patterns to mayors of the major cities voicing concerns over possible riots due to small markups or discounts on household supplies came in batches of several dozen every morning, concerns that would need to be perused by a princess who had insight into the matter. The other two princesses were busy in very important negotiations with Aquastria and Atlantica, whose national boundaries were both being encroached upon by Equestrian expansion and prosperity, and who would also hopefully reach an agreement on where their own boundaries between one another lay. Twilight had researched the dilemma and had suggested to the princesses that a trench which lay within the grey area be established as the national boundary, though that may cause some small dispute with Aquastria due to the trench being nearer to their end of the grey area than it was on the Atlanticans’.

She was slowly approaching the tiredness that she knew would overtake her soon, though the fascinating traditions that the zebras and the sea-ponies underwent were breathtakingly intricate. She would need to see if the library in Canterlot had more detailed information on these specific cultures and the origins surrounding the traditions before she left back for Ponyville; she had several more days here, holding audiences, attending the dinners of fancy nobles, and being a reassuring presence to her citizens more than anything. She would have time to check.

Her thoughts were swiftly interrupted by a very loud knock on her door—the type of knock that would wake a sleeping pony. On the other side of the door, a guard nearly shouted, “Princess Twilight Sparkle, your presence is required in the throne room immediately! Please come at once!”

A rummy-eyed Spike shot his head up and loudly said, “Huh? Wha? I’m not a princess....”

Twilight couldn’t resist a chuckle, telling Spike, “He means me.” She then raised her voice, saying, “Yes, coming!”

Spike stared at her for a moment, then said, “You need me?”

She shook her head and replied, “I don’t think so. It sounds like royal business. Get back to sleep, I’ll send a guard to get you if you’re needed.” She flashed a smile at him, then opened the door. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The guard swiftly trotted down the hallway, forcing Twilight to immediately match pace with him. They winded through the now-familiar corridors of Canterlot Castle in a mad rush to the throne room, the guard’s hoofsteps implying barely concealed panic. He must have either seen or heard something terrifying, to be shaken like this. She was starting to become more acutely aware of the situation she was about to get herself into.

After what seemed an eternity turning down dimly lit hallways, they abruptly found themselves at the enormous doors to the throne room. The guard rapped in a very distinct pattern, stating, “This is Vigil. I come with Princess Twilight Sparkle.” At his words, the doors opened and the guard rushed in and to the side, where he stood at attention with several more guards.

Twilight made her way timidly into the throne room, thanking both of the door guards for opening the door as well as Vigil for guiding her. She then turned her eyes to the throne, where Celestia sat upon it and Luna stood beside her sister.

Twilight gasped. “But... you’re supposed to be at negotiations! Both nations will take this as an insult, to not have a presence from Equestria there!”

Celestia nodded gravely. “We’re both aware. There is very little that would convince Luna and I to sour diplomatic relations, Twilight; you know better than to ask those kinds of questions.”

“You’re... you’re right. Why are you back?” She couldn’t hide the nervousness from her voice, and Celestia picked up on it.

“Please, don’t overthink this. Luna and I would never have come back were this not serious, but we have the best interests of—”

“She does not need coddling from us, sister. Tell her what is happening.” Luna’s directness sliced cleanly through the pleasantries that Celestia was trying to convey.

Celestia nodded at her sister before continuing. “An ancient foe has returned, one that Luna and I have not encountered for as long as we have ruled Equestria.” She stood and began pacing along the floor of the throne room. “His name is Black Cat. Forgive me if I don’t go into detail about our past with him; it is painful to remember.”

Luna once again added her own thoughts into the matter. “He slaughtered many and enslaved countless more. Some of our own blood fell prey to his machinations. Our own sister was a victim of Black Cat’s entertainments.”

“Luna, please,” came Celestia’s wounded reply. She then continued, “We have received word from Black Cat himself that he has returned. According to the pony who sent the letter to us, he entered a hospital and—I can’t. I just can’t.” She sunk her head down low. “Those are our citizens we’re talking about, Luna. They trusted us to protect them.”

Luna sighed. “According to the traumatized pony, Black Cat slew all healthy and able staff in the hospital. He then took the sickly and the absent-minded and... we request the letter.” A piece of paper floated in front of her face, which she took hold of with her magic. “’The ponies that couldn’t stand on their own or were unconscious suddenly stood again, like they’d been given new life. They looked at each other, then they all looked at me and started telling me that Black Cat has returned. Then a pitch-black pony walked up to me and told me to write this letter of what I saw. He says he’ll kill me if I don’t finish it and send it. He said he let me live so I could write this.’ That is all that is written; there is no signature. We can assume that, due to Black Cat’s nature, he has also slain the writer of the letter.”

There was a short period of awkward silence, then Celestia spoke up. “Twilight... we need you. We need the Elements of Harmony to stop Black Cat, once and for all.”

Twilight spoke quickly. “Of course, Princesses. He is an enemy of Equestria and must be stopped. We have the power to defeat him, I’m certain of it.”

“Be careful, Twilight. He is cunning and powerful. Luna and I managed to drive him away, but we knew he would eventually return. Once again, the fate of Equestria is on your shoulders.” She exchanged a glance with her sister, then looked back at Twilight. “Please, do what we could not. Make him face justice for his crimes.”

Twilight smiled boldly. “You can count on me. And on my friends.”

Luna replied with, “A chariot awaits you on the observation balcony. It will take you to Ponyville, where you will then travel with your friends to Vanhoover, where Black Cat has presumably taken residence in the hospital which he has decimated. We have received no more word of his actions, but have reason to believe the local police force has barricaded him within. They cannot hold him; he is waiting by choice. Find him there.”

Twilight nodded in understanding. “We won’t let you down!” She turned and began trotting back out the door, toward the nearby balcony, calling over her shoulder, “Send somepony to the negotiations to apologize on your behalf!”

No more than a minute later, the chariot was taking off into the night sky, Ponyville in the gazes of the two guards pulling the chariot as well as the newly worried princess sitting upon it behind them.

“So... lemme get this straight. We’re just runnin’ in, hooves a-blazin’, to defeat this Black Cat feller, who’s more’n likely just gonna kill us, with nothin’ to help us, not even the Elements of Harmony, and y’all think we got a fightin’ chance?” Applejack, as always, was very honest about her thoughts.

“Well... yes.” Twilight sounded a little uncertain of herself, but her voice began to build confidence as she continued. “But we’ve overcome far worse than this. We defeated a mare with the power to leave Equestria in eternal night, and she could have killed us. We defeated Discord, who could have easily killed us, though I don’t think it’s in his nature to do something like that. We fought King Sombra, who likely led many ponies to their deaths through enslavement. We even faced a dragon, who was inches from killing us, until Fluttershy stood to defend us. We had no more information then than we do now.” She smiled confidently at her assembled friends. “But we didn’t lose. We proved our strength and pushed our way to victory. Friendship always comes through in the end. This Black Cat is just another test of our friendship, and we will succeed. I’m certain of it.

“No matter what he tries to throw at us, he won’t tear us apart. Our bonds are unbreakable, and our care for one another unstoppable. There is nothing that he can do that will cause us to back down, or worry, or waver. We will defeat him, just as we have overcome all other challenges that we have faced as friends.”

Pinkie Pie smiled brightly. “This’ll be a cinch! When we’re all together, there’s nothing we can’t do!”

“Yeah, and if I beat this Black Dog guy, they’re sure to let me join the Wonderbolts!” Rainbow Dash declared.

“It’s, um... it’s Black Cat, not Black Dog,” Fluttershy interjected.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Rainbow replied, waving her hoof dismissively, “he’s still gonna go down when we face him!”

Rarity simply smiled, enjoying the friendly banter that eased the tension caused by Twilight’s announcement of where they were going and who they were going to be confronting. She personally felt she needed the casual conversation to prevent her from panicking.

The chariot suddenly lurched, Pinkie Pie’s eyes gluing themselves to a window as they slowed down to a stop on a landing strip outside of the Vanhoover General Hospital. She excitedly announced, “We’re here! We’re here! Oh, I haven’t seen Vanhoover since the 16th Annual Equestria Candy Confectioners’ Convention!”

The others rolled their eyes, then they all climbed out of the chariot and onto the cobblestone that dominated much of the streets of Vanhoover. Applejack was attempting to suck in all the sights, Fluttershy seemed intimidated by the massive buildings looming all around her, Rarity seemed disinterested, Pinkie Pie was bouncing around happily, and Rainbow Dash and Twilight both had their sights steeled against their destination. Eventually, the others, too, noticed where their eyes were affixed, and all six of them stared at the hospital looming ahead.

Twilight decided to approach a nearby police pony. “Excuse me, what’s the situation here?”

The police pony glanced over, then snapped to attention. “Princess Twilight Sparkle! One of our unicorn mail-ponies told us we’d be expecting you sometime tonight.” He paused a moment, then realized she’d asked him a question. “Far as we know, Black Cat’s in there. We did a sweep of the building, but the radios all died and nopony has been out. We’re guessing Black Cat got ‘em.” Tears glistened in his eyes. “He’ll pay. Won’t he, princess?”

Twilight nodded in affirmation. “Of course. Nopony kills an Equestrian citizen and expects to not face severe punishment for their crimes. He will answer for his actions, don’t you worry.”

The guard seemed inspired by her confident words, his gaze all the more earnestly set toward the hospital he’d been tasked with watching.

Twilight called to her friends. “Girls, let’s go. We’ve got an enemy of the state to apprehend.”

They marched past the barricade line, nodding to the officers, who snapped to attention at the sight of royalty and cohorts. They made their way up to the gates of the hospital, opening the way to a reception area that seemed eerily devoid of life.

Fluttershy, terrified, stayed huddled near the ground in the center of the group, and the rest moved forward, Rainbow Dash at the forefront and Applejack in the rear, with the others conglomerated in the center. They all kept scanning their surroundings, watching for danger and afraid they may find it.

Eventually, as they passed by a stairwell, they heard a voice ghosting down to them. “Come to me, ponies.”

Twilight immediately stood in an aggressive stance. “Black Cat, why are you doing this? Why are you making ponies suffer?”

The voice only replied in a seductive whisper, “I am on the third floor. Find me there.”

Twilight asked several more questions, but there was no reply. They decided that they would have to confront Black Cat if they were to learn anything. They climbed single-file up the narrow staircase to their foe, eventually warily spreading out onto the third floor. In it, there was once again nothing but a hallway. They made their way to a doorway at the very end, opening it and entering. It slammed shut behind them, prompting a surprised shout from Applejack and a responding squeak from Fluttershy.

Applejack looked at her friend apologetically. “Awful sorry about that, Fluttershy. Ah didn’t mean to frighten ya.”

A stallion’s voice from directly in front of them replied, “Oh, it’s all right. No harm done.” The entire group was taken off-guard by his completely normal voice. They expected something deep and sinister, the likes of King Sombra, not a normal pony saying things normally.

In fact, this pony looked completely normal. His coat color wasn’t jet-black, like they’d been expecting; rather, it was a slate grey color, the type that snow takes when it’s been tracked on a few too many times. His mane, also, was a most sickly green color, the same as a pony who was ready to throw up.

He looked so nondescript, in fact, that Twilight initially mistook him for another pony. “Um... hello. Are you the pony that sent the letter to Princesses Celestia and Luna?”

The pony gave her a bored look. “Do I look like a unicorn to you?”

At this question, Twilight noted that he was, indeed, not a unicorn. He was an earth pony. “Well... no, you’re not one. I apologize for not noticing at first. Who are you, then?”

The pony smirked arrogantly. “I am Black Cat.” At the hostile double-takes they all took, he laughed mirthlessly. “It’s just a nickname, pets. Named so because you hope to never come across me. Named by the princesses themselves, in fact. No, my real name is far more normal. And a name that I will not indulge you in.”

“Why are you doing this, Black Cat? Why hurt all these innocent ponies?” Twilight was trying to appeal to his better nature, the nature that she believed was in everypony.

Black Cat rolled his eyes. “Please. We all die someday; we all just take different roads to get there. Don’t try white knighting me because it won’t work, pet. Now scram, before I send you away myself.”

“Hey!” Rainbow Dash yelled defiantly. “You can’t talk to my friend like that!”

“Oh? Is that so?” The smirk still hadn’t left Black Cat’s face since the start of the conversation. “And who’s going to stop me from doing so?”

Rainbow Dash volunteered, “Me! Who else?”

“Oh yeah? Come prove yourself to me, then. Unless you’re a coward.”

Before anypony could react, Rainbow Dash had bolted straight for Black Cat. Twilight only had time to let out a fearful “Rainbow!” before she was upon him.

No more than an inch from Black Cat’s face, she stopped.

The world was frozen in time for a brief instant, then something shimmered and gave way. There had been an illusion spell cast on a strange contraption in front of Black Cat to make it invisible. Rainbow Dash’s head had gone through a small hole in it, where she was now stuck.

“So nice of you to take the bait, Rainbow Dash,” Black Cat said loudly. The smile left his face, replaced by a stern one. “Any last words for your friends?”

“Huh? Wha? Get me outta here!”

He shook his head sadly. “Alas, they were wasted.”

The trap suddenly fully materialized around her as a box-shaped container which was suspending her in the air, its beige walls hiding her body. Before anything could be done, the box constricted around her body, allowing Rainbow Dash no more than a tiny squeak before there was a terrible sound of bones snapping and organs popping, in addition to the sound of the forcible ejection of her own body from around her head as semi-liquid due to space in the box running out.

This all happened in the blink of an eye, not even so much as a groan able to escape Rainbow Dash’s lips before her entire body had been smashed flat. There was only a brief flicker of confusion, fear, and anger in her eyes—memories of a life she would never lead—before they went out and her journey ended.

The entire exchange had taken place in no more than ten seconds, with the bulk of the time being spent with Black Cat speaking to Rainbow Dash in her final conversation. The friends only stared in shock, their minds not comprehending what they had just seen happen.

Black Cat looked back at Twilight Sparkle. “Now that I have your attention, go back to your princesses and tell them that I’ll be ruling Equestria in light of their recent abdication. Not that they need worry—they’ll never see me. I’m not a monster, only a mastermind. Unless you’d like to join your friend, I suggest you leave back the way you came. I will never leave this hospital, though my influence will stretch across the nation. It would be pure foolishness to try to stop me.”

Twilight’s eyes finally registered something other than confusion. Her eyes pierced into Black Cat’s soul, uttering a premonition to him. “You will get what you deserve. I’m certain of it.”

Black Cat only chuckled. “Not from you. I’ll just squelch any of these bands of elements before they have something, same as yours. There will not be another like Rainbow Dash in many years, long after your time has come and gone. You cannot defeat me, not without all of you.”

Then, Black Cat turned and began to retreat. “I’m done talking.”

“Well, we’re not,” Applejack retorted. “We’re gonna stop you, right here and now. Aren’t we, girls?”

Fluttershy stared blankly at Rainbow Dash’s severed head, half-expecting her friend’s body to reform and reassure her that she was just fine. Rarity likewise stared at her late friend, albeit with a far different look—that of absolute horror. Pinkie Pie had no look on her face at all, as if she had broken; all she possessed was a soulless stare, as if something had happened that she could never and would never truly grasp, even if she devoted her entire life to understanding it. The only ponies who could even speak at this point were Applejack and Twilight, pushing through whatever feelings they had to finish what they’d started.

Black Cat sighed, then there was a sharp intake of breath from Rainbow Dash beside them. Her eyes rolled to face her friends, suddenly possessed with life once more. She told them jovially, “Black Cat has returned.”

Fluttershy’s scream could be heard for miles. “RAAAAIIIIINBOOOOW!”

Rainbow Dash only smiled excitedly at her friend in return, replying, “Black Cat has returned.”

Fluttershy began screaming at the top of her lungs, unable to control herself. Her mind had finally caught up with her eyes. Applejack quickly started pushing Fluttershy toward the exit, telling Twilight to try to get the other two to go. Rarity’s mind was still present, her eyes fluttering as she tried to blink back tears and failed miserably, helping Twilight guide Pinkie Pie away, her eyes still staring blankly in front of her, the sight she’d just seen refusing to leave her.

Several minutes later, the five of them spilled onto the hard ground in front of the building, Fluttershy still screaming, Rarity still crying, and Pinkie Pie still staring at nothing, refusing to comprehend anything. Twilight looked as if she’d aged a thousand years, several lifetimes of pain and misery crashing against her in waves as she realized what had just been lost. Applejack was busy trying to calm Fluttershy down, her words of reassurance falling upon deaf ears, but needing to occupy herself so she wouldn’t have to think about what had just happened to her friend.

A police officer rushed up, confusion on his face as he asked, “What’s wrong? What happened? Where’s your other friend?” Twilight stared at him silently for a few moments, saying nothing. The guard asked again, “Princess Twilight, are you there? What happened to Black Cat?”

Twilight spoke far more loudly than she intended, her words reaching the assembled ponies and dooming them to whatever existence Black Cat had in store for them.

“We failed.”

Seawinkle Part 1

Sparkling ocean stretches as far as the eye can see. The world I live in is beautiful.

I have been cautioned against raising my head out of the water. Better that they think us extinct, the elders say, than to give them reason to think we may be worth enslaving as well.

Our distant cousins, the Equestrians, have not spoken to us in many years. They stood us up for negotiations, and the Atlanteans were furious. They believed that we had requested our cousins not attend so as to keep more land from them. The Atlanteans believed that we wanted a barren strip of land that nopony cared about in the first place. They decided to go to war over it.

We won, of course. The Atlanteans attacked, we decimated their forces, then we chased after their retreating backs. We didn’t want another war, ever, and so we destroyed all able fighting forces. All who resisted were put down. We allowed the women and children to live, and Atlantica became a province of Aquastria. There is now no discernation between the inhabitants, so intermixed are we.

That, at least, is what the history books tell us.

The whispered words of the crazies and the lunatics tells of a different story. They tell of massacre, a true genocide that they were beholden to. They tell of a society, corrupt at its very core, wiping its bloodied hands on the corpse of its foe and claiming innocence. None of them agree on who started it, but they all agree on who ended it, and they say the history books lie. Today, there is no such thing as an Atlantean, because they weren’t even sea-ponies, and you don’t see any Aquastrians except sea-ponies now because the Atlanteans were never given a chance to become Aquastrians in the first place.

It has taken twenty years for the whispers to finally quiet down. The crazies and the lunatics have been disappearing, one by one, by sea-ponies who wear dark sunglasses and strange devices in their ears. They speak in absolutes and make demanding suggestions and find those who still whisper of the Atlantean War. They offer discussion and carriage rides, and the crazies and the lunatics never come back.

I am terrified, not of the truth, but of knowing the truth. I wonder at times where the carriage goes, but it scares me too greatly to consider it, so I stray away.

I still have not strayed far from Aquastria’s borders. I have been told numerous times that journeying is no aspiration of such a young sea-pony as I. They demand chores, menial labor, and ceaseless attention to my studies. I do as I am told... most of the time.

Now, as I do every week, I am breaking the rules of my parents. I gaze out upon the vast expanse of nothingness in the world above, fascinated with everything there is to see. I take a breath of air, using an organ that the books say are not in sea-pony anatomy, but are present in large animals that dwell near the surface and must come here for air. This is yet another lie told to me by the books.

I ask my parents occasionally why I should study books that contain false information. They tell me that crazies and lunatics have no claim to knowledge of history, and that I am mistaken in my observations of lung usage, not the science book. They claim that I fill my head with foalish notions, that I have fabricated a dream-like existence around me to make my life more exciting.

I am the realist. They are the dreamers.

I know the reality which I live in, don’t I? Black Cat has returned. I found a letter in a bottle floating in the sea once which told me that. Our cousins in Equestria asked for help. When I showed the message to my parents, they took it from me and told me to stop making up stories. They told me that Equestria uses a different language than we do, that I should know that if I study as hard as I say I do. Those were words from me, an adventure that I had made up in my head to pretend my life was more exciting than it is.

I don’t want excitement. I want to know.

I sigh into the warm, breezy air. There is nothing for me at home, were I to go back. There is also nothing here, on the surface, where sea-ponies are not meant to be. If I were to want to feel particularly melancholic, I’d say that I don’t belong anywhere.

Just before I submerge my head once more, my eye catches a glimmer of movement on the horizon.

Surely a trick, but I do not sink my head below the water. My eyes continue to watch for this glimmer. Surely it was only a trick; there is nothing on the surface anymore.

There is something, however. I see two masts, little more than dots on the horizon, coming toward me. My mind immediately fills itself with possibilities of what these might be. The history books said that no creatures sail ships anymore, not since Equestria was destroyed and rebuilt upon its newly enslaved inhabitants, according to the history book. This is too fascinating for words to behold.

Against all better judgment, I must investigate. I begin swimming slowly toward the two ships, picking up speed as I further convince myself that I must know what these things are. They are coming toward me as I am going toward them, so I near them quickly. I analyze my position based on a quick dunk below the water and estimate that they are still outside of the Aquastrian border. They will only pass near it, not within it, based on their current course. I will have to break the law to get near these ships.

Aquastrian law, to me, is a joke in the first place. The legal documents say we can say what we want to about anything, but if it is in the interest of the elders, they may censor speech. They claim that this is due to their superior wisdom, but I believe they are the ones who want us to censor the crazies and the lunatics. Why should I be afraid to follow these boats?

I know what I am getting myself into. That will not change my decision.

A few more minutes places me within the shadow of the nearer boat. I submerge myself to inspect their flotation properties as well as their movement through the water, determining that the sails I saw on the top are currently their only means of propulsion due to the speed at which they are moving, the breeze which I observed on the surface, and the lack of other water disturbance. I wonder if they only go wherever their sails take them? And the piece of wood on the back acts like my back fin, angling to dictate the direction of the boat. The mechanics are simple, yet efficient, and give me ideas for how to produce a similar means of transportation. I will have to diagram this in one of my notebooks when I get home.

Having studied the underside as thoroughly as I may, I rise once more to the surface to look at the upper portion of the ship. There are windows along both sides, and a railing to hold the ponies within. I see some of these ponies in the elaborate system of ropes that are holding the sails in place, allowing the sailors to adjust them as they see fit. They swing deftly about on their four legs, making small adjustments and calling to one another, clearly in Aquastrian. They do speak the same language!

I hear one of them call to another, “Storm’s comin’ in! We better batten ‘em down ‘fore we get our sheets tore clean off!”

A pony I can’t see says, “Yeh, we oughta. Take ‘em down, boys!”

The sails then seem to be writhing with ponies everywhere, moving around and adjusting the voluminous fabric, tying them to the mast, killing their acceleration and setting them to drift wherever the waves would take them. The entire thing happens in a blur; I’d imagine it was completed in less than a minute.

I hear a series of clunking sounds around the ship, presumably from crew members performing some duty. I begin circling for a closer look, not taking as careful of notice of my surroundings as I had been due to my curiosity being consumed.

Before I know it, some of the ropes have wrapped themselves around me, holding me near the ship. I immediately begin struggling, but several of the ropes shift, dragging themselves painfully across my skin and tightening their grasp. I am trapped.

In my panic, I let out a cry of fear. I hear the deck of the ship fall totally silent, then I feel the ropes dragging me somewhere, up, out of the water, and landing roughly on the ship. I’m on a large flat portion made out of wood, but fashioned somehow, unlike the driftwood I’d seen. I didn’t think there was this much wood in the entire world, let alone enough to make two ships out of.

A pony with a scraggly beard peers at me with one eye, the other tightly shut, and starts speaking into my face, his breath smelling like a conglomeration of dead fish carcass and squid feces. “Why, a sea-pony! I ain’t seen me one o’ dem since, eh...” he scratches the back of his head, “why, since them Aquastrians declared war on us!” He adjusts his soddy black hat, worn from what seems like years of service, on his head and smiles. “’So ‘ow’s the old place been? They acceptin’ any commonponies again? Or still got de blockade?”

I stare at them with abject horror. My mind is frozen; I can’t think of anything to say.

The pony looks at me with some confusion. “Wot? Dey change the language, too? Can ya unnerstand me, sea-pony?”

Finally, something I know how to reply to. “Acknowledge.”

His face screws up in confusion. “Acka-what now? You tryinn’a make fun o’ me in fron’o’ me boys’r summat?”

No, no, that’s not what I’m trying to say. “It’s a pony Aquastria found. Lost Equestria in a bottle and sea-ponies ponies. Ropes and Equestria sea-ponies sail ships. War Equestrians and lungs?”

Well, that could have come out a little more straightforward. The pony has a look of absolute shock on his face. One of the other ponies, this sailor wearing a tight-fitting bandana made out of what looks like a sail, nudges his fellow pony in the ribs and asks, “Dis one stupid, Cap?”

“Well, I can’t make heads’r tails o’ wot dis one’s sayin. She’s gotta be broke’r summat.” He shrugs to his crew. “Keep ‘er on the deck fer now. We’ll see if it’s just shock’r summat.” He leans in close to me, breathing all over my face again and making me gag. “Ye’re an int’restin’ one, fer sure. We ain’t seen a sea-pony outside o’ Aquastrian waters in a real long time now. I aim t’ find out wot ye’re doin’ out ‘ere.”

I give one last attempt to explain myself. “Bottled Aquastrian ships confuse. National borders make no sense. Fishes and water and Aquastria. Acknowledge.”

Cap shakes his head and turns away. “Jus’ make sure she don’t slip over the rail’r nuffin’, will ya?”

His crew nods dumbly, lifting me bodily and carrying me near the big center mast of the ship. They tie me to it, so what small amount of flailing I can do is pointless. My skin starts to dehydrate almost immediately, as it is not made to be out of the water for very long. It’s a good thing a storm is coming in soon. The rope scratches against my sensitive skin, rubbing it raw quickly and causing my skin to burn with pain wherever it touches.

I know better than to struggle, so I stay as still as possible instead. Trying to escape will only make things more painful and dry me out more quickly. The wisest course of action at this point is to conserve as much energy as possible.

Instead of saving my energy, I become acutely aware that one of the sailors is staring at me. She looks smaller than the others and is wearing a loose-fitting purple cape marked with yellow and light blue stars. In her mane is a bright red flower, something I saw an illustration of in one of my books. Her coat is also a light blue that is darker than the stars on her cape, and her mane a very pale, almost whitish-blue hue. She gazes at me with startlingly purple eyes, unflinching as she silently judges me.

I turn and stare back at her, my vision just as unwavering. We sit like that for a time, locked in a mental duel, neither one of us wanting to back down. I have nothing better to do at this point in time, so I feel I will outlast her.

After several minutes of our staring contest, the pony’s face splits into a grin and she trots up to me. She sticks out her hoof and says, “Nice to meet you, Sea-Pony.”

“Is Aquastrian, Equestria in a bottle, sea-pony is pony is history science pony. Blue Equestria wooden ship home bottle Equestria?”

She seems perplexed for a moment, then asks, “You don’t like talking much, do you? Just shake your head like this if you say yes,” then she demonstrates herself bobbing it up and down, “or like this if you say no,” and she turns it from side to side.

“Equestria pony isn’t bottle Equestria? History pony is stupid ship lungs.” Another misunderstanding gaze greets me.

“Look, just nod or shake your head, okay? I wanna be friends, but I dunno how to talk to you yet.” She smiles at me, prompting me to smile in return. “See? Now, do you like talking, Sea-Pony?” I shake my head vigorously. “Okay, can you tell me your name?”

There is a long moment of silence. I work up the courage to talk. “Aquastria in a bottle lungs Seawinkle of Equestria pony name bottle friends Aquastria sea-pony wooden ship Aquastria to sea urchin a lung in Equestria. Not very Seawinkle when Aquastria lungs.”

She listens to me talk with single-minded attention, then says, “Okay, let’s figure this out from what you said. Is your name Aquastria?” I shake my head. “Bottle?” I shake my head again. “Is it, uh... what other words did you say? Oh, is your name Equestria?” I sigh and shake my head. “Wait, wait, I’ve got this! How about Sea Urchin?” Another shake? “Seawinkle?” I begin nodding my head furiously.

She freezes, then repeats, “Seawinkle? That’s your name?” At my continued nodding, she says, “My name is Sweet Pea. It’s nice to meet you, Seawinkle.” She smiles and touches my skin. “Heheh, it feels a little funny. You don’t have any fur, do you?”

I am about to start shaking my head, then a big drop of water lands on it, splashing across my face. Sweet Pea looks up, then back down at me. “I should probably go inside. The storm is starting.” She smiles and begins to move away.

I begin pushing against the ropes, which immediately chafe my skin, and I begin bleeding a little. “Bottle in Equestria! Seawinkle the Aquastria! Not Equestria sea urchin! Science lung! Ship Sweet Pea of the ropes Equestria!”

She looks back at me. “Oh, you don’t want to be tied up, do you? But the ship’s captain will probably get mad at me if I do....”

I say nothing, only struggling slightly against the ropes as I simply look at her in desperation, somehow hoping my eyes can convey enough meaning to her that she will understand how afraid I truly am. I keep looking at her, then she sighs, and the middle of her forehead glows purple under her hat. I feel the ropes loosen around me, then fall down. I can move again.

Sweet Pea shouts, “Go, Seawinkle! Get out of here! Run—I mean, swim! Wait, no, there’s no water... oh, fine!” Her forehead glows again, then I am lifted into the air, where I am then flown over the side of the ship and dropped unceremoniously back into the water.

I stay on the surface briefly, Sweet Pea rushing to the railing and telling me, “Go, go!”

I then hear a small amount of scuffling on the deck and Sweet Pea disappears. I then hear Cap telling her, “Wot? You let ‘er go? You do realize ‘ow long we ain’t seen a sea-pony fer, don’t ya?” There is a sigh and a short silence, then Cap continues, “I ain’t sure wot t’do with ya yet. There’s gotta be some punishment exacted fer this, though what I can punish a little filly like you with ain’t much.” The sound of hooves drumming across the floor of the ship sounds as Cap finishes with, “C’mon, ya miserable sods, let’s ‘ead down below. Storm’s about ‘ere.”

A torrent of rain begins almost immediately, prompting little shouts from some of the sailors. I hear the door latch, then all is silent, save for the washing of the water across the wooden ship.

I am alone. With my thoughts, with my self. I am all alone.

Seawinkle Part 2

My parents told me of a past they shared in silence, before I had come and filled their heads with words. They commiserated with one another of a love and happiness that was shared in the sincerity of their moments spent both together and apart. They reminded me that, before I came into their lives, they were without fear, without shame.

They have even told me that I am not inherently bad. They told me that my coming into the world was beautiful, just as I am; they only wish my words were as beautiful as I was.

And my words are beautiful. I can write of the fantastic, of the wondrous. Likewise, my thoughts paint the vivid descriptions of all that I see and feel. I believe that, if they read what I write or they observe what I draw without first convincing themselves that I am just a teenage filly seeking attention, perhaps they will see the same intelligence in me that I do.

Maybe my life is wasted hoping they’ll understand me. I wish I could go. There’s no pony who would hire me with my problem, though, so I can’t earn the bits to leave. I don’t want to be homeless, but I have no practical means of changing my situation.

Go. Where are these ships going? Is there a city on the land which still exists? Even if there is, it is no place for a sea-pony to try to survive. I need water to keep my skin hydrated. I don’t have legs with which to travel. I don’t know the first thing about surviving anywhere but in the bountiful sea. Even if I were to follow them, only suffering and loss would come to me. I can’t abandon my home.

I guess, when it comes down to it, I will miss my parents, despite my constant disappointment in their eyes. I will miss Aquastria, truly an incredible kingdom to behold, and one that I know so well. I will miss the words of the elders, telling me against my better judgment to believe them and their world wisdom. I will miss the comfort of familiarity, of knowing what the day will bring and being able to prepare so thoughtfully.

In its place, I would live a life of chaos and uncertainty. There is no telling if I will wake up the next day, and if I do awake, if I will be able to make it to sleep for the day after. The elders have stressed countless times that the outside world is dangerous and unforgiving, that to stare it down is to stare death in the face. It will take me far from home, from all that I know and hold dear, and pit me against the unspeakable horrors that lie beyond the borders of Aquastria.

In the end, I guess, the choice is always easy. I only need to take the plunge.

I hide in the shadow of the ship on the right, following the sailor ponies as they skirt the border of Aquastria. Several eyes peer over the vast stretch of blank ocean that is—was my home. I see the now-familiar eyes of Cap as he murmurs to his crewmate, “Ye’re sure our ‘eadin’ ain’t off at all? I ain’t willin’a tempt fate this evenin’, Sextant.”

“Sure as the north star, Cap’n,” comes Sextant’s reply. His name recalls to my mind a history book that once mentioned a star-measuring device of some sort called a sextant. The book was only noting ancient, primitive devices, some of which made no sense. I reasoned that perhaps the early sea-ponies used to need to go to the surface to navigate, which would make the sextant useful, and that long-distance navigation, which is all but irrelevant now, had developed a more efficient means of navigation—I guessed sea-bottom sunbeams and moonbeams, which allow charting based on the positions of both objects, but also requires extensive understanding of solar and lunar cycles and how their position varies over a given period of time to project, based on the dappling on the ocean floor, how to reason the positions of the Sun and Moon, which in turn reveals travel direction. I just never understood why we couldn’t simply go near the surface and take note of the Sun’s or Moon’s position.

“Ah believe ya,” comes Cap’s reply. “Ah just got me a bad feelin’ ‘bout this.”

“Ah.” There is a short silence as Sextant considers Cap’s words. “Think we oughta alter course? Just so we don’t chance—”

I’m jarred away from listening to the conversation by something disturbing the space below the water. Something is coming toward us, and it’s big.

I submerge my head briefly, my ears picking up a whistling tune. Whistling... caused by battering ram-type weapons used in the Atlantean War. The whistling is caused by multiple holes perforating the device that allows it to travel through the water with less water resistance, therefore it may travel at greater speeds. At the end of most ramming mechanisms is a large horn taken from a now-endangered creature known as the narwhal, though some attempted to substitute this with large bones, or even coral, which would fracture and cause widespread injury to targets.

There is only one thing large enough to merit bringing a battering ram. I bring my head back above the water. “Aquastria is Equestria! The sea-ponies are unicorn Sweet Pea narwhal Aquastria! Narwhal! Narwhal!”

A pony’s head pokes over the railing and squints at me. “Oi, Cap! The sea-pony ain’t gone yet!”

Cap’s head pops up alongside the other pony’s. “’Zat so? ‘Ey boys, get a net! We’re goin’ fishin’!”

I stare incredulously as a group of ponies casts a net over the side of the ship toward me, then dodge effortlessly around its grasp. I try again to warn the oblivious ponies. “Aquastria narwhal unicorn! The sea-ponies unicorn is Aquastria! Coral Aquastria is narwhal!”

The sea-ponies only guffaw and attempt to throw the net at me again. I move away from it and back to a safe distance. Several moments later, there is a massive impact to the ship, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood and surprised shouts from those cat-calling me from the deck. There is a flurry of hooves, then silence.

As I knew it would, the battering ram whistles once again toward its target. I duck my head below to watch the collision, taking mental notes of the attack pattern. Reading of these things in books and seeing still pictures of them in transit to a battle doesn’t compare to on-the-fly battlefield tactics or the physics behind the device’s power. It spears its way into the underbelly of the great ship, causing another torrent of water to begin rushing in through the bottom. As it backs away once more, a lone pony carcass, affixed upon the tip of the ram, catches on the edge of the ship and slips off, his blood oozing into the water and setting a beacon for numerous predators. Their job done, the sea-ponies propelling the ram tow it off into the murky depths, back to Aquastria.

The ram performed its duty with ruthless efficiency. The ship quickly begins sinking, the two gaping holes in its underside completely jeopardizing the hull integrity. The crew assembles on the deck, attempting to escape the rising water.

The nearby fellow ship swings around to aid their comrades. A few sailors call out, asking for an explanation of what happened. Cap shouts back the attack from the ram, then several round flotation devices are thrown to the crew, who grab on and are pulled slowly toward the other ship.

The deck is abruptly splintered again as the battering ram rockets through the center of the sinking ship’s remains. It continues straight ahead, toward the second ship. There is a call from several ponies to brace for impact, then a massive gouge is run from end to end. Chunks of wood litter the water’s surface from the first ship, the second ship rocking to the side and nearly capsizing before correcting itself and taking on water faster than the first ship did. The first ship no longer has a solid surface, and the second ship is quickly turning to little more than a deck which can’t keep above the water.

The situation of these sailor ponies is dire indeed; there is, however, nothing I can do. Chances are that the elders already know of my presence here with these ships, which bodes torture for many long hours for leaving the borders of Aquastria... torture, of course, being the more optimistic of the two possibilities of punishment. If I so much as lift a flipper to aid them,  there will be no mercy.

Besides, trying to save them will only round them up so the battering ram will get another good shot at them. More will probably die, ponies that could have drowned peacefully without being gored by a giant tusk. It is the merciful thing to do to let them perish as they are.

It just... doesn’t feel right.

Before my parents pulled me out of school with the other sea-fillies and sea-colts, I was often beaten up. I was not a strong swimmer, nor was I very heavy, so the other sea-fillies would pick on me very often. They would rub me along the ground and chafe my skin, or put kelp in my hair and wrap it together and tangle my hair and the kelp together. I didn’t think I was unattractive compared to them, but the way I spoke made me an obvious target for their bullying.

To say that I tried to keep my head down would be an understatement. I was rightly terrified of what three or four of them could do to me. I felt absolutely powerless to stop them.

I forgot my fear when I saw them picking on a new girl. She was small and timid, and certainly wasn’t going to be able to stand up for herself. There was nopony around who would help her, of that I was certain.

What could I do? Stand by and watch six others beat on a new girl who’d been forced to move here with her parents?

So, I shouted at them. My words distracted them enough that half of them beat on me, and the other half on her. She cried, yes, but she wasn’t beaten unconscious. As she likely would have been, had I not shared her burden.

For the first time in my life after that, I was called “friend.” She also turned to ridiculing me the next day, when she was shown some small amount of attention by a filly higher up the social ladder. I didn’t blame her; were it not for the way I spoke, I’d have been given the same opportunity, and I haven’t the faith in myself to say I wouldn’t take it.

Here, now, it feels like similar odds. Even if it breaks my back to do so, I would rather share the burden with these doomed creatures and say I tried than idly watch them perish in an attempt to save my own skin that was probably doomed whether I involved myself or not. I would be better off dead if I don’t do everything I can to save these helpless Equestrians anyway.

My mind made up, I begin swimming speedily, gathering the shattered pieces of ship together. I dive briefly, bringing up pieces of seaweed, kelp, and giant bulba pods, arranging them around the wood and making a leaky but functional raft. I then swim in a large radius around the raft, picking up flailing ponies and towing them to safety, waiting until they grasp the sides and pull themselves over.

My heart is racing as I can feel eyes drawn to me. I haven’t even gotten a dozen to their temporary safety, but already I can feel my final moments creeping up on me. This shipwreck will almost certainly become my grave as well.

I am not afraid, but perhaps I am disappointed. This end is just so... anticlimactic. I guess my wish is for a greater life than what I had. Not glorious, or important... just more meaningful. I feel... robbed. Of martyrdom, perhaps. Or a life unfulfilled. It certainly hasn’t been the life I wanted.

I want... to be a revolutionary. A counteraction to what’s normal. I desperately want to learn that I am special. A realist expects such an end, though, do they not? That would be why I would rather die an illusioned dreamer than a pragmatic coward. Perhaps, when it really comes down to it, I am quite like my parents; I just manifest my sentiments differently.

In the end, I guess it could be said that I was the most special of my society... for that briefest of moments, that moment that I was truly selfless before being impaled on a battering ram and perishing, perhaps I could allow myself this one small admittance. No other I have met in all of Aquastria would even lift a flipper to help a stranger out of convenience, let alone save them with death a near-certainty as a consequence.

Besides, I would rather die a heroine than have everything I’d ever done be meaningless, even to myself. This is the armor I clad myself in.

I continue bringing floundering sailors to the makeshift raft I created, feeling an ever-closer impending doom for myself and those I am trying to help. There is only so much time before they are here. As if sensing my thoughts, I hear a whistling coming through the water, directly toward the raft. Ramming speed.

I begin to tick away my final seconds to live, starting at about seven and a half.

When I reach two, I hear a very loud crunch, as if the ram had impacted with a solid object. Confused, I duck my head below the water, but I can’t see anything. It is also getting very chilly.

Ice. That clouded stuff is ice. Somepony froze the water directly below me.

How? The only way that could be accomplished is with magic.

I toss my head confusedly back and forth, my eyes drifting over the raft, where I notice a glow coming from one of the sailors.

Not a sailor. Sweet Pea. Her forehead is glowing purple, particularly the horn coming out of the center. Come to think of it, none of the other land ponies had a horn coming from their head either. I hadn’t noticed this detail earlier... how strange.

I haven’t long to wonder about this oversight, as the water is swiftly losing temperature. I call out for help. “Aquastria is narwhal! Ram the Equestria! Sea-ponies is horn Equestria!” I take a deep breath, then call out to Sweet Pea as loudly as possible. “Equestria!”

Sweet Pea’s eyes open, and the glow dissipates. She gasps. “Seawinkle! Get over here, I’ll pull you onto the raft!”

I glance at her cohorts in uncertainty, then decide I would be better off abducted than frozen to death. I propel myself to the raft, where I am hoisted into the air by Sweet Pea, the strange glowing once again coming from her horn to lift me into the air. She... uses magic? I thought magic had lost its wielders long ago... another lie told to me by Aquastrian society.

Meanwhile, she is doting over me, thanking me for bringing her and so many others to the raft and asking for blankets or extra clothes to wrap me in. They are all soaking wet, which is a bonus for my skin, and the sun quickly warms the clothes I am swathed in. The adrenaline finally drains out of my body, and I am left exhausted. Blackness overtakes me before I have a chance to fight it.

When I come to, the sky is dark, and the mellow rhythmic singing of these sailor ponies is being done in time to makeshift paddles propelling the raft.

The ponies are likely making their way toward land; the raft, while leaky, seems to have been patched with assorted articles of clothing, leaving a relatively dry deck. There seem to be more ponies on the raft than I had managed to save; perhaps after I fell asleep, they rescued as many of their number as they could.

Snuggled close to my body, only a blanket separating us, is Sweet Pea.

I gasp, waking her up, where she adjusts the hat on her head that she appears to have salvaged along with her cape. Her eyes gaze into mine. “You saved my life. Did you hear me say that to you earlier? I don’t think you did. You seemed awfully tired.”

I look balefully at her, intending to say something along the lines of, “To what end?” Instead, it comes out as, “Narwhal horns and Aquastria.”

To my surprise, she giggles. “You seem to be thinking of narwhals a lot now. We never talked about them before. I bet it’s your code word for a battering ram or something.” I stare at her in silent amazement, prompting another giggle. “I think I guessed right.

“Anyway, we’re on our way back home to Equestria now. I wouldn’t mind having a travel partner.” Her eyes look into the distance. “Having a pony like you at my side, I can’t imagine—hey!”

Her eyes snap back as I wiggle my way off the raft and back into the water. I jet away before she can catch me in a magical net or whatever she was going to try to do and dive back into the depths of the ocean.

Lest I tempt myself further, I must go back to my own kind. Equestria is no place for a sea-pony who can’t talk.

Seawinkle Part 3

There is a recurring dream that I have. I stand before an assembled crowd of sea-ponies, smiling and waving as I approach a podium with a microphone. Into the microphone, I speak clear, concise words that are exactly what I want them to be. No longer do I offend the crowd with a deluge of garbage; I am charismatic, powerful... a pony worthy of love.

Somewhere in the attic of my home, there exists recorded footage of myself as a foal. A happy, carefree tiny filly, one that didn’t even come up to the base of the tail on her parents, who didn’t even know how to swim, let alone speak. The story told in the eyes, not only of the tiny me, but also of my loving mother and father, is of a cherished, beautiful creature brought into this world, the epitome of their happiness and my own.

Those very same eyes haunt me. Ever since the first words I began to speak, their eyes lost such luster. Just as the crowd in my dream once had eyes that shone with admiration, my parents once had eyes that shone with love; it’s all gone now, their love as dead as the hope they’d instilled in me. They didn’t understand it, how such a beautiful sea-pony, so talented and gracious, could be so ugly on the inside.

To be honest, I don’t understand it either.

The words all make sense to me, in my head, before my mouth opens, but from the moment I begin speaking to the moment I stop speaking, nothing makes sense, not even to me. It’s all garbled and nonsensical.

There has been no small amount of deep discussion on my problem and how to remedy it. My parents have looked into all the speech therapy they can imagine short of brain surgery, but none of it helps even the tiniest bit; they are convinced that I continue my speech problems completely on purpose. They don’t understand, nor do they want to understand; they just want their daughter to be as perfect as they imagined her to be.

I wish just as greatly for a voice that is my own, thoughts that speak their own mind. I am not as blind as my parents; I know better than any how torturous it is to speak gibberish. They simply don’t understand that it is not my choice, that it has never been my choice.

Why, then, am I coming home, after essentially being offered a chance to journey with Sweet Pea?

Fear is the tail-jerk reaction. Fear of the unknown. Fear of danger. Fear of coming to rely on others.

Fear never stayed me from exploring the surface above Aquastria. There is more to this, far more. What caused me to dive overboard? I like Sweet Pea. She is far more pleasant to me than my kind ever was.

Do I feel a sense of duty, perhaps? I... have always known the risks of law. I willingly break them, but I don’t turn myself in every time. That certainly cannot be it.

I don’t know. I just don’t know why I did it.

I know how this will end, though. I’m certain of it.

I want to be a martyr. Although none will notice my passing, I still want to be rid of this world with a specific purpose. The only creature whom my passing would matter to is myself. Shouldn’t my sentiments on how I die be the only ones that matter?

My life up to this point has been meaningless, anyway. Ponderance has no purpose if there is never any action taken. I have coasted for far too long. Now, just before I die, is the only time I will have lived.

My mind is cold as steel in this twilight of my existence, but my heart still calls for much more. There is a life that is missing, a part of me that is not ready to lie down and accept that everything is over for me. Still, it fights on doggedly, determined to prove something to somepony.

It is my heart which leads me home, to see my mother and father once more. I know not where I will be after this, but I know I must give them their happiness, if only for a brief few moments.

Perhaps my special talent ought to be melodrama. If I could speak properly, perhaps that would be it.

I come into the house, saying nothing. My mother’s eyes immediately snap to where I glide toward the staircase to the attic. “What? Seawinkle! Where have you been!” Her big blue eyes narrow into slits of anger, her pink body quivering as her face immediately morphs into an ugly visage of contempt. “Where did you go? Did you break any laws? You know you’re not welcome here if you do.” Her voice betrays her hatred of me, her judgment. She knows my voice is ugly, so I am an ugly pony.

I open the door to the attic and swim in as my mother calls, “Dear, your daughter is home!” I pointedly ignore the bustle of sound down below as I rummage through several old boxes, eventually finding the old tape. I come back out of the attic, brandishing it to the both of them, who stare at it blankly. Only I would remember a time when I was beautiful, after all.

The tape inserted into its player, we gather around the screen to watch what is on the tape. The first image is of me, recently born, perhaps a week or two old, as my mother holds her tail over me, which I wrap my fins around, then she lifts me off the floor, then sets me gently back down. I laugh in enjoyment, prompting her to lift me off the ground again, then a third time, a fourth time. She is smiling broadly, unashamed of her daughter. After all, what reason could she have to be ashamed?

After the final tail lift, I begin wriggling on the floor in delight, my fin coming into contact with a rattle. I squeal and pick it up and begin shaking it maniacally, my mother’s smile never fading as she watches me play. The tape cuts suddenly, changing the view to night, the tiny lump of baby Seawinkle curled up under the covers. The camera is set to the side, filming my mother and my father as they watch me blink sleepily. My mother sings a soft song to lull me to sleep.

“Tiny horns and tiny wings,

And other little tiny things,

Give tiny fillies tiny dreams,

Of tiny little sunbeams.

Tiny lives and tiny brains,

Tiny hopes and tiny trains,

Tiny smiles on tiny waves

Of tiny ponies hiding in caves.

Tiny moms and tiny dads,

While fighting off the big and bads,

Keep tiny babies safe in their beds,

So they can rest their tiny heads.

One day tiny will be big,

Fatter even than a pig,

Dancing happy silly things,

While—”

My mother is interrupted by the radio crackling to life. The voice of an Elder I don’t recognize breaks through the static. “This is an emergency broadcast from the Elders of Aquastria. There was an attack today on—”

The film ends abruptly, my parents shutting off the camera before anything else can be said.

There is a drawn silence with the conclusion of the video. I still don’t know what I came back for, and I don’t think I will realize it for a long while yet. Their faces register only pain, as if they cannot believe I would be so heartless as to show them such fond memories in light of who I have become.

I cannot leave like this. They don’t understand. I’m not even sure I understand.

I snatch a piece of pressed coral and a coral marker. I would be yelled at if there wasn’t something in the air, since pressed coral wasn’t cheap. I just knew I had to say something, but opening my mouth would ruin what I was trying to impress. For once, I was terrified of what might come out.

Several seconds later, my message is written upon the coral. My parents stare at it, then at me, in shock. I leave the house without saying anything. They watch me go as well. No more words need be said; they know as well as I that this is most likely the last time they will ever see me.

I leave the house and set off toward the town center; I’ve no idea what I will do once I’m there, but I am prepared for anything.

Two paces later, I am acutely aware that I am being watched.

Me? A subject of interest? Only if the elders reviewed the tapes and set out a bounty on my head or something. I can’t imagine I would be that interesting; I am only one pony, after all. I shake away my crawling skin as jostled nerves and continue.

As I near the buildings of the city, two sea-ponies in dark sunglasses come up on both sides of me, grabbing my fins. I look at the both of them. “Aquastria is foal? Coral ships is magic narwhal?”

I cannot see the expressions in their eyes; their mouths twitch, but do not change from the firm, impassive lines that they have taken.

A carriage rolls up directly in front of us, the door opening. I immediately know what it is for and struggle to escape. “Coral Aquastria! Seawinkle is Aquastria! Narwhal ships to Seawinkle!”

The ponies strong-fin me into the carriage, closing it behind me. I fall silent and realize that there is no sound from the outside. We’re in a soundproof carriage. None can hear me. There is only me and whoever else is in here.

“Well, hello there, young lady. And how are you today?” Apart from the two ponies in sunglasses who haven’t said a word, there is an elderly pony—I recognize him as Crazy Kelpo, one of the residents of the retirement community near my house. He served in the Aquastrian-Atlantean War and talked about how he defeated 30 Atlanteans with a torn fin (evidenced by the scar tissue on his right fin) and a broken sword. Nopony ever believed him, just as nopony believed him when he said that there were no more Atlanteans, that there were only Aquastrians now. To be fair, his words were interpretive—perhaps he was being patriotic, saying that Atlantica is now Aquastria—but it seems the Elders heard and decided this voice be silenced as well.

I don’t reply to Kelpo, instead keeping my eyes downcast, unwilling to look any of these ponies in the eye. Kelpo doesn’t seem to mind, continuing to ramble. “You know, this carriage ride reminds me of this time I got to pilot an Aquastrian Battle Tank. Now, mind you, I wasn’t stationed in an armor division, and I had only had the same basic training that all Aquastrians did in armored vehicle combat, but Great Elder Lion, was it somethin’ else. I swear I blew up three of those Atlantean tanks and dozens more troops . See, the driver, he’d been taken out by a saboteur who’d snuck on top the tank and jumped in, since we’d developed our vehicles to have no gaps in armor, not even to see out of, so not even snipers could get at him. Their saboteurs were all they had. Anyway, he opened the hatch, and I thought to myself, ‘Now, that don’t look like one of ours,’ and so I hopped up the tank and saw the saboteur stabbing our tank driver in the back! So’s I hopped in there and knifed him in the throat, m’self—now, what species was he, a stingray? Yeah, I’m almost certain he was a stingray—so it was a bit of a challenge, but I sliced him from gill to gill, so it’d be like a throat, right? Eeeehhhh, the details aren’t important. So I sliced this stingray and killed him, but now nopony could pilot the tank, so I decided to shut the hatch and drive it m’self. We needed this armor if we were to break that Atlantean defensive line, so failure wasn’t an option. So, there I am, rolling over the trenches—”

I pointedly ignore the rest of Kelpo’s rambling, working up the courage to look at my guards. I have better things to do in my final hour than listen to an old stallion ramble about some bygone war story. They watch me just as closely, their eyes never coming unglued from mine as I shift warily between the two of them. If these are to be my murderers, I want them to remember me as much as possible.

Suddenly, the carriage grinds to a stop, the turtles pulling it being restrained by the driving mechanism. Kelpo’s story stops abruptly: “—and you never know how attractive a fish woman can be until you’ve met one on the battle—oh, have we stopped? I’m about due for a vacation!”

The two guards open the door and clamber out, then Kelpo leaves, and I follow right behind him. He floats out, then stops abruptly, his body rigid as he stares out over the scenery. I lift my gaze to see what he sees.

In front of us is a sprawling ruined city, its buildings covered in algae and assorted sea-bottom creatures, crumbling back into the stuff it was created from. The ridge line is a sickly green color, certainly not how natural water looks; there is some kind of chemical in it. Throughout the city, there are polished white skeletons of various aquatic creatures dotting the landscape... I would imagine citizens of Atlantica, killed by the poison cloud that had settled over the city.

Beneath our tails are many more skeletons, these of Aquastrian sea-ponies. Their skeletons are unmistakable, the signature curled tail bone and pony-shaped head. We are standing on a battlefield graveyard, and the victors didn’t see fit to bury the dead on either side.

Kelpo suddenly speaks gravely, seriously. “I had a feeling this city would be the death of me. Let’s finish it quick, then. The less time I have to spend looking at this mistake, the better.”

The guards seem to oblige at first, but instead of killing him outright, they take their knives and slice his fins apart. The webbing between them torn, the fins are no longer able to keep Kelpo upright and he falls over, into the bones of his comrades. He flails his fins briefly, then cries out in pain, his tail no longer propelling him. He comes to rest.

He sighs. “I guess I’ll have to relive this one more time, then.” He closes his eyes, a single tear tracking down his cheek, then he seems to lose himself in some old war-time memory.

The guards then turn to me. I look resignedly into their eyes, then they take their knives to my fins and slice them apart as well. Like Kelpo, I fall to my side, landing in the pile of long-dead sea-ponies.

The guards look at Kelpo, lost in his memories, then they look back at me, lying helpless on the ground. They nod to one another.

I... sense something. They aren’t going to just leave. I attempt to get Kelpo’s attention. “Sea-pony Seawinkle. Aquastrian Equestria! Ships of sea-ponies narwhal Aquastria! Atlantican Kelpo! Seawinkle of Equestria! Sea-ponies! Narwhal! Ships of Aquastria!”

Kelpo, still seeming to be lost in his own mind, pays me none.

One of the guards pins my tail on the ocean floor while the other floats down on top of me. I recoil from his body in disgust, attempting to wriggle out from under him.

There is no escape. My fins are cut, my tail is pinned, and the only pony who could stop them is completely crazy.

I let out one final, piercing scream of frustration. It rings pure and true through the silent ocean, the final call of some misguided illusion that a hopeful pony once held of a better world. The scream contains all my knowledge, my certainty of a corrupt and dictatorial leadership over a weak and powerless populace. The kind whose police force would commit rape and murder while upholding “justice” for that leadership.

The ponies in dark sunglasses care not for my own feelings; they have only one sentiment. I await the inevitable as I feel the pony on top of me re-position, then holds himself rigid as a small pop-pop sound is heard.

Time stands still for a few moments, then I hear a gurgle of pain. A few drops of blood come out of the mouth of the pony on top of me, pit-patting on my face.

With a wrenching motion, Kelpo is revealed, his teeth sunk into the back of the neck of the pony who was on top of me. My aggressor’s limp body is dragged off of me, quickly followed by my tail being freed by the second pony, who turns to face Kelpo.

Kelpo releases his grip on the other pony’s spine and smiles, blood coating his teeth. “I’ve been taught a hundred different forms of unarmed combat, you Elder-damned terrorist. Let’s see you stop me.”

Seizing my opportunity, I begin flailing my tail wildly, flopping along the sandy ocean bottom as I make my way toward a small forest of nearby plants. With any luck, maybe I’d be able to hide in there and die peacefully. It seems to be the most I can hope for.

Behind me, I hear the sounds of a struggle. Kelpo seems to be holding his own against a trained killer with both fins slashed and old age certainly his enemy. Were I so lucky to see him in his glory days, perhaps his stories wouldn’t be so farfetched after all.

When I am about halfway to cover, I hear a gunshot ring out. I glance behind me and see Kelpo sagging over, a harpoon wound through his chest. The guard then moves the gun to Kelpo’s head and pulls the trigger a second time.

I squeeze my eyes shut just in time, my mind barely slipping past the permanent scarring such a sight would cause. Let my memories of Kelpo keep his brain intact and his actions as a savior to not be ultimately for naught.

I continue my flail as quickly as possible, frantically wanting to get out of eyesight. The remaining pony in sunglasses wipes some blood off his body, then seems to realize that I am crawling away. He immediately begins chasing me, calling, “Hey, you! I’m not done with you yet!”

My struggles become more frenzied, fueled by fear and anger. I would not let him take me as well. I could not.

When I am perhaps a foot or two from the edge of the forest, the pony in sunglasses flops atop me once more. My tail no longer pinned down, I am able to continue flailing myself toward the cover, but it’s too late; I cannot hide, nor can I escape. I am stuck right where he can get me.

I cease struggling briefly, looking at the forest that I got so close to, yet could not have rationally hoped for some help therein. In all likelihood, he could have followed the blood trails left by my fins, or the giant stamped spots in the sea grass, or the sounds of a thumping sea-pony trying to struggle her way along sand and rock. I had no hope to begin with.

Blinking my eyes, I have a sudden idea.

The pony flips me over onto my back, breathing onto my face. “Lemme have a good look at your pretty face, won’t ya, sweetie?”

I whip my head downward, where he has a belt around his waist. There, his knife is tied; I grip it in my jaws and attempt to pull it out. The guard reacts too late to my actions and attempts to pull my head away, but only succeeds in helping me rip the knife free. He registers quickly that I now have a weapon to stab him with, so he leaps backward, getting some distance between him and me.

I  flip back over and flop once, twice, thrice toward the forest, to the plants along the edge.

I hear a small amount of fumbling behind me; the pony is probably panicking about now. I whip the knife through several of the strands of plant right next to me, then grip them in my teeth.

Below me, I hear a shot fired. A lancing pain slices right through my tail, causing me to cry out between my clenched teeth, but I do not let go. I am rising up, up, out of harm’s way. I hear three more shots ring out, the tiny harpoons zipping all around me, but I am getting too far away. He can no longer hit me.

In my mouth, I am gripping the strands of three young bulba pods, which drag me upward toward the surface and possibly safety.

I drift along the surface of the ocean, the bulba pod strands gripped in my mouth. Hours, maybe, is how long I have been doing this. I’ve wanted to let go many times, but I want to live. I have lost lots of blood, my tail that is alleviating some of the weight on the pods is injured, and my jaw aches more than any other part of my body. It has had to hold firmly to these strands, not too strongly so as to cut through them, but not too loosely so as to slip off. Thankfully, a large number of activities done by sea-ponies is performed with the mouth, so the muscles in it are fairly well-built, or I’d have slipped off and fallen to my doom long ago.

My very existence at this moment in time is nothing short of a miracle. I cling desperately to life, much unlike how I had felt earlier today. Something in my struggle, the part of me that didn’t want to just roll over and let what would happen to me simply happen, renewed the fire inside me. That same fire that I felt when I decided to help other ponies, regardless of the consequences. I just couldn’t let myself die.

If I had never existed, what might have happened to the ships then? Would the ponies have all drowned?

I was their savior. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to help them. That was what I lived for, in that moment. I just forgot that for a little while.

If I was gone, they would all be dead. Every last one of them. How could I want to believe that they would be better off without me?

Perhaps my parents would have been happier had I never existed, but there are two shiploads of sailors who are glad that I do. I am... happy, at least, for that small consolation.

Perhaps this is how I will die, letting go of these bulba pods and falling silently to return to the bottom of the ocean. At least it won’t have been without a fight.

My exhausted body bumps a sandbar, grinding into my torn fin. I let out a hiss of pain, then begin lashing my tail, attempting to struggle onto whatever this obstruction is. My jaw, suddenly not holding any weight, spontaneously lets go of my bulba pods, which speed away on the currents, no longer burdened by my weight.

Why didn’t the pony in sunglasses chase me? Was he so sure I was going to die?

The saying goes that, even in total darkness, light can still be found. What he did was unforgivable... but he let me live. He tried to kill me, but he didn’t. I think... he did it on purpose.

Maybe he didn’t think I was worth the bother. Maybe he saw something he was afraid of. Maybe it just didn’t register that he could probably swim faster than I was rising—or he could have at least gotten another few good shots if he’d chased me.

Something stayed his fins. Luck, fate, or whatever... I wasn’t going to just give up and let this life go if I could help it.

I’m abruptly jolted awake—wait, I’d been asleep?

There is a stick being jabbed into my side, near my fin. My eyes flutter open, and I blink rapidly, clearing the fogginess from my eyes so I can see clearly. I begin to make out the familiar shape of a hat.

It’s Sweet Pea.

“Aquastria!” I yell.

“I, uh... hey, Seawinkle.” She smiles, her eyes focusing on my wounds. “I noticed you don’t look so good.”

My mind registers where I am. I am on a sandy beach in what almost looks like a wasteland. I can see partially destroyed buildings in the distance, but here, where I am, things are much prettier. My fins are still torn to shreds, and there are certainly no splints to let them heal properly. There is still an awfully painful hole in my tail made by a well-placed harpoon. Some of the sand around me is tinged red.

I groan, then flip from my side onto my back, looking up at the sky. I commiserate with my friend. “Ships of Seawinkle the narwhal foal. Sunglasses of Kelpo the Aquastria narwhal. Sea-ponies to bulba fins and Aquastria.” I look at her unhappily.

“That’s, uh... interesting and all. I still can’t imagine how you got up here with fins like those, though. Nopony could work with damaged gear like that.” Her hoof rubs my skin, hurting it and causing me to yelp. “Oh, that feels pretty dry. Here, I can help.”

Her horn glows, then a large amount of water hovers into the air, seemingly held by a bowl. It positions directly over me, then a funnel in the center of the magic bowl opens, causing all the water to funnel onto me.

After the stream of water stops, I look back at Sweet Pea. “Affirmative.”

“I’m guessing you meant thanks.” At my nod, she smiles. “So, what are we going to do with you, Seawinkle?”

I stay silent, staring at her, while she thinks. Her face screws up in concentration, attempting to discern a solution to the situation. Finally, a light bulb seems to flicker to life above her head as she swiftly becomes excited. “Ooh! I know how to help you!” I nod encouragingly, so Sweet Pea continues. “I know a spell that can help you, but I haven’t gotten to practice it yet. I only read how to do it once or twice. I can’t imagine it would be that complicated, though. Here we go!”

Her horn immediately erupts with power. I start squealing in terror, afraid that she’ll blow me up or something. I’m wrapped in a magic cocoon, sealed away from the outside world briefly, before I am set back upon the ground. The cocoon leaves me lying on the beach, gazing at Sweet Pea in confusion.

“Well?” she asks. “Do you, uh... whoa. I didn’t expect that to happen.”

I look in panic down at the rest of my body, noticing four legs that I didn’t have before sprouting from the front of me. They remind me of a shrimp’s legs with how they’re positioned and how they bend. I attempt to put some kind of energy into moving them, succeeding in wiggling one of the hooves around like an anemone tentacle. I then put the same focus into my other three appendages, succeeding in wiggling them as well.

I then try to move my tail, and find that there is one affixed to the bottom of me. I command my legs to hold themselves rigid, then move my tail below me to give myself leverage to rise. The tail, instead, lifts me briefly before giving out on me, its strength spent.

I frown in confusion, then move the hooves flat on the ground, then try to use my tail again to leverage myself up, tensing my legs perhaps out of instinct. The action pays off, my tail powerful enough to raise me on these new legs, the way I see Sweet Pea standing. I look to her for approval, seeing yet another smile. She seems to smile a lot.

I take a step with a shaky hoof, then another. I am unsure of myself, but the action seems quite natural. I could easily get used to this. My tail swishes back and forth as I canter forward, keeping me on-balance and swaying left and right with the air currents. They are quite unlike ocean currents, which are typically much longer to rise and fall.

My life changed forever, I now have no choice but to follow Sweet Pea. I find I cannot help but smile, too. I don’t hurt, I’m alive, and I am with a friend. Perhaps things will turn out all right, after all.

I find myself silently thanking the pony with sunglasses for letting me live, whatever his reasons may have been. I thank old Crazy Kelpo for sacrificing his life so that I may keep mine, and I thank the ship of Equestrian ponies for coming when it did and inspiring me to leave Aquastrian waters. I thank the battering ram for forcing me out of my shell, and I thank my parents for hating me so that I may leave without fearing they would miss me. I even thank the Elders for their bigotry and their espionage; if it wasn’t for their awful leadership, perhaps I would have had some faith in the nation of Aquastria.

Most of all, I am thankful to Sweet Pea for saving me. I tell her in the only way I know how. “Affirmative.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

At Seawinkle’s old home, her parents sat upon the couch. A pony in dark sunglasses had told them their daughter was dead.

They sat mournfully together, their daughter’s imperfections finally realized. They had driven her away. They had lost her. And now, they missed her.

They gazed together at her final words to them, spoken so clearly, so concisely, that their meaning would never be mistaken. Clear as day, etched on the pressed coral.

I remember when I loved me, too.

Perhaps if they’d seen through their own disappointment, they’d have found some reconciliation. It was too late now, though; she was gone, and they’d never see her again.

That much, at least, was enough for them to mourn over.

Night Glider Part 1

I swoop low over the treetops of Equestria, breathing deeply of the air which whips past me. It is a beautiful night... one I intend to take full advantage of. It is not every night that the sky is this clear. They are closest when we can see them clearly.

I fly over the home of a sleeping pony, digging into the pouch at my side and pulling out a hoofful of dust. I throw it over the home, watching closely what shape the dust falls into. I see them flare briefly, illuminating nine distinct dots. A triangle forms the head, a line for the neck, two more triangles for the wings, and one final triangle for the tail.

Phoenix’s life-giving glow is visiting the dreams of these ponies tonight. Perhaps an expectant mother dreams of her filly. Maybe an elderly pony is flaring for one last time before his light goes out. I am thankful I saw this glimpse into the home, at any rate. These ponies will not bring another into the world alone, nor will they need to die without others to keep them company, on this night.

The sprinkling of the next home I fly over reveals another rough diamond, this time with more stars branching from all but the highest star, with an additional star branching from the bottom-most star to form a leg.

Camelopardalis smiles upon these ponies tonight. I envision a great journey that one is dreaming of, a mighty trek across the lands of Equestria, full of hardship and trials and ultimately ending in a discovery and happiness.

Who am I, really, to perform such acts? Am I the chosen of the stars, fated to see ponies to their sweet dreams at night? Am I a twister of fates, whose very motions with her hooves decide the futures of thousands every single night? A pony whose very presence maintains stability in this war-torn nation, whose absence would snap the final tenuous thread holding so many ponies to sanity?

Or am I just a pony following in her mother’s footsteps?

Probably the latter. I haven’t my mother’s gift of dream-walking, so this is all I can do. She is too preoccupied to perform such mundane and exhausting duties. While what I do is not critical in the rebellion against Black Cat, it is just as important to the ponies I pass over. Without me, their minds would be full of darkness and despair, and they may give in altogether.

I bring them a single ray of light, a reminder that not all hope has yet been lost. That, to me, is just as important as slinging a spell.

Some of the oldest members of the rebellion have told me of an Equestria that still had hope without me, an Equestria in which Black Cat was not even a whispered name. This omen of bad luck was known only by two, and they feared every day for his return, but they never truly worried. Until that day.

On that same day, hope seemed to vanish for Equestria. The Elements of Harmony were broken, sent back to the princesses with their tails between their legs and one of their number missing. Nopony agrees on what happened to Rainbow Dash. Some say she abandoned her Element and her fellow ponies, retreating when she saw Black Cat’s power, but that she now feels remorse and came back to strike him in his moment of weakness. Some say she was killed fighting him, and she’s now a zombie in his army. Still others say she is his mistress and lover, so great is her lust for power. All the rumors agree that she’s still alive and somewhere in the tower now.

As for the other Elements, well... just like our hope, they disappeared. Many rumors abound about where the remaining Elements of Harmony went; few whisper of death. Nopony wants them to die.

Princess Twilight Sparkle, the prolific Element of Magic and Princess of Equestria, went into seclusion, they say. Ponies who occasionally saw her in Ponyville claim she wandered aimlessly, making statements about the magic of friendship failing, the kingdom breaking, that magic was all wrong. More often, they saw her in her recently risen castle, reading on balconies and pacing, watching over them all with telescopes and making studious notes. She never seemed reasonable or coherent when among the towns-ponies, but she never waved or called to anypony when she was in her castle reading. They all said Rainbow Dash’s mysterious semi-disappearance had jumbled Princess Twilight’s nerves in just the wrong way. The other princesses would apparently visit her occasionally, but none of them talked to any other pony about their visits.

Her friend Rarity, who owned the clothing boutique in Ponyville, is said to have come and seen her friend often after the incident, sometimes taking expensive-looking clothing inside. She always came back with the same outfits. Her little sister, Sweetie Belle, had told the other ponies that Princess Twilight had gone a little crazy and that Rarity couldn’t cheer her up.

Her friend Fluttershy, who’d owned a small cottage on the outskirts of Ponyville, is said not to have shown her face for months, and when she did, she looked malnourished and very weak. She was taken to Ponyville Hospital and treated for—

My thoughts are interrupted by looming homes in front of me. A little more stardust for these ponies to give them sweet dreams. Cast over this home, I see Chamaeleon shimmer briefly before dissipating. A dream of escape, of hiding away somewhere, watching change without being changed. I can’t blame the pony who lives there of feeling that way. The next home shows me Serpens, a dream of lying and persuasion. The poor creature is probably dreaming of something they will never feel. I wish I knew what it was. Serpens, just like all others, deserves to have dreamers as well.

—treated for malnutrition and depression. They gave her some pills so she could be happy again, and she seemed to do okay after that. To this day, they say, you could still go see Fluttershy taking care of her animals near Ponyville. Maybe I’d go see her someday.

Applejack nearly worked herself to death. She wasn’t afraid to tell anypony that she felt responsible for her friend’s death, and she could be seen working 18 hours a day bucking apple trees, tilling soil, planting crops, anything she could do to keep busy. It was to distract her from what she remembered, her little sister had told other ponies. Her labor had made Sweet Apple Acres something truly miraculous to behold, an incredibly well-maintained farm that had grown far beyond its limitations. She near worked herself to death, until she had an accident in the market one day and caught her hoof in a rope. She couldn’t buck or move too quickly after that. She had seemed to just lose all of her drive to keep going. She finally got given her rest about a year after her Granny Smith had, leaving Big Mac and Apple Bloom to do what they could for the farm in her absence. The farm was a ghost of itself, now—wonderful cider, but it just lost so much spirit with that pony. Half the farm went neglected and ignored because nopony could possibly do what she’d done and be all right in the end.

Pinkie Pie apparently wasn’t really all that affected by her friend’s loss. When ponies asked her about Rainbow Dash, she’d pretend she didn’t know who they were talking about. She still put on incredible parties and brought smiles to everypony. There was only one day out of the year that she wouldn’t put on a party; nopony ever saw her that day unless they watched her house really closely, when she’d put a cake with candles that increased by one every year in front of the window and a banner that said “Happy Birthiversary!” over the door. If anypony asked her who the birthiversary was for, her eyes would just kind of glaze over, she’d mumble something about needing to prepare for a party, then she’d get back to whatever it was she was doing.

Rumor has it that you can still go to Ponyville and see the old Elements of Harmony. None of them are how they used to be; something about them has changed.

This, at least, is what I was told by my friends. Ex-friends, as it were. My mother told me they were all negative influences. I’ve never been a big fan of ghost stories, anyway.

In the midst of my night flight, I catch sight of two ponies sleeping under the stars. Their still forms seem oddly at ease in this world of so much hardship and worry. I wish to give them pleasant dreams of their own this night. As I fly overhead, I sprinkle some stardust over them.

Ophiuchus. Bearers of the serpent. I have been warned about these dreamers. They are agents of Black Cat.

The Rebellion, for all its faults, taught me above all how to hunt Black Cat and his agents. I have only ever seen Ophiuchus above those who serve the dark—not the snake, who may or may not have dark intentions, but his servant, the willing perpetuator of the snake’s lies. I was a wonderful spy detector within the Rebellion, and they caught dozens with my help.

What should I do? Find help? Take care of them myself? Pretend I could not make out the shape?

I must do something. Speak to them? To the enemy? Maybe the Rebellion’s training is wrong on some things. I’ve never killed a pony before. I’m going to go talk to them.

I arc downward, spiraling to where I can make the both of them out clearly. Unicorn and earth pony. Not many feel safe with only my mother’s sky to blanket them, but these two don’t seem at all fazed by sleeping under the stars. I am almost certain that they are the enemy.

“Awake, agents of Black Cat!”

The two ponies startle awake, both blinking sleepily at me. Neither seem prepared for a fight, nor worried in the least. They seem quite puzzled, in fact.

The unicorn speaks up. “I haven’t seen a black cat lately. Why? Did you lose your kitty?” She smiles reassuringly, letting out a loud yawn. “It can wait till, um, daytime, though, right? It’ll be easier to spot a black kitty then.”

I stare incredulously at the oblivious unicorn, then turn to the earth pony. “You. What are you doing out here?”

The earth pony blinks in surprise, as if she wasn’t expecting me to notice her. Then she replies, “Earth ponies Aquastria with sea-ponies. Ships of sails the beach of sea-ponies. Ships of Aquastria.”

That made... completely no sense to me. “Sea-ponies? Aquastria? Who in Celestia’s name are you?”

Her partner answers. “Her name is Seawinkle. She’s a sea-pony. I turned her into an earth pony.”

My focus snaps back to the unicorn. “Who are you? How did you transform a sea-pony? Who did you learn magic from? You’re too young for any of that. You must be working for Black Cat!”

She gives me a look of confusion. “We’ll help you find it if you like. We can’t work for a cat, though. They can’t have jobs, and they definitely can’t be managers.”

Such bizarre answers. I can’t think of a reply right away. My mind starts going through the canned responses of Black Cat followers. None of them seem even remotely similar to a pony trying to hide their identity. “All right. Let’s start with the basics.” I nod at the earth pony. “She’s Seawinkle." My eyes shift to the unicorn. "Who are you?”

“Name’s Sweet Pea!” She smiles confidently, her hoof held out to shake. “And what’s your name?”

I grasp her hoof between my front hooves and bob it up and down twice. “Night Glider. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” I look up at the dark sky. “What are the two of you doing here? You should know it isn’t safe in Equestria, and even more dangerous at night.”

“We didn’t know that!” Sweet Pea looks shocked. “Is there somewhere we can hide for the night? I’m not looking for any danger. Not yet, at least.”

I shrug. “There’s a town over the next rise there. Good luck finding any help, though. It’s a pony-eat-pony world out there.” I think for a moment. “If you aren’t from Equestria, then where are you from?”

“Well, like I said, Sweet Pea is from Aquastria. I met her while I was sailing here.”

Sailing? “So where are you from, Sweet Pea?”

“Who, me?” She averts her eyes and looks down. “I’m... not from around here.”

This is starting to get suspicious. I push my advantage. “If you’re not from Equestria, then where are you from?”

Now this “Sweet Pea” looks visibly nervous. “Telling you would only make you want to know more and more. I’ve, uh... kind of been sworn to secrecy. Not supposed to gab about it.” She shrugs unconvincingly. “You know how it goes.”

“Why would I know how a secret society goes?”

There’s a few moments of silence, then she says, “... What?” in genuine confusion.

“You suspect I’m a part of something, don’t you?”

“What? No!” She seems to be trying to backpedal. “A figure of speech, that’s all. You’ve never heard a pony say that before?” At my stern glare, she sighs. “Fine, I’ll tell you where I’m from. But you can’t tell anypony.” She sticks her hoof in her eye. “Promise you won’t tell anypony. I’ll be in huge trouble if word gets back to my mom. She may lose her house. That’s what she told me.”

I nod in understanding, then, realizing that her hoof is still on her eye, I stick a hoof over my own eye. “I promise, Sweet Pea.”

She leans forward conspiratorially. Seawinkle and I crane our necks, bringing our heads closer to hers. She whispers, “I’m... from the zebra lands.”

A pony. Raised by zebras. I can’t help but let out a laugh. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

She shrugs. “I never asked for you to believe me. You asked me for the truth, I gave it. Now, I really can’t say any more, all right? I broke, like, eight rules just by telling you.” She picks up a nearby set of saddlebags and puts them on her back. “Would you like to come to town with us, Night Glider?”

I shake my head. “I have duties at night, sorry.”

“Duties? Like what?”

I give another shake. “Secret.”

Sweet Pea’s eyes twinkle with curiosity. “Tell me.”

“Nope.”

“Please tell me?”

“No.”

“I told you one of my secrets. Now you tell me yours.”

“No.”

“Seawinkle of Equestria of ponies of dreams. Virgo of the Aquastria to Equestria Seawinkle Hippocampus sea-ponies ships to Equuleus.” She lets out a snicker.

I don’t know who this pony is or why she would name several constellations among nonsense. “Why do you talk like that?”

Sweet Pea laughs. “I have no idea why she does, but she’s really fun to talk to.” She turns to Seawinkle. “Okay, I’ve never heard you talk about dreams before.” Seawinkle nods. “And Virgo.” Another nod. “Hippo.” A shake. “Oh, um... oh, Equuleus was one.” Another nod. “But I’m sure I heard you say Hippo. What were you talking about?”

“Hippocampus.” Both eyes look at me. “It’s a constellation.”

Seawinkle shouts, “Equestria of the sea-ponies!” her excitement palpable even in seemingly random words.

“So,” Sweet Pea muses, “we have dreams, Virgo, Hippocampus, and Equuleus. We all know what dreams are, and we know that Hippocampus is a constellation... so, what are Virgo and Equuleus?”

“Constellations.” The focus on me is near unbearable. “They’re all constellations. Except the dreams, of course.”

“You know constellations? I only knew, like... Orion and the Big Dipper.” Sweet Pea grins in ignorance.

“Orion is a constellation, but the Big Dipper is an asterism.”

“An asta-what? Okay, how do you know so much about constellations?”

There is a tense silence. I stare at Sweet Pea, and she stares right back at me.

“I will tell you nothing, follower of Black Cat.” I immediately take to the air and fly away.

Much as I feel like going home and forgetting about the whole ordeal, I know I cannot. I must sprinkle stardust over the rest of the houses tonight. My mind is elsewhere throughout the flight. I don’t even take note of who shows to grace the ponies on this night. My role is only necessary to provide the stardust.

Much as I want to banish the ponies from my thoughts, they persist even when I complete my task and fly home. The sun is low in the sky, striking moody beams of light across the green pastures I speed over, but I cannot focus on the beauty. I can only think of the agents of Black Cat.

One of them speaks only in riddles, a code that only other agents will understand; the other makes an incredibly convincing liar, but I had her pinned from the moment she mentioned zebra lands. Zebras are something my mother scared me with when I still wet the bed. Such barbaric and callous creatures would kill a pony as soon as look at them. That’s why I know zebras don’t exist, and why I know zebra lands don’t exist.

I just can’t shake a feeling, though... something in their eyes. They didn’t feel like they must have been. There’s something different about them. If they are agents of Black Cat, they have the best disguise I could have possibly imagined.

That is probably the most terrifying thought of all—an enemy I can’t see or feel. Perhaps they’ve convinced me and I’m to die.

Alternatively, perhaps everything they’ve told is the truth. I have no way of finding out or knowing for sure.

That could be half of what’s eating at my brain. I don’t know “Sweet Pea.” I don’t know “Seawinkle.” Maybe I should have stuck around and found out for sure. Kept pressure on them. Forced them to give up the game.

If, of course, there is a game for them to be playing. Maybe they’re genuinely good mares. I just can’t believe that, though; they seem too shady to be innocent.

My mind just chases its tail around, over and over. Are they trustworthy? Do they serve Black Cat?

Finally, exhausted and ready to sleep, I force myself to a decision. I will find out when I see them tomorrow. In the meantime, I must sleep.