Work drags by, even in the enviable--or perhaps not so much--position as an apprentice to the crackling ball of energy that is Pinkie Pie. Not entirely accurate; you were help for Sugarcube Corner. The word "apprentice" was chosen by her and her alone, and you still aren't entirely sure what she was on about when she told you that you were officially hired.

"Good, my young apprentice. Give in to your hunger, and join the dark side. We have cookies." Ding. "Oh, hey, they're ready!"

Living in Ponyville, you find that one quickly learns never to question certain things, such as where Pinkie Pie had gotten the pink, hooded robe from on such short notice. You would think that spending time with the bouncy earth pony might make time fly by, regardless of the circumstances. Ordinarily, you would be right, but today your thoughts keep drifting, and every soft bounce of the dark pendant against your chest triggers a reminder of where it seems to have come from.

"Oh, hey," says a voice from an unseen source, snapping you out of your musings. "You must be new here. Haven't seen you around Sugarcube Corner before."

You look around, not a single pony visible in the establishment. While that will change as soon as all the young colts and fillies are freed from school, it still leaves you with a disembodied voice to place to a source.

"Hey, Spike!" chirps Pinkie, slightly lighter pink than before as flour dusts her coat and mane. She's addressing the spot in front of the checkout counter, and you take a closer look.

One might be tempted to call him a "baby" dragon, and to a dragon's age it's not wrong, but the purple drake that you now can see--his crest was just barely visible over the counter after all--gives the impression he's as mature, if not slightly more so, than some younger ponies that already have their cutie marks.

On the one hoof, you've seen him before with Princess Twilight Sparkle, and you know he's an official and beloved resident of the town. Harmless and friendly. (You would later be educated on what "greed growth" was, and be thankful you met him first.) On the other hoof, your instincts try to tell you that he's a predator species, that he's dangerous and you should run as you value your life. It's easier than ever to quell those voices because just last night you slept with a predator and escaped unscathed.

"Spike, huh?" you echo, smiling warmly.

"Yep! Nice to meetcha! Twilight sent me over to pick up that box of cupcakes she ordered from Pinkie Pie. They ready?"

You look back to the shelf that holds all the pick-up orders, and sure enough, a box marked "T.S." in purple marker stands at the ready, with a smaller package nestled atop it. "Looks like!" You grab the package and with an only slightly awkward motion due to the size of the thing, rear up and place it gingerly on the counter.

Spike hands you a small pouch of bits. While the standard coinage is solidly weighted and easy to measure--doubly so for earth ponies--you still take the moment to count them, and find it a bit over.

"Nah, keep 'em," the dragon says dismissively, waving one hand out from around the comically large boxes he's now carrying. "Call it a tip. I'm working on my generosity, after all!"

With that odd and proud proclamation, he's gone. You raise an eyebrow at Pinkie, who just giggles. "Wellllll, since Twilight let the cat out of the bag so long ago, I can tell you. Spikey has a huuuuuge crush on our friend Rarity and she's the most generous mare ever, and..."

It's one thing to hear the stories of the six mares that have repeatedly saved Equestria. It's quite another thing to have it set before you that you've moved into the town they call home--a shudder runs through you as you now consider the ground-zero that Ponyville may be for disasters--and that your borderline-insane boss is one of those six. "Huh," you say as the conversation goes on. It's really all you can say in the face of the massive informational overload. You also wonder when, exactly, was the last time Pinkie Pie inhaled.

It does leave you a moment of introspection to connect dots with another realization that somehow seems to dwarf the one you felt last night: you are living with, and working for, mares that faced, fought, and defeated your King, and will likely try to do so again if a conflict is to arise.

Now where did that thought come from? Your King? Well, when you think about it--

"...and that's why Twilight always keeps potted plants around!" Pinkie finishes, almost triumphantly.

"I...I see. That's a...very interesting story, boss," you say, not incorrectly.

It's not long before the customers begin to file in; mostly led by eager young colts and fillies all with a sweet tooth to satisfy. Neither noise nor traffic ever get too crazy, but the time does end up speeding by once you don't have too much time to think things over. More than once you get a compliment on your pendant, and you get the feeling you glow just a little bit with every "Thank you" and the occasional follow-up of "It was a gift from somepony very special."

Again, it's not incorrect, and you wonder how long you might find yourself having to speak in half-truths. Nopony would understand the true significance the pendant held unless they themselves wore one. Simply telling the story would get you laughed off or possibly interrogated as an enemy of the diarchy.

Truth be told, it was possible that the pendant did hold more significance than you attributed, but Sombra was capable of bewitching you all on his own; he'd needed no trinket to talk smoothly in your ear as he pressed--

You stop that train of thought lest you become indecent at work.

The flow stems eventually, and from the west-facing windows Celestia's golden glory pours in, bathing the interior in surreal colors. Only a few more ponies come through after this time of evening. Ordinarily you would have left by now, but Pinkie Pie is helping hold this particular fort down alone while the Cakes and their twins are out of town. Pinkie had insisted that you didn't need to stay any later than usual, but you replied that you were only too happy to help. The extra bits are good, and even today, it's not like you're doing much around home anyway.

Somehow you know that Sombra won't be returning in broad daylight. It doesn't suit his style, really. It's an odd feeling, too: you have a budding obsession, and it's one that you have no means of pursuing of your own volition. You can't even ask anypony for help because the only ones who would know anything of significance would likely react...poorly. You can only wait for something to happen, and pray you're more prepared when it finally does.

The door's bell rings lightly once more after the shadows from outside start to fade into the interior lighting, but you've got your mouth full of pencil as you scratch out a record of the register's contents toward the end of the day. Fortunately, Pinkie is on her game.

"Heya, Fluttershy!" she chirps. "Ooh, that's a nice necklace. My apprentice here has one just like it!"

As it turns out, you aren't prepared. The pencil drops from your suddenly dry and slack mouth, clattering to the counter, and with eyes wide, you look across the room to meet a gaze that must be similar to yours.

A yellow pegasus mare--yet another resident you've seen before but not met--stares at you, trembling, her teal eyes wide and fearful as they slide down to stare at your chest. Your gaze drops as well, and you see it on her. A black crystal heart, trimmed in gold, resting against her breast.

The silence is tangible and smothering. Pinkie breaks it. "Where'd you two get-"

Startled, Fluttershy bolts, and the door nearly wrenches from its hinges with the force she exerts punching through it, headfirst.

"H-hey! Wait!" you call out as you find your voice, vaulting over the counter, and only stopping at the door to look over your shoulder. "Sorry, boss, I...I gotta know!" With that cryptic explanation, you follow suit, leaving a very confused Pinkie Pie by the register you abandoned.

Fortunately for the sake of your pursuit, you seem to have encountered the one pegasus who doesn't instinctively take flight when scared out of her wits. Her hoofprints are clear on the ground even as the dust in her wake settles, and you thunder along the path, leading straight toward the edge of town.

Toward the Everfree.

It's a minute or two of breathless chase when you start to make out a silhouette in the dying dusk light, but there are definite shades of yellow and pastel pink that mark your quarry. The buildings thin out, and only a winding creek now breaks the open, grassy field that you're pursuing her across. It's far enough from the populated center of town that the only pony around to hear is the pony you want to talk to most in the world right now.

"Please! Stop running!" you call out, your breathing ragged. "I just...wanna talk!"

Your quarry seems to only pick up speed at that, and it's clear that any negotiation will have to wait until after you've caught her. Gritting your teeth and ignoring the burn in your chest--how is she running so fast as to tax you? You're an earth pony for Celestia's sake!--you put on your own burst of speed, and do your best to close the gap as a small cottage becomes her apparent destination.

She's nearing her home, and if she gets there first, she'll lock you out and you won't have any answers, at least for now. You need answers. An afterthought that she's just as scared and confused as you enters, and it only inspires you to tear after her faster. Maybe you can beat her to the front door and she'll have to talk this out with you, like a rational pony.

She gets there first.

The fact that a bear stands guard along her cobblestone path may have something to do with your reluctance to get to the cottage before her, or at all.

You're gasping for every breath, coughing occasionally and seeing stars flicker at the edge of your sight. Very real stars also speckle the sky now, Luna's painting taking over as the sun has crossed the western horizon. You look back behind you toward the somewhat distant glow of the town. Three minutes' run away. You can't run after that; it's ten minutes at the pace you're capable of right now, and at least the bear doesn't seem inclined to run you off the field, more resembling a bouncer at one of your favorite Canterlot nightclubs.

Maybe you'll just rest your aching legs for a few minutes and then trot back to town. Yeah, you think, sagging onto the soft grass. A few minutes...

Author's Note

Yep, I'm carrying this on. Adding more character tags as they appear. I know where I want to go with this tale.

As always, let me know if anything's out of place or dead wrong!