Xenophobia

Chapter 7

Dreams aren’t supposed to hurt.

A house at the edge of the Whitetail Woods stood wreathed in flames. Flickering light seared the young pony’s retinas as windows shattered and once-yellow paint blackened under the pale moonlight. Snow was falling.

The filly was rooted to the ground, several yards from the threshold of the burning home: forced to watch as everything she held dear crumbled before her on one peaceful winter’s night. Her small orange wings strained and flapped, but to no avail. She remained exactly where she was, hooves nailed to the frostbitten yard, sole witness to the beginning of her future.

A terrified wail tore through the night, rising above the whistling of the winter wind. The young pegasus opened her mouth to scream, but no sound escaped. It was as if somepony had cut her vocal cords. The frightened wail devolved into a squeal of pain as the thatched roof of the forest dwelling caved inward, sending sparks flying into the cold night air. The whole structure shuddered before finally collapsing inward, muffling then cutting off the tortured cries of her past.

Now that her fate was sealed, she was allowed to scream. And scream she did, crying out in anguish, hate, and fear… but mostly anger. Anger at the flames that stole her carefree life away from her. Anger at the Mare in the Moon, the sole witness to her plight: ever silently watching from the heavens. Unmoving. Mocking her with her own insignificance. Anger at herself: her inability to twist out of fate’s cold, uncaring hooves and save whom she had held most dear.

Her screams spiraled into one final wrenching sob:

“Mo—“

“—mmy!”

Scootaloo jolted awake, small body shivering in response to the winter of her subconscious. She looked frantically around, unsure of where she began and the dream ended. She half expected soft cooing and the feathery down of her mother’s wings as the gentle yellow mare comforted her like she had always done when Scootaloo awoke in fear. Unfortunately, her other half was more accurate.

She was in a vacant booth at Sugarcube Corner. The great "Welcome to Our Planet, Please Don’t Zap Us" party had ended, though some of the more enthusiastic guests had yet to acknowledge the fact. Pinkie Pie zipped around the few remaining ponies, simultaneously cleaning up after her guests and stuffing her face with any leftover treats that had somehow escaped her notice earlier. Scootaloo couldn’t help but smile at the pink mare. She was fast… for an earth pony. And she did throw pretty awesome parties.

Her friends were gone: more-than likely taken home by their siblings. Scootaloo tried not to resent them for what they had, choosing instead to feel grateful for the love they gave her. Ever since she’d managed to enroll herself in Ms. Cheerilee’s class two years ago and officially met them at Diamond Tiara’s Cute-ceañera they had been a daily source of support for the orange pegasus... emphasis on the word “daily.”

At night she was alone: her only company being the glaring, hateful moon shining down from the inky blackness of space.

“And don’t even get me started on its little twinkly minions…”

Scootaloo grumbled disconsolately, attempting to drown her sorrows with irrational hatred. As she extricated herself from the corner booth and slunk out of the bakery she almost succeeded.

Almost.

She trotted sullenly across Ponyville Square, pointedly ignoring the raucous singing and merry-making coming from the bar several yards to her right as her heart slowly sunk into her hooves. Icy talons clawed her insides and she gazed up at the night sky, unable to hide behind anger anymore as she tried to hold back tears.

Giving up, the orange filly slowly made her way toward the edge of Sweet Apple Acres. She sobbed openly, confident that nopony was awake or lucid enough to notice her. They never had before. A trail of tears followed her to the Cutie Mark Crusader’s clubhouse, glistening in the impartial light of the moon.

Dreams aren’t supposed to hurt… but some do anyway.

Sugarcube Corner had emptied for the night. Splotches of flour and the occasional musical instrument were scattered about the naturally festive building.

Pinkie Pie lay on her back in the center of the dining section of the bakery, reflecting on the success of Welcome Party #7,856. The Cakes, her employers and landlords, were a bit distraught with her for the flour bomb going off in the kitchen, as well as bringing a pair of aliens into their bakery without first warning them. They had left for the second floor to check on the twins an hour ago, and the pink mare could only assume they’d gone to sleep.

Pinkie wasn’t yet tired, but she knew it would be unwise to go bother them if she wanted to keep her penthouse at the top of the bakery and their generous stipend for property damage.

“You know what they say!”

“What?”

“Don’t let sleeping griffons fly, silly!”

“Ugh… Just go to the bar already…”

“Why would I do that?”

“You know exactly why, now move your flank!”

“Okie dokie lokie!”

After the two humans had left, Twilight did her best to apologize to the Princess for their disrespectful behavior. The monarch had simply waved her off and told her that it was quite all right: they were rather amusing after all. The Princess then went on to caution the six mares to keep an eye on the two creatures, confident the Elements of Harmony would be enough to keep them in line should they become unruly and dangerous. She doled out everyone’s respective element necklace and Twilight’s tiara then left without another word.

Twilight, of course, was confused by her mentor’s terse answers to her concerns… and the glazed look that stole over her once vibrant violet eyes. But, if the Princess was confident their powers could keep the humans in line, even after the stories they’d all heard about their weapons from Raymond, then Twilight would have to respect her judgment.

Pinkie looked down at her own necklace and giggled. She rarely wore jewelry of any kind, but the blue balloon-shaped gem suited her fine. It matched her eyes. Though, lots of things matched her eyes: the sky, robin’s eggs, forget-me-nots, Rainbow Dash… the sky.

Pinkie visibly twitched, bringing herself back to the task at hand. She hadn’t set foot in the Hail and Hayseed Bar since last cider season. She usually abstained from alcohol for glaringly obvious reasons: waking up in Applejack’s barn with half of her product soaking into the ground, strange symbols carved into the wooden beams, and very thirsty residents of Ponyville waiting outside not once, but twice, was enough for her to realize that moderation wasn’t simply a guideline anymore. Even she couldn’t fix the frown on Rainbow’s face after those two days.

That was of little consequence tonight, however, because she wasn’t planning on drinking… well… maybe. Pinkie crossed the square slowly for once, taking a moment to glance upward at Luna’s moon. A familiar cackling drifted out of the bar, causing her already bright smile to widen. At least one of the aliens was still conscious. The pink mare silently thanked Luna for letting it be the one she wanted to talk to.

“And why do you want to talk to him?” Pinkie stopped, cocking her head to the side and frowning.

“Cuz he’s fun! Duh!”

“Yeah… sure.” Pinkie’s frown deepened.

“What’s your problem today?”

“No problem… just go buck the giant monkey you met just yesterday and leave me why don’tcha?” The once bubbly earth pony turned her gaze away from the moon and crossed her eyes, attempting to give her forehead an icy glare.

“Now you’re just being a meanie! I’m not talking to you for the rest of the night!” she huffed, continuing her journey to the Hayseed. Nopony saw her, and, even if they did nopony would pay her actions any mind. Any behavior was supposedly "normal" behavior for her.

She looked up at the bar, a small structure, thatched, much like every other building in Ponyville. A wooden sign hanging from the doorpost depicted a rather caricatured pony holding a mug of cider, the words Hail and Hayseed written underneath in flowing script. Warm, amber light flowed from the building’s small windows. A piano played somberly inside and somepony was singing. The sorrowful tone and strange accent seemed antithetical to the perceived warmth that seemed to radiate from the bar.

There was something familiar about that voice… despite the strange inflection of the words…

“In blood and death ‘neath the screaming sky,

I lay down on the ground,

And the arms and legs of other men lay scattered all around…”

Men? Pinkie pushed open the solid wooden door that stood between her and the inside of the pub and peeked inside. Jer, the giggly human whom she’d taken to calling “Jerry,” was leaning against the only instrument within the establishment: an old yet miraculously well-kept grand piano which was having its ivories tickled by an old grey colt with a bubble-pipe cutie mark. A sad smile twitched at the corner of Jer’s mouth and he took a swig from a half-full mug of cider before continuing his song. The human looked like he was quite a ways down the road to drunkenness, but kept his composure rather well.

“Shum cursed, shum prayed. Shum prayed then cursed,

Then prayed and bled shummore.

An’ the only thing that I could see

Was a pair of brown eyesh that was lookin’ at me.

But when we got back, labeled parts wun to three,

There was no pair of brown eyes waiting for me.

An’ a rovin’ a rovin’ a rovin’ I’ll go!

For a pair of brow—”

The tipsy human hiccupped and stumbled backwards from the piano. Pinkie gasped and lunged through the door to help him, but his friend, Ray, (the human that reminded Pinkie of Big Mac, except maybe a little taller… and less red) beat her to it. He caught Jer under the arms and dragged the giggling human over to the bar, helping him sit on the pony-sized stool.

“I’m fine Ray,” Jer gurgled lazily, eyeing the bottles of cider stacked up behind the counter. “Fuckin’ dandy!”

The other patrons seemed unfazed by the two lumbering aliens. Some looked rather annoyed by them, but none were frightened. Most of them had probably been at the party and had seen how they’d acted there, accepting them as less of a threat than they had previously thought. Two ponies in particular seemed to be getting very friendly with the two humans: a forest green unicorn stallion who sat to Jer’s right and a light purple earth pony mare who had begun leaning back against Jer’s chest the moment he’d taken a seat at the counter. Ray just sat back and watched, nursing what looked to be his first mug of cider. A veritable mountain of glasses stacked the counter behind Jer.

Pinkie had no trouble identifying both ponies who sat with the two humans. The one currently talking to Jer was Cymbal Crash: the colt who played drums here on comedy night. The mare, who had gotten even more uncomfortably close to the drunken human, was Berry Punch: a regular at the Hayseed. Pinkie’s stomach clenched a bit when the purple mare wrapped her tail around his leg and leaned in a bit closer. Jer took notice and gave Berry a confused look before turning back to Cymbal.

“So yur a drummist?” Jer hiccupped, reaching for another glass of cider only to have his hand swatted away by his more sober friend. Jer gave him a pained look and completely missed Cymbal’s response. Pinkie didn’t care. She was too busy watching Berry, growing more dismayed by the second. The intoxicated mare leaned closer to Jer and began whispering in his ear. His eyes widened and his drunken grin left him for a moment to go use the little smile’s room. He sat, apparently processing what Berry had said for a few seconds, before braying with laughter and falling forwards onto the barroom floor. Berry, who had attached herself to his arm, fell with him.

Ray and Cymbal watched from above. Cymbal was laughing his flank off at the scene while Ray watched with a bored look on his face. Pinkie tried her best to keep calm as she watched from the door, but then Berry took advantage of Jer’s new position to climb on top of him.

“NO PARTIES FOR BERRY PUNCH! EVER!”

“A bit possessive of the monkey, aren’t we?”

“NO!”

“Yeah? Then why are you suddenly banning parties for whoever touches him?”

“That isn’t JUST touching!”

Pinkie argued furiously with herself as she weaved her way around ponies on her way to the bar. When she finally made it over, fully prepared to blast Berry Punch into next week with her party cannon, she found Jer snoring peacefully while a still tipsy Berry prodded him in the side.

“Hey! Shwake u-up! I washn’t finished wit my kwesshtion,” the purple mare slurred. Before Pinkie could do anything, Ray got down from his stool and hefted his unconscious friend onto his shoulder. He nodded to Cymbal and walked past the Pinkie towards the door. Cymbal began counting out bits and placing them on the counter. Apparently he’d agreed to pay the tab. Pinkie had always seen him as a rather generous stallion. Never once did he ask for payment whenever she asked him to perform at one of her parties. Unfortunately, Cymbal was not the pony that was commanding her full attention.

Berry got up and tried to stumble after the two bipeds, but Pinkie got in her way.

“What were you saying to him?!” Pinkie growled menacingly. Berry skidded to a halt in front of the enraged pink pony and blinked groggily.

“Who?”

“Jerry!”

“The shleepy alien? I ashked why he was wearing so much clothshh and why he didn’t jusht take ‘em off. He’s kin’a shexy fer a big, pink diamond-dog thing,” Berry replied wistfully. Pinkie had been wondering much the same thing about Jer and his friend. She’d assumed it was because they didn’t have any fur except for on top of their heads. The colored patches and shiny metal pins on Jer’s jacket were especially interesting. She was going to have to ask him what they were for someday. It was several seconds before Pinkie registered Berry’s last remark. She immediately felt her blood boil.

“Why do you care?” Pinkamena asked herself.

“I… I don’t know!”

“Listen to me! You. Don’t. Care. Just leave!”

“You’re right… you’re always right…” Pinkie calmed herself down and quickly left the bar. She almost slammed right into Ray as she darted out the doorway. Quickly dodging left, Pinkie barely avoided colliding with the back of the tall human’s upper thigh. He was stooped over, trying to gently shake Jer out of his alcoholic stupor. He had propped his companion against the outer wall of the building. Pinkie steeled herself and put on her favorite “greetings” smile. She hadn’t really gotten to know the quiet human very well, but she was confident he would love her. Everypony did.

“HIYA FUSSY!” she shouted. “Fussy” flinched and turned, staring at her with his one blue eye: the same shade of blue as her own. She couldn’t tell if he was looking at her with his other, “ghosty” eye. The faint, black pupil wasn’t visible in the dark outside the Hayseed. The startled-looking human raised a questioning eyebrow in her direction.

Not pausing to think of a response, Pinkie trotted past him and up to Jer and began poking his nose with her hoof. The unconscious human snorted and chuckled in his sleep, trying to swat her away. Drool dribbled from the corner of his mouth. Berry was right… he was cute while he was sleeping.

“Wait, wait, wait… where did that come from?”

“What?”

“Nevermind…”

Suddenly, Pinkie knew exactly how she would make friends with Fuss-Bucket! But she’d have to go get a few things first. She dashed back home as fast as she could.

Of all the creatures Ray had seen in his travels, the pink mare who had followed him out of the Hail and Hayseed was by far the strangest. She smiled even more than Gerald did, and not just with her mouth, but her whole body. Even the way she got around radiated joy. It was almost as if simply walking was too boring for her so she hopped everywhere she went. She reminded him of Gerald in some queer fashion. Jer was one of the few people or things that brought him genuine amusement. As he watched the excitable mare poke and prod his shit-faced comrade he began to think she’d take second place in that regard. He was just beginning to forgive her for using the nickname “Fussy” when she broke nature.

She stopped prodding Jer long enough to cock her head to the side, eyes upturned as if contemplating something. Then she was gone in a blur of pink color… only to return four seconds later with a pair of cymbals, and an air horn. Ray had no idea how she did it, and frankly he didn’t care. She woke up Jer, scaring the living hell out of him in the process, and that’s all that really mattered. He would re-evaluate Newton’s laws later.

Pinkie (he recalled her name from when she’d straddled him yesterday afternoon) offered to help support the still very intoxicated human. Ray accepted, and Jer ended up pseudo-riding the mare out of town while Schaffer kept him from falling off and took some of the weight. Pinkie looked like a strong one, but drunks are heavy loads. He didn’t want her to overexert herself.

Pinkie talked nonstop the whole way to the camp, seemingly unafraid of the foreboding wood that was Everfree. Jer nodded drunkenly to everything she said, giggling every once in awhile at any perceived jokes. Ray just let the babbling wash over him. He was surprised that Jer hadn’t fallen asleep again. Pinkie’s voice was almost as soothing as white noise. Sure it was a little high-pitched, but still…

The marksman couldn’t really blame Gerald for getting too drunk to support himself on his way home. He had gone drinking with him enough to know why he did it. A good buzz does wonders when your head’s an overstuffed suitcase.

“I-I’ve always wanned ta ride a horse,” Jer snickered, nearly falling to the left. Ray steadied him and Pinkie giggled.

“I’m a pony, silly!” Jer’s mount corrected.

“Same *hic* diff’rence.”

When they’d almost made it back to the clearing, Jer began to sing again, though much more discordantly than before.

“An’ a rovin’… I’ll go! Fer sum brown eeeeyeds…”

He always sang that song when he had too much to drink. Some things never change, even on new worlds.

They passed through the forest and into camp without dropping Gerald more than twice. Raymond lifted Jer off of his pink steed and helped him into the Duckling, placing him in the single pull out bed across from his workbench. It was much more comfortable than the cryo-tubes, and Ray had decided he was going to sleep outside anyway.

The taller human exited the downed ship and lit a small fire. It had grown cold and he wanted to keep warm. The crackling flames were more than a creature comfort for Raymond, however. Despite the electrical defense system, he had never felt safe without a fire. Nature’s night-light and all that jazz.

Ray sensed another presence in camp. He turned to find that Pinkie was still there, eyeing him… cautiously? He had yet to see anything other than a giddy smile on her face, but he had only known her for a day or so. When she saw he’d noticed her she finally spoke:

“CanIstayheretonight?” she bolted out, wincing and peeking at him with only one eye as if prepared for a verbal assault. The scene was so comical the human nearly burst out laughing. Instead, he nodded toward the open troop bay doors. Aaaaand the smile was back.

“Thanks Fussy!” Pinkie squealed, hugging him furiously. Ray felt like he was being given the Heimlich maneuver. He was surprised his eyeballs stayed firmly nestled within his head as the grateful mare squeezed the living daylights out of him. Thank God he wasn’t in a cartoon. “Nighty-night! Don’t let the parasprites bite!” Releasing him, she happily bounded through the hatch and out of sight.

Ray turned his gaze back up toward the night sky. He admired the clarity in which he could make out the unfamiliar stars. It was nothing like the Earth skyline: too much light pollution there. Jer had said something about one of the country’s rulers apparently being responsible for the night sky, but Ray was skeptical. Then again… he was on a planet surrounded by mythical creatures where apparently physics had less of an effect, if any at all. He sighed. Why did his life have to be interesting?

A sudden thought struck Raymond as he gazed upwards into the heavens: a thought that would cause him to lose quite a bit of sleep.

“What the fuck is a parasprite?”

The next two days melded together, becoming a blur of space-time for the two humans. The morning after his drunken escapade, Ray was forced to reassure a rather distraught and hung-over Jer that he, in fact, did not fornicate with Pinkie Pie, who had deigned it necessary to sleep as close to the grey-eyed human as possible that night. Once assured that Pinkie’s innocence was secure, they both had a good laugh and Jer spent the rest of the morning escorting her back to Ponyville. Ray noted that the mare seemed reluctant to leave, but he assumed it was merely because they were exiting from the relative safety of camp. Although… she hadn’t been all that concerned the night before.

When Gerald returned from town, they enjoyed a pair of complimentary muffins from Sugarcube Corner, which were given to Jer by the Cake’s for taking care of Pinkie the night before. They sure were close for being her landlords. Gerald told him that they’d given him three muffins, but after a run-in with a gray pegasus with depth-perception issues he inexplicably lost one. After breakfast, the two humans began repairs on their ship. Needless to say, there was much cursing involved.

Corporal Hanes spent two hours prying the steering column from the wall next to the cockpit door while the sergeant attempted to rewire the shredded front console. The electronic manual didn’t work because the dropship’s holorecorder had been damaged in the crash, so Raymond was forced to use the old, wrinkled wiring manual. He’d found it in the dune jeep’s glove compartment, of all places. After several more hours of work, one of the humans had an uncomfortable realization.

“Ray… the viewport’s shattered.”

“What’s your poin—oh… fuck…”

“They don’t make duraplex here, man, and I don’t trust regular glass.” Ray was silent for a moment.

“Do you think we could get one of those unicorn ponies to… enchant something?” he finally asked.

“I don’t trust that magic shit either, Ray. We’re talking vacuum here… blood boiling and organ shriveling shit…”

Neither human had an answer to their problem, so they settled for covering it with an emergency blanket to keep out the wind and rain, and resolved to tackle the issue some other time.

For the two days that they worked on their craft, both humans remained in their clearing, choosing to avoid going into town again: Ray, because he didn’t want to encourage Jer to leave and get drunk again, and Jer because he just hadn’t thought of it yet. Unfortunately on day one, sometime around noon, Ponyville came to them.

While Gerald was moving the two vehicles out of the dropship to inspect them for damage in the sunlight (the internal lights on the Duckling were still on the fritz) and Sgt. Schaffer was drudging his way through miles of colored wire, a bright, purple flash illuminated the camp.

Twilight was back, and, unfortunately, she wanted answers. Once again, she didn’t get them.

Raymond kept his upper body wedged within the console and didn’t give any inclination that he was even hearing the poor mare. He silently wished that the inhabitants of this planet had spoken a different language. The fact they spoke perfect English wasn’t a coincidence that was completely lost on him, but he decided that thinking about it was unnecessary, like so many other things about the perverse wonderland they’d landed in.

Jer spent his time ignoring Twilight’s increasingly frustrated questions and tinkering with the jeep’s drive shaft, which had come loose during the crash into oakasaurus and the subsequent landing after coming loose from the gigantic, grandfatherly tree that towered on the edge of the clearing. He had no intention of paying attention to her… that is until he noticed that she hadn’t come alone.

“He-Heey! It’s tanning lizard,” he chuckled as he pulled himself out from under the jeep. The large, tubby reptile whom he’d seen on the balcony of the town library gave a start and almost fell off Twilight’s back. He’d been gazing in wonder at the painting on the side of the human’s ship and looked at Jer with equal parts guilt and amazement.

“Y-You know who I am?” he asked hesitantly.

“Saw ya on my first trip through town,” the human replied, eyeing him in an almost predatory fashion. The green and purple lizard gulped and looked to Twilight for assistance. She was too happy that Jer was talking to care about her assistant’s plight.

“You’re the baby dragon that lives with Purple, here, right?” the grinning human questioned. The dragon swallowed again before answering.

“Y-Yeah… my name’s Spike…” he stuck out his claws to shake and closed his eyes, waiting for a response. Sweat began to bead and run down his green crest. He would never admit it, but Jer’s canines scared the manure out of him. He had fangs, himself, but he was more into jewels than red meat. He jumped nearly a foot in the air when he felt Jer’s hand give his own a good-natured slap.

“Good to meet another guy with opposable thumbs,” the human sniggered before turning and sliding himself back under the jeep. Spike and Twilight watched him in disbelief for a few seconds before the lavender unicorn let out an angry sigh. She knew better than to try and ask him anything once he’d gone back to work, so she deposited her reptilian assistant next to the prone human and went to go try again with Ray.

Spike watched Jer’s legs twitch as he worked for a few minutes before crawling under the vehicle himself.

“So… what is this thing?”

Jer told him.

Twilight and Spike left an hour later… to return the next day with Applejack. The orange cowpony had been able to get Ray talking at the party so the curious unicorn deduced that she would get the same result if she brought her friend along.

The purple mare wanted desperately to know what the calmer human had meant by the words “shoot” and “shot” two days ago. She was familiar with the use of magic to accelerate items in the form of projectiles, but they had never explained what exactly they used that was so deadly. A variation of Pinkie’s party cannon, maybe? She needed to know just what they were capable of. The two humans had yet to fatally harm or even hurt another pony since the incident in the marketplace, but that didn’t exactly put them at ease. Even Princess Celestia’s assurance that they would be perfectly fine as long as they had the Elements with them didn’t make her feel any better.

Unfortunately for her, Applejack had a hidden agenda.

Jer had stolen the dirt bike and Ray was unhappy. Not angry per se: just unhappy. Sure, the more unstable of the two humans had disappeared, leaving Raymond to continue the repairs alone, but he wasn’t angry. No… not at all. At least he knew that both vehicles worked now.

Ray was sitting cross-legged atop the left wing, paintbrush in hand, fixing the damage done to his once pristine pin-up when the clearing flashed purple again. Ray mentally sighed and continued painting, mentally preparing himself for another barrage of questions. What he got was, thankfully, very different.

“Howdy Raymond!” The distinctly southern twang of the Apple family’s head mare could not be mistaken. The cheery tone of voice, however, seemed forced, and Ray detected a desperate undertone. His eyes narrowed.

Sparky had set this up.

“Clever girl…”

Steeling himself, Ray spun around at a deliberate pace and gave Applejack his full attention. The orange mare was standing where the Duckling’s wingtip lay against the soft forest turf. Her smile was nervous and she kept glancing back at the purple unicorn behind her.

Sparky made excited “go ahead” gestures with her hoof, a scroll and quill held in front of her by a distinct lavender aura. Spike, the little dragon Jer had told him about the night before, was napping on the unicorn’s back in between a pair of tan saddlebags with Sparky’s tramp-stamp sewn into them.

Eventually, the apple farmer spoke up again, and it apparently wasn’t what Sparky wanted her to hear.

“Winona’s gone missin’.” *SMACK*

One lavender hoof contacted one lavender snout… hard.

Ray ignored the distressed unicorn and raised a questioning brow toward her blonde-maned friend.

“She’s my dog,” Applejack explained. “Well, the family’s dog. She ran off a few days ago, by mah brother’s estimate, an’ we haven’t seen hide nor hair a’ her since…”

“We didn’t eat her if that’s what you were going to ask.” Applejack flinched, and even Sparky stopped feeling sorry for herself long enough to look uncomfortable.

“A-Ah wa’n’t accusin’ nopony,” the farm mare placated, running a hoof up and down her foreleg awkwardly. “Its just… Winona’s been one a’ mah best friends since Ah was a filly, an’ Ah was hopin’… maybe… you had some sorta trackin’ thing-a-ma-jigger…”

Applejack’s face fell as Ray gently shook his head in negation. She looked down at her hooves and tried to hold back tears. Several made it past her defenses and flowed down her freckled cheeks, soaking into the soft ground below. The stoic human frowned: that was unacceptable.

Ray strode over to the distressed mare and lifted her chin with his finger. He wiped a lone tear from below one of her large, green eyes and gave her his best smile, which, unfortunately, was never really all that good.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier!” Sparky piped, clearly irritated with her stubborn friend. “I’m sure we’ll find her.” Ray nodded in her direction and held up a finger in the universal “gimme a second” gesture. Though… universal gestures were no longer entirely universal when almost every sentient being around had hooves.

He jogged into the Duckling and rummaged around in one of Jer’s footlockers before finally hitting pay dirt: a gleaming, steel dog whistle. The two exterminators had discovered long ago that the high-pitched tone frustrated xeno drones to no end, and Jer carried one on every job. Ray looped the metal chain attached to the whistle around his neck, grabbed his sidearm from its place on Jer’s workbench and quickly rejoined the girls.

As they walked out of camp, Twilight finally noticed that only one of two bipeds were present.

“Where’s Gerald?” she asked nervously, checking the clearing for the gangly, smiling human. For once, Ray answered her:

“Out.”

Some say loneliness is like cancer. Scootaloo didn’t really know how that applied to her, however, since cancer, once discovered, was fairly simple to remove through magical intervention. But Scootaloo wasn’t a unicorn… and she wasn’t about to ask Sweetie Belle for help. Her friends were happy believing what they did, and Scootaloo wouldn’t want to burden anypony with her troubles: especially them.

But as she slowly made her way down the muddy orchard rows of Sweet Apple Acres, she silently cursed herself for her silence. Applebloom was off with her siblings, doing something or other (probably “family bonding” of some sort) and the lonely orange filly hadn’t seen her all day. Sweetie Belle had gone to Canterlot with her sister, Rarity, for the day. They still weren’t on the best of terms since the party and it was probably an attempt at reconciliation by the older mare. Whatever it was, it translated into some serious alone time for Scootaloo.

She had been tempted to go see Jer, but was unwilling to trek through the Everfree Forest again without an escort: even in daylight. And Rainbow Dash was probab—huh…

The orange pegasus stopped in her tracks, struck by the oddity of having thought to go visit the aliens before spying on her multi-colored hero even came to mind. It was probably nothing…

The sun beat mercilessly down on the orchard grounds, slowly drying the muddy soil and burning Scootaloo’s withers. She’d once had the chance to swipe some sun block, but decided against it, choosing instead to rely on her thin layer of orange fur for protection against the sun’s rays. Scootaloo silently cursed Celestia for making it so bright today, and herself, for not snatching the jar of ultra-violet protection when she’d had the chance. Sighing, the pegasus filly once more began trotting through the sea of apple trees, careful to avoid small puddles and the occasional crab-apple.

As she came upon the edge of the grove, the CMC clubhouse finally came into view. Large piles of tree branches, some still sporting lush, green leaves, were scattered around the clearing around the quaint, little tree-house. Some were small: teepees made from seven or eight twigs that were barely large enough for Applebloom’s dog, Winona, to fit under. Others towered above Scootaloo, piled like log cabins or shaped to look like weird bits of modern art. It had taken the Cutie Mark Crusaders nearly an entire day to finish these natural masterpieces, and, unfortunately, there had once again been nothing to show for it.

The week before the humans fell from the sky, Ponyville’s weather team put on a massive thunderstorm: the direct result being loads of broken branches littering the ground around their clubhouse. Once it was safe to go outside again, Cutie Mark Crusaders Landscape Architects was born. Scootaloo remembered that week well. She had weathered the storm at Carousel Boutique, Rarity’s dress shop, using the excuse that it was too dangerous to fly to Cloudsdale. Being friends with the younger sister of the Element of Generosity had its advantages.

As Scootaloo mounted the ramp leading into the tree house, she couldn’t help but notice that many of the branch-sculptures had fallen over… not that she really cared. Landscape Architecture wasn’t her special talent. She knew that now. It had been pretty windy lately, anyway. They probably just blew over.

The now further disheartened pegasus sighed mentally and entered the clubhouse, head hanging dejectedly. She prepared herself for another long day of staring out the window, watching the wind whip the canopy of the Everfree forest.

Ever since she’d broken her scooter while doing some idiotic stunt (she couldn’t even remember what she’d been attempting anymore) Scootaloo had taken to watching Equestria flow by from her window vantage point. The scooter had been her only link back to her old home, and now it was a twisted, shattered heap, hidden in a ditch near the edge of the forest. Her friends hadn’t even asked what happened to it. Her heart still broke a little every time she thought of the hunk of blue wood she’d rode into Ponyville on, no matter how many time’s she told herself she was over it.

Fortunately, before she could feel too sorry for herself, she realized she wasn’t alone. The repetitive flapping and snapping of the pull-down screen she and her friends often used for presentations snapped her out of her depressed nostalgia. She spun around, scanning the actually rather spacious interior of the CMC base of operations. The screen had snapped closed and the frantic flapping of the cloth handle against the wall behind it slowed to an ominous scraping sound. The tree house was empty, and if anypony had snuck in while Scootaloo was there, she definitely would have noticed… right?

“Boo.”

Scootaloo screeched and nearly fell out the window behind her, but even as she began backing away along the wall toward the door she knew who it was.

“JER! WHAT THE HAY!”

Maniacal laughter echoed throughout the clubhouse, and the air before her began to shimmer. Eventually, a form began to take shape in the center of the room. As the young pegasus had predicted, the shape turned out to be a highly amused human in a gray jumpsuit and helmet. She couldn’t see his face behind the dark-blue visor, but if his electronically amplified laughter was any indication of his demeanor, then she knew exactly what his expression was under all that metal.

“Celestia, I hope this doesn’t become a recurring thing with him,” Scootaloo thought, annoyed at the still chortling alien. Her hopes of his scaring spree ending after two rounds were dashed shortly, however.

“That was even better the second time!” Jer crowed, slowly calming himself down enough to sit up straight. He still had his helmet on so his voice continued to sound like somepony talking out of a PA system. “Who knows, maybe three really will be a charm, eh?”

Scootaloo let loose an exasperated sigh and trotted over to the sitting human, immediately forgiving him for his rather uncalled-for entrance. She was just happy to have somepony else to talk to.

“What are you doing here, Jer?” she asked happily, hoping to start some sort of conversation. She had been expecting a lonely day of silent introspection and possibly bird watching, along with other totally un-awesome things, and was glad for the distraction. Though she had last seen him only a day-and-a-half ago, looking at him attempt to stand up in the filly-sized clubhouse, Scootaloo realized that she had missed the scrawny biped.

“I was bored with fixing stuff so I decided to do some exploring,” the now hunched over human replied as he removed his helmet. *Pop-hisssss* “I happened to come by this little tree house and thought it would be a neat place to start.”

“Well you’re on Cutie Mark Crusaders private property, Mister!” Scootaloo mock reprimanded, pointing a tiny, orange hoof at him accusingly. Jer gave her a hurt look, but Scootaloo could see the smirk hiding in his grey eyes.

“But I thought I was in your little club,” he whined, giving a rather good impression of Applebloom’s puppy-dog eyes. The expression looked so strange on the twitchy alien’s face that Scootaloo almost laughed out loud. With great effort, she was able to sustain her stern expression as she pretended to scrutinize him closely.

“We-elllll,” she trailed, “We still didn’t ask Sweetie Belle, but I think she’d say you’re fine.” Scootaloo giggled at the human’s relieved expression. He really was a talented actor… for the most part.

The two Crusaders lapsed into companionable silence and looked out the clubhouse’s small window together, the human bobbing his head ever so slightly. The sun was a little lower in the sky, but lacked none of its earlier intensity. Scootaloo’s expression screwed into that of annoyance. Sunscreen. Swiping immediately. Burns for a pony were unnoticeable to the naked eye because of their light topcoat of fur, but they still hurt. She glanced over at the human next to her, especially taking notice of the bare skin of his neck and face. The rest of his body was covered by the rough, grey jumpsuit: even his hands, but his head was exposed just above a metal collar attached to the suit’s thickly woven fibers.

The orange pegasus couldn’t even imagine how a sunburn would hurt, or even look like, on the human’s bare skin. Was that why they wore clothes all the time? Did they have sun-block? Scootaloo doubted it. If they did then they wouldn’t cover themselves up so much, right? She promised herself that once she got a hold of some she would share with the silly creatures.

Deep in thought about clothes and the sun’s harsh rays, Scootaloo didn’t notice Jer staring at her until he cleared his throat.

“Ahem…”

“What?” she asked defensively.

“Where’re your friends?”

“Oh…” Scootaloo trailed off, torn between fabricating something or telling him where her friends were. As she debated, she realized how silly it was to lie about it. It was perfectly normal for her to be out here alone, considering the circumstances. They were just off with their sisters. No biggie.

“Applebloom’s probably helping on the farm, and Sweetie Belle went to Canterlot with her sister for the day.”

“The castle-thingy over there?” Jer inquired, pointing out the window to the west of the Everfree forest. In the distance, sure enough, was Canterlot Castle: a huge purple sphere surrounding the Equestrian capitol city. Funny, she hadn’t noticed the sphere there before…

Jer was giving her an odd look, so she tried to stammer out an answer without looking too surprised by the new scenery.

“Erm… y-yes?”

“What the hay is that?”

Jer stared out at the distant castle for a moment, seemingly ignoring her botched response. Finally he turned back to her, focusing his deep grey eyes upon her own, slightly larger, purple ones.

“Why are you here?” he asked, tone soft and… sad?

“W-Well Fluttershy told us that when a mare and a stallion love each other very much—”

“No. I mean why are you here? In this clubhouse? Alone?” he specified.

No pony word could describe Scootaloo’s distress at the lanky human’s seemingly concerned inquiry. So she used one she’d heard often in the company of two non-ponies:

“Shit.”

Pain: mindless, endless, without remorse. That, along with a strange swimming sensation in the space between her eyes, greeted Winona as she suddenly came-to: deep below Everfree Forest.

She lay on her side on the cave floor, unable to feel her legs. Slowly, sight began to return to her throbbing eyes and the darkness that had previously been invading her senses retreated to the edges of her vision like water pouring down the top of a grassy hill. But did her eyes really hurt? Or was it just her whole head? Winona didn’t care. All she wanted was something to soothe her raw, parched throat.

Dim light flowed into the cavern from the moderately-sized hole above. When was it? Had the Golden Ball passed mid-sky?

Wait… where was she?

With great effort, the immobile canine glanced around the cavern. Dark, ovular shapes clung to the walls, floor, and ceiling, but the most interesting sight lay obscured by the edge of her snout, half in and half out of the sunbeam streaming into the cave from the forest above. It was yellow… and spindly…

Winona whimpered as a wave of fresh pain seared her throat. Pushing the fiery soreness towards the back of whatever rational mind she possessed, the confused herding dog tried to make herself move by force of will. After nearly a minute of intense effort, Winona tilted her snout to get a better look at the partly illuminated yellow… spider?

Suddenly, memories began gushing forth, feeling like punches to the head in their intensity and speed of recollection.

The squirrel. The chase. The living pustule. The spider. Choking on… on…

Winona was scared out of her mind. Adrenaline rushed into her bloodstream, preparing her body to either run, or fight. Escape was no option: the spider was too close and she still couldn’t move her legs in any more than a simple twitch. There was only one thing she could do in this situation:

“BARK! RUFF! SNARL! BARK! YIP! BARK!”

The brown and white dog’s throat felt like it was being ripped apart, and dizziness overtook her… but only for a moment. She continued her menacing tirade well after she realized the spider was no longer able to come for her, too caught up in the repetitive, instinctual act of intimidation she rarely took part in: barking the shit out of the world around her.

Finally, she was broken out of her crazed vocalizations by an annoyed squalling to her left. Twisting as much as she could, Winona caught a glimpse of a long, serpentine creature stomping in her direction, an angry, puffy-eyed glare directed right at her. She recognized the look quite well, if not the strange, mismatched creature wearing it. Old Pony often gave it to her when she accidentally woke her up from her afternoon sleep. The creature itself looked like something out of one of Bow Pony’s drawings: a strange amalgam of colors, shapes, and species.

Well… she’d come this far… she might as well keep it up. Angry barking echoed through the cavern once more, louder this time. The creature’s eyes narrowed maliciously, and it began rubbing its long, goat-like snout in annoyance. It was standing right above her, partially blocking out the light coming from the cave entrance. It smelled masculine: testosterone assailed her nose in endless, livid waves.

After standing above her for several minutes, obviously pondering her fate, the patchwork beast looked down on her, a malevolent glint in his eyes and an unnerving smile on his lips. He raised his yellow, scaly left arm and held it up. Light streamed around the poultry-esque arm, causing a shadow to form on the cave floor in front of her.

The creature stared.

Winona barked louder.

His arm rose higher, as if preparing to slash downward, spilling Winona’s innards. The surprised dog winced, expecting painful evisceration. Then something completely unexpected happened.

The creature snapped his claws.